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rosemaryandarsenic · 2 years ago

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New Beginnings (Part 3)

So this fic is a work in progress, but I wanted something that happens after the end of S4 P2. Spoiler warning! I am mad at the suffer brothers and decided to write my own version of the story lol. Eddie x reader. Y/N is Joyce’s daughter and is 19 in this. I switch primarily between her and Eddie’s POV.

Warnings: No explicit spicy content in this part! Lots of fluff and some kissing. Hints at graphic violence, hospitals, and wounds. Cursing lol.

In this chapter, things start to heat up between Eddie and Y/N, smut coming in the next part!

SET TWO WEEKS AFTER PT 2

Gareth sped across the road, his bike kicking up gravel as he made his way through the woods. It was taking a while to adjust to, but the trek to Hop’s cabin was more serene than the old road to the trailer park. After Eddie’s release, Wayne quietly snuck him to his makeshift place in the woods and gave everyone strict instructions to keep Eddie’s location a secret. Life had slowly returned to a new normal, Hawkins High had re-opened this week and everyone’s first day back had been Friday. The hellfire club had been disbanded, but they still sat together in the lunch hall. The bullying had gotten so bad that they had to move outside some days. Spring had bubbled into early summer and the end of April was approaching. With graduation nearing, the trial coming to a close, and Eddie’s release from the hospital, everyone was on edge. He flung his bike against a tree and ran towards casa del Munson, knocking on the door.

“Gareth the great!” Eddie swung the door open wide with a grin.

Gareth bowed, also grinning.

“I come baring intelligence, m’lord” Gareth said.

“Well get the fuck in here then.”

The hut smelled like cigarette smoke and stale coffee, and the windows were open in an attempt to combat the heat. Eddie sat on a camping cot, wearing his usual sweatpants and plain black tshirt.

“Word from Lucas at the hospital, he called my mom.” Gareth sped talk while catching his breath. “Max spoke today.”

A huge sigh of relief came from Eddie, as Wayne walked in the open door carrying a basket of laundry.

“Gareth”

“Wayne” he nodded.

The sound of a car rumbled up to the cabin, drawing everyone’s attention. Y/N stumbled out of Joyce’s car, carrying several grocery bags and cigarette in her mouth.

“Gareth! Did you tell him?!” She hollered as she saw his bike by the door.

“Yeah, you need help?”

“Please.”

As Gareth ran to carry bags, Wayne turned to Eddie.

“The sheriffs office called,” he sighed. “Tomorrow is the last day of proceedings, so I’ll be taking you up there at 7.”

“I can drive myself.”

Wayne furrowed his brow.

“No.”

“Don’t you have a shift? I’m fin-“

“Not tomorrow. I drive.”

Eddie nodded, knowing that was the end of it.

“I brought some stuff from the store for you guys.” Y/N waltzed in, bag in hand, followed by Gareth.

“How much to do owe you?” Wayne asked.

“Five bucks!” She threw a wink at Eddie.

“For all this?”

“Oh yeah, I used my work discount.” She smiled. Cheeky little liar.

Wayne grunted and handed over the bills.

Y/N tucked them in her jean pocket and began unloading cans of soup onto one of the shelves as Wayne grabbed his coffee canteen and prepared to leave.

“I’ll be back at 5, I want you ready by 5:30.” Eddie nodded.

He raised his hand in acknowledgement as Y/n and Gareth chorused goodbyes. As the door shut, Y/N and Gareth both turned to Eddie. “So? What did he say?”

“The proceedings end tomorrow.”

“Fucking finally.” Gareth sighed. Y/N went back to stacking cans, looking intense.

Eddie watched her as Gareth caught them up on school drama.

“Now that Jason’s dead, the basketball team is taking a break.” Gareth said.

Y/N let out a shakey breath.

“You good?” Gareth asked.

“Yeah. Tired of…” she waved her hands around gesturing to the small space.

“Can we go talk in the van?”

“Don’t have to ask me twice,” Eddie carefully jumped up from the cot. “Bring those cigarettes.” The three of them crammed in the van and sat for awhile, chatting about the band and school before Gareth rose to leave.

“Good luck tomorrow man, call me when you find out what’s happening.” He gave a lingering look at Eddie.

“You’ll be the first to know.” Eddie smiled, nodding at him. As Gareth pedaled away, y/n took a large draw from her cigarette and sighed.

“It’s gonna be fine.” Eddie said, giving her a look.

“Sorry,” she laughed, “I’m not trying to stress you out.”

He laughed back.

“You?” He smirked, “stress me out? Never.”

She swung at him playfully.

“I’m coming with you tomorrow.” She stated.

He looked at her, raising one eyebrow.

“Listen, I’ve got to be there anyway.” She shrugged. “Plus I want to know right away where you’ll be…” she trailed off, eyes watering.

“Hey it’s fine.” He grabbed one side of her face slowly, turning it back to face him.

“I think I’d rather you be there anyway.”

She smiled, her lips trembling just a little. Y/N was not good at covering her emotions, but crying was the worst of them.

“Y/N, hey-“ Eddie scooted in towards her.

She pulled away a little and shook her her head, a sniffle escaping.

“Sorry. Sorry, one second. Sor-“

“Baby it’s okay.” He winced at his choice of words.

She inhaled sharply and shook her head again, recovering herself.

“All good.” She said.

She met his gaze, and held it, sitting in silence as they both smoked slowly.

“So um, what should we do with my last night of freedom.” Eddie asked, eyeing the ground.

“We can stay here and watch a movie if you want, I can make Alfredo.”

“I’m sold on pasta, but maybe we could like, go for a drive?” Eddie shifted, looking back at Y/N.

She pondered for a minute. “Fuck it, let’s do it. I’m driving though.”

Eddie laughed, “the fuck you are.”

He swiped the keys before she could and missed, their hands brushing as she grabbed them and bolted to the front seat.

She glowed a little, the sun set hitting her face as she smiled triumphantly at him. “You can pick the music.”

He laughed.

POV: Y/N

The wind from the windows as they drove felt amazing, Dio blaring in the background. I looked over at Eddie, smiling in the passenger seat, cigarette in hand. Even in a simple tshirt and sweatpants he looked beautiful, and I was trying hard to not let it distract me. With it probably being the last night we’d see each other in awhile, I want things to be casual. Comfortable. Something nice to think back on once it all really went to shit.

“You want Ozzy next?” He yelled over the wind.

“Yes please.”

He smiled at me and changed the cassette, looking for a particular album.

(Editor note: this song came out in 1995 but idc bc it makes me think of Eddie so I’m using it lol)

I Just Want You started to blare through the speakers and my cheeks started to burn.

I loved this song, it reminds me of Eddie, but I’d never told him that. He turned and smiled at me, a look in his eyes that I wasn’t familiar with. Longing maybe? God. I needed to touch some grass.

I started to sing along, “I'm sick and tired of bein' sick and tired, I used to go to bed so high and wired..”

Eddie joined in, “There are no unsaveable souls, No legitimate kings or queens..”

We sang together, “Each night when day is through, I don't ask much! I just want you..”

It should always be like this. We should be smoking a blunt and driving to the movies. I wanted normalcy so bad. I wanted the days back when Eddie would drive to sit with me in my dorm room and tell me about D&D. I wanted us to be back at the graveyard on Halloween, running so Hop wouldn’t catch us. I turned onto the road leading to the quarry, slowing down, as the last lyrics rang out. “I just want you.”

Eddie reached to lower the volume as the next song began, looking over at me.

“You wanna know something stupid?” He said, brown arching.

“Good stupid or stupid stupid?” I laughed.

“Good stupid?“ he replied, flushing a little.

“What?”

“That song makes me think of you.” He was really pink now.

I tried not to stutter, my stomach fluttering.

“That’s not stupid at all.”

He grinned.

Holy shit.

The sun was fully starting to set as I parked by the water, turning the van off and snuggling into my seat.

Eddie said nothing and fiddled with his hands.

“I’m gonna miss you, Byers.” He finally said, breaking the silence.

I reached my hand out, and he grabbed it, sliding his fingers through mine.

“I’m gonna miss you too.”

We sat like that for awhile, watching the dusk turn shades of purple and indigo, the stars peeking out as it grew dark.

I felt Eddie shift and realized we’d be holding hands for the better part of 15 minutes. I debated letting go when I looked over and saw him staring at our joined hands. He felt my gaze and looked up, meeting it without letting go of my hand. I felt my neck and cheeks flush, hoping the dark was hiding how red I was.

Still holding my hand he sat up a bit, adjusting himself to face me.

“A penny for your thoughts, m’lady.”

Oh my god. Why am I like this?

“You first.”

He laughed.

“I uh, I was thinking about middle school.”

I raised my brows at him.

“Underneath the bleachers.”

Now he was blushing too, I realized and felt a jolt run through me.

I giggled a little, trying to chill out.

“Anything particular about being under the bleachers?”

He started laughing.

“Do you still kiss with your lips pursed?” He said, laughing harder.

I feigned insult, “excuse me but happen I remember someone practically licking my face so don’t start with me.”

We were both laughing now, and he let go of my hand with a squeeze.

“Seriously, though…” he cleared his throat. “I don’t do that anymore.”

I smiled, “I don’t either.”

He looked at me again, gaze lingering.

“Why do you ask?” I said. I’m feeling bold for some reason and I instantly regret it.

He’s still looking at me, taking a quick glance from my eyes to my lips and back.

He didn’t answer me, and I was starting to wonder if I’d fucked up before he leaned over the center consul and kissed me. His lips were so soft, and his face was warm. I felt a little like floating as I leaned into him. He pulled back for a second, eyes wide.

“Sorry, I should have asked I-“ I cut him off, this time pulling myself back over the consul and to his mouth. He kissed me back, wrapping his hands around the back of my neck gently, pulling me closer. I don’t know what was coming over me but I wanted him as close to me as possible. I could kiss him forever. His tongue darted between my lips and I leaned into it, opening my mouth a little, my own tongue bumping his lips.

“Jesus fucking ch-“ he sputtered between kisses, gasping a bit.

“Fuck, y/n, you’ve been holding out on me.”

I laughed, leaning back a little. I was panting a little bit as he stared at me, lips swollen. He grabbed my hand again.

“Change of plans, what if we just did that all night.”

I turned pink.

“Really?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Is that uh, too much?”

I started laughing, uncontrollably, trying to hold it in. He looked genuinely scared.

“Not too much, Munson. Just let me catch my breath.”

He smiled, looking relieved, and for just a moment things felt right in the world.

#eddie munson #stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie x fem!reader #gah im so in love with this man

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years ago

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Into The Woods

Warnings: noncon sexual acts; vaginal, anal.

This is dark!Lumberjack!Bucky and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You’re sent to make a delivery to the man in the woods.

Note: This is for @imanuglywombat and @nellblazer‘s Lumberjack Challenge. I couldn’t see if they were accepting dark fics so if they aren’t, I guess it’s just another fic lol. But anyways, the challenge inspired me.

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

“You sure Dezy isn’t going to make it?” You asked as you helped Gerry load the crate onto the trailer.

“I’m sorry, I got all the other deliveries sent out with Milo but this one’s too far for him.” Gerry grunted as he closed the back of the open-top trailer. “I don’t know what’s gotten into Dezy. Second day in a row and yet I hear he’s down at the Horse every night.”

“Well, he’ll run out of beer money sooner than later,” You sighed as you pulled on your gloves. The air was starting to bite as the brief autumn was turning. “You sure you can manage without me?”

“Slow day in the shop,” He shrugged. “You just be careful.”

“Alright. I’ll do my best.” You climbed up onto the four-wheeler and fumbled with the thick key with the grizzly bear charm attached to it. “Maybe next time give me the easy ones.”

“I’ll tack an hour of overtime on your pay, how about that?” He chuckled. “You need to get out anyway. I know this place is small but you can’t spend all your time reading those harlequins in the dry good section.”

“They’re not harlequins,” You turned the engine and raised your voice as you gripped the handlebars. “They’re fantasy, Ger.”

“Sure, sure,” He backed away. “You go or you won’t make it back by sundown.”

“Never far off these days,” You mused as you revved. “See ya, Gerry. Don’t forget to down stock the fishing wire.”

“Which one of us is the boss?” He called after you as you pulled out, the small trailer rumbling behind you.

You turned off at the end of the street, past the business fronts that looked like cabins. The town looked straight out of Western but with more snow. The first of the annual powder had yet to fall but you could feel it coming. You headed over the lumpy tundra past the sparse trees that grew thicker the further you got. The paths turned narrower and you steered slowly through the damp forest.

You only went so far out when your uncle took you ice fishing and rarely in this direction. You slowed as the path grew more uneven, carefully traversing the thick roots and deep valleys. The noise of the engine bounced off the trunks of trees around you. It was more than an hour before you reached your destination. At least, you thought you were in the right place. Weren’t too many cabins hidden in these trees; well not many still inhabited.

You pulled into the clearing and killed the engine. You hopped off the ATV and stretched your legs, your thighs tingled from the rumble. You went to the trailer and open the door and slid out the heavy trunk. You braced yourself before you lifted and gave a grunt. You’d packed the load yourself. You carried it past the old motorcycle and the neat stack of wood which marched the way to the broad front porch. You slowly ascended the three steps up and set down the heavy crate beside the door.

A bench made of logs, likely by hand, stood just a few feet from the front door, a woven blanket folded over the seat. The curtains were drawn within and you started to wonder if there was anyone there or if this was just another forgotten scene. It all seemed so eerily still.

You knocked and waited for an answer. Nothing. You tried again with the same result. Then, after a cold silence, you heard a door open and snap shut but it wasn’t the one before you. You turned as a man appeared beside the far corner of the porch. He appeared disturbed by your presence as he emerged from the old shed, his flannel jacket marked with patches of dirt and his dark hair poking out from beneath a woolen cap.

“He usually just leaves it there,” He clapped his gloved hands together as he brushed away the filth. “Thanks.”

“Uh, sorry,” You turned and ambled down the steps. “I didn’t realise.”

“Don’t be sorry,” He stayed near the corner, kicking his foot up onto the stump where an ax waited to be used. “Better get going before the sun beats you.”

“Sure,” You went back to the four wheeler. His eyes bore into you as you climbed up. “I didn’t mean to disturb you. I just--”

“Thanks,” He said again. “Driving out here all this way. Appreciate it.”

“No problem,” You turned the key. “Have a good day, sir.”

The engine roared to life and you carefully turned around, the empty trailer clattering behind you. You couldn’t help but feel him watching you still. You wanted to look back, but didn’t. You twisted the throttle and delved back through the treeline. You hoped Dezy would get his shit together, you weren’t keen on doing deliveries.

🪓

The next day, you were back to your usual fare. You stood at the long counter of Elk’s General, watching the locals as they wandered in and out, perusing the aisles of groceries, clothing, or novelty goods. You rung them through on the outdated till and smiled after them as they left with their paper bags.

The usual midday lull came and you pressed flat your latest read on the counter. You crossed your arms over the edge and bent over the pages, losing yourself in the fantastical medieval setting. Gerry didn’t mind so much as you kept an eye on customers.

The rusty bell above the entrance tinkled and you looked up suddenly. You turned your book over before you could lose your place. You stood up straight and smiled at your newest customer but froze as his eyes met yours. It was the man from the day before, to whom you had delivered the weeks worth of goods.

He ignored your usual greeting and marched over to you. He planted the bill for his delivery on the counter.

“I ordered six cans of maple beans. I have only four.” He said plainly.

“An oversight. I’m sorry, sir. Just a moment.” You gulped and flitted off to check the shelf. There were only the tomato beans in stock. You went to the back room and checked there. Nothing. You returned to the counter. “Looks like we’re all out but I’ll make a note to have them delivered when we get more. Or we can remove the charge from your bill.”

“Keep ‘em on,” He said as he reached into his pocket. “I can wait.” He unfolded the worn leather wallet. “I have to pay my account anyway.”

“Sure,” You reached to slid his bill closer and keyed the amount into the machine. “You could have called--”

“I don’t have a phone,” He growled as he counted out the bills. “I don’t like to be disturbed.”

You took the money and counted it. You avoided his gaze guiltily. You sorted the bills in the cash door and handed him his change. His gloves brushed your skin and he tucked the money away with his wallet.

“Good book?” He pointed to the novel.

“Alright, so far,” You answered quietly.

“I read his other one. The one set in Ancient Egypt. It was… interesting. Not my usual reading material though.” He tapped his fingers on the counter. “You have a good day, miss.”

He turned and left you as you returned his farewell. The door snapped shut behind him and you looked back down at the book. You opened the front page and read the list of works by the same author. You’d have to look into them.

🪓

Several days late, you were helping Gerry restock shelves with the newly acquired truck. The night before, you’d helped unload it and left it for the next day to sort through. Dezy sat behind the counter, half-keeled over on the stool, trying not to puke into his hands.

“Damn shit is hungover again,” Gerry muttered. “I got a whole list of deliveries today and he can’t even stand straight.”

“I can do it,” You offered. “Long as he can manage the till.”

“I don’t know if I even trust him to do that,” Gerry said. “You sure you wanna do the deliveries?”

“We got any of the maple beans on the truck?” You asked.

“A good amount.” He said.

“We owe two cans to-- well, I didn’t get his name. The man who lives way up in the trees.” You frowned, only then realising you new nothing about him. In that town, everyone knew everyone.

“Mr. Barnes?” Gerry reached over into the box and moved around several items before pulling out a can. “Quiet man. Doesn’t like to be bothered. Must’ve scared Dezy good to get him to shut up.” He took out two more cans. “If you’re willing to head up that way, you give him and extra can on me. He’s the only customer in town who pays on time.”

“Sure,” You stood, thankful not to be forced to kneel all day at the shelves. “The list?”

“Pinned up behind the counter as usual,” He caught a box of Corn Pops he hit with his elbow and swore. “Take a radio. Snow’s comin’.”

“Will do,” You said. “I should be that long.”

“Chill blowin’ in from the lake, bundle up before you go too.” He said.

“You sound like my mother.” You laughed.

“I feel like you’re mother,” He shook his head. “Now go, before I get sentimental.”

🪓

Gerry was right, it was cold. The four-wheeler seemed slower as the wind swirled around you. You stopped by each house and knocked before leaving your haul. You smiled away tips and bid each resident a good day before you rushed away under the protests of another delivery ahead of you.

Your last would take the longest, though it was the smallest. The tree cans rattled around the trailer so you stopped at the shop before you continued on and detached it. You placed the cans in a small box and secured it to the seat behind you with bungee cords. You fixed your gloves and pulled your cap over your ears before you set out once more.

The sky grew paler the later it got. A harbinger of snow. You took the same route as before, getting off once to push the ATV over a fallen branch caught beneath it. You carried on, the frigid air lashing your cheeks.

You drew up to the clearing as you had before. The motorcycle was gone, likely pushed into the shed in preparation for the first snowfall. The piles of wood had grown taller and the front door was open, the screen door a poor barrier to the looming winter.

You unhooked the box and climbed up the steps. You bent to set it down and be off. You looked up as you sensed something on the other side of the screen door. The man, Mr. Barnes, stared at you through the mesh, a mug in hand. You stood and smiled nervously.

“Your beans. An extra can for the inconvenience.” You said. “Have a good day, sir.”

You turned but caught yourself before you made it down one step as he spoke.

“It’s pretty cold.” He remarked as he took the box in his free hand. “You like coffee? I just made a pot.”

“I appreciate it,” You turned to him. “But I don’t mean to impose on you.”

“I wouldn’t ask if you were,” He said stiffly. “I’d feel worse letting half a pot go to waste.”

“I don’t know, I should--” You glanced behind you at the trees.

“You came all this way to give me beans in this,” He held the door with his elbow and stepped through. “You don’t like coffee, I got tea.”

You took a breath as you looked back to him. “Sure. I’ll have some coffee.”

He nodded and stared at you. He blinked and moved to hold the door open. “Well, you wanna come inside? Or do you prefer your coffee frozen?”

“Uh, yeah, okay,” You kicked yourself and stopped right before the door. You smiled awkwardly and offered your name. “I just… figured you wouldn’t want a stranger in your home.”

“Bucky,” He returned and waved you inside. “Not many strangers in town. Not really.”

You entered and he followed you. The entryway was lit by an antique lamp and the front room was entirely dark. You knelt to unlace your boots as he stepped around you. You kept your coat on as the wind continued to seep in behind you.

“Kitchens just down the hall past the stairs,” He said as he continued across the wooden floor.

“Okay,” You slid your boots off and stood, following his shadow to the kitchen.

As you passed through the doorway, he placed his mug on the table and went to the cupboard. He took down another thick ceramic cup and sidled over to the stove. He filled it from the percolator and returned to the table to place it before you.

“Milk? Sugar?”

“I’m fine, black is good,” You accepted as he slid the cup over to you.

You sat, hesitantly, and removed your gloves. You tucked them in your pocket and wrapped your hands around the steaming cup. He pulled out another chair and sat. He looked into the mug and slowly drank from it.

“I didn’t know anyone still lived out here.” You said.

“Sometimes,” He answered carefully. “Spring and summer I spend working the lumberyards south of here.”

“And you live all the way up here?” You wondered. He gave you a sharp look. “Sorry, it’s just… curiosity.”

“I like it,” He shrugged. “It’s quiet.”

You nodded and resigned yourself to silence. You listened to the wind outside and looked around at the tidy kitchen. Most of the original structure remained, renovated but not replaced. Even the curtains seemed to be of another era; faded but without holes or tears. All the way up here, time always seemed to stand still.

“You finish your book?” His voice jolted you.

You looked back to him and sipped the hot coffee. You nodded again.

“I did.” You answered. “It was alright.”

“Just alright?” He asked.

“I’ve read better and worse,” You said. “It was… entertaining.”

“Mmm,” He mumbled and drank his coffee. You mimicked him, eager to leave.

Ten minutes of silence and stunted small talk left your mug empty and your stomach gurgling. You stood and nervously teetered on your feet.

“I should go. It’s snowing already.” You glanced out the window.

“Sure,” He rose and gathered up the mugs and took them to the sink.

“Thank you.” You said and turned rigidly to head through the door.

You trod down the hallway and stopped to pull on your boots. You adjusted your cap and shoved your gloves on. He neared and you pushed open the door and glanced back at him.

“Coffee was good.” You said.

He caught the door behind you and you marched across the porch. You rushed down the steps and shivered as you neared the four wheeler.

“Be careful,” He said in monotone.

“I will, thank you,” You called back as you climb onto the seat. “Enjoy your beans.”

He waved and you turned the engine. You backed up and turned around. The snow had already left a thin powder across the ground. You steered into the trees and carefully began to weave around the trunks and along the uneven forest floor.

The snow thickened the more it fell. You had to slow as the ride became more precarious. The downfall formed a thick carpet beneath the tires and soon, even beneath the shroud of branches, the snow formed a curtain all around you, making it nearly impossible to see. You stopped and left the motor rumbling.

You pulled the radio from its holster down beside the wheel well and turned the dial until you picked up the signal. It was static and crackled.

“Gerry? Gerry!” You held the speak to your lips. “Gerry?”

“Yeah, i--me, ---okay?” His voice went in and out.

“I’m okay but the snow is… I can’t see. It’s going to take me a while.”

“Wha-- breaking up--” The radio broke off with a high pitched scratch.

“Damn it!” You shouted and tried fixing the dial. It didn’t help.

You sat for a moment and put the radio back. You couldn’t stay and let yourself get snowed in. You’d have to keep going, slow but steady. You carefully pulled past the trees, blinking away the flakes as they gathered on your lashes. You stopped again to pulled your scarf higher over your cheeks and pressed on.

The third time you paused, you realised you were lost. A brief lull allowed your vision to clear and you had no idea where you were. You kicked the side of the ATV and cursed. You grabbed the radio again and turned it on.

“Gerry?” No answer. Several more tries with nothing but static.

You hung your head and clicked the radio off. You gripped the handlebars and looked around. You’d have to turn around and try to trace your way back but the snow was starting to get heavy again and--

“Hey,” You jumped as the voice sounded from behind you. “You okay?”

You turned to find Bucky standing by a tree. “How--”

“Looks like you just went in a big circle,” He said. “You’re about ten minutes from my place.”

“What are you doing out here?” You asked.

“Wanted to grab some kindling before the storm got too bad, then I heard you.”

“Kindling?”

“Dry it out, obviously, but might run out of what I have before this clears,” He looked up. “Look, it’s only gonna get worse. Why don’t you wait it out?”

“I don’t-- I can’t--”

“There’s more than enough room for both of us. Might be a bit dusty but… Wouldn’t feel right letting you get lost out here.”

You exhaled and looked at the radio.

“Alright,” You relented.

“I’ll lead the way.” He came up beside the ATV and passed to the front. “Just don’t get too close.”

“Okay,” You turned the throttle just a bit and kept a snail’s pace as he guided you.

He barely seemed bothered by the gusts or the deepening snow. Even as the air turned almost completely white, he didn’t waver though you squinted to keep an eye on him.

“You like beans?” He yelled back to you as he broke through to the clearing around his house.

“Maple beans?” You asked dryly.

“They go great with toast,” He said as he continued onto the shed and unlocked the wide doors. “Warm you right up.”

🪓

You sat at the table, alone. Bucky had excused himself after clearing his own plates. You still picked away at the beans and sausage, listening to the movement above. You scooped the last few bites up and swallowed, washing it down with a gulp of water. You stood and went to the sink to rinse your plate. As you set it in the rack, you were startled by a creak behind you.

“I cleared a bedroom for you. It’s a bit dusty around here.” Bucky said as he leaned against the door frame. “Bit cold, too. Sorry about that.”

“It’s alright,” The windows shuddered. “Better than out there.”

“I put some clothes out too. Might be a little big.” He explained. “Dinner okay?”

“Yeah, it was…” You tried to smile. “Alright. Um, just one second.”

You neared him and he moved aside. You went down the hallway to where your jacket was hung and pulled the radio out. He watched you as you fiddled with it and the speaker crackled on.

“Gerry?” You held it to your lips.

“Kiddo?” He said, clear but not entirely.

“I’m okay,” You said slowly as you held the button down. “Staying until storm clears. Call in morning.”

“Roger, kiddo,” He returned. “Be safe.”

You turned off the radio and placed it back in your coat pocket. You looked up at Bucky as he stared at you dully.

“Just wanted to make sure someone knew,” You said. “Wouldn’t want them to worry.”

“Of course not,” He said. “You want a beer?”

“What?” You were thrown off by the sudden offer.

“Beer. If you want you can grab a book from the study,” He pointed to the doorway opposite the front room. “Sit in front of the fire where it’s warm.”

“I’ll take the book,” You said. “I’m not much for beer though.”

“Hot chocolate? Tea?” He stepped a little closer.

“I’m fine,” You squirmed. “Thank you.”

‘Just let me know if you need anything,” He said softly. “Haven’t had a guest in a while but… I can be accommodating.”

🪓

You read three chapters before you found your way upstairs. Bucky showed you the room he’d prepared for you but didn’t say much more before he closed himself into his own. You changed into the long sleeve tee he left you and the jogging pants with the drawstring waist. You tucked your feet into the wool socks and rolled under the blankets. You were still cold. The top floor was entirely untouched by the fireplace below.

You drifted into a shallow sleep. Maybe an hour or two before you woke, shivering. You sat up and reluctantly climbed out from beneath the covers. You took one of the blankets and wrapped it around you as you shuffled to the door. You slipped through, carefully not to let the hinges whine and plodded through the dark down the stairs.

In the front room, the fire burned a low amber. You crept over to it and took a log from the wrought iron basket just beside it. You placed it over the coals and stoked it with the poker until flames began to lick. You held your hands to the glow until you were no longer shaking.

You took a cushion from the couch and dropped it on the carpet. You laid down before the fire, wrapping yourself in the blanket as you basked in the warmth. You listened to the violent winds outside, softened by the heaps of snow which had gathered all around the cabin. Your eyes closed as you began to sink into the darkness around you.

You dreamt of the four wheeler, of the snow swirling around you, of losing yourself in the pure white. The trees curled and clawed at your as you were thrown from the seat. The snap of twigs filled your ears and your eyes snapped open. The fire popped as it burned, the room lighter but not much.

There was a heaviness around you. More than just the quilt, the thick arm wrapped around your middle held you close to the warmth at your back. Startled, you wriggled against the body and a groan slithered along your ear.

“What the--” You hissed as you grasped his wrist, his hand tucked beneath you. “What are you doing?”

“It’s cold,” His breath was hot as it seeped into your scalp. “You were shivering.”

“Let me go,” You tugged on him.

“Shhh,” He hushed. “It’s early.”

“Dude, not cool,” You pulled harder on his arm.

“Stop,” He said more firmly.

“Get off of me.” You growled.

“You’re not a very gracious guest,” He snarled as he retracted his arm, only to grab your shoulder and push you flat on your back.

You latched onto his wrist, he was strong. He didn’t budge.

“You’re scaring me.”

“Scaring you?” He removed his hand. “How? What do you think I’m gonna do?”

He sat up, his broad shoulder stretched the waffled shirt he wore as he rubbed his eyes. He pushed his head back and took a deep breath. You pushed yourself up slowly beside him.

“What do you want me to do?” His hand settled on your thigh and he squeezed.

“Stop,” You tried to push his hand away and he flipped it to grasp yours.

His grip slipped to your wrist and he twisted. He wrenched it over your head until you were forced onto your back. You cried out as he leaned over you, the blanket slipping entirely from your bodies.

“Came all this way for a few cans of beans,” He whispered. “Really?”

“Stop!” You repeated. “Please.”

“But you’re cold,” He uttered as he leaned closer. “You need to warm up… you’re shivering…” His nose touched yours. “Or… shaking?”

“Get--” His lips smothered yours as he shifted his body atop you.

You struggled as he released your wrist and reached down to grab your knee as he forced his legs between yours. He bit your lip as he pulled and his hand clawed at the waist of the loose pants. He pulled until he snapped the string within and you kicked around him.

“What are you doing?” You beat on his shoulders. “Stop! Stop!”

“I don’t talk to people, they don’t talk to me,” He snarled. “I keep to myself. Even that dumb delivery boy of yours knows better.”

“No, no,” You slapped his chest as he sat up suddenly.

He tore the pants down your legs until they were around your knees and pushed them up. The fabric kept you trapped beneath him, legs bent to your chest as he leaned over your once more. He brushed his nose against your cheek and snarled.

“You asked for this, honey,” He sneered. “You just couldn’t leave me alone… The way you smile at me, I can see it.”

“I was just--” You pushed against him. “--doing my job. Please, get off of me.”

He moved against you, his thighs pressed to yours as he felt between you. He pushed his own pants down and you tried to shove him off of you with your legs. You only made yourself dizzy.

The fire flickered against you, setting shadows across his features, his blue eyes caught the flame and glowed sinisterly. His rough finger tickled your cunt as he guided his cock along your folds. You grunted as you fought harder beneath him. He pressed along your entrance and you gasped, a horrified scream as he impaled you in a single thrust.

“Go on and scream.” He said. “No one will hear you. No one but me.” He jerked his hips and you cried out again. “I kinda like it.”

He moved his hips in sharp, short thrusts. He grunted with each, lower and lower, almost like satisfied purrs.

He sat up and hugged your legs to his torso as he rutted faster. He clung to you as if he was desperate, as if he couldn’t get enough. You scratched at the carpet. You whimpered each time he slammed into you, each tilt of his hips harder than the last. The clapping of your flesh mingled with your voices. You closed your eyes, holding back the sobs that threatened.

And then he stopped. Suddenly. He stayed inside of you as his grasp on you loosened. His body quivered and a low growl rose from him. He pulled out of you and pushed your legs aside to that you fell onto your side. Shakily, you pushed yourself, on knees and elbow you tried to crawl away, your pants tangled around your feet.

He grabbed your ankles and dragged you back as you slipped onto your stomach. He climbed over you, pinning your legs between his. He kneaded and pinched your ass, dusky, thick breaths rose from him.

He pressed his thumb between your cheeks and you reached desperately for anything to get away. The edge of the carpet rolled in your grasp and you kicked your feet with a panicked whine. He pressed his thumb against your asshole and you shook your head as he buried your face in your arms. He pushed inside and you let out a shrill cry.

He poked in and out of you, your tight ring burned around his thumb. He withdrew it and forced his index finger in, then added his middle. Your pained groans only seemed to encourage him as he stretched you around a third finger.

He pulled his hand away and bent his arm over your shoulders as he lifted himself over you. He lined himself up with your ass as his hair hung around his head and brushed the back of yours. He took a breath and you held one in. He entered you slowly, letting out a choked grunt as you strained around him.

The tears pricked at your eyes and your arm shot up as you blind grabbed at air.

“Please, please, please. Stop.” You begged. “I can’t--”

He pushed deeper and your voice fizzled. He pulled back and thrust in again. Every time, he went a little further. Soon he was buried in you to his limit and you couldn’t breathe or move. He held himself inside of you and shuddered.

He began to rock and you moaned. Despite the pain, the fire that radiated from your core, it felt good. The more he did, the better it got. The pressure built, unlike any you’d felt before, and you gulped and groaned against the carpet. Shocked by him, by yourself.

He got faster and faster. Louder two as his snarls filled your head. You tensed and then in an instant, your strength drained from you. You came, harder than you had ever in your life. You murmured as your head lolled and he kept going.

He lifted his head and his fingers gripped the back of your neck as he lifted himself over you. He hammered into you from above as you lay prone and helpless beneath him. He exclaimed and you felt a warmth flow into you.

He stopped and fell atop you. His weight held you down, suffocated you. His arm stretched up and he grabbed your hand, twining his fingers with yours.

“Stay as long as you like,” He rasped. “Snow’s not letting up anytme soon.”

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #dark bucky barnes x reader #dark!bucky barnes x reader #fic #one shot #lumberjack au #lumberjack #au #mcu #marvel #dark fic #dark!fic #challenge

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mandolovian · 4 years ago

Text

1. triple-scented jasmine

pairing: cottagecore!din djarin/the mandalorian x reader

warnings: none! reader has some gently spicy feelings but it’s all pretty mild and full of yearning + fluff + pining

word count: 1.7k

a/n: this entire concept is dedicated to @mndalorians - thank u for fueling both my desire to live in the woods, and also to live in the woods with a tin can metal man. let me know what you think! pls expect more of this world bc i love it so so so so much ✨

You’d been eyeing the Mandalorian that moved into the property across from yours.

It was a rundown bungalow sitting on overgrown land: soil that hadn’t been turned, cobwebs that hadn’t been dusted. The previous owner was a portly man with ruddy cheeks - good-natured in temperament, but heavy-handed with the liquor. Towards the later years of his life, he became increasingly neglectful of the raised garden beds that lined the fences, and the poor citrus trees were left to shrivel into husks of their magnificent beings.

The arrival of a spaceship onto the planet sent many hushed whispers through the little farming community, no matter what kind of spaceship it was. Mira came rushing to your front door that morning, laden with town-gossip and bottles of bantha milk, a little shiny eyed and sweaty at effort it had taken to speed walk to your house in the morning sun.

‘It’s a Mandalorian,’ she stage-whispers, cooling herself with an old newspaper while sitting on your porch steps. ‘All shiny and pretty too. Parked his ship in the old hangars downtown. Probably the only ship in those hangars, to tell the honest truth.’

You lean against the doorframe, picking at a loose string on your apron. ‘What’s a Mandalorian doing around here, Mira?’ you ask.

‘Beats me,’ Mira says, shuffling her heavy skirts to sit more comfortably on the steps. The fabric hides the swell of her belly, and she keeps a hand on it when she leans back to look at you. ‘I heard it’s the same shiny Mandalorian that was shooting up all those Outer Rim cities. Maybe he’s looking to settle down here!’

You look down in exasperation at Mira with raised eyebrows, and she throws her hands up in defence before going back to vigorously fanning herself.

‘Either way,’ she says after a while, getting up with some difficulty. You offer her your arm and she takes it gratefully, heaving herself up to her feet. ‘It’ll be some excitement for us, you know?’

Her voice drops to a stage whisper again as she grabs your forearm, grinning toothily. ‘Maybe he’s single and is really looking to settle down!’

‘Mira please-’

‘I’m just saying!’ she says, waving you off. You help her collect the empty bottles back into her basket, and she waddles back down the porch steps. ‘If that Mandalorian comes knocking at your door, you best be opening it!’

----

Mira wasn’t wrong. He really was quite shiny.

With a mug of coffee and a biscuit, you settle yourself on the window seat and curle up your feet under you. It’s a prime position to look through the cracks of the curtains as the Mandalorian unloads his luggage off the rusty hover-trailer. The sun is high in the sky and shines off his armour as he lifts case after case off the trailer, stacking them on the porch of the bungalow.

A little baby follows the Mandalorian’s feet as he walks from the trailer to the house. Green, about a foot high, and almost entirely composed of petal-ears that raises and lowers in time with the crates that the Mandalorian carried. Your heart tightens a little when the baby trips over his little robe and goes sprawling into an overgrown rosemary bush, and tightens just a little more when the Mandalorian reaches down to pick the baby up, stroke his ears, and press the baby’s forehead to his helmet.

Maybe he is here to settle down.

You concede that he’s difficult to wholly admire from afar, but even with the distance that unfortunately befalls between you, you can tell that he was strong. Broad. You let your mind wander at the sight of his thighs when he kneels to tug at a handful of weeds that prevents his fence from latching firmly.

Capable and compassionate.

And if your eyes flutters shut and your thighs press against each other with just a little bit of pressure? Well, no one needed to know.

-----

‘Hi there!’

If anyone told you that you would open your front door, dressed in a nightdress and slippers, to a fully armoured and incredibly luminescent Mandalorian, you would say they were absolutely dreaming. Even still, there he stands, in his beskar glory, and your breath catches a little at the sight of his broad shoulders taking up nearly all of the doorway.

‘Hello,’ he says, and maker you’re already melting at his voice. ‘My son and I, we just-’ he haphazardly gestures behind him, ‘-moved into the house down there.’

‘I saw,’ you say quietly, choosing to avoid mentioning how much you’ve already stared at him today. ‘What can I do for you?’

‘We don’t seem to have electricity at the house,’ he says with a sigh, tapping his fingers against his belt. ‘There’s nothing wrong with the fuses but the entire system seemed turned off. Would you... would you maybe know why?’

‘You might not have your house connected to the grid,’ you say after a beat, tapping the corner of your lips in thought. ‘That house has been empty for years, of course it’d be disconnected.’

‘Is there a way to fix that?’

You shake your head, and the Mandalorian sighs quietly in response. ‘Not till morning,’ you say. ‘You’ll need to see Ledo Rikil in town tomorrow - he’ll be able to link your house up to the grid.’

‘I see,’ says the Mandalorin. He seems a little sheepish, perhaps dejected, and he lets out a tinny sigh again. Wrapping your arms around your middle, you shift slightly on your feet.

‘If it’s any consolation,’ you begin, not wanting to part so readily, ‘tonight will be warm so you’ll not need any heating, but maybe I can give you some candles for the dark?’

The Mandalorian hums, deep and sugary. Your toes curl inside your slippers at the sound and you feel ever so slightly dizzy. ‘That would be wonderful,’ he said, and stars, was it always going to be like this? Could you keep it together for one conversation?

You usher him over the step into your house, and he gingerly walks in. You can tell that he’s trying his best to avoid stomping on your floorboards, and you know better than to ask him to take his boots off. The Mandalorian carefully moves himself to stand on the rug in your living area - as if he’s a penguin seeking an iceberg on the wooden sea.

‘This is a nice house,’ he says, tilting his helmet as he watched you from the middle of the room. ‘Very�� homely.’

He trails off at the end of the sentence, and seems to sink even more sheepishly into his beskar studded boots.

‘You’re allowed to take inspiration, if you like,’ you say with a soft laugh, turning to rummage through your cupboards. ‘Can’t imagine that the old shack has any personality right now.’

‘I haven’t lived in a house in a long time,’ says the Mandalorian, and you hum in response. Out of the corner of your eye, you see him cautiously take a seat at the edge of your couch, rearranging his limbs until his hands were folded on his lap like a regency-era maiden.

‘Well,’ you say, balancing several candles in your arms as you walk over to him, ‘you’ve come to the right place for inspiration and illumination.’

Onto the coffee table in front of him, you lay out the selection: four paraffin pillar candles, a handful of tealights, and one ornate jar, complete with a glass lid. The Mandalorian leans forward and rests his forearms on his knees, tilting his helmet to silently assess your layout.

‘The paraffin ones should be your go-to candles,’ you say, sitting back on your knees on the rug in front of the coffee table. Gently, you push the pillar candles closer to him. ‘They can burn for half a day, and they have a very bright flame. They’ll brighten an entire room with no problem.’

You pick up a tealight, and hand it to the Mandalorian. It sits tiny in the middle of his palm, and he strokes the edge of the wick gently with a gloved finger.

‘Those are good for temporary use,’ you say. ‘Or if you only need light for a small area. Or just for decorating. Up to you, really.’

‘And the glass one?’ he ask.

You pick up the jar and open it, before offering it to the Mandalorian. ‘It’s a housewarming gift,’ you say. ‘Triple-scented jasmine. Made it myself.’

The Mandalorian puts down the tealights, and accepts the jar with as much gentle grace as an armoured man could. ‘You made this yourself?’ he asks, and you nod shyly.

With a quiet groan, you sit up on your knees, and flex side to side to stretch out your sore hips. ‘They’re not too hard to make,’ you say, ‘I could show you one day if you’d like?’

There’s a soft crackle of a laugh, made hoarse by his helmet. It’s warm, delightful, and you wonder what it might feel like against the apples of your cheeks.

‘It’s incredible,’ he say, and you fiddle demurely with the edge of your dress at the praise. ‘Thank you so much for all of this - how could I ever repay you?’

‘Nonsense,’ you say, standing up straight and brushing off your skirts. The Mandalorian stands up with you, and he haphazardly arranges the candles in his forearms before sheepishly accepting a canvas bag from you. ‘Just… come say hello every so often. I’ll introduce you to everyone!’

‘Everyone?’

He’s standing back on your doorstep now, swinging the bag of candles lightly in his left hand. The moonlight shines off the harsh planes of his armour, and you idly wonder how often and how long he spent polishing it. You’d have to ask sometime.

‘It’s a small town,’ you say. ‘We help each other out. It helps knowing one another.’

The Mandalorian steps backwards, carefully down the porch steps and onto your gravel path. ‘I’ll hold you to that,’ he says, tilting his helmet towards you. ‘I’ll see you later.’

You cross your arms against the quiet breeze, and lean against the post. ‘Goodnight, Mandalorian.’

#din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian #mando #din djarin #dev talks #mandalorian imagine #mandalorian blurb #mando x reader #din djarin blurb #fluff #mywriting #blurb #hmmm will the tags work #anyway goodnight!

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wayward-dreamer · 4 years ago

Text

Life’s Lessons - Part 1

Title: Life’s Lessons - A Lesson in Settling In

Pairing: Mechanic!Dean x Female!Teacher!Reader (eventual)

Word Count: 3,362

Part Summary: Y/N settles into her new house, in a new town. Right off the bat, she meets her gorgeous neighbor, finding an instant connection with him. As she goes to work on Monday, she starts to think that she could get used to Lawrence, Kansas.

Warnings: some swearing, first day of work nerves, Dean being cute (yes, that’s a warning lol)

Music: Lookin’ Out My Back Door, I Heard It Through the Grapevine by Creedence Clearwater Revival (Setting up the house scene).

A/N: The first part is here! I’m so excited for you all to read it! Please let me know what you think, I can’t wait to hear your thoughts and feedback! P.S. I have a full playlist for this series coming soon, just finalising some selections! Happy reading and I hope you guys like it! :)

Dividers by the wonderful @firefly-graphics! Check her out for all your AU needs!!!

Y/N leaned against her car, a content smile on her face as she looked up at the house that she was about to call her new home.

The house was clean white, with a grey tiled roof. White wood railings encased the front porch, that had a porch swing in front of one of the windows. The front yard was freshly mowed, with the flower beds on either side of the porch steps. It was a modest, two-bedroom house, with not a whole lot of backyard space, but it was the most rent she could afford with her previous salary. It didn’t matter though; you could make a house a home no matter how big or small it was. Her job as a teacher wasn’t just rewarding when the kids did well, but it was able to put a roof over her head, and that was all she could ask for.

Y/N started with her bags before she opened the large U-Haul trailer attached to her car, and started taking out the boxes. It had been a long journey from Rhinebeck, New York, stopping off overnight in Ohio and then Missouri, but she made it to Lawrence, Kansas that morning, giving her enough time to start unloading her things. Considering it was just her, she knew it was going to take some time, but she was hoping to finish by lunch time so she could explore the town a little.

Luckily for her, complicated things to move like a couch and a bed, weren’t things that she had brought with her. Those things were reminders of what she had done on them with her ex-boyfriend and the last thing she needed in her new house were memories of him. He was the reason she had searched for teaching jobs outside of New York, and luckily, she got the furthest one. She missed her family already, but she needed to get as far away from the memories of him as possible.

Moving her bags and the boxes from the trailer had been the easiest part. It was moving the furniture – dining table and chairs, armchairs, record player, coffee table and two bookshelves – that was going to be the hard task on her own. She started with what she could do on her own, moving all the dining chairs into the house. When she got back to the trailer, she sighed heavily. There were too many things to move.

Y/N stepped into the trailer and started to shift one of the armchairs but growled in frustration as it got stuck on the edge. She couldn’t get the right hold on it to get it off the edge, her legs shaking as she tried to keep it steady.

“Whoa, hey. Let me help you with that” a male voice said behind her. She didn’t turn to see him yet, but watched as he grabbed the other end of the armchair and helped her put it down on the pavement.

“Thanks” she smiled, relieved.

“No problem” he said as he turned to face her.

She almost wished he hadn’t because now her legs were shaking more than they were when she couldn’t hold the damn chair. He was the most beautiful man she had ever seen, handsome but incredibly hot at the same time. The black and white plaid shirt he was wearing was tight across his arms, and she couldn’t help but get lost in his gorgeous green eyes and sinfully pouty lips.

She smiled politely, keeping the thoughts she was having suddenly, at bay. “No, really, thanks so much. I probably would’ve ended up trapped under this chair if you hadn’t stepped in.”

He laughed, laughter lines appearing near his mouth and crinkles around his eyes. “Well, I would’ve hated to see that happen.”

She smiled, not knowing what else to say to him. This was the first time she had ever been this flustered with a man. The sound of his laugh and the way those lines appeared around the creases of his eyes made her heart flutter.

“Can I help you with rest? I mean, I gotta get to work but I can be a little late” he asked, as he looked between the chair and the rest of her stuff.

She looked at the rest of the things and frowned. “You sure? I wouldn’t want to get you in trouble.”

“I’m positive. Helps to be the boss, so…” he smirked, as he shrugged.

She nodded, impressed. “What do you do?”

“I’m a mechanic, I own the auto shop on Main street. Winchester’s. I’m Dean, by the way” he said, as he offered his hand.

She took his hand in hers and tried to ignore the spark she felt radiate through her when their skin touched. “Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Good to meet ya, Y/N” he smiled.

When she smiled in return, Dean was completely floored by her. She was beautiful; dressed in loose boyfriend jeans, a white t-shirt, red converse sneakers and a red bandana around her head with her hair in a messy bun. She really had the girl next door vibe going on. That was dangerous with the situation he was in, so he had to tread lightly. When he saw her from across the street, he was reluctant to help because one look at her, even from a distance and he knew he was in trouble. His mother raised him to be a gentleman though, so he couldn’t hesitate to help a person in need.

With Dean’s help, moving the furniture she did have into the house only took about 20 minutes. She was incredibly thankful for him helping and hoped that it wouldn’t have been too forward to ask if he wanted to grab dinner with her, that night. She straightened out the medium sized, round dining table and chairs with Dean, and sighed in relief once it was done. Her furniture was now in place in all the appropriate rooms. She had to unpack now, which was almost harder than this, but at least she could take her time with it.

Dean looked around her house and nodded, noticing how many boxes had “BOOKS” written on them in black marker. He had only been in this house twice, when the previous owners still lived there before they moved to be closer to their children.

“Big reader?” he gestured towards the boxes.

“Definitely, but I’m a teacher too, so it’s an abundance of books” she laughed, as she looked at them. “It’s a little ridiculous, really.”

Dean laughed quietly to himself, trying to get the teacher fantasies out of his head. She really had to be a teacher.

“Well, I should head out” he said, as he made his way to the door.

She followed behind him and leaned against the doorway. “Thanks for the chivalry.”

“You’re welcome. I guess it’s not dead, after all” he smirked.

She laughed; it felt like the millionth time in the last 20 minutes. He was carefree and had made the tedious process so much easier with his humour.

“I’ll see ya around, Y/N” Dean said, shoving his hands into his pockets as he turned away from her.

“Thanks again” she called out.

Dean walked down the porch steps and turned back. He gave her wink before he walked across the street. She sighed to herself as she watched him walk away, his dark blue jeans doing wonders for his behind, though the black and white plaid was hiding his back from the looseness. She thought against asking him for dinner just yet, at least not on her first day in town. She would give it a couple of weeks, enough time for her to settle into her new job and into the town.

Y/N closed the door and walked back into the main room. Looking at the boxes, she knew it was better to return the trailer to the Lawrence location and then explore the town a little. Get some lunch, do a little grocery shopping. She picked up her bag and keys, heading out of her new house. She would start on the boxes when she got back.

Before she got in the car, she fired off a quick message to her family, telling them she had gotten there safely. It had been text after text and call after call asking if she was okay when she left Rhineback to drive to Lawrence. She reassured her family that all was well, and then drove into town.

The next day, Y/N was thankful that it was a Saturday. It would give her some more time to set up the house but also start getting ready for the first day of school on Monday. She was nervous about meeting the staff and the students, but she was excited about the new experience. She had walked through town the day before, grabbed the essentials like bedsheets and towels, plus some grocery items for the immediate need. She was already beginning to like Lawrence.

The first thing she did was set up the record player her dad had given to her. Once everything was plugged in where it was supposed to be, she put on one of Creedence Clearwater Revival’s records. She bopped her head along to Lookin’ Out My Back Door as she started to unpack the other records, before starting on the other boxes.

About 15 minutes later, as I Heard It Through The Grapevine played, she stood on the front porch, watching her furniture delivery unload from the truck. Before she even got to Lawrence, she had bought a new bed frame and mattress, couch, office desk and chair online, and thank goodness the place had Saturday delivery. She had made a makeshift bed out her new sheets and pillows last night, and with the way her back clicked and cracked into place when she woke up that morning, she was incredibly fortunate that her new bed was here.

She followed them inside and instructed the delivery guys on where to put the items. As she was helping them, she heard a loud knock on the open door. She turned around and saw a woman, maybe her age or a few years older, standing at the door. Next to her, stood a young boy, probably about 13 years old. Y/N smiled as she walked to the door, seeing a plate of something in the woman’s hands.

“Hi, we saw you moving in and wanted to welcome you. I’m Lisa Braeden, and this is my son, Ben” she introduced themselves, with a bright smile.

Y/N shook her hand and smiled in return. “It��s great to meet you, guys. I’m Y/N Y/L/N.”

“These are for you, I hope you like chocolate chip” Lisa said, handing her the plate of cookies.

“Maybe a little too much” Y/N laughed. “Thanks.”

“Listen, if there’s anything you need, we’re right across the street” Lisa gestured behind her to the house across the street.

Y/N nodded as she looked at the place. It had darker features, but the lawn was equally maintained. “I appreciate that.”

“So, Ben. What grade are you in?” Y/N asked, wanting to engage with Ben a little, who looked quite bored.

“I’m starting 8th on Monday” he mumbled.

Y/N smiled, looking between him and Lisa. “Well, I’m starting work on Monday. Maybe I’ll have you in my English class.”

“Cool.” Ben didn’t seem to care. “Nice choice” he said, gesturing to where the music was coming from before he turned away, walking to the porch stairs and waiting for Lisa.

Lisa looked at him with a “we’ll talk later” look, before she turned to Y/N. “He shouldn’t give you too much trouble, but if he does, you know where I am.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine” Y/N shook her head.

“Anyway, we should go. Welcome to the neighborhood” Lisa said, smiling again.

“Thanks” Y/N smiled.

She watched as Lisa and Ben walked across the street, clearly waiting to be behind closed doors before she talked to him about what just happened. Hopefully she wasn’t too harsh on him; no kid would want to meet their new teacher outside of a school setting. Y/N walked inside the house and saw that the delivery guys were done. She signed off on the delivery and the guys left. She picked up one of the boxes still in her living room and walked to the second bedroom she was using as an office. She was excited to set it up and get started on some work for Monday.

Y/N sat in her car in the parking lot of the school. She had gotten there a little early, just trying to calm herself down before going in to meet the principal. She had spoken to him for her phone interview and again when she got the job, so she was familiar with him. He seemed like a nice man and she just hoped that the rest of the staff were the same way. She was more nervous about the students. Moving schools wasn’t just hard as a kid.

She checked her make-up in the mirror and then got out of the car, walking towards the entrance. She fixed her white top and smoothed down her brown skirt, thankful that she had chosen brown sandals with a small heel instead of something higher. She didn’t need anything to go wrong today. Once inside, she walked over to the administration office, as guided by the signs. At the very first desk, sat a red-headed woman, the name plate on her desk reading: Anna Milton – Receptionist.

When Y/N approached her desk, she looked up from her computer and smiled.

“Hello, how can I help you?” she asked.

“Uh, hi, I’m Y/N Y/L/N. I’m starting here today and need to meet Mr. Shurley first” Y/N replied, trying her best to keep her nerves at bay.

“Oh of course” she picked up the phone and pressed a number.

Y/N waited a minute or so before a short man with greying hair and a beard, walked out of an office at the back of the room. He saw her and smiled, extending his hand as he approached her.

“Miss Y/L/N, wonderful to meet you” he said, shaking her hand.

“You too, Mr. Shurley” she smiled, as confidently as she could.

“Alright, let me show you around before your first class” he walked ahead of her, not leaving her too far behind.

It took Chuck, as he insisted on being called by his first name when it was a one-on-one basis, a few minutes to show her around the main parts of the school; the staff room, the library, the gym and the cafeteria. After that, he took her to the classroom she’d be using, just before the students came in. They watched as they came in, sitting down at their desks. Ben walked in and she smiled at him, but just received a little twitch of his face back. They all looked scared to see the principal in the room.

“Class, I’d like you meet Miss Y/L/N. Your new English teacher. So, make her feel welcome” he said to them in a commanding voice, before he turned to her. “If any of them give you any trouble, just send them down to my office.”

“I’m sure I won’t need to” Y/N looked between him and the students.

“Alright, take it away” he smiled before he left the room.

As soon as he was gone, the class erupted into loud voices as they began chatting away. Y/N sat on the edge of her desk, her legs and arms crossed as she waited, patiently. She would give them a few seconds before she got their attention. Before she could do that however, Ben looked at her and then at the rest of his classmates.

“Guys” he called out. The noise level didn’t go down.

“Last one to be quiet has to tell their next teacher why they were late” she called out.

The noise level dropped instantly.

Y/N smiled, happy that worked. “Alright. As Mr. Shurley said, I’m Miss Y/L/N. We’re going to start off with the role. As I call out your names, you’re going to tell me what you read over the summer and a short answer about what you liked or didn’t like about it.”

For majority of the class, things went well. Most of the students were well behaved except for one group of three boys who kept talking and disrupting the others around them. They were rude and weren’t listening to her when she asked them to stop several times. She would have to keep an eye on them. To say that her first lesson had been difficult would be an understatement, but she got through it. That’s what mattered.

Y/N had a break in which prepared for her class with the 7th graders. They were a breath of fresh air and exactly what she needed after the previous class. They were much more engaged and a lot softer spoken, so while she would have to get them out of their shells a little bit, they were pretty well behaved.

At lunch, Chuck introduced her to a few more of the teachers. She shook hands with everyone and engaged in conversation. The usual chatter about where she was from and how she got into teaching. As she sat down to eat, she looked over some of her messages. She smiled as she saw one from her sister, sending off a quick reply to tell her she was doing okay.

“Mind if I join you?” a voice asked.

She looked up to see a man with brown short hair and blue eyes smiling at her. He was adorable, looking cute in his white shirt with rolled sleeves, black pants and blue tie to match his eyes.

She smiled in return and nodded. “Sure, of course.”

He sat down across from her with his lunch. “I’m Castiel Novak, history teacher. Everyone calls me Cas, though.”

He offered up his hand and she shook it. “It’s great to meet you.”

Just as he was about to say something, a red-headed woman, not Anna, walked over. “Hey, you must be the new English teacher, I’m Charlie.”

“I’m Y/N” she said, shaking her hand.

“Charlie teaches Math but she’s a computer whiz too. Helps out the I.T. guys every now and then” Cas told her as Charlie settled into the seat next to him.

Y/N smiled approvingly. “Wow, that’s amazing.”

“Thanks. They ask me because I think they secretly know I’m better at it than them. I was in the corporate line for a while, but then I moved back home to help my mom” Charlie explained, between bites of her salad.

Y/N liked her already, her nerdy vibe with colourful plaid shirt and band t-shirt suiting her chirpy personality. Cas was a little quiet, but there was a calm presence to him. Though she had no doubt he had the ability to get kids to listen to him straight away.

“Yeah, we’re all glad she came back and stuck around” Cas smiled at her.

When she smiled in return, Y/N had to ask. “So, you two…?”

They both laughed as they looked at each other and then back at Y/N.

“No, we’ve just been friends for a really long time. I have a girlfriend, Meg. She’s a nurse at Lawrence General. She’s tougher than nails and I don’t know how I got her” Cas replied, laughing slightly.

“Yeah, and I’ve just started dating a few weeks ago. Her name’s Dorothy and she’s a writer for the Kansas City Times. She’s really cool” Charlie smiled softly.

Y/N nodded, understanding. “They both sound amazing. I can’t wait to meet them some time.”

They continued talking over lunch and Y/N couldn’t have been happier to have met them. They were both incredibly kind and lovely people, and she was really starting to get along with them.

As lunch finished and they went their separate ways, Y/N smiled as she walked to her next class.

Hopefully moving to Lawrence, Kansas was going to be the best decision she’d ever made.

-x-

Tags: @flamencodiva @deanwanddamons @winchest09 @katehuntington @akshi8278 @hobby27 @michellethetvaddict @spngirl05 @kyjey @halesandy @440mxs-wife @stoneyggirl @deanswaywardgirl @wonder-cole @that-one-gay-girl @redbarn1995 @marianita195 @babypink224221 @deans-baby-momma @parinarain @thoughts-and-funnies

#Life's Lessons #Dean x Female!Reader #Dean x Female!Reader Series #Dean x Female!Reader Fanfiction #Female!Reader Insert #Mechanic!Dean #Teacher!Reader #Dean x Reader Fanfiction #Dean Winchester Series #Dean Winchester Fanfiction #Dean Winchester Fanfic #Supernatural Fanfiction

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capsironunderoos · 4 years ago

Text

I Know

JJ Maybank x Reader

Summary: The reader is there to witness JJ’s hot tub scene.

Word Count: 2.9k

Author’s Note: Yay! A new hyperfixation! I absolutely adore JJ, and I knew I had to write something for him as soon as I finished Outer Banks. So, here it is! I plan to write more for this sweet boy, but if you want to see something specific, don’t hesitate to ask! I hope you enjoy!

capsironunderoos masterlist

You hum quietly from your spot on the couch that rests on the Chateau’s screened porch.

It had been a relatively warm day, nothing special, which was saying a lot.

The past few days had been non-stop, swimming in the marsh, driving the HMS Pogue, looking for lost gold, and stealing drones, not to mention stealing money from a local drug-dealer.

You shift in your spot, sinking further into the couch, your head coming to rest on the back of it as your legs sway swiftly back and forth, the sound of sand dragging under them and against the wood beginning to lull you to sleep.

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d slept more than three hours, and this week had been no exception.

This rare moment of silence, and finally being alone, had caught you off guard at first, and you were almost unsure of how to react to it, searching the Chateau and the yard around it for any of the Pogues to help you waste time.

When you found none, you’d shrugged it off and made your way to the couch, where you were currently slipping into a welcomed afternoon nap.

Just as your breathing begins to even out, and the sound of the water spilling by has drowned into nothing, a loud beeping jolts you up and into a seated position, hands grasping the fabric of the couch as you frantically look around to place the sound to its maker.

A large truck is backing into the yard, red lights glowing as it brakes every few seconds.

A man wearing a shirt for a local pool store is directing the driver, and beside him, JJ stands, hands on his hips, offering directions when needed.

You furrow your eyebrows, unsure of how to handle the situation you’ve currently found yourself in.

You know for a fact JJ doesn’t know you’re here, much less watching him unload a huge hot tub under the tree in the backyard.

You stand to your feet, walking over to the window in front of you to try and hear snippets of conversation.

Once the hot tub is settled in a spot JJ deems as perfect, he shakes the hands of both the men, thanking them before they climb into the cab of the truck and disappear back down the road.

You shift your weight, watching JJ carefully as he stands and admires his purchase.

Deciding to finally try and get to the bottom of the mysterious hot tub situation, you quietly leave the porch, although the sound of the second step from the bottom creaking when you set your weight on it gives away your position.

JJ’s head whips in your direction, guard up and sneer evident on his face.

You raise your hands in surrender, eyes going wide at the bruise and cut flowering on his cheek.

His defensive state falters when he sees it’s you, and you slowly walk over to him, approaching him like a wild animal that is moments away from attacking. He watches your every move, a simple smile eventually fighting its way onto his lips.

“I got us a hot tub!”

He yells, trying to sound triumphant, but you pick up on the waiver in his voice, the uncertainty, the need for approval.

“J…” You start, voice falling away when you get closer and see the extent of the cut on his face.

Your hand lifts, aiming to cup his jaw and offer comfort, but before it reaches its intended target, JJ jerks away from you, intent on being out of your line of vision.

“Stay away from me,” he growls, and your mind drifts back to the idea of a wild animal, hurt and refusing help, when it is right in front of them, and all they would have to do is ask, or accept.

Your hands fall to your sides, gripping the hem of your shorts to keep yourself grounded.

He is angry, but you know not with you, so you have to work to keep from snapping at him, for yelling at him for not accepting your help.

“Will you at least tell me what happened?”

You whisper, hands still kneading the hem of your shorts. He twists further away from you, and you accept that as a no.

“Don’t get near me, right now, okay?”

He grumbles through gritted teeth, and you nod, backing up.

He walks over to a collection of plastic bags you hadn’t noticed before, bending down to begin emptying them of their contents.

You glance behind you, eyes landing on a stray lawn chair before you move to pull it into the yard. You set it up, sitting down into it far enough away to keep JJ content but close enough to keep him in your sights.

You watch for the next few hours as he works to weave hundreds of colored and white christmas lights through the trees around the hot tub. You aren’t sure how John B will react to JJ using up so much power, and you secretly hope you aren’t here to see them argue yet again.

JJ had been on edge the past few days, the final straw being pulled over and almost robbed by Barry.

When he had walked out of the trailer, bag of money in hand, your heart had stopped.

You’d never seen him so angry as he pushed John B against the side of the van, hands shaking as his body worked to find ways to release days, weeks, months, maybe even years of aggression.

He had yelled about wanting to protect the pogues, and when his eyes caught yours his rage had faltered, his shoulders drooping before he literally shook himself out of your gaze and stomped away.

You hadn’t seen him since then, but here he was now, testing the jets in the hot tub as he blew up small inflatables and placed champagne flutes in them, complete with the fanciest bottle of champagne you’d probably ever seen.

You shift in the lawn chair, the fabric creaking in protest and age.

The sun had begun to set, and you watched as JJ finally climbed into the hot tub, content with his work as he settled down into the water.

He wore a new pair of sunglasses now, smiling to himself, proud of what he’d accomplished.

You had an idea of how he’d managed to purchase not only the hot tub, but all of the accessories and extras, but you didn’t dwell on it, not wanting to to be true, for his sake, for the sake of the pogues, for the sake of everything they’d done in the past few days.

He slowly removed his shirt, now wet, and slung it over the side of the hot tub, hearing it land against the ground with a soft thud.

You didn’t know if you should call Kie, or Pope, or maybe John B, although no one really knew where he was.

So, you sat and watched, keeping your distance as JJ drank, eventually abandoning the small glasses to drink straight from the bottle.

When he finally began talking to you, his speech was slurred, and different, instead of strong and proud, his voice came out small now, almost as if he were wary it wouldn’t work when he spoke.

“Can you just go away?”

He mumbled, and you stood up, moving closer in order to hear him better, stopping when you reach the bottom step of the hot tub.

“Can you just come inside and tell me what happened? This isn’t like you J.”

You plead, and he scoffs, shifting further into the water.

You watch him warily, unsure of what this state of mind would urge him to do.

“How- how would you know what’s like me?”

He asks, eyebrows furrowing over the tops of his glasses.

“JJ you’re my best friend, of course I know what’s like you,” you retort, placing a hand on your hip.

He watches you before smiling and shaking his head.

“No, you don’t. None of you do.”

You hear footsteps behind you then, and you glance over your shoulder to see Kie and Pope walking up.

Kie looks as if someone has personally shattered her heart into pieces, and Pope looks like he’s seen a ghost.

You look back to JJ as Pope speaks.

“What-” he sounds breathless, unbelieving of what he’s seeing, “did you do, JJ?”

JJ moves his glasses to the tip of his nose, a smile working it’s way onto his lips as he lifts the champagne bottle in his right hand and gestures to the water.

“I’ve got a jet going straight in my butt right now!”

He exclaims, giggling, working to get a different reaction from his friends in front of him.

No one moves, Kie and Pope still speechless as you shift your weight from one foot to the other, eventually moving from the bottom step of the hot tub to the top.

JJ reaches for two floating glasses, filling them with champagne.

“You have to get in immediately, okay?”

You notice the difference in tone now, as opposed to your short conversation moments earlier.

This JJ is putting on a show, trying to assure Kie and Pope that he is okay, that they are, and will be okay, and that what he has done is good.

But your JJ, from earlier, was different, angry, asking questions that you were unsure you held the answers to.

“Salud!” he cheers, lifting the bottle to his lips and one of the now full glasses in your direction.

“How much did this cost?”

You hear Pope ask behind you, his feet shuffling on the grass as he steps closer.

You glance over your shoulder at him, and you know he has already answered his own question.

“Uhhh…” you hear from JJ, and you turn back to him, arms crossed over your chest as you prepare to hear him confirm your suspicions.

You didn’t know much about his dad, but you knew neither of them had enough money to spend on a hot tub.

“Well,” his hands flit around as if he’s doing the calculations as he speaks.

“With the generator, the petrol, oh! And express delivery, hmm…”

His lips puff out as he finalizes his thoughts.

“Yeah, pretty much all of it.”

You feel the weight of the world crash around you, almost hearing it land on you, Kie, and Pope’s shoulders.

Your arms fall beside you.

“All of it?” Pope asks, and JJ nods.

“Yeah, all of it!”

You squeeze the bridge of your nose, eyes shut tight as you try and fight the oncoming stress headache.

“You spent all the money in one day?”

Pope asks again, and you want to yell at him for asking so many questions.

“Yes! Burned a hole right through my pocket,” JJ answers, left hand swimming in front of him, “but you guys, c’mon I mean,” he gestures to the water.

“Look at this! Finest jet-based therapy, that’s what they told me,” he mumbles on, words slurring together as he tries to reason his purchase to the three of you.

He’s quiet for a second, waiting on someone to give the slightest ounce of approval.

Hearing nothing, he looks past you over the rim of his glasses, finding Kie.

“Kie what?”

You glance over your shoulder to look at her.

She’s staring at him in disbelief, shoulders drooped, looking as if she has given up completely.

“Can’t a man have a little luxury in life?”

Hearing the rasp in his voice, you turn to JJ.

He’s close to crying, you can tell.

His actions are hurried and his voice is breaking, but he carries on, fighting past the urge to appear weak in front of his friends, in front of the people he needs to be strong for.

He yanks his glasses off then.

“What, all this scrimping and scraping? I mean uh,” his voice quivers and you step closer to the hot tub, hands coming to rest on the edge of it, fingertips being splashed with water as JJ moves around.

“You only live once, guys, right?”

He’s still seeking reassurance, understanding, and you want to give it to him now more than ever but you can't because you don’t understand, and nothing about this situation is reassuring to you.

“Alright,” he starts again, voice void of the emotion it held so tenderly only moments earlier.

“Enough with this emotional shit, get in the Cat’s Ass, c’mon.”

He gestures and shifts, making room for his friends, but none of you move.

The air is so tense you swear you could cut it with a knife.

“The… what?”

Kie questions, unsure of what she just heard leave JJ’s mouth. JJ leans back, proud now, chest puffed out.

“The Cat’s Ass, that’s what I named her.”

You sigh and your fingers find the bridge of your nose, pinching again but doing nothing to ward off the headache that has already settled in your temple.

“Oh, hey yo! Almost forgot!”

JJ exclaims suddenly, and his sudden movements to the other side of the hot tub cause water to splash up and onto your shorts.

He clicks a button and the jets begin shooting water over the tub, and bright lights begin emanating from it.

The three of you simply stand in awe, and not at the hot tub, but at the absolute disaster that has become JJ Maybank.

“Yeah that’s right! Disco mode!”

It’s the final straw for Pope, and you hear his feet shuffle as he comes to stand beside you on the ground, his head reaching where you shoulders are.

“Are you kidding me? You could have paid for restitution!”

“Or literally given it to any charity!”

Kie follows, and JJ’s eyes flit between the pair before connecting with yours.

You say nothing, not even sure you could find the right words.

He turns away then, mimicking your earlier actions by pinching the bridge of his nose as he listens to Pope continue.

“Or better yet, helped us buy supplies to finish getting the gold from the well!”

JJ jumps then, turning angrily to face the three of you.

“Okay! Alright! But I didn’t do that!”

As he finishes his sentence, he stands, and large purple bruises marring his torso come into view.

The sight of them makes your stomach flip, and tears instantly spring to your eyes. You step back, almost falling off of the step, but catching yourself by grabbing the edge of the hot tub.

Your left hand anchors you there, but your right moves up to cover the shock on your face, and you feel warm tears landing against your fingers.

JJ is beginning to cry now too.

“I got a hot tub. For my friends.”

You don’t have to look at Kie and Pope to know they are just as shocked as you are.

Who had done this to him? Why hadn’t he said something earlier?

You could have helped, or taken him somewhere, or done literally any and everything to help him.

“You know what, you know what? No! Screw friends! I got a hot tub for my family!”

“JJ what the hell?”

Kie asks, and you watch as he gestures around the hot tub.

“Look at this! Look at this!”

“JJ…” She pleads and it only makes him more upset.

“No will you stop being emotional? It’s fine, okay?”

He inhales a shaky breath and you have to bite down on your hand to stop from sobbing.

“I mean it’s sweet right… every… everything…”

He trails off and you don’t waste anymore time before climbing into the water, not caring about getting wet as you reach for him.

He stands there, tears flowing freely now, as his head connects with your shoulder, your arms coming up to rest around his neck as you try to pull him as far into you as you possibly can.

“I was gonna do it,” he whimpers, his head falling onto your chest as his arms finally wrap around your middle, pulling you into him.

He’s dropped the champagne bottle, and he shakes as he cries, you moving with him as he finally lets out what seems like ages worth of emotions and held-back fear.

“I can’t take him anymore!”

He cries out and suddenly everything comes crashing onto your shoulders.

Nights spent at John B’s or yours when his excuse was simply not wanting to go home, days where he’d show up on the HMS Pogue and refuse to take off his shirt. Not showing up for weeks at a time, and when he finally did, a new scar would be seen blooming on his cheek.

His father had been doing all of this to him.

How had you not realized sooner?

“I was gonna kill him,” he whimpers, and his voice is so small, so quiet, that it breaks you, and you begin to sink down into the water before you feel two sets of arms wrap around the both of you.

Kie and Pope have followed your lead and stepped into the pool with you, wrapping you and JJ into their arms as all of you cry together.

No one talks, everyone just listens, to JJ, to the water in the hot tub moving around you.

“I just wanted to do the right thing,” he explains, and you pull him closer into you.

You place your lips against the crown of his head and whisper.

“I know J, I know.”

#jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #outer banks #outer banks x reader #obx #obx x reader

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katehuntington · 4 years ago

Text

Title: Ride With Me (part nineteen) Fandom: Supernatural Timeline: 2008 Pairing: Dean x Reader Word count: ±7500 words Summary series: Y/N is a talented horse rider who is on her way to become a professional. In order to convince her father that she deserves the loan needed to start her own farm, she goes to Arizona for six months, to intern at a ranch owned by Bobby and Ellen Singer. Her future is set out, but then she meets a handsome horseman, who goes by the name of Dean Winchester. A heartwarming series about a cowboy who falls for the girl, letting go of the past and the importance of family. Summary part nineteen: The Flagstaff Horse Fair is about to kick off, but not without a hitch. Warnings series: NSFW, 18+ only! Fluff, angst, eventually smut. Swearing, smoking, alcohol intoxication, alcohol abuse. Mutual pining, heartbreak. Crying, nightmares, childhood trauma. Description of animal abuse, domestic violence, mentions of addiction. Financial problems, stress, mental breakdown. Description of blood and injury, hospital scenes, character death, grief. Music: ‘Fortunate Son’ - Creedence Clearwater Revival, ‘Backwoods Company’ - The Wild Feathers. Follow ‘Kate Huntington’s Ride With Me playlist’ on Spotify! Author’s note: Prepare for cuteness and a bit of angst! Thank you @kittenofdoomage, @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish, @manawhaat and @winchest09 for helping me. I especially want to thank Kay, who has beta’d Ride from the very beginning, but needs to take a break from Tumblr to focus on school. I will miss her dearly, but I’m super thankful that Mana is willing to take over. Also a special thanks to @jules-1999, who has offered me her knowledge about rodeo events like these.

Ride With Me Masterlist

With a black bumper-pull trailer in the rearview mirror, Dean’s beloved ‘67 El Camino rolls up Interstate 17. The windows are down, allowing the wind to wash in, like waves crashing onto the beach on a hot summer day, the cool air welcome and refreshing.

The Gold Canyon Ranch caravan left around three o’clock, the column of three pickups and trailers now heading towards Flagstaff, Arizona. Bobby and Jo lead the company in his powerful Ford with an impressive gooseneck in tow, which currently accommodates five horses. Benny follows in his four by four, with three horses on board another large trailer, facilitated with a small living quarters. Dean is the last wagon of the train, Meadow and one of his calmer geldings in the back, and Y/N beside him in the passenger seat.

The cowgirl is soaking up the scenery, the hills that flow next to the highway, the mountains in the distance, the blue sky above them. The tall saguaros that dominate the landscape at home are swapped for ponderosa pines, dusty desert for green grasslands. The forest is already beginning to change color, autumn painting deciduous trees in shades of yellow and orange. It’s remarkable how different her current surroundings are from the Phoenix area, only two and a half hours south.

With Fortunate Son by Creedence Clearwater Revival playing on the old cassette deck of the classic car, Dean drums against the steering wheel to the rhythm of the song. He absently hums along, mouthing a few words every now and then. When he glances aside, a small smile forms on his lips. The woman, who managed to calm him after the disturbing news Bobby delivered, is breathtaking without even trying. Loose strands of hair have escaped her ponytail and dance in the playful wind, her maya blue blouse fluttering against her Arizona sun-kissed skin. She looks at the world through her shaded Ray Bans, lost in thought and wonder.

He returns his gaze to the road as he reaches for her, laying his hand on her knee to get her attention, softly rubbing his thumb over the denim. Awoken from her daydream, she glances over, but doesn’t say anything. Instead, she lays her hand over his, warmed by the touch.

“Nervous?” he wonders, dropping her hand just long enough to turn down the stereo before he laces their fingers together once again. “A little bit,” she confesses. “Don’t be. You’re gonna do fine,” he reassures. “Besides, your class ain’t till tomorrow.” “I’m not nervous about riding.” The wrangler moves his focus from the asphalt to his girlfriend. “What about then?” She’s quiet for a second. Shy, just like she was the first time they met. “Just… This is your scene. People know you, and I don’t know anyone.” He smirks, lightly. “Concerned about former flings?” The cowgirl shrugs, half admitting her insecurity. “Yankee, you have nothing to worry about. Hey…” He squeezes her hand, glancing over again. “I’m with you, okay?”

A smile breaks through the surface as Y/N glances at the handsome wrangler she gets to call hers, his green eyes making a silent promise. For a guy who claims not to be good with words, he’s doing a pretty great job. She takes a breath when he concentrates on the road again. “So, how are you going to introduce me?” she wonders. “As my girlfriend,” he returns, matter-of-factly, cool confidence sitting on the edge of his mouth. He honestly can’t wait to introduce her as his.

Y/N is unable to hide her contentment, the corners of her mouth creeping up further as she gets lost in the sight of him. There it is again; that tingly feeling, his confirmation breaking down the doubt bit by bit. “What about Bobby?” Y/N checks. “He still doesn’t know.” “Believe me, Bobby will be too busy strikin’ deals and sellin’ horses. He’s not gonna notice us,” Dean states, not concerned about his uncle. “It’s gonna be fine, you’re gonna have a blast, trust me.”

After shooting her that grin she’s loved from day one, he glances past the trucks and trailers in front of them. They drive by a large sign made from stone and wood, that says ‘1882 - Flagstaff, Arizona’, the city up ahead and Humphreys Peak in the backdrop. The caravan turns onto I-40 going west, before taking the exit a couple of miles later.

When they come over the hill, the competition grounds come into view. Flags reach skyward and wave proudly in the Western breeze, the stars and stripes alternating with the state flag of Arizona, the American Reining Horse Association, and many others. There’s the main arena, several training areas, stables, and amusement rides, complete with hundreds of trucks, trailers, and RV campers filling the fairgrounds. Observing the scene, it becomes clear to Y/N that this isn’t just a local show.

Dean was right, this is the perfect practice run for her and Meadow, but the sight of the large event has her stomach in knots. Right, those lovely performance nerves that never fail to torment her. She hopes she can survive tomorrow and still be able to eat without throwing up, because it wouldn’t be the first time that the highly strung feeling she experiences right before a ride has her physically sick.

The Gold Canyon Ranch caravan enters the show grounds, Bobby following the directions of the parking officer. After a short drive, they park the trailers next to each other on a large field, adding to the rows and rows of pickups, trailers, and even semi trucks with pop out living units. “I’ll check in with the stable manager,” Jo announces when they get out of the cars, heading over to the stable office to check which boxes are assigned to them.

Y/N picks her hat off the seat and pushes it on her head, leaving her shades on the dash now that she doesn’t need them anymore. She opens the hatch of the black trailer behind Dean’s Chevy, peeking inside. Meadow greets her with a slightly nervous neigh, eager to get out now that they’ve stopped moving. Lovingly, her rider pets her nose, trying to calm her a little, but the spirited mare begins to scrape her hoof on the rubber coated floor, nonetheless. “She okay?” Dean asks. “Yeah, she just wants to get off the trailer. I’m going to unload her, let her graze a little,” she says, attaching the leadrope to her halter. “Could you get the lid?”

The wrangler nods and walks around to the back, opening the latches as Y/N unties her horse. The cowgirl pushes the divider away and gently leads Meadow down the ramp. The beautiful bay Quarter Horse takes in her surroundings with large eyes, alert and ready for action, belting out another loud neigh to announce her arrival. She circles around her owner, who can’t help but laugh at her cocky attitude; she could have sworn her granddad bought her a mare, and not a stallion, even though Meadow behaves like one at times. Eventually she drops her head and cuts a few bites of grass, before pulling up her head again while chewing, staring at another animal in the distance.

“She really is a character, ain’t she?” Dean laughs, watching the pair. “Sure is,” her owner chuckles, rubbing the mare’s withers. “She knows it’s showtime. She can feel it.” Y/N crouches down to remove Meadow’s travel leg protection while Dean holds the feisty horse, glancing in the direction of the stable office, from which Jo returns. “Tent B. Box sixty-four to seventy-three,” the ranch owner’s daughter informs. “Let’s unload.”

Within thirty minutes the ten stables are ready, the heavy trunks installed, the tack rooms decorated and the horses unloaded. Y/N does her bit, rolling the wheel barrow from the truck to the stables with hay bails and wood shaving bedding, but it’s clear the Gold Canyon crew has taken this many horses to a competition before. Benny, Jo, Dean, and Bobby operate like a well-oiled machine, although the head of the ranch is moving a little bit slower these days.

Y/N tapes a form to the stable with Meadow’s name and an emergency phone number when Dean comes back from the water point, a full bucket in each hand. He and Benny have been going back and forth a couple of times now, supplying the ten horses. When the head wrangler walks by carrying the water, she’s distracted from the task at hand. Watching his shoulders work under his plaid shirt, she can’t help but get a little lost in the view. His biceps flex against the fabric, back strong and firm while he transports the heavy buckets with steady steps. God, he is good on the eyes.

“Are you gonna continue to drool over my cousin or are you gonna come with me to the show office to pay our fees?” Y/N’s eyes shift to Jo, who’s leaning against the stable door with her arms crossed in front of her chest and an amused smirk on her lips. Without a doubt, the blush that fires up her face is hard to miss. “Let me get my bag,” she says, straightening her back and turning to the head wrangler. “Dean, is the car still un--”

Before she can finish her sentence, her boyfriend has dug up the keys to the El Camino from his pocket and tosses them to her. Y/N catches them skillfully. “Awww, so you can read each other’s mind now, too?” Jo comments, earning a glare from Dean, causing her to shrug. “What? It’s dead cute!” “I’m not cute!” Dean counters, his face contorting as if she just called him something foul. “No, you’re a tough, manly man. We get it, Cowboy.” She passes him, patting his shoulder. “Keep tellin’ yourself that.” “You keep tellin’ yourself… somethin’,” he stammers, struggling to stand up to the reputation Jo is undermining.

She walks on, laughing, not even granting him another look. Bothered with his own unimpressive reply, the wrangler watches his cousin catch up with her father. God, sometimes he wishes he could shut her up without having to deal with her sassy attitude. Annoyed, he turns back to Y/N, who can’t hide her amusement as she steps closer. He eyes her, which only causes her to chuckle. “I’m not cute,” he underlines.

The cowgirl smirks and pushes him into the tack room, out of sight and safe from Bobby’s judgement. She takes his hat from his head and leans in, connecting her lips with his. The kiss is short and sweet, but it’s long enough to make Dean’s head spin. When she parts from him, he opens his eyes again, taking her in as she places his Stetson back over his tousled hair. “You’re adorable,” she says. Dean half pouts while furrowing his brow, still trying to establish that he is neither cute or adorable, but breaks character when his girlfriend smiles widely before she spins around. Fine, maybe he is turning a bit soft, but it’s all her doing.

Jo joins Y/N with her father’s wallet in hand, the two friends almost skipping to the exit of the stable, joking and laughing as they go. Dean watches the pair and shakes his head, not missing Benny’s wide grin coming his direction. The lovebirds might have stayed out of the ranch owner’s line of sight, however, Benny had a clear view of the endearing interaction. He’s leaning against a tack trunk, arms crossed in front of his broad chest, blue eyes sparkling with mischief and playful judgement that’s impossible to miss. “Get it over with,” the head wrangler mutters. “Got anything to add to that?” “Nah, I reckon the gals made their point,” the Southerner chuckles.

“So, you two are still doin’ good, huh?” Jo glances at Y/N from the corner of her eye while pushing her father’s wallet into her back pocket. She leans against Dean’s car, careful not to scratch it, knowing that all hell is going to break loose if she does. “Surprised?” her friend counters, picking up her bag from the front seat, before closing the door. “Just checkin’ if the woman-oholic isn’t suffering from tremors, hallucinations, insomnia,” the cowgirl states. Y/N grins at that, pushing the strap of her bag on her shoulder, ready for her friend to lead the way to the show office.

“He’s not, don’t worry,” she claims, very much aware that Jo is just toying with her. “He’s been really wonderful, actually. I honestly didn’t expect him to be so attentive and sweet.” “No one did. Hell, I don’t think even Dean knew he had it in ’im. Guess you bring out the best in my notorious cousin.” She hooks her arm around Y/N’s neck, pulling her in for a side hug.

On their way over to the show office, Jo is greeted by multiple familiar faces, asking her how she's doing and the ranch owner’s daughter returning the question in a quick exchange. It becomes clear to Y/N that this isn’t just Dean’s scene, but Jo’s as well.

She soaks up her surroundings, glancing left and right as they walk up a two story building, a little further up the slightly hilly property. Stalls are lined up along the boulevard, selling all sorts of things, from horse gear to fashion and interior design. It’s not incredibly busy yet, the people waiting in the short lines for the food stands mostly riders, trainers, and horse owners. The organisation is probably expecting a bigger crowd on the weekend.

A ferrier is hammering a loose shoe under a horse’s hoof, the large animal waiting patiently until the job is done, while a promoter tries to sell a new tractor to an interested party. Cheers roar from one of the arenas, excitement heard in the voice of the commentator, who echoes over the terrain through the speakers. The smell of cotton candy when they pass a concessions truck reaches the cowgirl’s nose as she watches children having fun riding a Shetland pony from the local riding school.

Content, Y/N smiles, because apart from the temperature, the atmosphere on this show isn’t different from the events she’s been to when she was still living in Freeport. The nerves she felt in the car earlier seep away with the familiarity, excitement taking its place. Before she came to Gold Canyon Ranch, she was buried under pressure and books, working on her thesis around the clock. The last competition she rode was the State Championships. God, she missed this circus. This life. This is where she belongs, not behind some desk, no matter how good the salary.

“Jo Singer, it’s good to see you again, my dear,” the woman behind the counter in the show office says, recognizing the blonde cowgirl instantly. “How are you and your family doing?” Reading glasses balance on the tip of the nose of the kind secretary, who smiles at both the girls. Her ash blonde hair is short, and worn in a fashion you would expect for a lady in her sixties. “Good to see you too, Mildred,” Jo returns, pulling Bobby’s wallet from her pocket. “We’re okay. How are the boys?”

Y/N glances at her friend from the corner of her eye as the two acquaintances make small talk. She noticed the hint of doubt in her claim that everything was fine with the Singer family, followed by the quick counter question to avert the attention back to the woman on the other side of the desk. Aware that the information Dean shared with her is confidential, she didn’t discuss it with Jo, even though she wanted to. While she didn’t want to get the head wrangler in trouble, she was also unaware of how up to date the youngest Singer actually is. Now that she heard the slight hesitation, however, she’s getting the idea Jo knows more about the ranch’s financial struggles than her bubbly and carefree personality leads on.

“How many horses are you competing, hon?” Mildred asks, pushing her glasses up her nose as she searches for Jo’s name on the competitors’ list. “Two. I’d like to pay for Dean as well, and one entry for my friend here. She’s riding one of ours.” “Winchester, right?” the secretary checks, crossing off names. Jo nods, picking at her father’s credit card. “Yeah.” Mildred flips the page until she finds the one on which the riders filed under the letter ‘W’ are listed. “Four horses for Dean? Your cousin has a busy weekend ahead of him,” she chuckles, warmly, and looks up at the young woman that accompanied Jo. “What’s your name, sweety?” “It’s Y/N L/N,” the intern answers. “I’m competing two horses, one of my own. I’d like to pay for Meadowsweet separately.” “Not a problem.” Mildred focuses on the blonde cowgirl again. “So that's an entry fee for seven horses, plus the stable fee for nine. Y’all brought two horses for auction, am I right? I remember because I had your father on the phone just this morning.” “Yeah, we do. Do we have to pay to enter the auction too?” Jo wonders, nervousness lacing her tone. “Yes, the auction entry is 200 dollars for each. After the sale the amount will be settled, together with the commission,” the elder woman informs. “Entry fee is three bucks per horse, stable fee is fifty each, so that will be 877 dollars in total.”

Jo takes a breath and offers Mildred the card. The normally confident cowgirl seems on edge all of a sudden as she watches the secretary swipe it. Several seconds tick by while they wait for the machine to accept payment, and apparently it’s getting on Jo’s nerves. Y/N’s friend fiddles with her father’s wallet, tension coming off her in waves. Then the machine bleeps, a long high tone cutting through the heavy silence.

Mildred looks up at the blonde rancher, sympathetically. It’s in her eyes and Jo’s heart drops to her gut before she even speaks. “I’m sorry. It’s declined.” “W - what? No, that - that can’t be,” Jo stammers. “Can you try again?” The kind lady swipes the credit card a second time, even though they know it’s not going to make a difference. The same message appears on the small screen, followed by the monotone beep. The sound is interrupted by the door opening and closing, two other competitors now entering the show office, getting in line to pay as well. Jo curses under her breath.

“Any other way you can pay, darling?” the secretary asks, kindly. “Uh - I have…” She leafs through the banknotes with trembling fingers, counting the money, her face turning red. “I have 300 dollars. I’ll check if there’s more in the truck--” “I got it.” Y/N steps closer to the counter, pulling her wallet from her purse. “What? No, c’mon,” Jo objects. But her friend isn’t taking no for an answer. “It’s not a problem. I’ll sort it out with your dad later,” she assures, handing over her own card. She returns her attention to Mildred again. “Could you add my fees as well?” “I sure can. That will be 930 dollars,” the elder woman states, changing the number on the terminal before swiping the credit card.

This time it beeps three times, confirming payment without a hitch. “Alright, all good to go. Good luck on your runs, ladies,” Mildred says, cheery, trying to clear the awkwardness with her warm smile. “Thank you,” Y/N returns genuinely as Jo gives the woman behind the desk a nod.

The girls exit the show office, Jo pulling her hat over her eyes a little deeper to mask her flustered face. The redness slowly starts to leave her cheeks again after a minute, as they walk down the boulevard in silence. Y/N isn’t sure if she should say something, and so decides to give her friend some space. Her mind is going over the incident, however. A maxed out credit card; that can’t be good. The writing on the wall is applied with a paintbrush, the black letter getting bolder the more she learns about the suffocating situation. Her mind hasn’t stopped reeling since her talk with Dean in the cafeteria earlier this morning. There has to be ways to tip the scale.

Jo eventually speaks up, voice clipped with embarrassment. “I’m sorry ‘bout that. My dad will pay you back.” “I know,” Y/N responds, not doubting it for a second. “It’s no big deal, seriously. No reason to apologize.” “Still... Thanks,” the blonde cowgirl utters, embarrassed nonetheless. It’s now Y/N’s turn to wrap her arm around her friend’s shoulder, hoping the gesture will ease Jo a bit. “That’s what friends are for, right?” she comforts her. “Come on. Let’s head back. What’s your starting time?” Jo glances at her watch. “Eight thirty. Thirty minutes after the opening. So that gives me an hour and a half.” “Better ready your horse then,” Y/N smiles. “You’ve got barrels to race.”

“Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome on this Friday night to the eighteenth annual Flagstaff Horse Fair!”

With Y/N’s hand in his, Dean walks up the bleachers, as if he’s afraid to lose her in the crowd. Plenty of people have settled down in their seats already, only a few spots left now that the opening ceremony is about to begin. She’s glad he’s keeping a hold on her, though, because once again she feels slightly overwhelmed by the number of strangers who all seem to be very much aware who her boyfriend is.

Several times Dean was held up on their way over to the main arena, by acquaintances, former and current clients, old friends and forgotten faces. She could tell he was doing everything he could to ease her nerves, his hand on the small of her back, engaging her into the conversation by introducing her. Yet she felt relieved when the ring came into view, hoping to find a time to take a breather from keeping up appearances and pretending she’s comfortable amongst new company.

“Dean!” Y/N almost flinches at the female voice calling out for the cowboy. For a brief second Y/N shuts her eyes and takes a breath; guess she needs to keep her mask on a bit longer. She turns to face two women, who greet the wrangler, the one with dark, boy cut hair the first to embrace him. “It’s so good to see you again,” she says, warmly. “Hey, Jody.” Dean returns the embrace, genuinely pleased to see her too, before he directs his attention to the happily smiling blonde. “Donna, it’s been a while. How are you doing these days?” “Hiya, handsome. I’m doing just fine, thanks.” The woman with a strong Minnesota accent pulls him into a tight hug as well, pressing her dimpled cheek against his. She backs away, her delighted eyes bouncing from him to the girl behind the cowboy. “Are ya gonna introduce us to this lovely lady?”

Dean adjusts his hat and reaches for Y/N, his hand slipping behind her back when he nods at the brunette. “That’s Jody Mills - she takes horses off our hands regularly and finds us buyers - and her business partner Donna Hanscum. Good friends of mine, good friends of the Ranch.” He then gently pulls her a little closer, the pads of his fingers lingering on her hip. “Jody, Donna, this is my girlfriend Y/N,” Dean responds, unable to hide his proud smile.

Both women share the exact same reaction, their jaws dropping to the floor. If Y/N wasn’t so nervous, she would have found it comical. “Shut the front door!” Donna exclaims. “Are you tellin’ me that Dean Winchester is off the market?” Dean nods, his grin not faltering. “I’m spoken for.” Delighted, Jody laughs. “Well, I didn’t think I’d live to see the day.” “Took you long enough,” Donna jokes, teasingly pushing his shoulder, before she winks at the cowgirl next to him. “You must be one heck of a gal if you managed to tie this one down. C’mere!”

Before Y/N can escape, the woman with the vibrant personality pulls her in and gives her a warm hug as well. She can’t help but to chuckle, because both Donna and Jody seem like sincerely kind people. The warm welcome eases her, helping her to feel more comfortable amongst these new friends. “Why don’t you sit with us?” Jody suggests, after Donna lets go. “Because I wanna hear all about this miracle woman.”

They take a seat and Y/N soon engages in conversation with Dean’s friends. Contently, he watches his girl, listening to her enthusiastic voice as she tells them about their meet cute. Dean chuckles at the memory himself; never in a million years could he have guessed he would be where he’s standing now, together with the then so timid and slightly prissy intern. She opened up like a wildflower in spring, blossoming into the carefree spirit that years of studying and discipline hid away.

Damn, he fell hard for her, didn’t he? She isn’t the only one who developed; because Jody wasn’t wrong. He too never expected to be able to commit, to be faithful to one woman, yet he can’t even imagine being with anyone else but her now. She taught him to look further than tomorrow. He has to admit, he has been thinking about the future more in the past week than he has in all the prior years combined. His thoughts are interrupted by the commentator, who’s voice echoes through the speakers, mentioning the sponsors of the event.

“We thank you for comin’ out here this weekend. Folks, right now I would like to ask Alex Jones to enter our arena floor with the Stars and Stripes of the United States of America.”

Dean glances at Jody, who proudly watches her adopted daughter trot into the ring on a palomino. She’s dressed in a red shirt, blue and white fringe on her sleeves and chaps playfully dancing in the breeze. The end of the flagpole rests on her stirrup, the American colors fluttering in their wake. The crowd rises to their feet as the flag is carried in, respectfully doffing their hats.

“As we gather in the spirit of the Old West, let us be reminded of the part that the horses we cherish have played. They offered our forefathers safe travel, partnership, and the freedom to roam this great land. The same unbreakable bond between man and horse still remains today, as we ride for our country. We ask you to remain standing for the playing of the national anthem.”

Y/N holds her hat by the brim and squares her shoulders, following Dean’s example when he places his right hand over his heart. A calm falls over the bleachers, every single soul watching the flag with the same steady reverence that only blue-collars truly can. The riders in the warm up area are standing side by side, facing the Stars and Stripes, and even the younger inexperienced horses seem to pay their respect.

“Oh, say can you see by the dawn’s early light What so proudly we hailed at the twilight’s last gleaming? Whose broad stripes and bright stars thru the perilous fight, O’er the ramparts we watched were so gallantly streaming?”

The hairs on her arms rise up as Y/N softly sings along. She knows every word, taught in school of course, but it’s more than that. She believes them. And since she was a little girl, she has dreamed about the Star-Spangled Banner. She imagined it would play while she was standing on the highest step of the podium at the major events: Congress, the Derby, and who knows, maybe one day at the World Equestrian Games. It’s a long shot, maybe, but a goal nonetheless, one she will continue to chase until the day comes that she fulfills that dream.

“And the rocket’s red glare, the bombs bursting in air, Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there. Oh, say does that star-spangled banner yet wave O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave?”

The cowgirl and her horse began circling as the end of the anthem neared, speed increasing. Alex is galloping along the boarding of the arena, the Stars and Stripes flaunting proudly, standing tall. After the last note, the crowd cheers and claps, rallying the rider on as she takes the flag out of the arena at high speed.

“Give it up for Alex Jones!” the commentator encourages. “Now, Ladies and Gentlemen, get comfortable, take a load off your feet, take a seat, and get ready. We’re gonna kick off the competition with Barrel Racing for three year old horses. Let’s ride!”

“Jo is sixth, right?” Y/N checks as they sit down. Dean nods, leaning his elbows on his knees, watching his cousin in the warm up pen. “Yeah, after the drag.” “Smooth footing. Could work in her advantage,” Y/N notes, linking her arm with his. “I was wondering; why don’t you teach Jo?” The wrangler snorts. “Because she would claw my eyes out.” His girlfriend laughs now, leaning into him and sweetly resting her cheek against his shoulder. “Hey, we’ve tried, but we just fight like cats and dogs. It ain’t a good fit,” he chuckles.

The first horse and rider combination shoots from the holding box and the audience’s motivating cheers rise from the stands into the Arizona air. Being a good sport, Dean claps too. “Ever raced barrel, sweetcheeks?” Donna wonders, leaning forward to make eye contact with Y/N. “Once or twice when I was a kid,” she admits. “You?” “Oh, you betcha!” the cheery blonde states.

The rules to the game are quite simple. Three barrels are set up in a cloverleaf in the arena and the horse and rider pair need to cleanly negotiate the pattern. The cowgirl who’s the fastest without knocking over any barrels wins. It’s a thrilling sport to watch, perfect for a horse’s speed and agility when the rider knows how to bring it out in them.

The second rider kicks off, setting a better time that pushes her up the board. The third follows, knocking over the second barrel, landing the poor girl a five second time penalty.

Y/N keeps an eye on Jo, who gets instructions from Bobby. The ranch owner’s daughter is riding a mare called Sundance, who she started up about eight months ago, being the first person to ever ride her. The young horse had her first practise run a couple of weeks ago, but today is her show debut. The atmosphere of a big competition like this can be quite daunting for an inexperienced horse, but Jo prepared her well.

The fourth goes wide around the first barrel and swerves to the third, wasting valuable time. Number five has a clean run and betters the leading result; 17.13 seconds is the time to beat. A tractor enters the arena and the crew removes the barrels, white spray paint indicating where they need to be put back once the sand around it is dragged. When the footing is smooth again, the barrels are placed back.

“Next up is Joanna Beth Singer with Sundance. Now, this young lady knows how to ride, with multiple wins under her belt, so let’s see what she will do with this youngster today.”

Y/N moves to the edge of her seat, her heartbeat picking up. She might not be the one competing, but sometimes being the person on the sidelines is more nerve-wracking than actually being the one in the saddle. Bobby walks with his daughter to the entrance of the arena, the young mare next to him already bouncing with excitement. Rousing music only adds to the exhilarating atmosphere surrounding them, the spectators waiting for the thrilling ride that is about to start. The second Jo’s father lets go of the rein, Sundance bolts away, locking on the first barrel like she has been doing this all her life.

“And she’s off! Look at that speed, people!”

“C’mon, Jo!” Y/N encourages, joined by Dean, who has gotten on his feet in anticipation. The crowd cheers when the fast horse turns sharply. Focused, Jo pushes her heels into the bay’s flanks, hands towards the mare’s ears, guiding the youngster through the pattern to the second barrel. They are making good time. “Smoke them, Jo! You got this!” Dean shouts, voice lost to the crowd that seems to favor Jo and Sundance.

The clock ticks; eight seconds, nine, ten. Sand clatters against the metal as the eager horse cuts the third obstacle, so tight that you could barely fit a piece of paper between her boot and the barrel. It starts to tip, and Y/N grabs Dean’s arm when the drum almost tumbles over, but Jo pushes it back with her reins in hand so that it stays upright and the audience erupts.

“Yeah! Bring it home!” Y/N squeals, excitedly. At full gallop the two shoot back to the gate, Jo flat on the Sundance’s neck, the energetic horse accelerating until they pass the finish line. The clock stops at 16.35.

“Folks, if that ain’t horsemanship, I don’t know what is. What a ride and what a horse! Jo Singer and Sundance are in the lead!”

Dean grins proudly and whistles on his fingers, glancing down at his girlfriend, who is still applauding excitedly. “Dean, is that mare for sale?” Jody checks, the trader clearly interested now that she has witnessed the talent. He chuckles. “Depends on your offer.” “Fair enough. I’ll go have a talk with Bobby then,” she returns, aware that for a horse like that, she needs to raise the stakes. “We’ll walk with ya,” Dean states, glancing aside when Jody’s friend doesn’t follow. “Donna, you comin’?” “I’ll meetcha guys later. I’m gonna watch some more runs with Alex.” She nods at Jody’s surrogate daughter, who just sat down in one of the first rows.

They say goodbye and the wrangler places his hand on Y/N’s lower back as they walk to the stairs and get down from the bleachers. She can tell he’s trying to play it cool, but she senses his relief. Jo delivered and just secured more than just a place on the podium with that solid ride. The buyers are going to be lining up for Sundance, which means they can keep the price high. It’s a win Gold Canyon Ranch so desperately needs. The cowgirl bumps her shoulder against his, drawing his attention. The smiles they exchange say enough, she knows what’s on his mind, and he knows she understands. “I’m gonna see if I can catch Jo. It was really nice to meet you, Jody,” she announces, shaking Jody’s hand before turning to Dean. “See you in a bit?” He nods and meets her in a sweet, short kiss, before she runs off to the stables. His gaze stays fixed on her, lovingly, until he loses track of her in the crowd. Only then does Dean notice Jody’s knowing smirk. “What?” “You got it bad,” she comments, an earnest laugh falling from her lips. He tilts his head, nodding; there’s no denying it. He’s known Jody for a while, and even though they only see eachother every now and then, he considers her a dear friend.

“She’s amazing, really. It’s all still kinda new, though,” he admits, comfortable enough to let some of that softness show. “Oh, which reminds me... Bobby doesn’t know yet. So could you not mention it?” The raised eyebrow and judgemental look she sends him says enough. Jody stares him down as if she’s about to use her mom-voice, causing Dean to slightly cower. “She’s the intern and it’s kind of a touchy subject. I wanna time it well so that he doesn’t bite my head off,” the cowboy excuses. The woman who is tough when she needs to be, turns soft now, rolling her eyes slightly. “Fine, I won’t tell him. Don’t wait too long, though. It’s Bobby, he wasn’t born yesterday. He’s going to find out sooner than later,” she reminds him. “I’ll tell him soon,” he promises. “This is a big first for you, ain’t it?” The female ranch owner smiles at him warmly, apparently amused with the somewhat uneasy behavior of the cowboy. “It is,” he chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “But it’s good. Never thought I’d say it, but I could get used to this.” “I’m glad you’ve met someone, Dean. You deserve a slice of that apple pie life.”

Dean smiles at his boots, knowing she means more with those words than would seem so at the surface. From a young age, even before Dean moved in with the Singer family, she has kept a watchful eye on him and his little brother whenever they were at the same shows and rodeos. Even though she’s only a few years older than him, she was always taking care of others, protecting those who needed it, and apparently she sensed the Winchester boys could use some support. To be honest, she wasn’t wrong. She has seen a few things, picked up on the tell signs. That knowledge adds to the weight of her kind message.

“And if you ever are in the need of advice only a woman can offer,” she continues, “may it be suitable birthday gifts for the lady, or choosing an engagement ring, you know who to call.”

Dean’s eyes widen, glancing aside at the fierce woman, walking beside him. He thought about what is to come, but he didn’t think that far ahead. Especially with her internship ending March next year, he’s slightly careful to presume she is going to want to stay with him. Yes, he will fight for her, but he can’t predict the future. Who knows what will happen when she’s due to leave. “Whoa, let’s not get ahead of ourselves here,” he laughs. “We only just started dating, y’know?” “Yeah, I know, but she’s a keeper, I can tell,” Jody counters, sure of herself. “Give it some time, I’ll remind you of this conversation at your wedding.”

The cowboy chuckles, but doesn’t contradict her. Jody Mills is a smart woman, one who usually is right. She can read people, and despite the small age difference between the two of them, his caring friend often mothers him with her wisdom. He can’t believe the thought crosses his mind, but it flashes through his conscience nonetheless. I hope she’s right.

He doesn’t want to dwell on it too long, though, because the glimpse of what he secretly hopes one day will come true, takes him by surprise. Somewhat daunted, the wrangler redirects the focus. “I’ve haven’t spoken to Gabe in a bit. How’s he doin’ these days?”

There’s a hint of guilt in his voice, even though he tries to suppress it. Gabriel had worked at Gold Canyon since 2005, until Bobby had to let him go last year. The head wrangler felt horrible, especially since he taught Gabe the ropes when it came down to training horses, and getting fired was the last thing his friend ever expected. Just like with Ash, he would have done anything to prevent the lay off, but their boss didn’t have much of a choice. Thankfully, Gabe got a job as a horse trainer at Jody’s ranch. They kept in touch, but over time the calls came and went less frequent. Lately, it’s been quiet, though, and the woman next to him looks up at him stunned, a mixture of remorse and empathy in her eyes.

“You haven’t heard?” she asks, appalled. Dean shakes his head. “Heard what?” “Oh, honey, I’m not sure how to tell you this,” she starts, averting her gaze to the ground, as if she’s trying to find solace in the dirt underneath her feet. “He had an accident earlier this week. He’s in hospital.” The wrangler snaps his eyes at her in shock, a frown puckered between his brows. “W-what?” “Yeah, he--” she pauses, shaking her head as if she still can’t believe it, “- he was working with a stallion, quite a special case. He turned aggressive and Gabe got trampled. He suffered multiple fractures in the vertebrae.” The head wrangler stops dead in his tracks, causing his company to turn to face him. In shock he stares at Jody before his gaze drifts off, the unpleasant surprise still evident, though. Not sure what to say, he moves his hand to his face, tracing his stubble as he tries to digest the news. “Fuck…” he stammers. “Is he - he’s gonna be ok, right?”

“The doctors haven’t given us much yet. From what I’ve heard, the first tests showed very little reflexes, but there was still a lot of bruising and swelling. They hope to be able to get better imaging soon, but right now it’s not looking good. He most likely damaged his spinal cord; he can’t move his legs,” Jody explains, observing the disoriented man before her with sympathy. “I’m sorry, Dean. I know he is a friend of yours. Honestly, I expected you would’ve gotten a call from his brothers.”

The cowboy still stares at nothing in particular, unable to grasp what he just learned. “We - uh, we didn’t talk as much as we used to. Kinda fell out of touch after he left Gold Canyon.” Jody nods at that, the endearing smile that was there when they were talking about his newfound relationship now gone. The corners of her mouth are drawn down, the worry and guilt aging her in a matter of moments. “It’s really tragic. Honestly, I feel awful. It happened on my land, the horse was my client’s.” “Hey, this is not your fault, you hear?” Dean replies, gently gripping her upper arm. “These accidents can happen. We forget sometimes, but we still work with thousand pound animals who have minds of their own. It’s dangerous, and he knew that.”

Jody swallows down the guilt and turns to slowly stroll to the warm up area, not walking away from it entirely, but giving herself something to do. Dean adjusts to her pace, shoulder to shoulder with the rancher. “I found him in the pen. He was screaming in pain,” she tells. “Of course I happened to be the only other person on the premises. Donna was delivering a horse to a new owner.”

Shaking his head, Dean glances aside. Damn it, he wishes she didn’t have to go through that. Waiting on an ambulance must have been horrible. Dean knows Jody treats her staff like family, their bond much like the dynamic between the Singer family and their personnel. Dean cares about those he works with deeply, he would never forgive himself if an accident like that would happen to a member of the crew. “He’s gonna bounce back. Gabe’s a tough one,” he soothes, hoping to offer at least a little comfort. “Yeah, I hope so.” She sighs as they reach Bobby, who is having a conversation with two older men on the sideline, without a doubt doing business. “I’m gonna talk to your uncle. See if we can come to an agreement on that horse.” “Better get in there fast, before he sells her to someone else,” Dean advises, after which he turns around. “See you at the party tonight?” “Depends on how much money I spend at the auction, but I’m certain Donna will drag me there anyway,” she says, doing her best to pull together a playful grin.

Dean watches Jody step up, politely interrupting the negotiation, not even a bit intimidated by the possible buyers who have already named a price. She’s tough, something that he has always admired. The woman stands her ground in a man’s world of horse traders, runs her own ranch and built her own network. An extraordinary person, who always has his back. He carries nothing but respect for her.

As he makes his way to the stables, tipping his head to the people he knows on his way over, his thoughts go to Gabriel. Jody is not the only one who feels guilty about his current condition. He just told her she shouldn’t blame herself, so why is it that he wishes he would never have let his good friend go? Maybe if Gabe had stayed, he wouldn’t have broken his back. Maybe if he had taught him better, he would’ve still been able to walk.

He shakes his head, trying to dismiss the notion. But like a mosquito the mental picture keeps patronising him, buzzing into his ear, draining him and stealing the wrangler’s peace. When he nears the stable tent B, he picks up pace, however. Because he knows that the one person who will calm his mind and make him feel better with just her smile is right around the corner.

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to like or reblog my work, shoot me a message or buy me coffee (Link to Kofi in bio at the top of the page).

Read part twenty here

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wackapedia · 4 years ago

Text

Among Trees

Jungkook x Reader ft the rest of the boys having some good ol fun

Youre part of the Run BTS staff, following around JK as his camera girl

Wordcount: 1.7k, two or three swear words, maybe goosebumps at the end

It was a sunny afternoon in the middle of the woods when you began filming a new episode of Run BTS. You were a part of the camera crew, documenting the members of the world’s biggest boy group and chasing them around for their shenanigans. As usual, you were assigned to the group’s maknae and your long term friend, Jeon Jungkook.

The objective of today’s episode is to race against the opposing team in collecting as many clues as they can which were scattered around the forest park. The clues will help them unlock a treasure box placed on the cabin that the company had rented out. The group was divided into two after a tense rock, paper, scissors match. Team Kim Seokjin consisted of Jin, Yoongi, and Jungkook. Soon enough, everyone got ready as the producer started counting down.

“Hana, Dul, Set!”

The members immediately bolted out of the main camera frame, prompting yourself to follow your assigned team. Jin and Yoongi catches up with Jungkook after a good distance to discuss their team’s strategy. “Aish, how many clues should we find?” Yoongi complains, already hating outdoor episodes. “We need to have more than what the other team has…” Jungkook supplies, having already found two clues. “But we don’t really need to find a lot of clues, we just need to get there first.” Jin suggests while looking around the woods. “If Namjoon gets there first, he can just figure out the treasure box which is why we have to get there first.” He continues, leading the team uphill and deeper into the woods. “Namjoon hyung may be smart but Jin hyung is dangerously clever…” Jungkook comments into the camera and rolling up the long sleeves of his shirt before running up to follow his hyungs.

You were struggling to keep up with the most energetic member, having to jog in a rocky uphill path while keeping your lens forward and making sure your GoPro isn’t blocked by your handheld camera. Your intercom radio buzzes unintelligibly from your pocket. One of the production staff’s voice is mangled among the radio static. You stop to catch your breath while extending the antenna of your radio. "What? I can't hear you!" You yell into the receiver. “Y/n…Out of range…” was what you make out of the crackle of noises. “Oh shit…” You mutter under your breath. “Guys!!” You continue to follow the uphill path Jin had cleverly chose to try to one up the opposing team. “Guys we need to go back!!” You exclaim. Your voice echoes through the wide forest. They were nowhere to be found. “Oh shit oh shit…” You reach for your cellphone. No service. “Y/n! We’re here!” Junkook calls out to you. He and the rest of his teammates were crouched down beside a tree. “Hey guys we need to go back.” “y/n, come here, do you think this is a wolf’s print?” Jin interrupts as he continues to analyze the large set of scratches on the tree trunk. “It’s not a wolf, Jin. There are no wolves here.” Yoongi exasperatedly answers. “I don’t know what that is but PD-nim said we need to go back. We’re out of range.” You explain to the members who were fussing over the marks. “Out of range? Weren’t you supposed to tell us that?” Yoongi squints his feline eyes at you. “I’m sorry, I must’ve missed the markers and didn’t notice them. Let’s just head back, okay?” You take the blame just to pacify Yoongi. It was starting to get dark and the staff must be looking for them. “Isn’t it your job to notice things? Or were you too busy noticing Jungkook?” Jin snaps suddenly, causing Jungkook to intervene. “Yah, hyung that’s enough!” Jungkook yells, stunning everyone. His voice echoes through the forest. The sun had set and the fog begins to seep around the tree trunks. You tremble behind Jungkook, hands rattling around the handheld camera. “You think I don’t know what’s going on between you two?” Jin continues anyway. Yoongi moves past Jungkook to grab your camera. “Stop recording. Give that to me.” Yoongi throws the camera,smashing it against a tree. A loud noise suddenly interrupts everyone who arguing in the middle of the forest. The loud snapping noise didn’t come from where Yoongi tossed the camera. Everyone faces where the noise supposedly came from.

The fog was growing thick while the sun’s last rays kiss the earth goodbye. The blinking lights of each member’s GoPro weren’t enough to see what's ahead. The loud cracking noise continues, incrementally moving closer and closer. “What’s that?” You ask, voice shaky.

No one could make out exactly what it was but it was a large figure, neither human nor animal. It was grotesquely shaped, crawling while dragging its lower half against the leaves of the forest floor. It didn’t talk, it didn't growl. It only made rattling noises that were sure to haunt you in your sleep.

“Run!” Jin was the first to head downhill followed by Yoongi. Jungkook pushes you before him, breaking your trance and causing adrenaline to rush through your veins. He follows close behind. The coldness of the night pinches against your face as you continue to run. The creature's heavy footsteps are close behind. Jin's panicked screams resound while Yoongi screams at him to shut up. Jungkook, from behind you, tells you to keep going.

Your feet continue to scramble against the mud and leaves causing you to trip and roll downhill. After a few rolls, you collide against Jin who had also rolled his way down with Yoongi. You see a couple of street lamps illuminating the main path. “Are you okay?” Yoongi pulls you up and dusts the leaves off your hair, a stark contrast to the Yoongi that had yelled at you earlier.

A beam of lights from ahead temporarily blinds team Kim Seokjin. “YAH WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?!” The producer’s voice blares through his megaphone. The rest of the staff and members were aboard the bus that had beamed the lights. “I’m sorry, sir. It was my fault. I didn’t notice we went beyond-“You begin to apologize profusely to your boss before Seokjin cuts you off. “It was my fault. I led them up the hill. I’m sorry I should've been more responsible.” Jin takes the blame and bows deeply to the staff. The rest of the members stood at the threshold of the bus. Namjoon pats Jin's head. "We heard you screaming. What happened?" Namjoon tries to lighten up the situation. "Something was chasing us." Yoongi deadpans, alarming Hoseok who lodged his head through the bus window. "Wait, where's Jungkookie?!" Jimin yells from inside the bus. This alarms the staff who had only noticed the maknae's absence. Taehyung shoves himself between Namjoon and the bus door to head towards the woods. "JUNGKOOKIE!!" he yells. Yoongi tries to pull Taehyung back to the bus, trying to silence the younger man, in fear of the creature coming out of the woods. "We can't leave him out here!" Taehyung pulls away but is stopped by the rest of the members. "Taehyung-ssi, get back to the bus. Everyone get back to the bus. We'll stay here and call the police. Leave the search to them before another one of you gets lost." The producer's imposing voice startles everyone. Taehyung's teary eyes plead to Namjoon who leads him back to the bus.

The ride back to the cabin was begrudgingly quiet. Taehyung was breathing rapidly while Jimin tried to keep him calm. Namjoon sat beside you. "Do you remember what happened out there, y/n?" His calm careful voice interrogates. "Yeah.." You nod. "We didn't notice we crossed the zone, we kept going up and Jin found some wolf scratches on a tree.." You turn around to face Jin who held a somber expression. "That's the last thing I remember.." He says. "Yoongi too..." "What?" You ask, feeling more confused. "The next thing I remember was that it was already dark and something was chasing us. Jin kept on screaming, and then we were rolling down the hill..." Yoongi continues. "y/n, what was chasing you?" Namjoon asks. The rest of the members waited for your answer.

"I don't know.." You started to cry. "Jin and Yoongi were in front of me and Jungkook told me to keep running.." "Okay, lets get some dinner and then we'll check the camera footage from your GoPros, alright? Jungkook will be fine. I'm sure of it." Namjoon reassures everyone as the bus finally pulls over at the cabin.

You were supposed to head to the staff trailer van as the boys unload their bags from the bus. You were surprised to find that the cabin's lights were on and there was smoke coming out of the chimney. There was also someone in the house. No one was supposed to be in the cabin yet. The original plan was to document the boys entering the place and play a game to decide which room they'll be sleeping in. You run to the front door, overtaking a startled Hoseok. All the lights were on inside the house. The place was warmed by the fire in the fireplace. The place smelled like a good warm meal and.. something else. "Whoaaa Jin hyung doesn't have to cook now!" Jimin cheers, dropping his luggage in a corner. The rest of the members walk into the kitchen and were all surprised to find him here. "Jungkook!" Taehyung yells, bolting himself toward the younger man. Jungkook looks around dumbfoundedly as the rest of the members crowd around to hug him. His expression remains stoic.

"Are you hurt?" "How did you get here?" "Hey where did you get all this food?" "You're fine, right?" His friends flood him with questions.

You continue to observe the man who looks like Jungkook as Namjoon excuses himself to call their manager, reporting that Jungkook is here in the cabin. "I don't know how but he's here, hes okay, and he cooked us some dinner." The group's leader chuckles into the phone. Dinner. You look around to find the dining table full of food. All sorts of meat, neatly laid out. Why is there so much food? You return your gaze to the group, and to the thing that assumed Jungkook's visage. You witness Taehyung continuing to inspect who he believes is Jungkook. He takes the pretender's arms, rolling his sleeves to find it clean. No cuts. No bruises. No tattoos.

------

a/n: i screamed lmao let me know ur thoughts

#bts #bts x reader #jungkook #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #hAHAHA ITS MY ORIGINAL GENRE I GUESS #I READ WHAT A KUMIHO WAS RIGHT AFTER I FINISHED THIS FIC SO THRES THAT

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serzhantkris · 5 years ago

Text

Rebel Yell- 1

Summary: Let’s get something straight: he does not love you. He knows that for sure, because he doesn’t want to scream at you and he doesn’t want to get married, and that’s the only things he knows for sure about people who are in love. And he was doomed to kiss with his fists and scream and be angry and blame everyone but himself for the rest of his life. So, no. Billy did not love you. Billy Hargrove x Hopper!Reader

Word Count: 2079

AN: Hey all! Just a forward for this series, it does follow s2 kind of. Also, I have 8 parts currently written and it’s... it’s gonna be a long one, ya’ll.

It’s snowing, inside the trailer. The fluttering, gentle flakes kissing the furniture and disappearing against fabric and wood. Above, the colorful strings of lights twinkle to the distorted tune of Santa Claus is Coming to Town. It’s quiet, dark, peaceful.

Why, then, are you so afraid?

The lights flicker, the electric buzz bleeding into something far more sinister. A hiss. A growl. The snowflakes aren’t snow at all, but ash. The smell of gasoline replaces any hint of gingerbread. The growling grows louder, the lights match the speed of your racing heart. The lights fall like a rainbow on your face, but everytime they flash off, a dark shadow lingers over you. It stretches up the wall and ceiling, until there’s nothing left but long, crooked limbs and a blossoming head, it’s mouth open and hungry.

You better watch out

You better not cry

You better not pout

I'm telling you why

You jerk awake, snapping like a rubber band back into reality, where the only flickering light is the alarm clock by your bed. It takes a second for you to catch up, breathing the stale smell of the trailer- no gasoline or gingerbread or fear- and look at the clock. It’s 5:22, and the world is still asleep.

Shoving the covers off, you sit up, rubbing your palms in your eyes like you can blur away the nightmare. Stuffing your feet into your boots, the laces drag the ground as you shuffle quietly to the back door. The October air is welcoming on your skin, wiping away the sweat stuck to your forehead and shushing away your fears like a comforting kiss. A cigarette in hand, the smoke drifts towards the west, where your back deck overlooks the lake, and disappears into the night sky.

Always darkest, you think. Just before dawn.

It takes three cigarettes before the sun starts to rise. Birds begin to stretch their wings, chirping from the woods beyond the lake. Smothering the butts on the deck railing, you flick the last one over the side and slip back through the door. When it closes behind you, the sounds of morning are replaced by the sounds of sleep.

The snoring is muffled by the pillow over his head, held there by a limp arm. His legs stick out over the other end of the couch, all of it sinking under his weight. There’s a bottle, hanging limply in his other hand, two more on the table. Sighing, you reach toward him and tug gently on the pillow.

“Dad.” Your voice is a harsh whisper, no louder than his snores, and you clear your throat to swallow the remnants of sleep and smoke. “Dad, get up.”

He hugs the pillow tighter, a dragonesque snore pulling from his lips. You let go, frowning down at him, and grab the curtain on the window overhead. Pulling it open, the light spills over his sleeping form and the literred table.

“We’re both gonna be late,” louder this time, you grab up the empty bottles and clang them together. The snore turns into a groan turns into a sigh, and he throws the pillow onto the floor as you move toward the kitchen. “It’s Monday, Dad.”

“You’re insufferable,” he mumbled, the couch protesting loudly as he pushes himself up. “Who taught you to be so damn responsible?”

“Must’ve been Mom,” you shrug, turning the knobs on the stove as he lumbers toward the bathroom.

“Must’ve been.”

Seven thirty, the world is brighter and you’re both climbing into the car marked ‘Hawkins Police Dept.’ Warm air floods the vehicle as he pulls onto the road, driving straight toward the growing sun.

“You ready for that chemistry test?” One hand on the wheel, his eyes flickered over, trying to read your expression in the reflection of the window.

“Test was last week,” you said. Jim Hopper looks back at the dirty windshield, tapping his thumb on the wheel to the faint music coming from the dash.

“Really? How, uh, how’d it go?”

“Got a C.”

He doesn’t know if he should be disappointed or proud, but he nods anyway. “How ‘bout everything else? Grades look okay?”

“They’re fine,” you answer, tracing shapes on the car window. Even with the heat on, the windows fog over and it feels like winter. “Nancy wants to go to this Halloween party tomorrow.”

“Oh yeah? A party, huh?”

“Yeah,” you breathe on the glass, blurring out the frowning doodles. “We were thinking I’d spend the night with her after.”

Jim flicks the turn signal, pausing at a stop sign. “Just you and Nancy?”

“Yes, Dad. Just me and Nancy.”

“Where’s the party?”

“Tina’s.”

Jim frowns. Which one was Tina, again? Was she one of the ones he liked? “You’ll call when you make it to Nancy’s?”

“Yeah, okay. Does that mean I can go?” The car stops outside of Hawkins High School. Groups of students make their way toward the doors, books in hand and bags over their shoulders. Jim puts the car in park as you reach for the handle.

“Just don’t forget to call.”

The door slams shut behind you, your eyes already looking for a familiar BMW as you cross the gravel lot. A flash of blue, a dash of pink, and you recognize Steve and Nancy standing out of the car. Nancy spots you first, raising her hand to get your attention as you skid down the hill toward them.

The purr of a hot engine and squealing tires makes you pause at the edge of the lot. A midnight blue Camaro separates you from Nancy and Steve, blaring a song you’d heard a million times on your own stereo. It parks and the doors swing open. A red headed girl hops out of the passenger’s seat, points a skateboard for the middle school, and is gone.

The driver moves slower, one boot out and then the other, and when he stands tall, he’s nothing you had seen at Hawkins before. You would have recognized the denim-on-denim, steel-horse cowboy if you had seen him before.

The stranger pauses to look around, surveying the area like a wolf searching for prey. He turns on the spot, just enough for you to get a good look at his face. His jaw is square, a barely-there stubble over his cheeks and above wine red lips. He’s soft, with rough edges and sharp blue eyes. And when he walks away, he swaggers like a rockstar on stage.

“Who is that?”

“I have no idea-“

The moment passes, and you skip across the lot toward Nancy and Steve.

“Sorry I’m late,” you sigh, shifting the weight of your backpack. “Overslept.”

The three of you start for the school, following the steady stream of students through the halls. You shoulder pressed tight to Nancy’s, slipping through a doorway where Tina was handing out bright orange fliers for her party.

“Y/N,” Nancy pauses where the hall splits in three directions, tugging your sleeve. “You’re coming tonight, right? We can’t cancel again.”

You nod, moving toward your locker. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”

Satisfied, Nancy allows Steve to drag her off, the two of them disappearing into the flood of students. Turning back around, you twist open the lock on your locker and start unloading your books on the shelf, shoving the backpack to the bottom, on top of a pile of forgotten homework and clothes. Glancing up, you catch sight of the photograph pinned to the inside of the door.

You’re smiling, in the photo. A Polaroid taken at a carnival, you’re holding an ice cream cone and making a peace sign. Nancy holds her own cone, that cotton candy smile plastered on her rosy cheeks. On the other side of her, Barbara Holland is laughing.

It’s overcast when the last bell rings and students begin pouring out onto the asphalt. Leaves crunch under your feet as you weave between huddles of teenagers and their cars, searching absently for a familiar BMW. The click of wheels on the pavement behind you caught your attention, and you turned to see the redhead standing on the board, heading toward you as you passed by Tommy H’s car. The tail lights of the car flashed, and before you could warn the preteen, the car backed up and knocked her flat on her back. The skateboard slid under the car and came out the other side, hitting you in the foot as Tommy slammed on his brakes.

“Watch it, little twerp!” Carol leaned out the passenger window, sneering down at where the girl sprawled on the pavement. She clamored to her feet as you grabbed the skateboard off the ground.

“Shove it up your ass, Carol!” You hip checked the back of Tommy’s car as you rounded it, jostling her, and ignored the middle finger she sent you as you helped the middle schooler to her feet. Tommy backed up as soon as you both were clear, wheels churning dust as they peeled out of the lot.

“You okay, red?” She nodded, face flushed as red as her hair as she took the board back from you. “Hey, you’re the new kid, right?”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I guess. It’s, uh, I’m Max.”

“Sorry, Max. Small town, word gets around. You can call me Hopper. Everyone does.”

Max flashes a quick smile before turning the board over to inspect it. “Crap, one of my bearings broke.”

Following her line of sight, you peer at the cracked piece of metal attached to the wheel. “Shit, I’m sorry. I don’t think Melvald’s carries anything like that, but I bet you can get them to order one.”

“Melvald’s? Where’s that?”

“Downtown, right by Radio Shack. It’s near the Palace Arcade, too, if that’s your kind of thing.”

Max smiles, tucking the board under her arm. “Thanks,” she says. Her smile vanishes, her eyes trained somewhere over your shoulder. You turn, spotting the familiar blue eyes watching you from beside the Camaro. “I better go before I get left behind. Can’t skate home without a board.”

“Yeah,” you mumble, adjusting the backpack on your shoulder. “What’s he, like your brother or something?”

Max snorted. “Or something.”

Max waved a half-hearted goodbye and you watched after her a moment as she neared the car before you continued your search for Steve or his notoriously loud BMW.

“Who were you talking to?”

Max rolled her eyes, yanking the passenger door open. “Nobody.”

“Nobody?”

The doors slammed and the car came to life, music blaring from the radio as the car reversed and swung out of the lot. “Just some girl.”

Barbara’s parents welcome you, Nancy and Steve into their home, each week, with hopeful smiles. All of you, seated around the flowery table with your plates loaded with take-out chicken, chatting lightly about things that don’t matter. The table behind you is decorated with various mismatched frames, all of them photos of Barb, and you keep looking at them like her eyes, all pairs, some behind thick glasses, others young and carefree, all watching you. Like they know the secret that you, Nancy and Steve have been keeping the better part of a year.

Barbara Holland was dead. You knew this. Steve knew. Nancy knew. Others, too, but it was still somehow something that was guised under Missing. There was nothing ‘Missing.’ There were no footprints to follow. Barbara Holland was dead, but her parents still held the door open for the three of you, still held out hope that someday their daughter would come home.

“It means we’re going to find our Barb,” Mrs. Holland was saying.

You stuck your fork into the macaroni and cheese. Nancy and Steve exchanged looks.

“For the first time in a long time, we’re hopeful.”

Nancy slipped away from the table, disappearing into the bathroom. Steve cleared his throat, trying to retain a semblance of normalcy with the Hollands. You didn’t look up, staring hard at the barely-touched plate in front of you.

Hawkins had not been the same since last November. Things had changed, forever tainted by the things that had happened. Will Byers disappeared and seemingly came back from the dead. Barbara Holland was taken and did not come back. Monsters proved themselves to be very real, and not the kind you had seen under your bed and in your closet in your youth. In short, life in Hawkins, Indiana, had been completely turned upside down.

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@mattysheelies @william-hargroves @killer-queen-xo @sallyp-53 @cloverrover @scud994 @nighttwingg @yaidothat @abiwebb12 @camillewester

#billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #billy x reader

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palletmachinebot · 4 years ago

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Oversized freight is any load that exceeds the standard legal size and/or weight limits for a particular route. In most US states this includes loads that are wider than 8’ 6" or taller than 13’ 6". Loads that are excessively long or heavy also fall into the oversized category. Plus, bridges and roadways also have limitations that must be addressed.

Freight pricing is determined on a number of factors including route distance, fuel costs, density, weight, freight class, and a multitude of other factors. Arrangements include how the freight is to be loaded, how long it will take in transport, if a lift gate is needed, and other necessary pieces of information to facilitate the delivery. Parcels are small, lightweight, and individual shipments handled by common carriers such as the US Postal Service, UPS, and FedEx. Individual shippers can drop off these shipments at numerous locations at their convenience and pricing is determined by dimensional weight or the actual weight. Commercial shippers will typically have a daily pickup arranged with carriers such as UPS or FedEx.

If specific to the carrier, is the additional processing and handling risk tolerable given everything else? Remember, each time your shipment is handled is an opportunity for damage, routing errors, and incidentals, such as weather. Seek simplicity; short projected times with a carrier that has the least amount of interlining possible.

You’ll also want to take the additional weight into consideration when packaging the shipments. Stretch Wrap – It is a good practice to completely wrap the palletized shipment using 60-ga, or better, stretch wrap.

Improperly stacking the boxes will reduce the strength of the stack and increase the chances of damage while in transit. The limits on the size and weight of the shipment will be set by the carrier. They will set limits on per skid or pallet machine weight, total shipment weight, maximum dimensions, and more. One thing to note is that there is no standardization amongst carriers in regards to determining DIM freight prices. Some carriers have very complex methods that involve calculating a theoretical volume based on a minimum density at its freight class.

Shipments that take up a lot of space for their weight will be in a higher freight class and generally cost more to ship. Shipments that are heavy and compact will be in a lower freight class and generally less expensive to ship.

DIM pricing thus affects high volume, low weight shipments the most. For some carriers each freight class will have a base density that will be used to determine the theoretical weight. Here is a chart of pcf per freight class used to determine dimensional weight factors for an example carrier. Freight density is the ratio of weight to volume expressed in per cubic foot measurements.

and 165" in length plus girth. Anything that exceeds this sizing becomes a freight shipment. They are kept stable by using a stackable pallet and also by being loaded correctly. Stackable pallets can have runners on the bottom, perimeter frames, picture frame bottoms and more. The pallets are 96 by 125 inches (2.4 m by 3.2 m) and up to 120-inches (3.05-m) tall. For shipping horses, there are special containers called airstables that connect to pallets and fit in the cargo hold.

Labels – Clearly label all shipments for identification purposes. You should also label any packages that have special handling requirements such as tilt sensitive or fragile items. LTL shipments should have the carrier pro number attached or written on them to assist in identification should the shipping label be damaged or lost in transit. The next step is to properly orient and stack your freight onto the pallet.

On the lower level, the plane can hold another five pallets along with 14 specially fitted containers, each up to 64 inches (1.6-m) tall. All of these goods are loaded through hatches in the side of the plane. By stacking pallet boxes on each other space can be used more efficiently, thus are able to save warehouse space and truck load capacity. The least expensive way to improve a pallet is usually to specify better nails.

This allows carriers to load several LTL shipments into a single truck and service multiple customers and destinations. LTL freight shipments typically weigh between 200 and 10,000 lbs. Common LTL carriers include Con-way, Old Dominion Freight Lines, YRC Freight, FedEx Freight, and many more.

Lastly, check the company’s on-time delivery rate, which should be above 90%. A carrier that is optimized to carry covered freight loads may charge higher rates for non-standard loads. One carrier may have great full truckload rates but may be higher on partial or LTL.

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brokenmusicboxwolfe · 4 years ago

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Sorry about this rant. I wrote this early on today, saved it to go do something, then never got back to it. I’m posting it because I hate deleting after wasting time writing it.

In case you are wondering, the day did not get better. I ended up cutting brush (something “useful”) instead of going to the woods. The flies would have gotten me either way....

So you wanna know what kind of day it is?

It’s a day where after just three hours of sleep you start discovering new things you need to worry about, things start breaking, and even tiny things go wrong. All the bites, injuries, and other physical aggravations are, um, aggravated. You discover that the power company cutting trees near powerlines did some damage, which isn’t technically “a problem” but is upsetting. Even your pets are in a grumpy mood. And then, when you try to call the one person you have to vent to, they are too busy to talk today, but you end up discovering new reasons to worry.

Obviously the thing to do now is to take a walk in the woods and temporarily escape all the troubles.....

Except the deer flies are swarming. Step out of the house and get eaten alive.

***sigh***

I’d wish I’d stayed in bed if I had the luxury of actually doing that.

No, seriously, anyone that can spend a day being non-functional I envy. It must be lovely to know you have someone that will check you are still alive and temporarily take on some of your responsibilities if you are starting to crack.

Even in the old days, I never got to stay in bed all day when I was sick. If you want to eat, you’d have to go get it. If you can stand to do something, you’d do it. If you were really bad off you could rest, but the only way you did that all day was if you were at death’s door. It’s just the way we always were. We’d help each other, but everyone expected to keep going until we dropped. You do as much as you can take, and you push it as far as you can.

The day after a wreck that gave me a concussion, broken ribs, and smashed elbows I was home alone, but I didn’t rest. I spent my day feeling horrible, but still, gently as I could, unloading a trailer full of stuff that had been in the wrecked pickup, cooking a meal, dragging a small boat up the driveway, and so forth. No one was making me do it, but I knew these things needed doing, and technically I could. Resting felt lazy and neglecting what needed doing, and that’s knowing that my folks would be back that evening.

But now there are no folks to get things done if I can’t. What I don’t do doesn’t get done. Back then, of course, the idea of staying in bed for emotional reasons would have been unthinkable.

The family wasn’t cruel or anything, but emotional difficulties were supposed to be ignored or contained before they got in the way of doing things. You can get over it if you just want to, you don’t have to be weak, there isn’t anything wrong with you but you aren’t trying hard enough, there is no point in giving in to your feelings... I don’t mean you couldn’t cry or rage. You could express them, but that was it. Express but don’t indulge. You didn’t have to fake being happy, but you also couldn’t stop.

I guess they were always ashamed if me, quitely, unspoken, a sad regret and exasperation with me. Oh, generally I was always a “keep going” person too, but that was with physical stuff. Chores to do, difficult tasks, problems to solve... Social things were different.

Stuff happened in kindergarten. Bad stuff. And school proved total hell. I changed in several ways, dramatically and suddenly. Critically, I’d been a fearless extrovert and and I became a frightened introvert almost overnight.

Yeah, nowadays parents would probably see my changes as something to be concerned about. They would wonder what had happened to me. But back then it was assumed to be just a shyness phase. I was being over sensitive and needed to tough up. “Obviously” I would if I just wanted to.

So I ended up the one member of the family that didn’t just “get over” emotionally upsetting things as easily as I could injuries or illnesses. I could always push past fear or pain when the problem was physical, and I’m still great at that. Anxiety around peopling, however, could stop me. I have the distinction of being the first member of my family in generations to not graduate college, but not because of any lack of intellectual capacity. My stress around people, humans being FAR more dangerous than any rattlesnake, should have been something I could defeat, but instead it defeated me.

You know, I’d sometimes say how pathetic and weak I’d been because I’d let myself be broken in elementary school. Mom would roll her eyes and say I’d never broken in my life. I could never get her to understand we were talking about different things. She was talking about my willingness to go against the crowd and defy those in power. She was thinking of the me that goes fearless when guns point at me, who insisted on giving a speech/rant about how the school system must change (did it? Hardly) instead of the expected Valedictorian glop, and nearly took on a cop for kicking a cat.

Those are the easy things. The big things. If it involves something I consider morally and ethically wrong, if it involves abuse or bullies, if it involves anyone so much as attempting to force to compromise my beliefs I forget to be afraid. Defiance and resistance are almost intoxicating actually. To confront an enemy and refuse to yield to their threats or violence can make you feel strong, even as they erode you physically. TBH, I wonder how much of what allows people to become martyrs is just the brain going “FUCK YOU” to a force that wants them to reshape their soul.

You know, it’s probably good I’m broke and live in a town of less than 500 people. I’d probably have gotten myself killed at a protest by now.

The smaller things get me. The normal things. The things others shrug off or never even notice. Send me against an army, but don’t send me into a store with no customers and an eager salesperson ready to “help”!

So as far as I am concerned I am the coward, the weak and broken one, the one that knows she should let nothing stop her but then fails. The fact I am unfliching with things others fear means nothing when things that hardly bother “normal” people terrify me.

Anyway, to get back to the point, emotionally screwy as I am, I have always tried to keep going.

Relentlessly bullied in school I’d still get up every damn morning and go to that hell hole. Once a year I’d have a sort of “break down” day in the spring, and I’d run off into to the woods and hide long enough to miss the beginning of classes. When I did that my parents never made me go, and we wouldn’t really talk about it. I’d just help Pop out in the shop the rest the day, and it would be back to school the next day with a note saying I’d been sick.

And I guess that was my equivalent of staying in bed. Well, except with out the bed or getting to not do anything. Because no matter how miserable I felt I had to get up and be useful.

Back then if I honestly couldn’t do something it would still get done. Mom or Pop would take care of my chores if I was too sick or hurt, if my ingrained sense of responsibility would allow me to let them. Theoretically, if I could shut off my instinct to do, and ignore the family expectation that I try to do, I could have stayed in bed. It’s the beauty of having people that love you.

But now I’m alone. I have to get up or the animals don’t get fed. I have a multitude if things that need repairing or taking care of, including living in a literally collapsing house (the House of Usher I call it) I have to cook my meals and do my laundry amd wash my dishes and....I really hate doing those things. Well, Iove the animals, but the rest is either overwhelming and complex or boring and tedious. No one will help me.

So now I spend a lot of time fantasizing about staying in bed all day. I dream about having someone just honestly care and offer a hand they don’t pull back when I reach for it. I daydreamed one day about someone checking on me, amd finding me sick they insist I go to bed while they feed the animals and fix me soup. I started sobbing when I thought about it, a fantasy as unrealistic for me as trying to imagine imagine how you will soend your fortune when you win the lottery.

The people that have a cushion of love, be they friends or family, don’t fuckin’ know how lucky they are. I understand, because once upon a time I had people that loved me too. Just because we tried never to use that cushion doesn’t mean it wasn’t comforting to know it was there.

#my day #bad day #stress #tired #busy #rambles

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atc74 · 6 years ago

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Cabin in the Woods

Square Filled: Cabin in the woods

Warnings: Fluffy, fluff, sexy times, threesome, male receiving oral sex, unprotected sex, voyeurism, masturbation

Summary: Jared and Jensen take the reader on their secret vacation destination, but they still have one more surprise for her. She has a surprise for them too.

Pairing: J2 x Reader (established)

Word Count: 1632

Written for: @spngenrebingo

Thank you to @evansrogerskitten for taking a look at this, and making me smut better.

A/N: A while back, my friend @supernatural-jackles, told me she would love to see me write a J2 x Reader, but would never send a request. When I got my second card for this bingo, I knew exactly what I was going to write. Jen, your wish is my command. This is the fourth installment of the series:

To New Beginnings

As a reminder, this is a work of fiction and should be regarded as such. No harm is intended toward the actor(s) or their families.

“Will you stop trying to peek and just keep the damn blindfold on, please, Y/N?” Jared pleaded from the back seat. From his vantage point, he could see every fidget, tick and grimace she made.

“You both know I don’t like surprises, so why you felt the need to blindfold me is beyond me!” she yelled, turning first toward Jensen in the driver seat then back to Jared. She couldn’t see them, but knew where they were seated.

“We know, Darlin’, but we want this to be special for you. So please, be patient just a little bit longer,” Jensen reached over, clasping her hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze. “We’re almost there, I promise.”

She felt Jared’s hand press down reassuringly on her shoulder. She knew she wouldn’t stay mad at them, but for the time being, she was losing her patience. They wouldn’t tell her where they were going and then blindfolded her. This trip better be worth it, she thought.

Just like Jensen promised, it wasn’t very much longer and he pulled the vehicle to stop. She heard the back door open, assuming Jared exited the vehicle. “Y/N, just another two minutes. We’re going to take the bags in, then we’ll come for you, okay?”

“Two minutes, Jen. I’m counting. One, two...,” she tapped her watch. She heard him open the door and get out, shutting it behind him. She only made it to eighty-six before she heard a tap at the window and her door opened. “Nice timing.”

“Y/N, we get it, okay? No more surprises,” Jared said and took her hand, helping her from the car. “You ready?”

“What do you think, Jare?” Even though part of her face was obscured by the silken fabric, he could see she was not amused.

“Yeah, okay. I am going to take it off now,” Jared told her and reached behind her head.

Y/N felt a hand on the small of her back and knew Jensen was there too. “Yes, please!”

Bright light flooded her vision as she took in the sight before her. Jared on her right and Jensen behind her. It was beautiful. Much more beautiful than she remembered.

“Is this-?” she started, not believing what she saw. “Rufus’ cabin?”

“Yeah, it is, Baby. We talked to the owners and they were more than happy to give it up, feeling too old to take care of it anyway. So we bought it!” Jared announced as he held his arms out at his sides. “What do you think?”

“I think it’s wonderful,” she whispered. “Let’s go inside.” She reached for both of them and walked toward the front of the cabin, a smile on her face.

The inside of the cabin was nothing like she remembered. It really had looked like an old hunting cabin before. Musty furniture, drafty windows and a single room. What they stood in now was refinished, refurbished and beautiful.

Y/N walked to the other side of the cabin, the back overlooked the woods and a small stream. What used to be a single, weathered wall, was now one large bedroom with a king sized bed against one wall and a large television on the other. There was a moderately sized chest of drawers under the large screen and double doors that led out to a screened in porch with a sitting area.

“This is beautiful. How long did this take?” she looked around in wonder, before her gaze landed back on her boyfriends.

“Well, about six months total, I guess. We bought it about a year ago, but hadn't decided what we wanted to do. We’ve come up here a few times to unplug, do some fishing. But then we started thinking and planning. It wasn’t until you that we really got going and hired a contractor to finish it. We were saving it for winter hiatus, but when this break came along, it seemed like the perfect time,” Jensen informed her.

“There’s another bedroom too, down the hall. The back is all one new addition with a brand new bathroom, complete with a bubble tub!” Jared could hardly contain his excitement.

“A bubble tub?” Jensen scrunched up his face. “What are you, five? It’s called a jacuzzi!”

“I don’t care what it’s called, I want to use it!” Y/N took off down the hall, shredding her clothes as she went. It took a moment for Jared and Jensen’s minds to catch up, but once they did, the followed suit. Leaving a trail of clothes in their wake, they found Y/N sitting bare on the edge of the large bathtub, the water already running.

“You’re beautiful,” Jared whispered, his voice barely audible over the rush of water from the tap.

She smiled shyly up at them as they approached her. A blush crept over her skin as she admired them. They were truly beautiful specimens of the male form. Miles of golden skin covering toned muscle. Their legs were long and thick. Their arms were strong and safe, providing her comfort only they could. She held out her hands to them and they came to stand before her.

With want in her eyes, she took each of them in her hands, stroking them slowly to full hardness. She leaned over, placing kitten licks to the tips, tasting them, a moan falling from her lips as she took in the flavor of their essence. Her pace picked up and she wrapped her lips around Jared first, bobbing slowly up and down on his hard length. He loosely gripped her hand with one hand. Her spit aided her movement as she swirled her tongue around the tip, then licked down the underside, all the way to his sack and back up. Jared’s mouth fell open as he watched her take him, a wanton groan as she pleasured him with her mouth, her eyes locked on his.

Jensen was content to wait his turn, his eyes glued to her mouth as she took Jared’s cock as far as she could. Her eyes flicked up to Jensen and she smiled around Jared. She gave Jensen’s dick a squeeze as she continued to stroke him.

Jared pulled her off of his throbbing cock, gently pushing her toward Jensen’s waiting member. The tip was reddish purple, leaking with his desire for her. She gently kissed the head, her tongue darting from between her lips to taste him. Wrapping her lips around him, she slowly slid her mouth over him until he hit the back of her throat. Applying just enough suction, she pulled back until just the head was in her mouth, nestled on the tip her tongue. She repeated the motion, keeping her eyes locked on his.

Jared watched as he languidly jerked himself, his other hand toying with her nipples. Jared loved drawing all the sounds from her. The ones she saved for moments like this. The sounds that were only for Jensen and him. The sounds he memorized for later when he jacked off alone his trailer.

“Sugar, as exceptional as your mouth is, I can’t wait another second to be buried balls deep in that perfect, tight, wet pussy of yours,” Jensen drawled, his breath coming in pants from her attention.

Y/N pulled off of him slowly, drawing it out until he fell from her mouth, his dick hitting his thigh with a slap. She reached behind her turning off the water. Jensen pulled her to her feet, grabbing her ass with both hands lifting her to him. She wrapped her legs around his waist, his dripping cock trapped between his stomach and her sodden core.

“You’re so fucking wet for us already, Y/N,” Jensen mouthed at her neck. With one hand, he reached between them, lining himself up and pushing home. The moan falling from her open mouth was sinful and gave Jared all the motivation he needed. He stepped up behind her, gripping her hips tightly, as Jensen’s hands ran up and down her back.

“Oh fucking Christ, Jen, move!” she cried, sandwiched between them. Her left hand shot behind her, holding Jared’s hip as he ground his hard cock against her ass crack.

With the aid of Jared, Jensen began bouncing Y/N on his cock. Pressed up against each other, the friction on her clit was quickly pushing her over the edge. Jared’s hands let go of her hips, cupping and kneading her tits, twisting and pulling her nipples between his large fingers, while he ground against her from behind, his cock trapped between her cheeks.

“Unnnggh,” Jensen moaned out as her walls fluttered around him, reaching her high.

Jared slid his hand down between them, massaging her clit with sure, quick strokes and she exploded around Jensen. Her screams broke the otherwise quietness of the room.

Jensen continued pumping, circling his hips until he unloaded his hot seed into her belly. His eyes squeezed shut at the onslaught of ecstasy that washed over him as his head fell to her shoulder.

Jared dug his fingertips into her flesh as he too reached his own end, rope after rope of his cum shooting up her back and his chest as he stilled behind her.

Together, they lowered her to the edge of the bath and eased her into the water. They slid in beside her, the tub more than large enough for the three of them. They sat quietly, each of them coming down from the beautiful heights of pleasure they had brought one another, euphoric smiles plastered on their faces.

“This is some bathtub,” she murmured, content between her lovers. They agreed with tranquil hums.

“Welcome to our little cabin in the woods,” Jensen mumbled, his hand tight in hers.

Did you like it? Remember, the nicest thing you can do for a writer is reblog their work and tell them, and others, how much you like it!

The Whole Enchilada tags: @closetspngirl @emoryhemsworth @iwantthedean @meganwinchester1999 @sis-tafics @wilde-abandon @wegoddessofhell @holyfuckloueh @horsegirly99 @smoothdogsgirl @dolphincliffs @thisismysecrethappyplace @neeadinghugs @roxyspearing @theoriginalvicki @andkatiethings @mrswhozeewhatsis @linki-locks11 @evansrogerskitten @hennessy0274-blog @hobby27 @gh0stgurl @charliebradbury1104 @blacktithe7 @the--blackdahlia @fortisetgloriosusinarduis @roseblue373 @hannahindie @pinknerdpanda @cherrycokegirls1 @just-another-busy-fangirl

Jensen’s Jamboree: @supernatural-jackles @dean-winchesters-bacon @cameronbraswell @docharleythegeekqueen @maddiepants @squirrel-moose-winchester @amanda-teaches @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @adoptdontshoppets @akshi8278 @kathaswings @deansgirl215 @x-waywardaf-x @elara98azalea @jerkbitchidjitassbutt

Jared’s Menagerie: @supernatural-jackles @cameronbraswell @squirrel-moose-winchester @amanda-teaches @deansgirl215 @x-waywardaf-x

#spngenrebingo #jensen ackles #Jared Padalecki #j2 #j2 x reader #j2 x reader smut #jensen ackles smut #jared padalecki smut #j2 smut #supernatural fanfiction #Supernatural fanfic #spn fanfiction #spn fanfic #supernatural rpf

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