#bobby would feel he had to step in. it would wreck the fun.

[hunybody]

well canonically hen and chimney support cheaters and always have. so really i think they would not say a single damn thing about buddie’s summer of infidelity other than to make fun of their ex-coworker who was sort of racist to them. maddie of course is clapping and cheering from the sidelines because she is crazy and has also canonically murdered her abusive husband which doesn’t really matter to this situation except i think it’s beautiful and needs to be talked about more. obviously however they all keep this from bobby due to his catholicism

[i-have-a-wonky-eye-too]

Devil in disguise... Part 4/?

Lee Bodecker x reader

<Part 3<

Warnings: swearing, mentions of masterbation (m)

Your grandpa wasn't a vilant man. He never laid a hand on your grandmother or your mother. Your grandpa vowed to protect you, his little grand baby, until the day he dies. So when Lee told him about what happened at the diner with Bobby-Ray, your grandpa wanted to beat the little punk black and blue. Thankfully Lee was able to convince him not to do anything that might land himself in jail.

"Just a second!" You called out to whoever was knocking on the front door and pulled the freshly baked cookies out of the oven. "Coming!" You called out as they knocked again.

You quickly walked to the front door, wiping your hands on your apron before pulling the door open.

"Oh, Sheriff, I wasn't expecting to see you this morning?" You smiled sweetly at him.

Lee smiled back, "Just wanted to check in, after yesterday."

You nodded. "Oh, okay... Would you like to come in? I just made some cookies."

Lee's smile grew. "That would be mighty kind of you, Sugar."

You stepped aside and let the Sheriff in. "Grandpa isn't here, I'm afraid. He's at church. So you're stuck with just me." You joked.

"You know that don't bother me, Sugar." He winked at you with a smile making you blush.

"Coffee?"

"Thank you," Lee nodded and popped his hat on the chair beside him as he sat at the kitchen table.

Lee watched in silence as you moved around the kitchen, smiling to himself as he caught the faint humming coming from your mouth. You were the perfect vision of what he thought his wife would look one day. And he was fool.

"How ya' feelin'?" Lee asked looking up after you placed his coffee in front of him.

You hummed, and turned back to face the counter. "Grateful for you." You smiled over your shoulder at him, catching the light blush as he looked down.

Lee cleared his throat, "How are you though, Y/N?"

"... A little shaken, I guess, hence why I ain't at church. Plus, I knew Bobby-Ray and his mother would be there so," You shook your head and focused on the cookies.

It was a new recipe that you tried so you were excited for someone to try them.

"Would you like to try a cookie? It's a new recipe." You smiled at the Sheriff as you placed the plate of cookies before him.

Lee licked his lips, "You know I can't say no to your cookies." He smirked as he picked one and looked up at you. "What's new about them?" He asked.

"Chocolate." You smiled and sat down beside him.

Lee frowned in confusion. "I've tried your chocolate chip cookies before, Sugar."

You shook your head with a grin, "Just try, and you'll see."

"You ain't poisoning me, are ya?" He joked making you roll your eyes playfully at him. He chuckled before he lifted the cookie to his mouth and took a decent bite out of it. "... Hmm-mm." Lee groaned from deep in his chest.

You squeezed your thighs together at the sound of pleasure the Sheriff made. That was unexpected.

"Damn, Sugar," Lee stared at the melted chocolate in the middle of his cookie. "These might be the best I've ever tasted."

You cleared your throat and stood up, turning back to the counter. "Oh, I'm glad." You gulped, trying to calm your nerves.

Lee licked his lips as he watched you, smiling to himself. "What ya' got planned for the rest of the day?"

"Nothin'. I got all my chores done this mornin', bein' up before the sun." You sighed. "Grandpa'll be out all day, drinkin' I reckon. So, might have an early night, maybe pamper myself with a long soak in the tub." You giggled and turned back to face Lee.

Lee stared into nothing, thinking about what you'd just said. "... Sounds, interesting." He cleared his throat and picked up another cookie.

"Are you working patrols all day? I could pack you some cookies up. Or maybe some lunch. A thank you for last night." You smiled and went over to the refrigerator. You bent over, almost directly in front of Lee as you looked inside.

"Dear... Lord," Lee said under his breath before he cleared his throat. "Uh, no, I'm in the station today." He sighed, "There's quite a bit of paperwork to catch up on that I ain't looking forward to." He looked up just as you turned to face him with things to make a sandwich. "Plus, the damn receptionist ain't in either so, I've got extra stress with that." He huffed.

"You know I'm always free to help out if you need it, Sheriff." You smiled at him before going over to the counter to make him a sandwich.

Lee thought to himself for a minute. The thought of spending all day with you was worrying. He wasn't sure he'd be able to focus, but it would be a big help to have you there. "If you don't mind, Sugar."

You turned around to face him with an excited look in your eyes. "Really? Wouldn't I get in the way?"

"Nah," Lee smiled, "You'll be doing me a favour and keeping me company."

You nodded. "Okay. Sure. That sounds fun."

"Okay." Lee quickly stood up, grabbing his hat from the chair beside him. "You make up two sandwiches, and I'll make sure the cruiser is clean for your pretty dress."

Your brow pinched together as you looked down to your dress in confusion.

"It was last night. What could have gotten it so dirty since then?" You joked.

Lee shook his head. "Nothing... I swear. I just... would, hate for you to get some, dirt or anything, on-" He didn't finish his sentence before running out of the house. He had to get rid of that damn Pepsi cup before you got in.

It wasn't his fault, if anything it was yours. You looked so pretty last night, then you needed to be saved and looked after by him. Plus, you cried and tucked yourself close to him, under his arm as he drove you home. He was fucking hard after he dropped you off. He had to do something to get rid of it, and the cup was just sitting there as he thought about you. Your scent still lingering in the air.

"Fuck," Lee grunted feeling his dick twitching in his pants as he thought back.

Lee had to sit in the driver's seat with his hands on the steering wheel, his knuckles going white as he closed his eyes, trying to keep his breathing even and his dick soft.

"All clean, Sheriff?" You asked with a cheerful smile as you approached the cruiser.

Lee gulped, nodding his head as he got out of the cruiser. "All clean." He forced a smile as he walked around to the passengers side and opened the door for you. "You bring any cookies?" He asked in a playful tone, making you giggle.

"Of course I did, Sheriff."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lee had every intention on setting you up at the desk in reception when the two of you arrived at the station, but then the dumb young deputies opened their mouths and made some sexual comment about you in front of him, so he steered you towards his office instead, sending the deputies a glare over his shoulder. His desk was big enough to share. It just meant he definitely wouldn't be able to focus on anything today.

"I've finished with these, Sheriff. Is there somewhere they need to go?" You asked as you held up the last envelope you'd just finished writing an address on.

Lee nodded, "There's a box out front, they'll get posted tonight."

"Okay," You smiled and pushed your chair back. "I'll got do that so they don't get lost."

"Thank you, Sugar." Lee smiled softly at you before you opened the door.

He let out a heavy sigh and sat back in his chair finally able to breath as you left his office. He'd been reading the same sentence for the last half hour after you had bent down to pick something up off the floor that he had dropped. He saw right down the top of your dress, instantly making him hard and pull himself further under his desk so you didn't see.

"So, you the Sheriff's new personal secretary, darlin'?" He heard one of his deputies ask through the open door.

Lee listened carefully with a frown. He heard you sigh before you answered. "I'm just lending a hand, that's all."

"I bet. Left or right?" Another asked, cracking up along with the other deputy.

Lee quickly stood up and pushed his chair back. He marched over to the door and opened it so it didn't make a noise, wanting to scare the deputies when he yelled at them for slacking off.

"Sometimes, I don't even use my hands." You answered back.

When Lee stepped out he saw the two deputies were speechless as you said goodbye and headed back to Lee's office.

He smirked down at you as you slipped passed him before he turned his attention back to his deputies. "Back to work!" He ordered before slamming his office door shut. "Everythin' okay, Sugar?"

You nodded, "Yes, Sheriff." You grinned. "Everythin' is good."

"Good." Lee nodded, looking away from you. "Hmm, if you could do these for me, Sugar, that would be great." He smiled, lifting up a stack of papers off his desk.

You nodded, quickly skipping over to him. "Of course, Sheriff." You smiled sweetly at him and took them from him, your fingers lightly grazing his, making you blush slightly.

It took everything in you not to look up and stare at him, to admire his handsome face as the room fell silent. Being so close to Lee for so long was nerve wrecking. He always smelt so good, and his smile always made your heart skip and when he smirked, your knees almost buckled. And when he spoke, it sent shivers down your spine. Sometimes it was smooth and soft, other times it was rough and deep. And when he yelled (not that it was often around you), but when he did, it made you dizzy with excitement.

The hours quickly ticked by and before you knew it, Lee had pulled up outside your home. The lights were on and your grandpa's old truck was parked in its usual spot indicating he had gotten home just fine.

"Thank you for today, Sheriff." You smiled at him.

Lee chuckled, "It should be me thankin' you, Sugar. You really helped me out." He spoke softly with a smile.

You blushed looking down to your lap. "It was nothin'." You shrugged it off.

Lee shook his head. "No, it was. You didn't need to help out like you did." He smiled, running his knuckles across your cheek. "But you did, because your sweet, and kind."

You blushed with a small smile.  "... Oh, well, thank you." You let out a nervous giggle. "I best get inside. Grandpa'll be getting' worried if I'm out any longer." You smiled bashfully.

Lee nodded. "Okay then, Sugar, you go on in."

"Good night, Sheriff." You pushed yourself closer to him and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Your eyes widened a little when you realised what you'd done. You pulled back and met his stunned gaze. "I, hmm-"

The radio crackling to life interrupted the moment and gave you chance to bid Lee goodbye again before quickly sliding out of the cruiser.

What had you done? Why would you go and do something stupid like that? He probably thought you were just some stupid kid with a silly little crush on him. You had no doubt he was probably used to young girls fawning over him, and falling in love with him. But that didn't mean you hadn't just made a fool of yourself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tags: @stucky-my-ship @acciosiriusblack

[finduilasclln]

Having a spectacularly shitty day, so if you're taking prompts, I'd love to read anything with one of the boys taking care of the other after a bad day..

I’m so sorry your day was so horrible. I’m also sorry I couldn’t write this straight away, but I still hope that it helps a bit now. 

Not beta’d, because I wanted to post it as soon as possible. 

Sending you love and positive vibes! 

***

Buddie - Hurt/Comfort - Pre-Relationship

***

Buck feels wrecked as he opens the door to his apartment. His shoulders are tight, his jaw clenched, his chest aching. He’s trying to keep everything inside of him, tries to keep it from spilling over. He thinks that maybe one crack is enough to tear him wide open right now, so he just tries to go through the motions on autopilot in an attempt to hold himself together. 

He’s so fixated on not breaking down that he doesn’t even realize the lights are on as he steps through the door. Doesn’t hear the quiet buzz of the television in the background. So fixated on nothing until Eddie steps into view and then he’s the only thing Buck can see. Like so very often. 

“Eddie?” Buck asks, his bag slipping from his shoulder, falling onto the floor with a dull thud. 

“Bobby called,” Eddie says softly, like that explains everything, though maybe it does? 

It wouldn’t have taken a genius to see that Buck has had a rough shift - shifts without Eddie are never as fun but this one was particularly bad - so of course Bobby called Eddie and filled him in. Of course Eddie came over so Buck wouldn’t have to be alone. He can’t even be mad at Bobby, it’s not going behind his back, it’s having his back. And they always do. 

Buck just nods, ducking his head as he looks at the floor. The air is a little bit more breathable when Eddie is around. 

“What do you need?” Eddie asks. 

Buck lets out a puff of air. Eddie doesn’t ask him if he’s okay, and it’s just one of the many reasons why Buck loves him. God, he loves him so much that sometimes it hurts. Right now though, everything hurts except his love for Eddie.  

“I don’t know,” Buck answers truthfully, rubbing his hand over his arm absentmindedly. His arms feel weird somehow, like pins and needles but not really. Like it’s only in his mind. Maybe that’s just how arms feel when someone dies in them. 

He knows that Eddie is aware of what happened, but Eddie doesn’t say it wasn’t Buck’s fault. Buck already knows, and that Eddie would never blame him either. But it doesn’t really matter right now. The outcome is still the same. 

“Come here,” Eddie says, curling his hand around Buck’s elbow and leading him towards the couch. He grabs a bottle of water from the table on the way over, a bottle Eddie must have had at the ready for him. 

He guides Buck down on the couch, puts the bottle in his hands. 

“You need to drink,” he says, like he knows Buck hasn’t thought about hydrating in a few hours. The cap is already unscrewed and the gesture is so small yet so meaningful that Buck wants to cry. 

As Buck brings the bottle to his lips, Eddie crouches down in front of him, untying Buck’s shoelaces. 

“You don’t have to,” Buck says after swallowing down a few sips. 

“I know,” Eddie says, but he continues anyway, slipping Buck’s shoes off for him and setting them down next to the couch. 

When Buck is done drinking, Eddie takes the bottle and puts it on the coffee table before sitting down next to him in the corner of the couch. He has a blanket in his hands that Buck doesn’t know where he found it. Did Eddie come over here armed with blankets and support?  

“C’mere,” Eddie says softly, opening up his arms for Buck to fit into. 

Buck wants to say Eddie doesn’t need to do this, that Buck doesn’t need a babysitter, that Eddie doesn’t need to waste his time taking care of a full grown man. But Eddie offers so freely and Buck has no resistance left, so he tucks his legs up on the couch beside him and leans down, resting his head on Eddie’s chest and he breathes. 

Eddie’s arms curl around Buck, draping the blanket over him as they do so and Buck’s eyes glance over at the tv. The sound is so low he can’t hear what’s being said, but he doesn’t care. It makes for just enough white noise that it can drown out the voices in his head for a bit. The tension in his shoulders starts to loosen a bit. Eddie’s protecting touch removes the weight on them.

“Do you want to talk?” Eddie asks, his hand on Buck’s arm, gently rubbing up and down, chasing away the pins and needles. 

Buck takes a moment to think, allows himself to press the side of his face a little closer into the soft fabric of Eddie’s shirt. If he focuses, he can hear Eddie’s heartbeat over the soft hum of the television. 

“You don’t have to,” Eddie reassures him, resting his head against Buck’s. 

“I don’t know what to say,” Buck admits after a moment of silence in which Eddie doesn’t push. Doesn’t expect anything from Buck. 

“That’s okay,” Eddie says, his hand coming up until his fingers can rest in Buck’s hair, scraping gently against his scalp. “We can just sit here.” 

Buck nods against Eddie’s chest, grateful. Eddie smells like fabric softener and home. 

“I’m here,” Eddie says, and it feels like everything. Eddie’s here if Buck wants to talk, or if he doesn’t want to talk. Eddie’s here to lean on, to allow Buck to feel how he feels, to hold him. Eddie is here for Buck, like he always is. Like they always are for each other. 

Within the safety and warmth of Eddie’s arms, Buck feels protected and unjudged. He doesn’t have to pull himself together, doesn’t have to snap out of it. He is allowed to be himself, and it shouldn’t be a new realization because Eddie has always been that for him, but a sob escapes Buck’s throat anyway, unguarded, and Eddie pulls Buck a little closer to him. 

Buck closes his eyes and presses his face into Eddie’s chest, his arms snaked around Eddie’s body. Tears are falling freely now, absorbed by Eddie’s shirt, his sobs hushed by the soft tones of Eddie’s voice against the top of Buck’s head. 

Buck’s day is still awful, and all the bad things that happened still happened and even Eddie’s embrace can’t take that away. 

But somehow having Eddie makes even the horrible days feel a little less horrible. 

[princessfbi]

soft teenager!buddie moments in the bookstore au? for your sleepover asks? :))

Ok Nonnie! I'm so sorry this is late!

Buck used to bring out coffee for Eddie even before they started dating because Eddie wouldn't take any money for gas even though he was driving Buck to school every day.

On Buck's birthday, Taylor and Eddie work together to plot a whole day of funs things to do. Rock wall climbing, going to the pier, hiking, anything. It gives Maddie a chance to decorate/cook Buck's favorite dinner but it also distracts Buck from the fact that his parents didn't call.

On Eddie's birthday every year Buck surprises him with a jumbo cupcake. Chocolate devil's food with hazelnut buttercream frosting and a caramel drizzle. And Eddie may be all scowls and eye rolls but the small smile that creeps onto his face when he sees that cupcake stays for the rest of the day.

They don't go to homecoming because Buck and Eddie spend the day at the beach instead.

Buck and Eddie definitely go trick or treating before Buck goes to watch scary movies with Maddie.

Maddie, Buck, Chimney, Eddie, and Abuela all spent Christmas together. Chimney got Buck and Eddie LAFD hoodies with their names on them.

Eddie buys Buck a carnation when the choir sells them for Valentine's Day that gets delivered to him in front of every one during his fifth period AP Physics class and Buck blushed so hard his teacher thought he was going to pass out.

Buck and Eddie have been training hard for the fire academy on top of school so Maddie's definitely walked in on them napping on the couch. Problem is they're both over six feet and they're too young to wreck their backs. They're allowed to just pass out in Buck's bed but the door has to stay open.

Whenever Buck knows that Eddie's parents called, he kind of glues himself to his side because he knows Eddie's parents make him feel like no one else is. Which isn't true and Buck wants to make sure he remembers that. Eventually Eddie gets out of his own head but he clings to Buck a little too.

Their hall PDA is the dream of every teen romcom. Eddie doesn't mind throwing an arm around Buck's shoulders and pulling him to his side. Buck kisses Eddie outside of his third period. Hands are held. Hoodies are shared. (Taylor has stolen a hoodie from each other them as payment for their insufferable cuteness).

Eddie asks Buck to prom when he finds out that Buck kind of wanted to go and Buck didn't stop grinning about it for days.

Buck got in trouble because he punched the asshole in the face who asked Taylor to prom as a joke in front of the school. He knows, Buck was surprised of himself too but I guess that's what happens when you almost die because your sister's psycho ex shows up to murder you at Thanksgiving. He only got one punch in before his friends tried to lay into him but that's when Eddie stepped in.

They were suspended for a week and grounded by both Maddie and Abuela.

It was Eddie's idea that they turn their duo into a trio and when Taylor told him she didn't need a pity date he told her too bad and get a dress. And if she didn't, he and Buck would do the biggest, most extravagant promposal the world had ever seen. He was dead serious. There would be glitter.

Taylor wore a baby blue dress that Buck and Eddie matched with their suits. Their pictures were fucking spectacular.

Chimney convinced Bobby to take the kids to prom in the fire truck. Buck was not nearly as cool about it as he thought he was.

[fiddlepickdouglas]

Viva Las Vegas, Pt. 16 - Be Careful

Summary: Sunset Curve Alive AU, Willex, can they bear the news?, 2.2k

@trevor-wilson-covington is the bestie who makes these lovely edits, we stan supportive friends

WARNINGS: cancer mention

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15

Julie sat beside Luke at the small table they had set up beside Rose’s bed. A stack of photos, glue sticks, stickers, scissors, and tons of colored paper covered the table, as well as another stack of photos sitting within Rose’s reach.

“Oh, look at this picture of Carlos,” Rose said in her raspy voice. She lifted one of him as a chubby two year old wearing a baseball cap that was too big, clapping his hands together.

“Aww,” Julie looked affectionately at the photo, tilting her head.

“He’s a cute kid, Mrs. Molina,” Luke said. He continued cutting music notes out of a sheet of purple paper.

“Thanks for visiting me today,” Rose said. “I heard you and the boys have been busy in the studio?”

Grinning like the goof he was, Luke nodded. Julie couldn’t help suppressing a giggle. Even though she knew he was tired from long hours and he only had a little time to get away, he’d still been all about coming with her to visit her mom this morning. She wasn’t sure he was that interested in scrapbooking, but it was sweet of him to come along.

“Yeah, it’s been so fun,” he was saying. “I don’t know how the guys in production make us sound so good. I mean, we already sound awesome, but they make it just perfect. I feel like I would go out and buy ten copies of the album when it gets out.”

Rose chuckled. “Really? That’s great to hear. I remember with the Petal Pushers, I could’ve spent hours in production, tweaking everything until it was just right. That’s why it almost took us two years to release our debut.”

“Two years?” Luke sat back, letting it sink in.

“I was a bit of a perfectionist; the rest of my band wasn’t so patient. I don’t mind though, I had other things to put my time into.” She gazed fondly at Julie, who looked back with a similar fondness, if not slightly clouded.

She wasn’t responding to treatment anymore. It had just become official last week and Julie wasn’t ready to break the news to Luke or anyone else. There wasn’t anything she could think of that would make it easier, no matter how much she knew she needed to let them know. It just seemed like everyone else was doing so well: the guys were finally moving on up, Flynn was coming out with her own music, and even she had barely finished a successful tour. But this was more than just a wrench in the gears.

In the middle of cutting out a heart, she was too lost in thought and snipped on the end of her thumb.

“Ow!” she cried, immediately sucking on it. “Do we have band aids in here?”

“Oh, sweetie,” her mom said fretfully. “I can’t remember where they are, but let me call the nurse.” She pressed a button on the remote beside her bed. Luke tried to get a look at the cut, but Julie insisted on sucking on it.

Moments later, the same woman Julie had seen before entered the room. Her hair was in a braid today, and Julie tried to smile at the sight while her thumb remained in her mouth.

“Hey, Rose, what’s up?” she asked, appearing surprised to have gotten a call.

“Sorry this isn’t a big emergency,” Rose apologized. “My daughter just cut her thumb and I can’t remember where you put the bandages.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I’ve got you,” the nurse said, going to a cabinet and pulling out supplies to bandage Julie’s thumb. “Here, let me see it.”

Finally releasing it, Julie held her hand out and let the nurse sit down and get to work cleaning and wrapping it.

“What are we working on here?” the nurse wondered aloud, looking at the table of craft supplies.

“We’re putting together a scrapbook,” Julie told her, knowing she was using the conversation to distract her from the pain. “You know, so we don’t forget the good things.” She got a knowing look from the nurse. Her eyes were soft and full of understanding, and Julie offered her a little smile. “I know I’ve seen you before, but what was your name?”

“It’s Renee,” the nurse said. “I was just realizing that I never properly introduced myself, either.” Closing the band aid around Julie’s finger, she patted her hand and stood up.

“Well, it’s good to see you again. This is Luke, by the way.” Julie pointed toward where he was simply watching them, slightly spaced out. He blinked for a minute before smiling at Renee and nodding.

“Nice to meet you,” he said. “You’re a lifesaver.”

Renee smiled demurely. “Oh, well, I certainly aim for that at the end of the day.”

Luke could only respond with his dorky grin.

“Luke, here, is a musician like Julie,” Rose piped in.

“Is that right?” Renee replied, raising her eyebrows in interest. “Your family seems to attract the most talented company.”

“Oh, well, I’m definitely talented,” Luke said. “But Julie’s the real wrecking ball. It doesn’t surprise me she got to touring before me and my band.”

She rolled her eyes, but Julie enjoyed the compliment. That was pretty modest for him when it came to music.

“Yes, I remember mentioning my niece is a big fan. I have to refrain from telling her you’re related to Rose, otherwise she would ask for a lot of favors.”

“Oh, how old is your niece?” Julie asked.

“She’s thirteen,” Renee said, leaning on her hand. “Just started middle school.”

“Oh, middle school is rough,” Luke murmured.

“She’s definitely having a rough time,” Renee said to all three of them. “But I think your music has made a difference. Her mom might buy her keyboard for Christmas.”

Julie looked back at Luke, who was already beaming at her, and knew what he would say. He didn’t have to, but she could hear his mantra about the importance of music echo in her brain: it’s about connecting with people, making a difference in their day. She turned back to Renee, whose pager was beeping and made her turn to leave.

“Thanks for the bandage, and of course being there for us,” she said.

“You’re welcome. Glad I could see you, too, Julie.”

“I’ll see you later, Renee,” Rose rasped as she disappeared.

“She seems pretty cool,” Luke said, picking up the music note he was still trying to cut out.

“Yeah, I like her,” Julie told him. “She gave me some good advice.”

“I know she kept talking about her niece, but I think you have another big fan,” Rose said.

“Maybe,” Julie shrugged, trying to focus again on the scrapbook.

As she and Luke left the hospital, Julie had to steal a long glance at her mom, now fast asleep. She had to remember the good things, but there were so many questions she felt like she had to answer. Now that she was off tour and back in school, it was only a matter of time before she had to return to the studio. Once that happened, visits like this would be nearly impossible. She felt a hand slip into hers and fingers interlocking, and she looked up at Luke gently nodding at her to move onward. His puppy-like eyes gave her enough courage to go.

“So how long do you have to be in the studio today?” she asked him, forcing her mind to switch gears.

“Uh...till about seven,” Luke said. “We’re mostly working on Lakeside Reflection today.”

“Aww, I love that one,” she melted into his side as they stepped into the elevator.

“I know you do,” he chuckled softly. She continued leaning on him, feeling his thumb rub over the top of her hand like a lullaby. They remained silent the rest of the way down, just enjoying each other’s company. Julie loved Luke’s calm, quiet moments where he didn’t need to use words. Like the way he used music to speak his mind, he could also communicate with the way he held her. He offered the best comfort. Stepping out of the elevator and to the front of the hospital, Julie saw Bobby’s van already waiting.

“Do you need a ride?” Luke asked.

She shook her head. “No, my tía is taking me and Carlos to see a movie. She’ll be here any minute.”

Forever a pleading look in his eyes when they said goodbye, she shook her head and rolled her eyes at him before he could suggest she change her plans. It happened so often now that she’d had to learn how to say no, no matter how hard it was sometimes.

“Okay, fine,” Luke said, the silent argument over. One hand grabbed onto her head as he planted a kiss on her forehead, letting the other slowly slip out of her fingers as he went to climb into the van. Julie waved at all the guys inside as Bobby took off before looking back down at her bandaged thumb. She still couldn’t tell them about her mom.

Tapping his fingers on the seat, Alex nervously fought to decide if he could break the news to Luke and Bobby. Reggie peeked back, giving him an uncertain glance. They hadn’t exactly discussed it or practiced what they’d say to them, but the clock was ticking. Luke and Bobby needed to know what Caleb was really like now. For some odd reason, Alex’s tongue remained on lock for the whole ride, and it seemed to plague Reggie, too. He felt his muscles twitch as they pulled into the parking lot at the studio. Listening to the squeak of Bobby’s brakes, inertia let them all lightly lurch forward before coming to a full stop.

“Guess who me and Reggie ran into last night?” Alex cried out, almost reflexively. All the guys turned back at him.

“Who?” Bobby prompted.

“Willie.”

The two of them stared at him, stunned, as Reggie took in a deep breath. It was hard to tell whether it was relief or something else.

“Reggie, is he okay?” Bobby asked him.

“Actually, yes he is,” Reggie stated solemnly. “I saw Willie too. He’s here in LA.”

Bobby looked at Luke.

“Caleb said he died. There’s no way he could be here.”

“Well, he is,” Alex said firmly. “Flynn can prove it too, we ran into her as well.”

“Alright, that’s good news, but why are you guys telling us now?” Luke queried.

“Because he knows things about Caleb,” Alex said. “Really bad things.”

Luke and Bobby both blinked and then looked at each other. Alex shot a glance over at the door to the studio. He was already afraid to enter. Caleb wasn’t always there, but he always arrived unpredictably.

“Like what things?” Luke asked.

Later that evening, all the guys sat in the garage where they usually practiced. Luke was lying on the couch, despondent as he gazed at the ceiling. Bobby was sprawled on the floor while Reggie had lain sideways across the armchair. Alex paced, occasionally running his hand through his hair.

“Anyone else never want to set foot inside that studio again?” Reggie offered cheerlessly.

“We can’t just quit making a record,” Luke contested.

“Maybe we wouldn’t feel like we want to if we hadn’t jumped the gun and just signed onto the first place that wanted us,” Bobby said. Luke sat up, clearly bothered by those words.

“Dude, what are you saying?”

“Caleb’s a creep,” Reggie supplied. “I don’t know what his game is, but if what Willie says is true, then working with him is a major no go.”

“If?” Alex retorted, stopping to target Reggie. “If we’re gonna trust anyone between the two of them, I would trust Willie. He’s not the one killing people for convenience.”

“Hey,” Bobby interrupted. “You can defend him all you want. We’re not saying we don’t trust him.”

Alex took back to pacing again. Sighing heavily, Luke sat upright on the couch.

“So what, do we just give up?” he demanded. “We didn’t work so hard to get this far just to drop our dream over one shady guy. I mean, what else could he possibly want with us?”

“Look, I don’t know,” Alex said. “But what if it’s not just about us. I mean, thanks to Caleb, Willie can barely remember who he is.” The guys fell silent and serious as that reality sank in. “I mean, he’s not the only one that Caleb has messed with for years, manipulating them into working under him and giving up almost all of their control. Maybe he doesn’t need to get foster kids for it anymore. What if we’re next?”

“So what should we do?” Bobby wondered. “Break the contract and risk losing the rights to all the work we’ve been doing?”

He had a point. Joining Luke on the couch, Alex rested his face in his hands, feeling the frustration seethe out of him.

“No, guys, we need to think about this,” Luke began saying. “I know this is messed up, but I also know that backing out isn’t the right answer. And I know I’m usually not the one to say this stuff but...we need to be careful.”

[katehuntington]

Title: Ride With Me (part twenty one) Fandom: Supernatural Timeline: 2008 Pairing: Dean x Reader Word count: ±5850 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 twenty one: It’s Dean’s turn to make an entrance in the main arena. The rides lead to an interesting business proposal by a new client, but brings a lot of doubt too. 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: Watching From A Distance - David Ramirez (opening scene) Follow ‘Kate Huntington’s Ride With Me playlist’ on Spotify! Author’s note: Prepare for cuteness and a bit of angst! Thank you @atc74​, @manawhaat​ and @winchest09​ for helping me. Also a special thanks to @jules-1999​, who has offered me her knowledge about rodeo events like these, and @squirrelnotsam​, who knows Arizona like the back of her hand. 

Ride With Me Masterlist

     Saturday morning has started early for the crew of the Gold Canyon Ranch. Before the crack of dawn Benny has mucked out the stables and fed the horses, making sure they had time to digest their pellets before the show starts. Together with Jo, Y/N has hand-walked the animals who are competing today, letting them stretch their legs and graze a bit. She took extra time for Meadow, who always seems to need a moment to adjust to new surroundings. The mare was fresh today, the brisk air only fueling her feisty temper. Her owner couldn’t help but snigger when she lifted her tail and started jogging next to her instead of just strolling along, showing off to anyone who would look at her.

     It’s 8 AM when Dean puts his foot in the stirrup of the saddle, swinging his right leg over the back of the Bon Jovi, the light catching the fringe of his chaps. He pulls his hat a little tighter on his head once he’s seated, while the well-behaved stallion waits patiently for his rider to give him an aid, which he does, after adjusting the length of his reins.

     With the sun only just peeking from behind the horizon, rays break through the leaves of the trees next to the warmup area, adding to the still peaceful surroundings. The commentator isn’t blaring through the speakers yet, the ring isn’t full of other riders trying to find a spot to train without running into each other. It’s the calm before the storm, a bit of peace and quiet both horse and human appreciate. No distractions, no sensory overload for the inexperienced stallion. It’s the perfect way to introduce him to the element of competition.

Y/N has just finished filling up the water buckets in the stables and rests her arms on the fence of the small arena. She watches Dean slowly start up the beautiful palomino, its coat seemingly made from gold in the morning light. Her boyfriend is wearing clean dark jeans and a navy button up, a black Stetson to match his show outfit. Never will she get tired of watching that man ride, but dressed like he is now, she can’t take her eyes off him. Y/N sighs deeply, swooning at the sight. She really did land the most handsome cowboy in Arizona, didn’t she?

     The head wrangler seems composed as ever, not breaking a sweat over having to ride into the ring in thirty minutes, something that she admires and envies all at the same time. She wishes she could feel relaxed right before a test, instead of being the nervous wreck that she usually is. Meadow will not make her entry until later this evening and already Y/N dodged breakfast, well aware that she won’t be able to swallow a bite, stage fright blocking her throat. Just thinking about the premiere of her freestyle makes it slightly harder to breathe, but Dean takes that away when he rides past, breaking his concentration for a second and shooting her a wink and a soft smile. She chuckles as they keep a hold of each other’s gaze for a few seconds as his horse walks by. God, she wishes she has his confidence.

     Other competitors join Dean and Bon Jovi in the warm up area, but the stallion only murmurs at a mare once, its rider gently yet strictly reminding him to keep his head in the game. Before they know it, the same voice that did the commentary on last night’s barrel race competition sounds from the amplifiers.

     “Good mornin’, folks! It’s another beautiful day here at the Flagstaff Horsefair. We’re getting ready for the first class of the day, the Standlee Forage Reining Competition for four year olds. Highest overall score wins five bags of high quality horse food.”

     The commentator continues to promote the sponsors of the event, Dean giving his horse a little scratch on the shoulder when he tenses slightly as the loud voice sounds from the speakers. Aware that it will soon be their turn, the rider allows himself to enjoy the atmosphere as he casts his gaze over the other competitors. He isn’t too worried about the fixture, confident in his own skills and those of his horse.

     “Dean Winchester, two minutes!” A steward announces, looking down at his clipboard to double check the line up.      The cowboy nods in acknowledgement, directing his gaze to Y/N as he waits for her to catch up. He watches as she puts down the grooming bag next to her on the sandy arena footing, attending to the bell boots that Bon Jovi is still wearing. She unbuckles the leather clasps, putting the leg protection away.      “Would you like some water?” she offers.      He shakes his head, casually, taking in the arena. “Nah, I’m good.”

     Y/N looks up at him, trying to read what he is feeling. To her, it is strange how he doesn’t seem nervous. He’s relaxed, collected; reminding her of the still waters at Canyon Lake, where they swam together for the first time on the trail that changed everything. It is as if he can’t register the pressure that should be resting on his shoulders. Maybe he truly believed he is that good.      “Break a leg,” she speaks, fondly.      “Don’t wish that upon me, Yankee,” Dean chuckles. “Kinda need them to do my job.”        She laughs and pats him lovingly on his denim clad thigh. “I don’t know how you can be so calm.”      “Well, I have my good luck charm with me.” He lays his hand over hers, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. “C’mere.”       She steps closer to Bon Jovi, tiptoeing to reach up while Dean leans over to level with her. His lips brush over hers softly, his nose nuzzling hers in a sweet gesture. She smiles into the gentle kiss.      “Go get’em, cowboy.”

     The wrangler straightens himself in the saddle, while his girlfriend picks up the groom bag and steps back. He guides his horse into the tunnel under the bleachers towards the arena, concentrating on the gates in front of him, waiting for them to open. The reigns feel smooth between his fingers as he drowns out the noise around him. With his free hand, he encouragingly strokes the side of Bon Jovi’s neck, his pearly white manes contrasting beautifully against his flaxen coat. He has grown accustomed to these kinds of events, his nerves not bothering him anymore. He finds solace in his work, seeing it more as fun than as a chore. He enjoys the challenge the youngsters bring him, from the initial moment of putting on a halter, to getting in a saddle, to showing them all for the very first time. In less than a year, the horses go through such growth, and it’s always a pleasure to be a part of their journey.

     “First competitor of the day is Dean Winchester, riding Bon Jovi, a stallion by Renegade. This horse is bred by Victor Hendriksen and owned by the Gold Canyon Ranch in Phoenix, Arizona.”

     Y/N watches as the palomino calmly comes through the gate, not batting an eye at his new and impressive surroundings. Submissive and willing, the stallion responds to his rider’s aids when he’s asked to halt. To witness how trustful each and every horse is with the trainer, surfaces some kind of gratification inside of her. The way Dean schools the animals isn’t based on authority or rank, but much more about collaboration and respect. It’s something she admires about him from the get go.

     Dean leads Bon Jovi through a precise pattern of figures, spins and stops. Reining is all about the athletic abilities of the horse, and the rider controlling every movement. The horse demonstrates attitude and willingness, while the signals given by the rider are nearly imperceptible. The run is evaluated by a panel of three judges, who mark each pattern individually. In this youngster class, speed isn’t key yet, but correctness is. Every stride must look effortless and relaxed, as if the animal and rider have become one. That’s exactly what is on display in the arena right now.

     With a smile of adoration across her face, Y/N leans her forearms on the steel fence, watching the head wrangler. A small crowd that got up at the crack of dawn have occupied the first rows on the bleachers and by the fence, encouraging shouts and whistles rallying the first competitor on. The young horse is so fixed on his rider, that he doesn’t even pick up on the sounds. Bon Jovi isn’t fast in the spins yet, but that’s okay, because his footwork is close to perfect. After three well executed sliding stops, Dean gives the palomino the signal to back up, his spur not even touching the horse’s flank. Submissively, he reverses until his rider drops the reins and rewards the stallion, who blows out a purr through his nose, looking up at the stands curiously when they applaud the performance, much like the commentator.

     “Well, if that ain’t setting the bar, I don’t know what is. What a solid ride from Dean Winchester and Bon Jovi!”

     While Dean exits the arena, he searches the people along the fence and on the bleachers. He’s looking for Bobby, who he finds on the sidelines. His uncle holds his gaze and gives the head wrangler a nod, telling him so much without using actual words. They haven’t spoken about the elephant in the room yet, today’s pace being far too high to squeeze in the awkward conversation, and so both men have decided for themselves to let it rest. Besides, they might have sold a number of horses yesterday, that doesn’t mean they can lean back now.

     The cowboy leads his horse back to the warm up ring, meeting his girlfriend half way.      “Good run!” she compliments, taking Bon Jovi’s reins after Dean swings his right leg over the saddle and dismounts. She shoves the water bottle in his hand this time, knowing if she had asked, he would have declined anyway.      “I had a little wobble in the second roll back, but yeah, the rest was good.” He twists off the cap and takes a swig, thirstier than he likes to admit.

     Since Dean is competing two separate horses in the same class, he’s both first and last to enter the main arena. It’s going to be a race against the clock, and he looks around the warm-up area in search for his next four-legged dance partner.      “Where’s Jo? Ringo is up in thirty minutes.”      “Better get off your high horse, Mister, otherwise this is the last time I’ll tack up for you,” his cousin replies snappily, appearing from behind with a bay gelding named Ringo Starr in tow.      Dean is about to counter her, but he bites his tongue, knowing she’s not kidding and will never do him a favor again if he gives her attitude. And so he mutters a ‘thanks’ under his breath when he takes the Quarterhorse from her.

     As swiftly as he got down from Bon Jovi, he now mounts Ringo, the next four year old for him to compete. As he does so, his score is announced over the speakers, but he can’t quite make out the numbers. When he glances at the scoreboard, he’s pleasantly surprised.      “218.5 points!” Y/N cries out, delighted. “That’s fantastic!”      With a content smirk adorning his features, Dean nods satisfied; that is indeed a good score. Good enough to put Bon Jovi on the podium. Good enough to ask a high price when the buyers come calling. He doesn’t have time to settle on a high cloud, though; he needs to ready Ringo for his run.

     Y/N hoists the groombag on her shoulder and takes the kind palomino stallion to exit the warm-up arena. This is her job after all, she might be dating her supervisor, she’s still the intern. They made a deal when she arrived at the ranch that Dean would not treat her differently, so she intends to do the work she’s come here to do. Jo, however, seems to have a different idea, and nudges her.      “I’ll take Jovi. You go cheer on your John Wayne.” The blonde cowgirl winks at her friend, taking over the load.

     She chuckles, handing the petite blonde the horse. Grateful to be able to see more of Dean’s horsemanship in action, she finds a spot by the fence. The sun steadily rises, casting out what was left of the night’s coolness, the light radiating down on her much warmer and brighter. Wishing she had brought a hat, the cowgirl takes off her jacket and puts it away in the groombag. She watches her boyfriend warm up Ringo, who seems a little bit more nervous, now that the ring is more crowded. His rider does a good job reassuring the young animal, though, giving the bay gelding some light exercises to keep his mind of the commotion around him, rewarding the Quarter every time he shows a sign of relaxation.

     “Beautiful day to be buying horses, isn’t it, darling?”      Y/N startles at the sudden gruff voice, snapping her head to where the sound came from. The supposedly kind words to start conversation are pronounced with a English accent, by a stranger dressed in black. The rather short man who she guesses would be somewhere in his fifties leans on the steel rail, his fingers laced together while he watches riders in the arena.

     “Y - yeah, I suppose so,” Y/N stammers, unsure how to respond.      “My apologies, where are my manners.” The man turns to her and offers his hand. “The name is Fergus. Fergus MacLeod.”      The cowgirl frowns at his introduction. She has heard of him, but has never met the owner of the MacLeod Studfarms in person.      “Y/N Y/L/N,” she returns, slightly hesitant.      “Oh, I know who you are. I’m an admirer of your work. You’re quite the talent,” the Englishman admits. “That run at the State Championships was spectacular.”

     Slightly creeped out, but not trusting her instincts entirely, she stays quiet for a moment. This is a man of great influence in the business, so she does want to hear what he has to say.      “You saw me ride?” she replies.      He nods, an amused smirk resting on his thin lips. “I did indeed, love. Talking about talent, that horse is something else as well. Meadowsweet, is her name, isn’t it?”      “Yeah...” Y/N returns, somewhat suspicious.      “Tell me; are you the owner of that lovely mare? Or are there parents and sponsors involved?”

     Her stance becomes a bit more defensive, not just because of the rapid questions that are fired at her, no matter how charming this gentleman is trying to be. No, it’s his assumption that she’s too young to own such a horse that gets to her.      “I am the owner, as a matter of fact,” she states, a new found strength in her voice.      “Good to know I am talking to the proper person then.” Her company chuckles, apparently pleased by her feisty counter. “Because I have a proposition for you.”      Before he can make her an offer, Y/N intervenes. “Meadow isn’t changing owners, if that’s where you’re headed, Mr. MacLeod.”      Fergus takes her in, narrowing his eyes slightly, but the pleased little smile remains. “I can make it worth your while.”      “I believe you can, but no matter your offer; she’s not for sale,” the cowgirl makes herself clear, a sternness in her voice that should tone the horse trader down.      It doesn’t. Instead he chuckles dryly and takes a little booklet out of the inner pocket of his black coat; it’s a cheque book. Not taking no for an answer, he pulls out a pen and writes down his signature.      “Everything is for sale, love. All one has to do is pay the right price,” he says, wisely.

     Fergus MacLeod rips off the sheet of paper, handing her the cheque. Not wanting to be downright rude, she takes it, staring at the empty line; it’s blank.      “You may write down whatever number you seem fit. It’s up to you,” the Brit elaborates. “Now that I’ve got your attention, would you happen to know where I can find Bobby Singer? I would like to have a little chat with my old friend.”      “He’s by the main arena.” She points in the direction of the entrance.      “Wonderful,” he quips. “It was a pleasure meeting you, darling.”

     A shiver runs down her spine as MacLeod walks away to find her boss. She’s highly aware that he is a very influential and important person in the industry, but he has got some nerve. Y/N might look like an innocent and timid girl, but there is no way in hell that she would ever give up Meadow, no matter how large the figure.

     She stares at the cheque, crumbling it in her hand before she stuffs it in her pocket, angrily. She has never met someone as brazen as Fergus Macleod at a show before, and she has been to enough to know. But she doesn’t want to waste time and think about the confrontation now. The cowgirl would much rather focus on her wrangler boyfriend who is wowing the judges.

     Dean’s run with Ringo Starr is another great one, and with him being the last contestant of the class, the rankings are decided the moment the score comes in. With 215.5 points, he secures the third place, behind another rider and Bon Jovi, who has held on to the lead. An impressive result, one that he knows his uncle is going to be very pleased with.

     When the Dean exits the arena, he is met by his girlfriend, who is smiling widely.      “You nailed it!” she chirps with enthusiasm.      “They did good,” Dean says, rustling Ringo’s black mane, more than satisfied with the performance of both young horses, but not taking the compliment upon himself.

     The cowboy gets down from the saddle, noticing that the gelding is tired from all the first impressions and new sensories that come with the first show. Ringo’s coat is damp, a shade darker because of the perspiration; he gave it his all. Intending to hand-walk the horse back to the stables to shower the animal and give him his hay, he strolls to exit the warm-up area, but Bobby stops him.      “Dean?” his uncle calls out, beckoning him to come over.      Y/N glances up, following Mr. Singer’s voice. Noticing that Fergus MacLeod has found who he claims to be his ‘old friend’, her face falls slightly. She wonders what the Englishman would want, and why Dean has been invited into the conversation.      Questionly, she looks back at her boyfriend and takes over Ringo from him, reckoning she should leave since it’s none of her business what will be discussed, but the man in black has different ideas.      “Y/N, do join us, and bring the horse as well, love.”      The hair on the back of Dean’s neck rises; what did he just call her? Unable to prevent his jaw from clenching, he steps towards the two ranch owners, trying to keep his cool. Who the hell is this dickhead?      “That’s Fergus MacLeod,” Y/N whispers, as if she just read his mind. “He’s the founder of some of the largest stud farms in the country and even has stables in Europe. Owns at least two dozen licenced stallions.”      The wrangler nods in acknowledgement. Great, some snobby bigshot. Very much aware that this new face might have something to offer Bobby, he keeps his mouth shut.

     “Ah, the one and only Dean Winchester,” Fergus’ grins mischievously. “Nice work there in the ring. Your uncle here told me it’s the first time those two horses are competing.”      “That’s right,” the cowboy confirms.      “Macleod is the name. Pleasure to meet ya.”      The Brit extends his hand, which Dean shakes a little firmer than normal. He’s not even sure what he’s trying to accomplish with the display of his own physical strength.

     “Fergus here is interested in buying the four year olds,” Bobby explains, apparently noticing his head wrangler’s suppressed hostility, shooting it down with a piercing stare, warningly.      Dean’s demeanor changes instantly as he raises his eyebrows. If this horse trader is going to bring the big bucks, he knows he needs to  keep himself in check for the sake of the ranch.      “Mind if I have a peek?” Macleod asks, gesturing at the horse.      “Go ahead.” Dean steps back, making room for him to inspect the horse.

     Fergus circles the horse, taking the bay gelding in from several angles. He feels the hindlegs for any swelling or abnormalities and does the same with the front legs, after Y/N has removed the bandages Ringo wore in the ring to prevent any injuries. The horse trader then proceeds to look Ringo in the face and check his teeth. After a satisfied nod the man turns around, straightens his impeccable suit. He then takes a tissue from his breast pocket and wipes his hands.      “It’s a fine looking animal you’ve got here, Singer,” he compliments. “You may take the horse away, my dear.”      Even though she isn’t fond of the degrading way he is talking to her, Y/N obliges. Taking care of the horses when she’s not riding herself is her job after all.      “Oh, and Miss Y/L/N…”      She halts the horse next to her and turns around. The Englishman has his hands in his pocket now, twinkling hazel-colored eyes looking her up and down.      “Bobby here tells me that you’re a well-educated woman. A master degree in Business & Economics? Impressive. Someone as smart as yourself has to acknowledge that it’s a good deal. I assume you will consider my offer on your horse,” he pauses, more intrigued with every detail he learns about the woman before him. “I would like to point out there’s room for six figures on that cheque. What numbers to fill in, is your choice.”

     Dean wants to snap his head at his girlfriend, but keeps his posture. Did this man just offer her several hundred thousand dollars for Meadow? Eyes wide in astonishment, he exchanges a look with his uncle, both trying to keep a straight face.      “She’s not for sale,” Y/N makes clear one more time, pronouncing the words slow to prove a point.      Amused with her stubbornness, the corner of MacLeod’s mouth twitches upward. Cocky, he holds her gaze, but eventually yields. “Very well, then. Let me know if you change your mind. The offer stands.”

     Without responding to Fergus’ tenacious reply, she turns away, nudging Ringo to follow her. The three men watch her leave, Dean knows her well enough to be able to tell that MacLeod has her blood boiling. He’s not surprised Y/N didn’t think twice about shooting the bid down. Meadow means the world to her, more than any amount of money could ever buy. But holy shit. Six figures! Realisation hits him; it would be enough money to save the Ranch.

     The Brit who made the generous offer pulls him from his thoughts. “Alright, lads. Let’s talk business, shall we?”      The three walk away from the few people that are lining around the warm-up area. A little further down, on a crossing of two paths, they stop. The little square is still quiet at this hour. Safe from lurking eyes and eavesdropping ears, they gather around one high table near a drink stand. Even though it’s a non-serve area, the influential man calls the bartender to take their order. The young guy comes back with a coke for the rider - who still has a run later this afternoon - and two bourbons. Dean didn’t even know they served whiskey at this event, let alone this early.

     MacLeod cuts right to the chase. “I will offer you thirty grand for the four year old Quarters, and I will take them off your hands right away.”      Dean doesn’t flinch, being in these kinds of conversations before. He can maintain his poker face, no matter how amble the offer. It is a negotiation after all.      The owner of the two horses thinks about it for a second, but then comes with a counter. “Forty.”      “C’mon, Bobby. Is that how you treat an old friend?” Fergus clicks his tongue, shaking his head slightly after which he takes a sip from his drink. “Now, I know times are tough and that you’re experiencing difficulty staying afloat, but do realize I am already doing you a favor here. Thirty thousand dollars is more than fair.”

     The head wrangler is taken aback by the Englishman’s comment. How would he know the ranch is struggling? Did people in their close circle spill the beans?      Apparently MacLeod spots the unpleasant surprise on the faces of the men opposite of him, because he comments on it without missing a beat. “It’s a small world, lads. People talk. You should know that by now, Singer.”      Bobby moves past the comment rather quickly and ponders about the sum. Fergus isn’t wrong; it’s not just a decent offer. It’s a generous one, one he isn’t going to decline. The Englishman across the table knows it too; the owner of the Gold Canyon Ranch is desperate for money.      “Cash,” he demands, accepting the original offer.      The dark haired man strokes his neatly trimmed beard. “I can arrange that.”

     The head wrangler might not like the horse trader, but he did just make this weekend ten times better. He gulps down the last of his coke, crumpling the can before he dunks it in the trash on the side of the crossroads. The cowboy figures the deal will be sealed with a handshake before they go separate ways, but MacLeod has a second matter to settle.      “I have another proposition for you.”      Having their attention, the middle aged Brit observes their reaction, his eyes full of mischief. The two members of the ranch near Phoenix share a look.      “We’re listening.” Bobby says.

     Fergus swirls his whiskey, studying the amber liquid in his glass.      “I own a stallion,” he starts off, putting the drink to his mouth in the short pause. “I bought him at the Derby Quarterhorse Auction for over a million dollars. He’s licensed, one of the best pedigrees I’ve ever seen, not to mention his conformation and movements. He already covered four hundred mares this year. I expect great things from this horse, he is supposed to bring in the money. There is one slight issue, however.”      Dean listens, intently, wondering where he is going with this. “And what would that be?”

     “The horse has some… behavioral issues,” the stud farm owner claims, careful in his choice of words. “It has quite the temperament, one his former trainers haven’t been able to use in their advantage, my advantage.”      Slowly the head wrangler begins to realize why the price MacLeod is willing to pay for the two Quarters is so steep; he is playing a game of give and take. The way the owner of this stallion is talking about money and business, calling the animal ‘it’, doesn’t sit well with him either. Where is the horse’s well-being in all of this?

     “What’s his name?” Dean likes to know.      Fergus frowns at that, clearly not understanding why it would matter, but he answers anyway. “You might have heard of this horse; his name is Cain.”      Dean has heard of the horse. The whopping 1.2 million that was paid for the talented Quarter made headlines in the industry.

     “What are these behavioral issues?” he needs to know, not taking the bait just yet.      “Typical stallion behavior; dominance is the main problem. The horse has character, what can I say?” MacLeod laughs it off. “Anyway, I am looking for a capable horseman. Someone who can actually break him in.”      The owner of the horse in question shifts his penetrating gaze from Bobby to Dean. The cowboy realizes they are at a verge of a possibly very important business deal, but he cannot stop himself from commenting on the peculiar choice of words.      “I don’t ‘break in’ horses. I teach them to trust and to cooperate,” he states firmly.      “Potato, potahto,” Fergus dismisses. “Are you up for the job, or not?”

     Dean exchanges a glance with his uncle, a silent conversation happening between them, only possible by years and years of working together.      When Bobby rights himself, he has a crucial question. “What’s in it for us?”      Again that small smile on the Englishman’s face; he knows he’s close to persuading them.

     “A thousand dollars each month, paid in advance, and a fifty grand bonus when Cain successfully completes the stallion performance tests in April. Plus, five percent of his earnings in coverage for the coming year. After he passes the exams, we can set up a contract in order for you to remain his permanent rider,” MacLeod sums up.

     Bobby analyzes the offer. It’s tempting in many aspects. Fergus just mentioned that the stallion already covered four hundred mares this year. With his stud-fee being at least a thousand dollars, they are looking at twenty grand cut already. Then there’s the regular income, not to mention the bonus. This deal might be the lifeline his family business was frantically fishing for. It’s up to Dean, though. He is the one who is going to work with this horse, and the only one who can make an educated guess if it’s achievable in five months' time.

     “We would like to see Cain first,” Bobby decides, wanting to offer his head wrangler a moment to evaluate the animal.      “I’m afraid that will not be possible at this time, but I tell you what.” The Brit finishes his bourbon, setting the glass down on the high table. “The horse will be delivered to your property and you will have a week to decide if you want to take on this job. If not, no hard feelings.”

     Dean glances aside, spotting the slight nod of his uncle. Seems like they can’t go wrong here; if Cain turns out to be more difficult than Fergus leads on, they can always send him back.      “You got yourself a deal,” Bobby concludes, extending his hand to the man in black.      “Splendid.” The horse trader smirks, delighted with the arrangement they agreed on, shaking their hands. When he grips Dean’s hand tight, he looks him deep in the eye, as if he recognizes something in the handsome cowboy.

     “You’re John’s boy, aren’t ya?” he realizes. “I bought a couple of horses from that Winchester back in the day. How is he?”      Tension grips Dean’s body, the sound of his father’s name on Macleod’s tongue sending a shiver down his limbs. He tries to breathe in without it being too obvious, finding it difficult to keep his mask on.      “I wouldn’t know,” he answers curtly.

     Fergus furrows his brow at that, clearly curious as of why the two aren’t in touch anymore. He allows a silence to linger between them, their handshake holding on to the apprehensiveness.      “Hmm,” he responds at the peculiar answer. “Well, you are just like your father. I could’ve sworn it was him when I saw you in the arena earlier; spitting image. You have his ways.”

     It’s like MacLeod is deliberately trying to get under his skin, and no matter how hard the young cowboy fights it, the man he’s making a deal with is succeeding. The words spoken with that distinct English accent ring in his head, much louder than they were pronounced, cracking like a whip on his back. You are just like your father. You have his ways.

     Dean releases the stallion owner’s hand, quickly slipping his into the back pockets of his jeans, drying his clammy palms on the denim. He hopes neither of the men in his company notice him shaking. He inhales through his nose, squares his shoulders and stands tall, pushing down the anxiousness that is stirring in his stomach. Disappointed in himself, he chews on the inside of his cheek in search for distraction. He can’t let a simple comment get to him like this.

     Now that he has shut down the attitude the ranch hand was giving him, the Englishman looks down on Dean with a sinister smile on his lips. He keeps a hold of the Winchester’s gaze, until he averts his green eyes. Only then MacLeod steps away.      “We’ll stay in touch. I’ll have my men pick up the two Quarters this afternoon,” Fergus announces, his long, dark overcoat swaying slightly as he turns around once more. “A pleasure doing business with ya.”

     With those words, MacLeod walks away and leaves the two men in the middle of the square. The sun is suddenly uncomfortably warm to Dean. He sniffs and takes a few steps from his uncle, as if the two or three strides would actually be enough to walk it off. He places his hands in his side and dips his hat forward when he faces Bobby again, making sure the older man can’t sense how unsettled he is. But Bobby is no fool. He knows his nephew better than the boy’s own father did, and that’s exactly what’s bothering Dean.

     “You alright?” he checks.      “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” Dean returns just a little too rapidly, shrugging it off.      “Just…” His uncle is careful not to address the subject directly, yet at the same time he needs to offer the opportunity for the wrangler to vent. “With what he said about John--”      “Don’t.”

     The simple word comes out harsher than he meant it to leave his lips, the darkness in his eyes when he shoots his father-figure a glare soon replaced by regret. Dean knows Bobby is trying, like he and Ellen have for the past fifteen years. But no matter how much time passes, he can’t bring himself to talk about what happened in the past.

     His uncle isn’t mad, nor is he disappointed in his surrogate son. He just nods slowly at the dismissal, before he begins to make his way to the stables. Dean remains in the middle of the crossing, his hands still firm on his hips, closing his eyes for a moment as he breathes out. The deal they just made should bring much needed relief, but the meeting leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.

He gathers himself and follows after his Bobby. They have more showings to prepare for, but nothing can cast out the words spoken by Fergus MacLeod. Not the rhythmic thumping of hooves in the dirt, not the chatter and laughs produced by the growing crowd, nor the music that comes from the main arena. All he can register is the painful message, which reopens the deep scars on his heart every time they bounce off the walls inside his head.

I am just like my father.

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 two here

[bloomyn]

you can be the cherry on top

Helloo! If its okay can I request prompts 16 and 27 from the random prompts with Ushijima where the reader introduces some spontaneity into his life, teaches him to take risks and go off a routined lifestyle like going for a drive at 2am to a convenience and like cheating a game at an arcade or something ? And he actually kinda enjoys the thrill of going out of his comfort zone and wants to get to know her more ! Thankyouu srry if it doesnt make sense😊

pairing: ushijima wakatoshi x reader

tags: fluff, strangers to friends to lovers, breaking records ; fixing hearts, learning to live a little

warnings: none

tendou screeched.

“wakatoshi! you’re never going to beat the high score.”

olive - colored eyes narrowed, focusing on the screen in front of him. it was stupid game, nothing more than something he would’ve played as a child but it was the score board that ticked him off. 

1. ‘ur mom’

2. ushijima

3. ushijima

4. ushijima

5. miracle boy sa to ri!!!!

“wakatoshi let’s head back to the dorms. it’ll be fine, you can’t beat the high score so what.” 

the taller man scowled.

-

you’ve grown to hate the oak brown of the desk in front of you. the imitation wood has glared at you every second of everyday for the past three years and you might throw up if you have to look at them for another second. when you drop your forehead against the desk no one pays mind, you’re sure their all bored out of their minds too. it doesn’t help that the sickly gray walls of the classroom love to tease the tangerine sunlight that’s blocked by the thick window curtains. 

being a teenager is horrible. 

being a teenager stuck in a classroom with possibly the most boring people in the world is catastrophic. 

you could care less about modern japanese literature, you’re more worried about the sweat that’s pooling under your arms and the back of your thighs and..have they fixed the ac in your dorms yet?

outside of the window you could see a student jogging, it wasn’t surprising, he was always there. purple tracksuit, you had called him, always the same outfit at the same time, every single day.

how boring

-

“[l/n] please do not take my advice lightly, entrance exams are coming up and it is very important that-”

you nodded your head, “yes sensei i know, trust me, i’ll figure it out!”

your homeroom teacher sighed. “just, please. shiratorizawa wants to make sure that all our students succeed.”

plastering on a fake smile you started stepping backward slowly, “yep, mhm, i understand.”

“just go.”

“thank you bye bye!”

you rushed out of the hallway, passing through the classrooms and out of the gates of shiratorizawa academy. thankfully, the streets were pretty much empty save for the occasional student or cat making their way down the street. 

the arcade was visible for miles. blinding lights that lit up the block and the smell of sweaty seats that lingered for ages. 

yum.

 you waved a hello to the attendant and made your way to the back, searching for your high score (you couldn’t help it, seeing ‘ur mom’ on top the scoreboard was almost intoxicating), only to find a boy (man? maybe.) pounding harshly at the keys. you almost wanted laugh, watching this mountain of a man get so frustrated at what was no more than a child’s game. 

“you good there buddy?” you teased, making your way next to the boy. he only grunted in response, his fingers wrapping tighter around the consoles and eyes narrowing themselves, focusing solely on the screen in front of him. 

leaning against the side of the game you sighed, pretending to flick dirt out from your fingertips. 

“you know,” you drawled lazily, “ i have the high score.”

the boy froze, you could practically see his back stiffening at the sound of your words. a cold chill ran down your spine at the mere sight of his face (or more specifically the look on his face).

on the screen the “game over” flashed loudly, displaying the score board, and by the consecutive list of ‘ushijima’ underneath ‘ur mom’...

“oh, are you ushijima?”

he nodded stiffly. “you have the high score. how?”

you grinned cheekily, ignoring his obvious disbelief and disgruntlement, “wanna watch me play? i’ll blow your score out of the water. i promise.”

ushijima smirked, “show me.”

you started the game up, playing just as usual, you know; following the rules. behind you ushijima crossed his arms. you weren’t doing anything special, in fact he was pretty sure you were moving slower than him how could---

and with a quick flick of your fingers in an unknowable combination, the screen was cleared of the ‘bad guys’, and “NEW HIGH SCORE!’ bounced around on the screen. you licked your lips, whipping around to see his reaction and oh, it was so much better than you’d expected. 

“good game right?”

slowly, the taller man closed his eyes, “how?”

should you tell him the truth? you wondered. it’d be so much more fun if you lied instead; leaving him frustrated and flustered over your effortless ability to wreck his scores. 

“cheat code.” you breathed lazily, “it works for a lot of games actually, it’s really common.”

“you...cheated?”

you almost rolled your eyes, “it’s just a game ushijima, don’t tell me you haven’t cheated at a game before?”

his silence spoke for him.

had this man had any fun ever? at all? even a little?

“come on ushi-kun, live a little why don’t you.”

your persistence was refreshing. maybe it was because he had only just met you and you had no idea who or what he was like that you would push him like this. he knew was blunt, there was no point in lying or drawing the truth out. but you seemed to be immune to that. 

so he held out his hand, asking for the coin.

“i can try to be more exciting.”

besides him you blew air out of your lips, “ i don’t want you to try and be more exciting, just like,” you paused, looking him up and down. “what do you do for fun?”

“volleyball.”

“and when you’re not playing volleyball...”

“i’m at school.”

you really had to think of different response besides groaning. begrudgingly you held out your hand.

“come on.” you huffed.

tentatively ushijima placed his hands in yours. “will i regret this?”

“i’d be insulted if you didn’t”

-

so you were breaking into your own school. well, it wasn’t exactly breaking, just sneaking into the closed volleyball gym. 

“it’s locked.”

rolling your eyes you shoved your hands around in your pockets, hoping that somehow you’d have a bobby pin, and voila! you smirked, whispering a ‘got it!’ before jamming it into the lock. 

“this would be a lot easier with a key.”

suppressing the fattest eye roll you could possibly think of you turned around, 

“obviously it-- oh.”

behind you ushijima held up a single bronze key, matching the same company as the one on the lock. oh.

“you play for the volleyball team?”

he nodded.

“wait you go to this school?”

-

this was not fun anymore. holy shit this was not fun.

a screech left your throat as you dodged another one of ushijimas serves. you thought volleyball was all fun and games, this was a nightmare. 

“i thought you wanted to play?” he quirked, tossing the ball up one more time.

“yeah, play. not die!”

you dove to the floor barely dodging the ball. on the other side of the net ushijima was smiling, laughing almost. 

at least one of you was having fun. 

-

“god ushijima do you enjoy torturing yourself?”

ushijima tossed a towel to you, while continuing to sip from his water bottle. 

“hm?”

grimacing, you wiped the sweat from your forehead onto the towel. 

‘geez, this guy hasn’t even broken a sweat’ 

“why volleyball?” you breathed softly.

“my father taught me how, he used to play for shiratorizawa.”

you nodded along, “that’s cool.”

an icky silence spread over the two of you as cooled of from your unintentional work out. you smiled to yourself, it was fun though, even if your bones seemed to be in danger. 

“something wrong?”

you blinked a couple times before looking up. had you accidentally made a face? (your mother had made it point to call you out whenever that ‘pinched look’ arrived) 

“no? what do you mean?”

this time you were frowning, but of course ushijima didn’t notice (or simply just didn’t care).

he set his water bottle down, “you look disappointed.”

scoffing you tossed the towel back to him. “i’m not.”

“i don’t believe you.”

this man. 

so you shrug. “ i don’t know, just feels like the day has so much potential and instead i’m going to end up laying by myself in a dorm where the ac doesn’t work.”

“it’s only 7:22.”

you sighed, “yeah but it’s too late to do anything and too early to go back to the dorms.”

in his mind ushijima had two options:

1. leave and maybe never talk to you again

2. stay and, not have any regrets about what you were going to do or if you were going to do anything because he wanted to be there, not to be with you, but to have fun, yeah to have fun, he needed to have more fun. 

“come with me.”

-

ideally ushijima would’ve whisked away in his new car and driven you into the sunset while listening to your ‘don’t cry just vibe’ playlist. 

unfortunately the two of you were broke third years who had no form of personal transportation and had to worry about missing volleyball practice the next morning. 

so you were on the train. 

“ushijima where are we even going.”

he hadn’t given you an answer for at least 15 minutes prior to asking so you jabbed a finger into his chest.

“answer me.”

peering down at your figure he nodded his head. “i can’t tell you.”

already you were starting to receive some stares from the others from the train so you dropped the subject. i mean you had been the one to tell him to live a little. god he didn’t even know your name! he wasn’t gonna kidnap you, no, but he could! especially with those serves--

“we’re here.”

-

“i only come here during school breaks but, i figured now might be an appropriate visit.”

the moon hung heavy over the dips and curves of the hills. the small lights flickered in and out, lanterns most likely, setting the scene. wonderful. 

“well.” you huffed, “aren’t we just full of surprises today.”

smiling at your words, ushijima motions upward.

“step there. you’ll have a better view.”

ah, so he was going to push you off the cliff and they would never find your body. that’s how this was going to go down. 

“just so you know ushi - kun, if any murderers coming running at us--” you take his hands, wiping a fake tear off your face, “i would die for you, i would sacrifice, my life so you could escape.”

“you just met me.” he deadpans.

stepping up on the rocks you extend your arms out. wind swept underneath them, the sounds of the hills working in tandem, your mind was gone, too absorbed in the view.  “i know.”

-

“does it still feel like a waste?” 

this time you shook your head, “here with you? absolutely not.”

-

two weeks later:

“you stole a car.”

those are the first words he speaks when he finally sees you again. after your little moment at the hills you’d disappeared for two weeks. he was starting question your existence. but here you, waiting for him at the front of the school swinging car keys between your fingers.”

“technically,” you start, “it’s my aunt’s and i’m just borrowing it.” 

you can’t describe the look he’s giving you. you can but, it wouldn’t accurately describe whatever he was feeling. “so are you getting in or what.”

“i have volleyball practice.”

you hold up the little bronze you’ve stored in your pocket. “not anymore you don’t”

-- he forgets to ask if you even have your license yet. (it’s fine, it’s you we’re talking about)

.

.

.

you don’t immediately start dating after that. it takes three more spontaneous tokyo roadtrips and six almost ushi - abductions for him to ask you out. and when he does, you beat him to the punch. 

“well.” you say, poking his chest a bit. “who else am i gonna drag to the arcade at 3 in the morning?”

(he says yes.)

[supernaturalwritingbunker]

Apple Pie Life-Dean Winchester

Summary: Dean is finally living the life he’s always dreamed of. He has a wonderful wife, a baby and a great job...But was that the truth?

Warnings: Fluff, Slight Angst, Paranormal Influence, Language, Daddy!Dean.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Words: 2370

Tag List: @elskinner45​ @you-a-southpaw-doll​ 

A/N: First Story on This Blog! I hope you all enjoy! To be tagged in Dean One shots, Message me, comment or submit an ask!

Dean’s P.O.V. ~ 2010, Lawrence, Kansas

Humming the words to Simple Man by Lynyrd Skynyrd, I slowly climb out of Baby, my 1967 Chevy Impala, passed down to me from my dad when I got married to Y/N four years ago, after we’d been dating and engaged for a little over a year. Mom and dad were so happy when I finally settled down. Sammy had been off at Stanford for a couple years, and getting close with his own girl, Jess, when I met Y/N.

She and I had hit it off the moment she walked into my mechanic shop, trying her best not to freak out about the fact that her car had pretty much just died on her. Since it was a newer car, a 2003 Honda Civic, I wasn’t entirely sure I’d know what to do to fix it. My specialty lies in fixing up classic cars, always has been, ever since I was old enough to help my dad work on Baby.

At the time Y/N walked into my shop, I’d only recently been learning how to work on the newer style cars. Despite my hesitancy at being able to fix her car, the look on her face, the distraught, the panic...it just tugged at something inside me, and I knew I’d do whatever it took to fix her car for her. 

Only, I wasn’t able to. The car was beyond repair. Even my adopted Uncle Bobby couldn’t fix it, and he can fix almost anything. So, after he and I towed Y/N’s car to his salvage yard, and I made it back to my shop, I offered Y/N a ride to wherever it was she needed to go in town. It was a quick trip to the diner to get her some to-go food before I dropped her off at one of the town’s motels.

That was when I learned she was new in town. That she had just moved here from a small town in the New England area. Just before she got out of the Impala, since Dad let me drive it today, I gave Y/N my number and told her to give me a call tomorrow, and I’d take her up to Uncle Bobby’s salvage yard and see if we could find her a new car that would actually work. 

It didn’t take long after finding her a new car, a 69 Dodge Charger, that Uncle Bobby had on the back part of his lot, that Y/N and I started dating. Six months after we got together, I popped the question, to which she said yes, and not even six months after that, a year to the day we met, Y/N and got married in a small, intimate ceremony. 

She and I moved into this cute little, 4 bedroom, 2 bath farmhouse with a yard big enough for our two Golden Retrievers, Zep and Cash, and our bluetick hound, Lenny. We wanted a place big enough for if our family, well mom, dad, Sammy and Jess, came over and stayed the night or something. And, we also wanted it to be big enough for when we started to grow our own family.

When we first moved in, there wasn’t a fence around our yard, but after a weekend and some help from dad and Uncle Bobby, I had one up, and could let the dogs run around freely. As I close the driver’s door, and step away from Baby, Lenny comes running over from his spot on the porch, and jumps up, putting his front paws against my chest.

I laugh as I pet him. “Hi, boy! I missed you too!”

He barks happily, his tail wagging. I chuckle and gently push him off me and keep walking to the porch. Lenny bounds along behind me, happy that I’m home. I pet his head again before opening the front door, kicking my boots off, and stepping inside.

“Honey? I’m home!” I call, setting my keys on the hook by the door.

“In the kitchen!” I hear my wife call out.

I smile to myself. My wife. After four years of being married, the thought of being married to Y/N still has me grinning like a fool. I pad across the hardwood floor in my grey socks, making my way to the kitchen. Pausing in the doorway, and leaning against the frame, I tuck my hands in my pockets and smile even more at the sight in front of me.

Y/N dances in the kitchen, our little girl, MaryJo in her arms, as she sings our song and bakes something. My stomach growls as the smell of an apple pie in the oven wafts across the room to me. I smile and push myself up off the door frame before walking over to my little family. I place a kiss on Y/N’s cheek, making her jump a little but giggle as she smiles up at me. 

“How was work, sweetie?” She asks, moving MaryJo slightly.

I smile as I lean down to kiss our four month old daughter’s head, earning a giggle in response. I lean against the counter, and look at my beautiful wife, taking in the sight of her in my shirt. 

“It was good. Extra slow so I was just fixing a car from Bobby’s salvage yard.” I say, grinning.

She giggles. “Is that why you look like you went four rounds with an oil bucket and it won?”

I laugh and look down at my oil stained t-shirt. “I suppose so, baby. You know those old things are covered in so much dirt, grime, and Chuck knows what else.”

She giggles. “That’s fair. Mine definitely was.”

“Mmm. She was. But she’s all clean, and running smoothly now!”

“Thanks to my amazing husband.” She whispers, leaning up to kiss me softly.

I grin as she pulls away. “Mm. Your amazing husband? Hmm. He sounds like a pretty cool dude.”

“Oh, he is! And he’s a sweetheart and an even better father.”

I smile. “Yeah?”

“Oh yeah! See, our daughter, she just loves him to pieces, and has him wrapped around her finger.”

Chuckling, I sneak a glance down at MaryJo, and wink when I see her staring up at me with an adorable, gum-filled smile. She squeals and wiggles in her mama’s arms, making her laugh softly and rub her cheek with my thumb.

“Well, it’s a good thing her daddy loves her to pieces too.” I say, looking back at my wife.

Y/N giggles and nods. I smile and watch her cook. 

“How was your day? You girls do anything fun?” I ask.

“Oh, definitely! Let’s see...we napped...mommy did some work while MaryJo napped again after lunch. Um...oh, she got a bath. Then we snuggled and watched Ice Age. After another nap for Princess, and more work for mommy, we decided to bake a pie for when daddy got home.”

I smile. “Sounds like an amazing day! Work’s still letting you work from home? Not still pressuring you to get back to the office?”

Y/N smiles and shakes her head. “Nope! Luckily I can still do whatever I need to from the house. Although, I have to go in one day next week, to turn in the case files I have here and pick up some new ones.”

“Sounds like a plan, baby. Let me know, and I’ll take the day off from the shop, and stay home with our Princess here.”

She smiles up at me. “Maybe Wednesday?”

“Sounds good to me, baby.” I smile, leaning down to kiss her head. “I’m gonna go get cleaned up and come help you finish cooking, yeah?”

“Go get cleaned up, but don’t worry about helping. Dinner’s almost done. And it’s a surprise.”

I chuckle. “Yes, ma’am!”

I give her another gentle kiss before bending down and kissing my little girl’s head, getting another giggle as I do. I smile and make my way out of the kitchen as the front door opens, causing me to look up. 

“Sammy? What are you doing here, brother? I thought you weren’t due to come into town for another couple weeks.” I say, confused, as my younger brother steps inside, looking a little panicked.

“Dean!” He exclaims, rushing over to me, and pulling me into his arms. “C’mon, man. We gotta get you outta here!”

I push him back a little, even more confused. “What do you mean, Sam? I just got home? And Y/N’s cooking dinner.”

“Y/N’s here? Dean! It’s a trap. It’s not real!”

I glare at my brother. “My wife and daughter are real, Sam! They’re just as real as you and I! And so is mom, dad, and Jess!”

Sam sighs. “Dean. Mom died when you were 4. Jess died while I was still at Stanford, right after dad went missing. That’s why I got back into hunting. And, dad...Dean, sold his soul to Yellow Eyes to save you after the car wreck. You know this. Now, c’mon. We gotta get you outta here before the Djinn comes back.”

I stare at my brother like he’s grown a second head.

Suddenly, everything goes black for a second as I blink and when I open my eyes again, I’m no longer in the farmhouse with Y/N and my daughter. Instead, I’m in an old warehouse, leaning against Sam.

“Sam?” I croak out, my throat dry.

“I’ve got you, Dean. Don’t worry. We’re gonna get you outta here. We gotta hurry. The Djinn’s gonna come back soon though.” My brother replies, holding me up.

At the sound of a growl, he and I both look. A Djinn comes running at us. I pull away from Sam, knowing that neither of us will be able to properly fight with my leaning against him. It doesn’t take long for us to destroy the Djinn, even with my weakened, still slightly drugged state. Sam helps me back to the Impala.

For once, I don’t oppose and argue as Sam holds his hand out for the keys. I toss them to him and slide into the passenger side of Baby. Sam gets in and cranks the engine.

“Burgers before we go back to the hotel?” Sam asks.

“No.” I mumble.

“No? Dean? Are you okay? Passing up a burger.”

“No. I need to see Y/N first. I have to tell her something.”

Sam nods. “Alright. Well, she’s at the motel room, waiting. So, we’ll get burgers and go back there.”

I nod and look out the window. Everything that happened while I was in the dream state from the Djinn’s poison floats through my head. And, I want something that every Hunter wants but rarely gets. A family. A shot at a normal life. And, I want it with Y/N. Even though I’ve been denying myself that for the last first years since I came across her on a hunt, I still want it.

And after that dream, the one that felt like reality, I want it even more. There’s no more denying, no more hiding, no more lying about the way I feel about Y/N. And I have to tell her. By the time Sam makes it back to the motel room, I’ve scarfed down one of the four burgers he got for me, and start feeling like myself again.

The moment he parks Baby, I’m out of the car and rushing into the motel. I bust into the room so quickly that Y/N nearly falls off the bed from jumping sky high. Hurrying over to her, I help her get steady on the bed again as I kneel in front of her. Taking her hands in mine, I look up at her.

“I’ve tried denying it. Tried hiding it. Tried lying about it. But I can’t do it anymore.” I start.

She looks at me confused. “Dean? What’s going on? Are you ok?”

I nod. “I will be. I just gotta tell you something.”

“Okay?”

I take a deep breath. “I love you, Y/N. And, I know this life, being a Hunter, ain’t exactly the easiest one to live when you love something. But, something happened and I realized I couldn’t fight it anymore. I had to tell you. Had to at least try. I love you. And, I want a shot at normal, or at least as normal as we can get. You. Me. A kid. Or four. I don’t care. I just want you. By my side. I got a brief taste of it, even if it wasn’t real and I crave it.”

Y/N’s eyes go wide and she opens and closes her mouth a few times. “You...you love me? THE Dean Winchester loves me?”

I nod, not taking my eyes off her as I swallow deeply. “I do. And I want the Apple Pie Life with you, Y/N.”

 Before I can get another word out, to tell her that it’s okay if she doesn’t want to say it now, or ever, she pulls her hands from mine and cups my cheeks and leans forward, pressing her lips to mine. I smile into the kiss and lean up towards her a little more, deepening it just a little, putting all of  my no longer hidden or denied love into it. 

As we kiss, something I’ve never felt before, a shock of purely happy energy courses through my body. When we slowly pull back, she rests her forehead against mine, keeping her hands on my cheeks.

“It’s ‘bout damn time you said that, Winchester. Only took you four years.” She whispers. “I was beginning to give up on ever hearing you say that, and the chance for me to say it back.”

“Say it back?” I whisper.

She giggles. “Such a bull-headed man sometimes, Winchester. Yes. Say it back. I love you too.”

I grin from ear to ear and kiss her again. Pie has always been my favorite thing in life, and I want the Apple Pie Life. I need it. And, I need the Apple Pie Life with Y/N.

[sea-side-scribbles]

Fanfiction: Sympathy For A Downer

Link:https://archiveofourown.org/works/22737214/chapters/80966515

Chapter 72

The Annual Victory Memorial Day neared. Nick worked hard to prepare his show while he was happy to leave all the annoying paperwork to James. He found that they both worked very good together. In fact, it all went so smoothly that he didn't have to worry about anything but the show. His band was also good to handle, since they usually didn't disagree with Nick's plans. Birdie again was there to give creative contradiction. Still, Nick's excitement grew. Also the band knew how important the Memorial Day was. The evening right before the great event, James asked Nick to come into his office. Nick complied with it, looking at his manager with anticipation.

“How are you doing?”, James asked him warmly. “Great, just great”, Nick said eagerly. “I feel like I'm in peek form.” “That's good to hear”, the other man answered. “Why, are you worried?”, Nick teased him. James' mouth corners twitched. “I'm always worried about you.” “Aww, James”, Nick waved him off. “Nothing to worry this time. Relax a bit and enjoy the party. You deserve a rest anyway.” He didn't bring up that he was a little anxious himself. “I guess you're right”, James admitted. “You look in good shape, I'm really proud of you.” Nick grinned widely at that. “Is there more you want to tell me?” “Actually, yes.” James began to wriggle about on his chair. “Hmm...I've got something for you. A gift.” “A gift?”, Nick repeated. “It's for your show...if you want it.” “James, you didn't have to!” The other man held up his hands. “Ah, don't thank me too soon. I don't know if you like it. You can be honest with me...” Then he produced a package from under his desk and placed it in front of him.

Nick stared at the surprise, darted a glance at James and then put his hands on it. After opening the box he continued to stare. This time it was his gift that made him speechless, with a half-open mouth. “I made sure it's your size, Nick. Still, it's up to you if you make it your style.” Nick reached into the box and picked up a neat silver mask, similar to the one James was wearing. Nick's gaze also wandered along the suit that still lay in the box. It's black fabric shimmered a little in the lamplight. Then he stopped, eyes widening, fixed on a certain spot. He breathed a silent gasp. Also Jack tensed. Nick put the mask on the desk and reached into the box once more. His fingers curled around cold metal as he lifted up a little scalpel. The silence remained. Nick turned the tool in his hands, noticing the neat ornament decorating the silver handle. Then he tested how it lay in his hand. “It's...beautiful”, he sighed. The two men locked gazes and their expressions told each other how inseparable they were.

The town was harder to take than usual, even though most of the holms were just about empty. The few unlucky Bobbies that were chosen for duty today walked their patrols, and either they did their job rather halfheartedly, or they kept meeting each other for long chats, seemingly out of accident. Still, Arthur needed to take care, since there were barely any Wellies left on the streets. Everyone who was still there looked suspicious. And if not suspicious, they were still very easy to be found and to be interrogated. Arthur didn't look forward to that at all. He was angry at himself anyway, for wasting so much of his precious time. Escaping the town wasn't easy even with the Letter of Transit. He had learned that the hard way since many obstacles he had never imagined suddenly stood in his way.

Nothing worked in here! Not only the people were wrecks, all the machines and their administration were too. They created actually the best protection line against skippers the town could have. And then Arthur even ran into this fucking festival! Now, the Parade District was crowded with Wellies. It was almost imporssible to cross it unseen, especially without taking Joy. He had to take a few pills here and there in order to not get slaughtered. And then he needed to focus deeply, so that the drug and the overly excited people couldn't cause him to celebrate with them and forget his mission. Even if the Bobbies didn't pay much attention, the Wellies did, and Arthur didn't fancy antagonizing this gigantic crowd.

He had only noticed the festival when it was too late. He had waken up in his house in the Parade to see the street being filled with people as an actual parade came through. Everyone was wearing white and brown, the color that announced the new flavour of Joy, coconut. He later found out that the whole town was decorated in these colors. Arthur was sure he had to escape before the new Joy turned everyone into monsters. He didn't believe that this stuff did any good, not after what he had seen in the Labs.

It was impossible to buy anything in the Parade since the shops were closed and when he wanted to cross the bridge to the other holms he caused suspicion. Why on earth would any decent person want to leave the glorious Parade District today? This problem could only be solved by force, and after doing that a couple of times he was sick of that too. His only hope was that especially today, nobody would take much care about the Britannia Bridge. If he even got there, that was, because the passage to there was locked. It was well protected by it's own technical defects. Gloomily, he pushed himself forward, squeezing through the slaphappy masses for the umpteenth time. With resentment he noticed that he couldn't stop thinking about a certain item on the Memorial Day's programme. He had seen it on a wallpaper. In fact, the town had been plastered with wallpapers about it so that he had been unable to protect himself against the information. And however much he tried to convince himself that he would be on the Britannia Bridge at that time, a part of him just didn't want to believe it. The more time he wasted by walking back and forth to solve problems, the more unrealistic this goal became anyway.

Eventually he became tired, sloppy even, and caused a horde of Criers to shout after him, alarming the whole street. He ran like hell to save his life and barricaded himself in his house until the coast was clear again. After that incident, it was already evening. Great!, he thought and exhaled, going outside again. His feet went to a certain place all by themselves, even though he tried to resist. His head argued. He didn't even want to see him! His concerts had always been trouble, they had never been fun, why would he go there? And still he couldn't help it, while his nerves began to flutter. What did he even expect to see, he asked himself. Grief? Dark rings under his eyes from crying all night? The worst performance he ever gave? The saddest ballad and begging for forgiveness in public? It was all ridiculous! But he finally stood in the masses before the stage and waited for the biggest show of the day, just like everyone else.

Jack enjoyed the show, just like Nick had asked him to. His protégé had been right, there was nothing to worry about. It was a rather entertaining spectacle, seeing all these people celebrating their own demise, their descent into insanity. The whole Memorial Day was a farce and had no use but to waste even more of Wellington Well's precious and rare resources. But he felt no pity for them. He enjoyed to be in the thick of it and to be the only one who knew what was really going on. Of course, as Uncle Jack, he went along with it, giving his confident smile. He was wearing the same white and brown suit that was prescribed for the day, to celebrate the beginning of a new era. He liked how it made Nick stand out of everything. Uncle Jack had the honour to lead the Wellies through the programme. The people craved seeing him in the flesh. It had it's advantages, being the most popular man in town. He enjoyed to announce his ally Nick Lightbearer, making everyone cheer and shout.

He had to admit that him and Birdie were a smashing sight indeed. It worked, at least for today. But Jack knew that their harmonic coexistence wouldn't last much longer. He was looking forward to  test Nick's abilities once again. Today, they would take the last step to seal their friendship and nobody would stand in-between them. Finally, he would share everything he with Nick and they would become the two most powerful men in Wellington Wells. Both popular and infamous, they would decided upon the town's fate. Content with himself, he watched the fans dance and shout in ecstasy. All of Nick's scandals seemed to be forgotten. Good Wellies, he thought, they always did what he wanted. He didn't even need to use violence. They were so predictable. Also, if Uncle Jack said it was a wonderful day, they believed it without any doubts. For a moment, his expression became obviously gloating.

Suddenly his smile faded and he stared at a spot in the masses, surprised and alarmed at once. For a moment, he sensed betrayal, then he calmed down again, seeing the facial expression of the other man.

What Arthur saw made his hair stand on end. The man in a black suit and the silver mask – was that really Nick? That outfit didn't match him at all! What a weird new image was that? He looked downright eerie. The Wellies didn't notice it of course. Perhaps even Nick wasn't aware of what he looked like. Still, Arthur couldn't ignore the bad feeling he had. It was similar to what he had felt when he had found Nick's jacket full of blood stains. Don't be stupid, he scolded himself. It's only an outfit! And why do you even care? The worst aspect of the show wasn't even Nick's outfit. Arthur couldn't believe who stood by his side. That intrusive blonde bombshell that they had seen in the Avalon hotel, the one with the unbearably flattering smile, yeah no one else but her was allowed to be by his side, sharing the show. Her hair wasn't even natural, how could Nick fall for that? And the way he looked at her! Arthur's stomach turned.

So much for grief, he concluded bitterly. Nick Lightbearer forgot him already. He simply snatched on of his many worshippers and moved on. It didn't harm his career at all, if anything, he was even more popular than he had been before. Seeing him like this felt downright disgusting. Arthur caught himself wishing he could get the old Nick back, the one who's career was over, the one who needed help and clung to Arthur. Then Arthur wouldn't advise him to try again. He'd keep him, escape with him and... Arthur's train of wishes stopped when Nick took Birdie's hand and started to dance with her. He took her by the hips and lifted her up. She obviously enjoyed it, beaming at the rockstar. That moment, Arthur's heart broke. He was sure he deserved it for being stupid enough to come here, to expect anyone to miss him. But the way Nick had cried after him... There had been something in his voice that Arthur couldn't escape ever since. But now he  blinked and his face burned. That had been their dance. It had been a dream. He turned away from the scene and squeezed himself through the crowd again, eager to get as far away as possible.

So, you don't want to leave, Arthur Hastings?, Jack thought to himself. You don't want to let go? Well, I can help you with that... Jack left his post unseen. Actually, he hadn't intended to harm the Downer. The fate of his brother moved him. Also, Arthur had been one of the very few Wellies that managed to escape their self-made cage and tried to make amends. Jack hadn't planned to stop him. The Downer had made the right decision by leaving Nick to him. But it looked like Arthur wasn't quite convinced of his mission. What a shame, Jack thought. He had had a chance and didn't use it. Jack wouldn't allow him to interfere once more.

[boringsofia]

HFGGHGGHJ Hey there homeboy I just thought of another oneshot idea. You don’t have to do it if you don’t want but yeah. Arthur x male reader where the reader is very impulsive and doesn’t really think. So like runs head first into a fight sometimes but he’s always gotten away with it. But one day, (y/n) actually gets in trouble. Maybe he’s gotten kidnapped or something by someone he mocked. And Arthur has to save him, and then Arthur confesses and hhdhdhd you can do what you want with that!

Thanks for the request! Deadass, I love Arthur with all my heart, even if he's a piece of shit most of the time. I ship him with my OC but SHHHH we don't talk about it. Anyways, I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: mention of Homophobia and blood

Reckless Decisions

There went (Y/N) again. Laughing his ass off while being chased by a group of Downers he just robbed. To say he's an adrenaline junkie is honestly an understatement. He acted on impulses and nothing else. And when Arthur wasn't around? Well, that's the biggest mistake to happen.

The man ran and took sharp turns until he finally lost the group of angered Wastrels. Wheezing as he tried to recover and breathe normally again. Spitting on the ground to get the phlegm out of his throat. Once he calmed down, he continued his walk towards the hatch, knowing Arthur was in there losing his shit over why it's taking (Y/N) so long. He did lie to him. Said he was just going to pick some Roses of Gilead to make more healing balm, yet here he was. Walking back 2 hours later with his bag filled with more than just the flowers and a bleeding nose.

Arthur is going to be very, very happy. Speaking of Arthur, he slowly let his mind wander to him. He remembers how cold the other was at the start but (Y/N) managrd to crawl through that cold shell he had built up. It took a bit, but he managed. Now they can't imagine being without the other. (Y/N) fell in love with Arthur quite slowly. He's someone who doesn't fall in love that fast, because of past experiences, but Arthur managed to take the man's heart rather easily. It was little things that made (Y/N) fall in love with him . Like the way he fixes his glasses, how awkward he is, how easily flustered he gets. It's cute. And Arthur has him wrapped around his little finger.

The moment the male entered the safe house, he noticed how dark it was. A dreading feeling growing in his chest until he was almost whacked in the back of the head with a cricket bat. Thank god for his reflexes, he managed to dodge the attack and put up a fight with whoever was trying to attack him. A small stumble and he found himself falling to the floor with a bleeding forehead. Just before he fell unconscious however, he caught sight of a man. A man he just so happened to have robbed the day prior. Oh boy.

Arthur had gone out to look for his impulsive friend. Well, more like love interest to be honest. Arthur had developed quite deep feelings for the other man but, considering homosexuality was looked down upon and they had been so busy with the whole 'getting out of Wellington Wells' situation, he had yet to say anything about it. He was also too much of a wuss.

He can still remember the day the two met by complete accident. He was running from the Bobbies, (Y/N) was running from Doctors. Then they crashed into each other and Arthur panicked. That was one of the few situations (Y/N)'s impulses actually came in handy, when he took his shaking hand and ran off into the Garden District to avoid getting themselves killed. After then the two just clicked and decided to stick together. Get away from everything with each other. As romantic as that sounds, (Y/N) gets on his nerves 80% of the time. But he can't help but dream of calling the other man his. It's a sweet fantasy. Unlike the sight of his motionless body getting dragged away into a house- wait..

Arthur's brown eyes widened when he noticed a small group of wastrels dragging his friend's body into a house.

"What the hell did you do this time, (N/N)...", he murmured under his breath, running and hand through his dark and dirty hair as he hid behind a tree to see if he could find a way in without being noticed. Of course that man was going to get himself into a situation like. Those wastrels are probably just some blokes (Y/N) pissed off again. Or robbed. It's quite a chore to travel with that man.

With a quiet, exasperated sigh and silent steps, Arthur managed to sneak to the back of the house. Letting out yet another sigh, this one out of relief, when he heard his friend's voice yelling profanities and insults at the wastrels. Such a quick-witted and fiesty man. Arthur loved that though. Among a lot of other things he loved about his companion. Like his dreamy eyes and charming smile and- "Come on now, Arthur, you need to save (Y/N), not fantasize about him. Keep that shit to when you're alone.", he quietly lectured himself with flushed cheeks, fixing his glasses while desperately trying to think of anything else but (Y/N). Even though he kind of had to think of him in the current situation.

He managed to force open a window with a jimmy bar and quietly travel through the house. Taking out whoever stood in his way. As much of a selfish prick as he may be, he will not allow anyone to take his loved one away from him. Not again. Just as he arrived where (Y/N) was tied up, one of the wastrels attacked him. The hostage yelled at his friend, kicking a weapon in his direction. Then cheering loudly when Arthur beat the guy unconscious. His cheers silenced when he noticed the pissed off Arthur walking towards him. Making the kidnapped male gulp and squirm nervously under the intense glare. He really fucked up this time. How was he gonna make it up to Arthur after this? He had a few things in mind but... he hadn't really told Arthur how he truly felt yet. And he wasn't planning on doing that anytime soon. They had to focus on getting out of this fucked up island alive, then they can worry about relationships and whatnot. Says the man who constantly gets in trouble and almost dies every 5 seconds if it weren't for Arthur who looks out for him. What the hell would he do without that man...

Back to the present, (Y/N) looked up at Arthur with a nervous (yet charming in Arthur's eyes) grin.

"Umm... This was a prank! April Fools?", the nervous man commented, hoping he wouldn't get in trouble with his bullshit excuse.

"It's August, (Y/N)...", the grumpy male replied as he cut off the rope from the other's wrists. The moment he was freed, he felt Arthur pulling him into a tight hug. The lanky man's arms wrapping around his waist.

As they pulled away, he noticed the man's glasses fog up a bit. Was he... crying?

"I was worried..", the concern quickly turned to anger, "God! I shouldn't be forgiving you so easily but you make it so hard for me to be mad at you for long! I was worried sick! You just disappeared for hours, then when I go looking for you, I see a group of wastrels dragging you away like you're some fresh hunt! You can be so reckless and childish and-... just... Agh! I love you and I just don't want to lose you!", Arthur yelled out to the other, his face going from anger to shock when he realized he had just confessed.

(Y/N)'s expression wasn't much different, he just stood there. Staring. Gaping. Then he started laughing. To Arthur's dismay, that is. At first the taller male thought he was being made fun of for his feelings but that changed when his troublemaker of a friend pulled him in for a kiss.

It lasted for only a few minutes but to them it felt like hours. They were basically on cloud nine.

Hesitantly, they pulled away from each other, their foreheads touching with brown orbs stared into shiny, (E/C) eyes. The latter reached up, wiping away the tears from Arthur's face with gentle fingers.

"You worry too much, love.", said (Y/N), pulling Arthur away and out of the house. Leaving a ton of dead bodies behind them as they walked back to their safe house, hand-in-hand.

Maybe being reckless and impulsive isn't all that bad. It did score (Y/N) a cute, nervous wreck of a boyfriend, after all. And together, they will escape this hell.

[letterstothemidnightsociety]

Alright, so if you've been following along with me, Supernatural season 3 starts out on a trio of episodes that are Really Fun, slides into some episodes that are Pretty OK, then takes a real nose dive into Bummersville. Hoo boy guys, I really hope that this season picks up. I mean, it won’t, but I can still dream. 2021 was maybe not the year to start watching this season. Fair warning.

The next three episodes for this season are just, like, real downers. First we get “Fresh Blood,” which, aside from the terrible title, starts out on a high note. Gordon (gross) somehow manages to catch up with Bela (HOW??) and threatens her if she doesn’t hand over the Winchesters. Bela, in all of her class and grace, won’t give them up because she has a high price point and Gordon is really lowballing her here. Just like, yes, ok, please stay forever, you’re amazing and I love you. And what a scene this is! You have two characters, one with a strict moral code (albeit one that allows for violence and winning at all costs) and the other with almost NO moral code, but an allegiance that can be bought with the best price and it’s such a fun back and forth until Gordon pulls out a gun. And then she pulls out her phone and just has Dean on speed dial and that’s maybe my fav part. Bela has run into the Winchesters twice and they maybe legit hate her but she’s very much like, oh yeah, my BFF’s the Winchesters, I love those idiots!

I love that we come back to this moment later in the episode when Bela, like, three days later, is like, Oh! I guess I should warn the Winchesters that some crazy guy is after them! She’s just so casual about it you kind of get the feeling that, even though technically Gordon was threatening her life, she doesn’t view him as A Threat. She gives the Winchesters a heads up just to be like oh yeah, you might want to watch out for this mild inconvenience, and she seems legit shocked when Dean freaks out. There’s this moment that plays across her face like, oh shit, did I...did I fuck up? And it adds a nice bit of depth to her character. She’s seems honestly worried, both for the lives of the Winchesters but also that Dean won’t like her anymore and that is just a charming bit of A C T I N G!

I am gonna miss her SO MUCH when she dies at the end of this season. WHY did we CANCEL HER???

But despite the fun beginning, this episode is about monsters and how people become monsters and how other people are probably the reason. Because our main baddie is a vampire who hunts to...well, listen if we look at the facts that he lays out in his monologue, it’s a little more tragic - he’s trying to replace the daughters that he lost hundreds of years ago, cool motive, still murder. In practice though, he goes around turning hot blonde coeds into vampires and then ?????? Who knows. I’d like to believe that this was a problem with the CW executives or maybe casting/directing and not with the writing, but it’s SPN and you really can’t be sure with anything. The fact is, this is a CW show from the early 2000’s and a lot of their extras are cast to type. And that’s maybe me exhibiting some girl-on-girl crime, but there are other episodes that did a much less blatantly gross job casting their extras/Very Special Guest Stars.

Anyway, the POINT of this guy is that he’s a monster because someone killed his daughter and he’s just been trying to fill that grief hole inside of him for centuries. This is not unlike Gordon, who ALSO has been trying to fill a grief hole that he’s had for decades, except he’s not killing people and resurrecting them as blood suckers, he’s just killing them. And then, when the Vamp decides to turn Gordon it’s a real sweet moment of comeuppance for like, a HOT second and then you’re like, awww dude, ya done f’ed up. That was a bad idea. You’ve made a HUGE mistake.

More importantly, our Vampire In Question finally runs into the Winchesters and get’s to say things like “I was desperate! You ever felt desperate? I've lost everyone I ever loved. I'm staring down eternity alone. Can you think of a worse hell?” and also “I just ... I didn't care anymore. Do you know what it's like when you just don't give a damn? It's like ... it's like being dead already.” and Dean’s v. much like, THIS IS TOO REAL ROY.

Sam may ALSO be feeling Too Real feelings because he is DONE dicking around with Gordon and honestly yes, I like this, this is good Sam development. It’s nice to know that Sam has a breaking point. And I admit I’m of two minds about this moment because 1) I love the idea of Dark!Sam this season and that maybe Sam’s decision to actually kill Gordon is just one step in that process but 2) I ALSO love the idea of Sam Lite finally having a breaking point and Gordon is IT. I don’t know which theory I like more in this scenario, but they are both good theories.

I think as much as this episode wants to draw parallels between the monsters and Dean (thank you artful editors), you can’t look at the “I’ve lost everyone I ever loved,” line and not think of Sam? Cuz he’s got one (1) person left in his life that hasn’t died horribly, so how desperate is he about to get through the end of this season? I’ve definitely been watching this season with eyes on all the ominous Dean foreshadowing, but the Sam foreshadowing is also there, just buried under the heavy weight of a thousand smulders and suicidal levels of denial.

And also, FUCK the tag on this episode! Guys, it is CUTE but it is also HORRIBLE. Dean starts teaching Sam how to fix the Impala and at first it’s all, “Oh! Adorable Brothers Being Brothers!” and I loved it but then I almost immediately hated it because you realize this is about making sure Sam can get along without him once he’s gone and Dean just accepts his own death with such casual ease that it’s just...INFURIATING!

This scene was rude and I HATE IT!

Cut to - “A Very Supernatural Christmas” Special!

Guys, I was so excited when I got to this episode. THIS is Classic Supernatural Shenanigans. Plus, you know a Holiday Special is the ultimate sign that this show has Made It, right? Or it could be a sign that they’re selling out, who knows, but I think we can say that at this point in the series, SPN is established enough to start having fun with their fans. That’s what this says to me. BUT THEN what we get is like...oh boy.

First - like, I’mma beat this horse to death, but what is WRONG with this FAMILY? John Winchester very quickly devolved into the sort of father that forgot about every single holiday and did not ever, even a little bit, make up for it. It’s not a surprise, but it kind of wrecked me seeing a flashback where Baby Dean is just so attached to a father who can’t be bothered to actually care for his children. I know he’s not in this episode because Jeffrey Dean Morgan was tied up in other projects, but the fact that John doesn’t show up at the end to button the flashbacks with a But then he DID show up for Christmas! just makes this plot line that more gutting. And despite Dean’s hero worship of their father, this is maybe the Christmas where Baby Sam stops believing in his own father. The only bright side to this is that it continues to enforce the fact that Bobby should have sued John for custody. Bobby should maybe STILL Sue for custody so that Dean at least would feel like someone wants him for once in his life, damnit.

And then we wrap this episode up with the Best Worst Christmas of all, because we see Sam start to...also?? accept that Dean is about to die? Cuz that’s what this episode is really about - Dean’s Last Christmas. And everything about that makes me ~ u p s e t ~.

So Sam decides to put his curmudgeonly grinchy attitude aside in order to make it a special day for Dean and ugh. UGH. UGHGHGHG. Season three is the worst guys, and I can’t believe I didn’t realize that until right this second now.

So let’s wrap this up with "Malleus Maleficarum", honestly an episode that is mostly forgettable until we get to, like, the last five minutes. Sure, witches and curses and selling your soul, woohoo whatever.

But then we get some real Ruby centric reveals and like, WHAT is happening?? First off, the scene where Ruby and Tammy have a moment is a real Moment. There is some baggage and tension here and it is heavy. And then Tammy drops the mic when she reveals that Ruby used to be human.

THEN, Ruby legit saves their asses by killing Tammy with a fancy magic knife. Ok, Dean does the actual killing, but Ruby brought the fancy magic knife. So between the hot and heavy tension with “Tammy” and her repeated attempts to keep the Winchesters alive, we’re left wondering what IS Ruby’s deal? I personally wonder how much of the show’s mythology the show actually has figured out at this point? Because interviews with Kripke definitely walk the line between “Oh we definitely have this whole thing worked out,” and “yeah, we’re sort of finding things as we go along,” which is maybe why it’s able to last as long as it does. More on that later.

Of course the big kicker is the final scene between Ruby and Dean. Dean is almost on board with Ruby at this point in the season, and much like his scene with the demon in “Sin City”, they share a kind of vulnerable moment together where Ruby admits that, yeah, she was human once and yeah, Hell will destroy you, body and soul, and yeah Dean’s worst fear will probably come true - he will become the thing he hunts, no ifs, ands or buts about it. And Dean knows that Ruby knows that Dean knows that there’s no way to save Dean from his fate, but they both agree that they can’t take Sam’s last ounce of hope away from him because, for both of them, Sam is their hope. Ruby and Dean both see the war happening around them and they know that with Dean gone, Sam’s maybe the last guy holding back the tide to save all humanity.

Which, honestly? Bull shit. Do you know how many hunters are out there? Neither do I, but this season seems to indicate that there are a LOT. We have barely scratched the surface on the hunter community and it’s a damn shame that they are all weirdo loners because there is a war going on. You know what works great in a war? An ARMY. Buncha mentally unstable, martyr-complex ijits who can’t put their differences aside for one damn MINUTE so that maybe, JUST maybe, the could actually defeat the evil they’ve spent their entire lives dedicated to fighting. And if Ruby and Dean wanted to help Sam, what they should probably do is get him plugged in to that community. I do believe that of all they backasswards, self-obsessed, painfully anti-social crazies out there, the Winchesters are THE WORST.

Listen tho, this was like, a solid scene between these two. Just a lot of work goin' into this and it paid off.

Anyway, back to the mythology for a hot second - This sort of loosey-goosey stumbling into your own world building is probably another one of those things that you’ll only really get in a show with this many episodes per season? It’s that room to play and experiment and just make stuff up as you go along. I think the slow drip method of releasing episodes ALSO helps in this scenario because you’re able to see what fans are reacting to in almost-real time. When viewers are binging episodes, I think you're less likely to see what specifically they’re reacting to and more wholistically they’re reacting to. And that’s not to say you won’t see those specific things that they like/love eventually, but by the time you get there, your season’s been produced in its entirety and you’ll have to bear that in mind for (hopefully) next season. But with SPN, they were writing and producing the show at the same time that some of the episodes were airing. That’s why they were able to make decisions on the fly, based on what fans responded to. And definitely by this point in the show, there was a sizeable and vocal fan base that made their feelings VERY well-known. We’re only in season three, but they’ve already had a number of con appearances and a pretty active online presence. That kind of feedback has got to be helpful, from a writing perspective, but it also allows for things like characters getting cut because nobody liked them for some dumb reason. BUT, if you’re fighting to stay on the air for 100 episodes or longer, responding to fan reactions is what’s gonna do it and that’s a fact.

[virtuoshosh]

{{ the donor diaries: entry two; the monster mash }}

Who: Shosh & Cass

Where: The Dracula Mansion

When: April 2020; Easter Break; Henry William Halestorm’s Birthday

Cass was pretending that he was only doing this for Shosh. The truth was, he quite enjoyed dressing up when he had cause to. And this was properly dressing up- a black tailcoat, high waisted trousers, crisp white marcella shirt. Vampire society was high society, something he’d thankfully learned that Shoshana had considerable experience with, given her history as a classically trained pianist.

They’d spent the whole day together in his room, hanging out, writing music, getting ready for the evening. Shosh helped him with his cuff links, Cass helped her shimmy into her impossibly tight clothes.

As Cass took a bobby pin out of his mouth to slide into Shosh’s hair, he listened downstairs. Soft string music had been drifting upstairs for an hour or so now, and Cass listened for guests, something that was particularly hard given half of the guests lacked a heartbeat and the other half only really spoke when spoken to. He waited until most of the familiar voices had filled the ballroom before raising his brows at Shosh and giving a quick breath in and out.

“You wanna head downstairs?” Cass asked, knowing full well that Shosh had probably been ready to go to this party hours ago. He offered his arm, and as she took it, they waltzed out of his room, down his hall, and to the top of the stairs. He stiffened, sucking his teeth as he took in the room, flicking a glance to Shosh. 

He hadn’t anticipated the strongest emotion that came up when he saw his father’s friends. Protectiveness swelled through him, his arm that was meant to steady Shosh tightened as the feeling swelled in his chest. It was so surprising and uncomfortable that Cass couldn’t put words to it, so he just shrugged at her look, and then started downstairs.

Shoshana would never admit that she was nervous. But as the hours ticked on hidden away up in Cass’ room on the day of the soiree, her stomach knotted more and more noticeably as the party drew nearer. She hadn’t even felt like eating, but Cass had her on a fairly strict iron-rich regimen and Shosh figured it was especially important tonight that her blood smell appealing, so she ate what he gave her anyway and kept herself otherwise distracted with writing some new music, and studying the thick binder she’d filled with Cass’ lessons on vampire society (even though Shosh had it well memorized at this point), and taking extra time getting dressed. Which, admittedly, was fun for Shosh—she’d always loved dressing up, and it was satisfying to put Cass into clothing that actually looked quite good on him without him pitching a fit over it. 

It’s not that Shosh was nervous they wouldn’t like her; plenty of people didn’t care for Shosh and it never made the slightest scuff on her brimming self-confidence. It was more that she wanted this, a lot—more so than she was openly showing to Cass. And in all other areas of her life, Shosh knew what she was good at and what she wasn’t, so she could rely on succeeding with flying colors at the things she was good at and not bothering with what she wasn’t. But here, there was uncertainty. She’d done everything she could to prepare based on what Cass had taught her, but would that be enough to prepare her for the real thing?

Still, she replied with a nervous-excited “Sure,” when Cass asked if she was ready to go downstairs, and her heart rate picked up as she checked her reflection one more time—she’d forced Cass to bring her in a mirror for tonight, stating firmly that there was ‘no effing way’ she was getting into formal wear without one—and then took his offered arm. 

Cass hesitated at the top of the stairs, and Shosh looked at him curiously. Maybe he wasn’t ready for this, after all? But he shrugged and her and she nodded back; too late to turn back, now. Showtime.

The first thing Shosh noticed was that people watched them as they came down the stairs; not everyone, but enough that Shosh straightened her spine and held her head up as they walked down the steps, thinking again of Eliza Doolittle trying to fool everyone into thinking she was royalty. And why shouldn’t you be? You’re the fucking Queen of Hearts for all they know, she told herself firmly. And Shosh looked it, too, in a red satin ballgown with a bateau neckline that showed off the pale, unmarked skin of her neck and collarbones—which did stand out in the sea of high necklines Shosh saw all around her. It would stamp her as a new donor, she’d been told, to show off this part of her body so brazenly. Which was fine with Shosh. She wanted people to look and to talk and to be jealous; in fact, the vengeful part of Shoshana wanted whispers of her being here to get back to one old bitch in particular. 

It made sense that people looked; Henry was the host of the soiree, and Cass was his son. In fact it was him Shoshana was most eager to meet and most keen to impress. When they’d made it down the stairs and into the throng of partygoers, Shosh leaned close to Cass’ ear and said, “So, do you wanna introduce me to your dad first and get that out of the way? Or should we start smaller and work our way up?” She smirked sidelong at him, swaying to the delightful sound of the classical music coming from the string quartet—it felt like it had been a hot minute since she’d heard anything resembling her preferred type of music, and she missed it.

Cass nodded in greeting to a few people who made eye contact with him, largely ignoring the puzzled looks from donors who noted that he wasn’t there with Pomonia. The vampires, to his surprise, appeared largely unphased. As they made their way down to the main room, a waiter floated past with a tray of red wine. When Shosh reached for one, Cass deftly took it out of her hands and had a sip, himself, shaking his head. “White for you, red for me.” He explained, hoping that she would read between the lines about what was really in that cup. 

He listened as his gaze scanned the room, internally only really looking for one person. When he was certain Pomonia wasn’t there, yet, he listened more intently to Shosh, blinking. “Uh, yeah. Father first. He’ll want to meet you.” Cass put the drink down on a tray that floated past them, then led Shosh across the room, swallowing as he approached his father, whose back was turned. Cass cleared his throat, and the vampire turned.

“Ah, Cassius, glad you finally decided to join us.” Henry said, amused. Henry was the spitting image of Cass. While Henry was over a century his senior, the vampire was frozen in time from his twenty first birthday, youthful features still showing, but his expression and manner were evident of a man from a bygone era.

Cass gave a sigh of irritation, then straightened when Henry’s expression shifted to Shosh. “Father, this is Shoshana Edelman. We’re in the same class at Hogwarts.” Normally, he’d introduce his father and his donor to Shosh, but in vampire society, their business came first. 

“Charmed,” He said, in recognition of the girl, but then turned his gaze back to his son. “Where’s Pomonia?”

When his father said her name, Cass felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. That he’d been expecting her there, that his father knew nothing of what happened, absolutely wrecked him. Cass wet his lips, fingers tightening against his suit jacket. “Pomonia won’t be attending,”  He said, and he saw his father’s frown deepen, so Cass spoke again. “I’ve taken on Shoshana as my new donor. We can talk about it later.” He insisted, though Henry’s expression showed that this conversation was very much not over.

“I’m sure we will.” Henry kept his voice measured, because he was in public, and the last thing he needed was for their friends to think his half-human son had lost his way. Then, he turned to the girl at Cass’s side. “Shoshana, then. A pleasure to meet you. My name is Henry, I’m Cassius’ father. My donor, Cynthia…” He cocked his head at the woman. Cynthia was a refined woman, like most of the other donors in the room. She held herself with grace and dignity, and looked down at Shosh like she was a bug that someone had forgotten to squash. “I’m sure we’ll spend plenty of time getting to know each other. I must admit, I haven’t heard your name before. Edelman, was it?”

Cass rolled his eyes. As if his vampire dad would forget anything. “Shosh is Muggleborn, father. She’s a classical pianist, actually. She and I play together pretty often.”

This made Henry’s eyes light up, looking at the girl with renewed interest. “Is that so? I’m glad you’re widening my son’s auditory horizons, then. I’ll have to have the piano brought from downstairs. It would be delightful to hear you play some time. I’d hoped to teach Cassius, but sadly it’s just sitting, gathering dust. He chose an electric guitar.” Henry said this, matter-of-factly.

Shosh licked her lips, her dark eyes still fixed on the deep red liquid in Cass’ glass with interest, but she folded her hands in front of her and nodded, to indicate she understood. “Right. Of course…” By comparison, she hadn’t yet seen a single tray carrying white wine, whereas she’d seen several with red—but she supposed that made sense. Alcohol, even when it wasn’t diluted by blood, had a much lesser effect on vampires than it did on humans. And no one wanted the donors getting drunk so soon into the party. 

But, no matter, Shosh didn’t mind waiting; she wanted to have a clear head while she made all her most important introductions, anyway. And then if all went well, she’d enjoy a glass of white wine later as a reward for herself. 

She followed where Cass walked, holding onto his arm, her pulse picking up. Breathe… When Henry turned to face them—and there was no mistaking who he was, not with his shocking resemblance to Cass—Shoshana smiled, bright and polite. Henry glanced at her cordially and Shosh blinked twice, smiling still, lashes fluttering, but it was clear this was not her turn to talk and she didn’t try to. She did feel Cass react, though, at the mention of Pomonia’s name, of course he did; Shosh kept her outward composure but she did squeeze his elbow where her fingers were still wrapped in the crook of his arm, supportively. I’m here. We can do this. 

And then Cass asserted his intention to make her his new donor, and—even if all of this was just for show, even if Shosh knew, for once, the difference between what was real and what was imagined in this situation—even so, hearing Cass say it could not have filled her with a greater sense of pride. She stood up taller, beaming as Henry’s attention (and likely, momentarily, his scrutiny) returned to her. Shosh felt ready. Let’s do this.

“The pleasure is mine, Sir—I’ve heard so much about you…” she said, demure and downright humble in a way that was very un-Shoshana as she bent her knees just slightly to dip into a tiny, well-mannered curtsey. Her gaze then flickered up to Cynthia and Shosh inclined her head at the woman just a nudge in acknowledgment; she’d been briefed on the structural hierarchy in place here and instructed to let ranking vampires lead all conversation (“don’t speak unless spoken to”), so Shosh looked up at the woman briefly with a challenging gleam in her eyes but did not say anything to her, and then she turned her attention fully back on Henry. 

She waited until Cass and his father had finished their exchange—of talking for her and about her as if Shosh wasn’t standing right there—before Shosh added with entirely genuine enthusiasm, “I would be honored, Sir.” Shosh took a breath, her face shifting to an expression that was simultaneously both genteel and enigmatic, in a way that only Shoshana could truly pull off. This was her chance to prove her own worth. “My family, the Edelmans—we’re from Austria, originally. In fact I studied music under Herr Adrian Steiner, of the London Philharmonic? He’s of Viennese ancestry—court composers dating back centuries—so he made certain to instill in me a deep appreciation for the pillars of musical expression. Strauss, Brahms, Liszt, Mahler, Sibelius…” Though she listed these casually, as if discussing the weather, Shosh had extensively done her homework in preparation for this; she knew Henry was born in 1902 and that late- and post-Romantic symphonic composers, such as those she’d mentioned, would have been in peak popularity for classical music at the turn of the century. “…and, naturally, Debussy and Stravinsky—though I always considered Petrushka a particularly grim punishment.”  She said this with a wry conversational inflection; a light bit of humor that those with elevated taste and historical knowledge would understand. And though she’d been warned by Cass not to refer directly to a vampire’s age or year of birth, Shosh had cleverly dropped in enough vague references to the era—particularly Debussy’s Pelléas and Mélisande premiere in 1902—to hopefully evoke a sense of nostalgia in Cass’ father. 

Cass was certain Shosh would have ripped his eyeballs out later for speaking over her if he hadn’t prepared her for the… Odd way that vampires often conversed over, for, and around their donors. It was even more apparent at Caro, where the blood bags weren’t even acknowledged. It had been a bit of a mind fuck at Hogwarts, coming from how Cass had grown up. Thankfully his nanny had prepared him for a lot of it.

He turned to look at Shosh, genuinely curious about how she would handle his father. Sometimes, being around full vampires, especially a room full of them, was too much for humans. At least they weren’t feeding. That was where things got fucked up. Cass did everything he could do set Shosh up for a good introduction- and by the way his father responded to her, it must have fucking worked.

Henry’s eyes lit up when Shoshana spoke. First, impressed by a girl who knew so much about her lineage. Then of her tutelage and general knowledge of music. The final nail in the coffin was rattling off those songs. Cass noted with some amusement that it seemed to piss Cynthia right off. Good. She’d always been a bitch to him.

To Cass’s general mortification, Henry chuckled at Shoshana’s joke, smiling. His fangs, although not properly elongated while he wasn’t on the hunt, showed. Cass wanted to fucking die. “Okaaaaaay,” Cass said, trying hard to keep up with his sense of decorum but getting more and more embarrassed by the pair of them as time went on. He squeezed Shosh’s arm. “Thank you, father. I’m sure you two will have plenty to catch up on.”

“Of course,” Henry agreed, then let go of Cynthia’s arm to take Shosh’s hand, raising it to his lips respectfully, before letting it drop. “Shoshana, it really was a pleasure to meet you. Give your contact details to Cassius, won’t you? We should meet another time. Perhaps over that piano.” He winked, and Cass rolled his eyes, thanking his father and steering Shosh away. 

Cass gave a shaky breath out, eyeing Shosh as they walked away. “You did good,” He breathed to her, knowing full well that his father could hear him anyway.  “You really knew all that about all those musicians and stuff? Huh.” He shouldn’t have been surprised. 

As they walked away, Cass looked around the ballroom, visibly more relaxed now that the hardest part of their evening was done. He cocked his head, wondering who he should introduce her to. While he was deciding, a red-faced wizard in dress robes approached him, holding his wife’s hand. “Cassius!” He boomed, and Cass swallowed, looking to Shosh and then back at the wizard. 

“Uhhh. Minister. Good to see you,” Cass hesitated to introduce Shosh. He couldn’t know Shosh was a donor. “This is my friend from Hogwarts, Shoshana Edelman.”

“Oh, isn’t it lovely they let you bring a friend!” The witch gushed, taking Shoshana’s hand and squeezing it with a good-natured smile. She was obviously excited to see Shosh and Cass, who were the most human couple in the room, apart from them. Cass had explained to Shosh earlier, that most of the vampires would ignore any ministry members. They tolerated their presence as strictly necessary to their existence.

“Shosh, this is Manhoor Hookman. And his wife Artois. Mr Hookman is the head of the Being Division. He uh, he organised stuff with Hogwarts when I got my letter. You know, like, the rules and everything…” He looked at Shosh, hoping she’d get the picture.

“Oh, yes! And liaison with the school, updates and such. And you’re about to graduate! Seven years! Paving the way for all the others…” Manhoor boomed, and Cass felt like he was going to die again. Why was everyone at this party so fucking embarrassing? “Tell me, Shoshana, do you think your class is more tolerant than society has been in the past? Do you think Cassius integrated well? That was our hope with Cassius’ admission.” He was anxious to hear her opinion.

Cass was annoyed with Manhoor. The dick. Cass knew full well about the little ‘social experiment’ of his admission and it bugged him. He plastered on a smile, like most of the other vampires did around the man.

Shosh looked down and gave a humble, assenting nod, smiling sweetly, to indicate her acknowledgement of Henry’s suggestion while respecting the etiquette law of never having the final word over a vampire. It was a good thing Shoshana was such a quick and meticulous study, because there were a lot of fucking rules. And hey, she was just a little bit smug about it.

And even more so when Cass confirmed she’d done well. Shosh grinned proudly and just nodded in reply while they were still in Henry’s earshot. 

She was reeling with adrenaline, flushed and energized and elated with how things were going so far. She wanted to do something celebratory, and was about to ask Cass if he knew how to waltz when they were approached by someone else. Shosh felt Cass tense beside her and she gave the approaching couple a once-over; neither looked like vampires, so Shosh read the sign and made a hasty decision to let go of Cass’ arm and put several inches of space between them, folding her hands innocuously behind her back. 

And her instincts were right; this was someone from the Ministry. Shosh drew in a breath and held it, forcing her smile not to look nervous. Though she wanted to seriously gag at this lady’s patronizing comment. ‘Little friend?’ Ugh. Regardless, Shosh could act her way easily through this; she simpered with affected gratitude, her hand that wasn’t being gripped and shaken in a death-vice fluttering up to rest above the sweetheart neckline of her dress. “Oh yes, such a fascinating cultural experience! So much to learn from our undead brethren…” Cass would catch onto the bare traces of sarcasm that underlined Shosh’s words, but this Ministry Dimwit and Mrs. Daft would be none the wiser, so who cared? 

“Really?” she continued, glancing at Cass wryly and then adding, “…how noble.” Seriously, this self-righteous idiot made Shosh want to scream. But she held her polite expression with perfect poise and gruelingly feigned interest. 

She hesitated when he asked for her opinion, nibbling at the edge of her red bottom lip. Shosh knew she was supposed to be on her ‘best behavior’ tonight, but come on—this guy sucked! And not in a good way.

Her eyes darted to Cass in her peripherals once and then fixed on Manhoor. Fuck it, he deserved this. Shosh took a breath, and then in the most positively amiable and polite tone, she said, “Actually, Minister, it’s Cassius who’s the tolerant one—gracefully accepting treatment as a secondary citizen undeserving of the same basic rights as his peers, by a government with the means to pave the way for his success yet who chooses instead to consistently undermine and impair him at every turn. ‘Ignorantia juris non excusat’—those are the words printed on the Ministry’s seal, are they not? ‘Ignorance of the law excuses not’…I’m merely suggesting, sir, that perhaps the law itself ought to deal a little less in ignorance and excuses.” Shosh smiled amicably, paused a beat, and then said, “Well! It was lovely meeting you both…Cass, shall we? You promised to show me the drawing room…”

And as they walked away, Shosh could have sworn she saw the subtlest hints of approval from vampires all around her—some raised red chalices, a few nods and winks, the gleaming pearly white of grinning pointed teeth...

...To Be Continued...

[buckinviteseddie]

911 Week 2020, Day 6: “"I'm not going" + angst

Read it on AO3

Buck was tired of it all. He couldn't stand seeing people leave his life anymore, he couldn't stand being left behind anymore, that hurt him in a surreal way. Abby had left him without even having the decency to say she would never come back to him, Ally simply left because she couldn't deal with the life he had at work and finally had Maddie who abandoned him when he needed it most. Even though he currently knew why she had left, it still hurt to remember all the sleepless nights of anxiety and all the humiliating moments he had to spend with his parents. And in the end he had no one to count on, the only person he could really count on, who was his older sister, had abandoned him. Everyone around him abandoned him at one time or another and Buck was really tired of it, the mental exhaustion was huge and he couldn't understand why he was always left behind. And finally there was the fact that he was in love with his best friend and he knew Eddie didn't feel the same way, and it killed him. Buck had a very strong friendship with Eddie and he couldn't complain about what he had. They shared great times together when it was just the two of them or when Christopher was also in the middle and anyone who saw them from outside could swear they were family and Buck couldn’t complain about what he had, but he wanted more, he really wanted to be able to build a family with Eddie, but he also knew it was impossible and so he was giving up on flirting, giving up trying to miserably show Eddie how much he was in love with him.

It had been almost an hour since Buck sat there on the bar stool swirling his glass of beer on the table and staring at nothing as he thought about all the bad things that happened and continued to happen in his life. Some people passed by randomly trying to flirt with him, but to no avail. If it was a couple of years ago in his phase that he called Buck 1.0, he would be there having fun and being with all the women and men he wanted, but he was now a more mature person and it made no sense to stay with any of these people just to drown their hurt, because whoever he really wanted wasn’t there and even if Eddie wanted nothing with him, Buck didn’t feel good about being with other people. He just wanted to drink a little and try to forget about all these problems, which in fact was not happening.

After a while Buck realized it was time to stop, as he was more than drunk and needed to go home and get some sleep, as he would have a 12-hour shift in a few hours. He called an uber and on the way he fought not to sleep in the car and ended up stopping somewhere unknown, as he was feeling exhausted and his body just wanted a soft place to relax. Buck doesn't know how he got to his apartment. He struggled a little up the stairs while his mind spun with the effect of the amount of alcohol he drank. He staggered a few times as he climbed step by step and when he finally went up to the second floor, he threw his whole body on the bed, not even bothering to change clothes, take a shower or at least take off his shoes.

***

The next day, Buck woke up with his head still spinning a little. He looked at his watch with some difficulty and realized that it was only an hour and a half before his shift started "shit", he thought before running to the bathroom and throwing up the rest of the alcohol in his stomach. He was filthy, not only from the smell of sweat mixed with alcohol on his clothes, but inside he felt rotten, that was not the life Buck wanted for him, at least not anymore. Until when it would be like this and whenever he felt depressed he would run to the first bar he could find and drink until he couldn't take it anymore.

Buck was quick to get undressed and throw in the laundry basket and throw himself in the shower while he turned on the shower and let the cold water run through his body as electricity in the form of punishment. As soon as he left the bathroom, he hurried to put on his uniform and get ready, damn he was a wreck. When he came down the stairs, he went looking for some aspirin and then took a few sips of coffee. When he was finished he took his bag and car keys and slammed the apartment door behind him.

It didn't take long to get to the station, luckily the traffic that morning was peaceful. Buck then put his bag in the closet and went to join the other teammates who were already sitting at the table having their respective breakfast.

"Wow Buckaroo, you look terrible."    Hen waved as he approached.

Buck forced an ironic smile as he approached. "Thank you".

"Good Morning".     Eddie greeted him as he took his cup and sipped his coffee.

Buck sat next to him as usual, but didn't look at him as he said, "Good morning."

You could feel the tension in the air. Everyone was silent and with each passing second the tension worsened.    "Well, I think today will be quite a day."     Chimney forced more than necessary animation.

Buck shrugged while picking up some fruit and forcing himself to eat, he was on an empty stomach so he needed to eat in order to get through the next twelve hours of work.

At a glance he could see Eddie staring at him a few times. Maybe was worried that he was physically awful, but Buck wasn't in the mood for conversation and his head was still pounding from the hangover.

"I hope the fact that you have a hangover is not a problem, Buck."     Bobby said as he joined them and handed him a full cup of coffee.     “Here, it's out of sugar. It helps to reduce the swelling of the blood vessels that cause the headache ”.

“I'm fine, cap. but thank you".     Buck took the cup of coffee and took a sip, wow it was pretty strong.    "By the way, how do you know about these things?"    He gave him a questioning look.

"Well, I was young like you and I loved going out at night to drink with friends ...".     Bobby forced a smile and turned his attention to his own plate while eating some goodies that he had prepared that morning.

Buck just shrugged, not trying to bring it up, he knew Bobby didn't like to talk about it much.

"Young people today just want to get drunk and go out and kiss everyone around."    Eddie had a certain harshness in his voice, but he gave a wry smile in Buck's direction, who flinched in defense.

Buck opened his mouth to try to defend himself from his friend's accusatory tone, but closed it in the same second. He was in such a bad mood that he didn't trust what could come out of his mouth and he didn't want to get into an unnecessary argument. He couldn't understand why Eddie was treating him like this, that he knows the only mistake he was making was being in love with his best friend.

Luckily for Buck, the rest of the day went pretty smoothly. No big calls, just simple things that didn't require much effort. His headache was gone and he was already feeling a little better. His interaction with Eddie was very little, just what they needed while on a call. Eddie seemed to notice that he was not okay, because from time to time he would cast looks that indicated he wanted to talk and know what was happening to Buck, but he was not feeling good, much less in the mood for it, even more after Eddie's comment earlier.

Buck thanked all the gods when his office hours were finally over and he could finally go home and rest and not think about anything else. As he sat on the locker room bench tying his shoelaces, he heard footsteps approaching.

"What's going on with you, Evan?"    Eddie leaned against the cupboards and stared at him with those brown eyes that made Buck melt all over just by looking.

"Nothing, dude, I just really need my bed".      Buck replied while finishing his work with the sneakers and trying not to stare at his friend and end up getting caught up in the tattered lie he had just played.     "By the way, what did you mean with that comment you made earlier?"

"Nothing. Have a good night, Buckley".     Without even waiting for an answer, he left the locker room and left.

Buck sighed deeply at the boy's reaction, he didn't know why Eddie seemed to be upset with him, but at the moment he just wanted to get to his car and go home.

When he got home, he did the entire night route he did every day. He took a shower, this time hot so he could relax his body. He ate some leftovers he found in the fridge and when he finished eating, he brushed his teeth before throwing himself on the bed and letting the tiredness and sadness go out.

***

It was dark when he woke up in alarm with the sound of his own scream. His shirt was damp with sweat as was his forehead. His breathing was labored and his chest rose and fell at a rapid speed. Buck was filling up to get as much air as possible, he was having a panic attack. He didn't know what to do, his heart pounding in his chest as he struggled desperately to find his cell phone. All the nerves in his body were shaking and the sensation was horrible, he just wanted it to stop and when he finally found it, he didn't even realize when he already had his cell phone in hand, dialing the number so familiar that he knew in his head.

He thought about hanging up the call when on the third ring when the call was answered.    "Buck?"    Eddie's voice was hoarse on the other end of the line, indicating that he was sleeping when the phone rang.

"Buck ... are you there?"    Eddie spoke as he took a deep breath with the phone to his ear.

He thought about hanging up and just dealing with the situation his own, it wasn't right for him to disturb Eddie in the middle of the night because he was having a panic attack, but at the same time he didn't know what to do.    "I need you...".     Buck replied before he even thought, his voice coming out shaky and breathless.

"Where are you?"    Eddie seemed to be getting ready, as Buck could hear what sounded like the belt buckled in his pants.

"Home...".     It was all he could to say while his whole body was shaking.

"I am on my way".     There was a sound of keys and then Eddie hung up.

Buck stayed with the phone for some time before realizing that the call was over and then tossing it on the bed. He was still struggling to breathe. His face was drenched with tears and his eyes were swollen. He then sat down and bent his legs close to his chest, wrapping both arms around them and burying his head.

What seemed like fifteen minutes passed, then Buck heard the door open and close, and after a few seconds, treaded steps up the stairs. He then raised his head and saw even with some difficulty because of the poor lighting, Eddie standing at the entrance to his room with a concerned look.

"Eds ...".    He called out with a sob.

Eddie went towards him and sit next to Buck.    "I am here".    He didn't think twice before pulling Buck close to him and wrapping his arms around him.

Buck grabbed Eddie's shirt with shaking hands as he sobbed and cried softly. He stayed that way for a few secunds, while Eddie tightened his embrace around him a little and rocked him back and forth as if he were holding a baby.

"I'm scared Eddie ..."    Buck admitted.    "I'm too scared."

“It's okay, it's okay. I am here. It was just a nightmare, I got you ”. Eddie kissed Buck on the head and then touched his cheek there.

"Please don't leave me...".     Buck's voice was almost a whisper within Eddie's embrace.

Gradually he recovered. Being in Eddie's arms gave him a feeling of protection and relief and as much as Buck was much taller than the other, at the moment he was feeling as if he were the size of a baby. What comforted him was hearing Eddie's heart in his ears and gradually his own heart was accompanying the beats and his breathing softening.

“I'm not going ... I'm not going anywhere. I'm here with you".   Eddie still shakes him in a way to comfort him.

They remained silent for some time. Just sharing each other's warmth while Eddie comforted his best friend. And that was all Buck needed right now, he needed Eddie and he went there to console him and the blond couldn't be more grateful for that.

"I'm sorry for making you come here in the middle of the night." Buck spoke as he stepped away from the embrace and composed himself.    "By the way, where's Chris?"

“You have nothing to apologize for, and don't worry about Chris. I brought him with me and put him on the couch. He's sleeping there like an angel ”.     Even in the dark Buck could see the faint smile on Eddie's face.

Buck lifted his mouth a little, struggling to return the smile, even though he didn't know if Eddie could see him.

"What's going on, Buck?"    Eddie asked cautiously, not wanting to upset Buck more than he already was.

"I'm broken Eddie."    Buck admitted.    "My head is in turmoil and I don't know how to deal with it all".

He felt his whole body shiver a little when Eddie took his hand and squeezed it gently. “Evan, be honest with me. Tell me what bothers you ”.

Buck felt his heart skip a few beats. If he hadn't had a panic attack a few minutes ago, he would be having it now. He struggled a little before throwing out what he was feeling.   "I've been thinking a lot about my life, how everyone leaves me, how I'm always left behind ...".    Buck sniffed a little as he straightened.    "And....".

"And?" Eddie asked.

Shit, that was hard.

"And ... I ... I can't handle withe the fact that in love with you."   Buck took a deep breath and continued.     “And knowing that the feeling is not mutual, it destroys me every day. It kills me to have to look at you every day and not be able to have you ”.

Buck tried to pull his hand out of Eddie's grip, but his best friend took it back.    "And who said that the feeling is not mutual?"

"What?"    Buck was confused by the turnaround.

"What I mean is that I...I'm in love with you too, Buck."    Eddie seemed to be a little embarrassed about having to expose his feelings, but he kept his hands around the boy's.    "Right after the process, I was able to understand this feeling and how much I am in love with you, I just didn't have any sign coming from you so I didn't say anything".

"I flirt with you brazenly, Eddie."    Buck snorted.

"I'm sorry, I'm not too good at these things."

"By the way, what was the reason for that earlier comment?"   A questioning look settled on Buck's forehead as he faced his friend.

"I...I was a little jealous that you went to spend the night in a bar and flirting with other people."    Eddie stuttered a little as he scratched the back of his neck and his cheeks burned with the revelation.

Buck reached with his free hand to his mouth trying to stop a laugh and not wake up Christopher who was sleeping downstairs.    “Eddie, I didn't stay with anyone, I went there to cry some sorrows and to try to forget a little about the fact that I'm in love with you. I haven't kissed someone else in a while, I just think about you. It's always you ”.

Eddie wasted no time in giving an answer, he grabbed Buck's neck and pulled him close, kissing his lips with the greatest conviction possible. At first it was an awkward kiss, his lips roaming an unknown place, but soon Buck opened his mouth and allowed Eddie's warm, soft tongue to penetrate the inside and play with his. It was a hot, ravenous kiss. As if they have been waiting for this moment for a long time. Desire and will was all that hung over them. Gradually the kiss softened and became more intense, with Buck biting Eddie's lower lip and making him moan softly. They kissed for a while, experiencing this new experience so that they were both feeling good and comfortable.

A few minutes ago Buck was feeling like he had nothing and no one, like he was trapped in an endless void, and now there he was in the arms of the person he loved and that he was hopelessly in love with and that feeling it was mutual. Buck thanked all possible superior deities as he stepped away and buried his head in Eddie's shoulder, smelling that familiar smell that made him feel at home.

"I love you, Eds."

Eddie held Buck's head in both hands while pulling him in for a light kiss on the lips, then he looked at the boy and flashed a huge smile that made Buck melt all over. "I love you, Buck."

[11thstreetgirl]

Neon lights

Scene: Deserted gas station at 2am (Nasty x reader)

Requested by: @thespacecowboyyy

AN: hah this turned out weird and pretty shitty lol ~

- Fucking shit motherfucker…

I was pulled from my thoughts by the driver’s harsh words. I was dozing off at the front seat of the bus after staring at the empty road for what must have been hours. It calmed me down after a busy day like today, and even if I wanted to sleep there was no chance: Razzle’s snoring kept me awake once again.

- What is it? I muttered, straightening up in my seat. My back cracked as I reached my hands overhead to stretch. This tour life and mostly the endless sitting in a bus was starting to get the best of me.

- We’re almost out of gas.

Great. Just splendid. Nothing but empty road for miles. I wanted to strangle the man for not filling the tank before we started the overnight drive to the next city, but what good would it do? I glanced the clock on the dashboard – almost 2 am.

We drove in silence. The driver hummed quietly, he had turned off the radio so the guys could get some sleep. The show’s afterparty had been cut short as we needed to get to the next city by noon. To be honest I was glad we got out of there that fast, I was happy to be somewhere quiet with just the band, the crew and the driver. When the guys had asked me to come along to the tour as the merch seller I didn’t know what kind of circus I was getting myself into. Of course I knew they partied hard, I’d been their friend for years, but this was something else. They were like little kids on a field trip across America. Far away from home and carefree. I was glad they trusted me this much, but more often than not I ended up being their babysitter. I was starting to think that was another reason for them to ask me to come.

The band was asleep, each and every one. They smelled like booze, weed and perfume, they were snoring and talking in their sleep, they definitely were like little kids. The sight warmed my heart. Above all, I felt privileged to be here with them. They were batshit crazy but also the most lovable, friendly people ever. If they accepted you as a part of their gang they loved and protected you with all their might. Michael had been giving me some singing lessons and Sami was always telling me the little tidbits of did-you-know-information he’d read somewhere. Andy with his stories and nobody knew if they were true or not. Razzle being the die-hard prankster always trying to make me laugh. And Nasty… Nasty trying to teach me how to play guitar. Nasty always offering a swing from his beer, Nasty sneaking his way close to me just to start a nonchalant conversation that usually led to us talking all night.

But there was something about Nasty that I quite couldn’t put my finger on. He was both quiet and outgoing at the same time and even after all these years I’d known him I didn’t quite get the man. And being on tour just made the contrast higher. Lately he’d become more quiet around me as if he was trying to avoid me. We no longer had the deep, hours-long conversations we used to have and it hurt. He was after all the first one I became friends with. Every time he turned his back to me stung like hell. I missed him, there was a strange ache in my chest when he wasn’t around.

Suddenly there were lights on the roadside. As we got closer we realized that it was a gas station in all it’s glory. But as we got next to it and the bus slowed down to a stop it became pretty clear it wasn’t up for business. There were no lights inside the shop, just the lonely glow of green and yellow neon signs stating that there at least had been gas for sale. It was eerie to say the least.

- Why are we stopping? Nasty’s tired voice spoke behind me.

Speak of the devil.

- We’re running out of gas, I answered blatantly. The darkness outside was all-consuming and as the driver killed the engine it got perfectly quiet. All we could see was the road as far as the headlights lit it and the dim, greenish glow of old neon lights from the station. Nasty yawned and leaned his elbow on the back of my seat.

- That’s definitely deserted. No way there’s anyone out here, I stated as I observed the scene. A couple of cars drove past, then quiet again. Just Razzle’s snoring and Sami’s sleepy mumbling filled the air.

- It wont hurt to go and check, just to be sure, Nasty mused.

- Nasse look at it! It’s empty! I was tired and frustrated.

- We’re seriously not gonna get far with what we have left, so I think we really need to check, the driver said quietly with an apologetic hint in his voice. Damn right he should be sorry.

- You two go, I’ll stay here and try to stop a car if one comes by.

I shot the man a questioning look. He gotta be kidding me. Irritation was building up inside me by the minute. What a train wreck.

- Go on, we don’t have all night.

Nasty flashed me a grin as I groaned. It probably was cold outside, it sure was dark, and god knows what kind of predators the bushes hid. Coyotes and mountain lions, weren’t those the creatures around here?

Nasty opened the door and poked his head outside. A cold wind blew his hair around and made goosebumps rise to my skin. A fleeting thought to get something to protect us, like maybe a baseball bat, ran through my head but before I could say anything Nasty was already outside. I followed him suit. The distances seemed a lot longer out here in the dark and it didn’t take many steps to be out of the reach of the bus’s lights. No way I was going to let Nasty get far away. Determinedly he walked over to the gas pumps and took one in his hand. Just like I expected, no gas came out no matter how he held it or how hard he pulled the handle. He even kicked the machine and cursed under his breath. I just stood there watching because I knew it was no use. After poking the buttons a while and trying another pump he gave up.

- Doesn’t seem to work, he muttered. I kept all ”I told you so”s to myself. We stood there quietly. It really was cold, I hugged myself to keep warmer. Nasty seemed deep in thought. There was no sound anywhere, not a single car in sight, just the wind blowing in the bushes behind the station.

- We should check the the store just to be sure. Who knows, maybe there’s something useful inside, Nasty spoke more to himself than to me.

- Why do you think the door’s open?

- Well maybe not the front door but let’s try the back door! He looked at me with mischief in his eyes. Things were getting illegal fast there was no doubt about that.

- You gotta be kidding me.

- Oh come on, let’s have some fun while were here!

I rolled my eyes. There was no way stopping him, so I just followed him across the station. Just as I reached him a strong gust of freezing wind blew across the concrete yard. I visibly shivered.

- Here, wanna take my jacket? He offered and before I could say anything he took it off and handed to me.

- Aren’t you cold? I tried not to let my eyes linger on his bare arms for too long as I pulled the garment on. It smelled like Nasty and it made me feel strangely better. Like I was safe.

- Nah, I still have alcohol in my system.

Well of course. We walked around the corner to the other side of the building. The glow from the neon lights dimmed and it got almost dark before we got to the back door. It was lit by a single flickering light bulb that cast ominous shadows everywhere. Nasty tried the door but it was locked.

- I told ya, of course it’s not open.

Nasty tried to yank the door again just to be sure. He looked otherworldly under the bright light as he turned towards me.

- Like that has stopped me before…

- You’re not seriously going to break in are you?

- I sure am. Let’s just check if there’s anything useful! Besides, you said it yourself: it’s probably deserted. Come on, don’t be such a pussy.

I just huffed in response. Fine, if he wanted to go in to the deserted gas station that was likely haunted and/or had a murderous coyote living in it he could go by himself. I’d just wait right here.

It didn’t take long for him to get the door open with a bobby pin he had in his pocket. As much as I knew not to be surprised by anything at this point it still took me by surprise.

- Where the hell did you learn that?

- Try living on the streets for a while… he just grinned at me and sneaked inside. He disappeared into the darkness and I was all alone in the cold. I stared at the door, snuggled deeper into the Nasty-smelling jacket and listened to his footsteps echoing from inside. The quiet would’ve been soothing if only it had been completely quiet. But of course not, there just had to be something rustling in the bushes right outside the light’s reach. I changed my mind about waiting outside pretty damn fast.

At first it was impossible to see. I fumbled my way out of the small backroom into the store. The neon lights outside cast a beautiful light inside. It was plenty to see as soon as my eyes got used to the dark. Nasty was rummaging through the shelves just a few meters away, humming to himself. My heart was pounding loud and fast in my ears. I had never done anything like this before. To break into a gas station? I must be out of my mind. Nasty on the other hand didn’t seem to mind at all.

- Oh you came! I already checked the cashier – nothing there. And you were right, this place is empty. All that’s left is some canned stuff from almost ten years ago. Funny how this place hasn’t been robbed before, he kept talking and almost waltzing between the shelves.

I stood there for a moment. Every little sound made me jump so I tried to move as close to Nasty as possible. I admired the light filtering through the window, making everything seem like time couldn’t touch it. Nasty’s carefree figure danced against the light. He seemed like he belonged here, in this timeless spot, with the green painting unfamiliar shadows on his face.

It would’ve been almost romantic if I hadn’t been so scared. I took a step closer to Nasty just so that if the murderous coyote snapped onto my leg and tried to drag me into it’s den, I’d drag him with me. Suddenly he turned around right in front of me.

- Romantic huh? he grinned at me. Bloody hell was he a psychic, reading my thoughts like that? He just stood there, the grin on his face melting away. Slowly he reached for my hand. I just stared at him with my eyes wide. No coherent words were forming in my mind. The light seemed to be whispering something into my ear but I couldn’t make out the words, just a buzz.

I think Nasty heard the same alluring buzz because he moved closer. And closer and closer until all I could see was his eyes staring at me behind his hair and his lips way too close to mine. A strained sound that didn’t even sound like it came from me escaped my throat. It brought me back to reality just enough.

- Nasse what are you doing? I finally got out of my mouth. It came out more sharply than I intended. He looked startled. He leaned back and melted into the most heart-breaking puppy dog eyes I had ever seen. I wanted to say I’m sorry but he spoke first.

- It’s just that… I like you a lot. And I thought you liked me too. He turned his face downward in defeat and let got of my hand.

- Nasty I do like you, but…

- But not like that right?

- No, no I just, I just thought you suddenly hated me or something, always sneaking away from me and everything.

- I was just confused by what I was feeling. We’ve been friends for so long and I didn’t want to ruin it.

I took his hands into mine. I felt soft inside. This little moment in this timeless space made everything so much clearer, so much more simple.

- You can’t ruin this no matter what, I whispered.

He leaned closer and this time I didn’t try to back away. My heart was pounding in my ears so loud as he leaned towards, I closed my eyes and felt my heart skip multiple beats as the seconds seemed to last forever before….

TOOOOOT!

The sound of the bus horn startled us both. I jumped and hit my forehead to Nasty’s.

- Fuck!

- Come back here! the voice of the busdriver ran through the air just loud enough to hear. Nasty burst out laughing.

- We better get back.

- But… I was confused and a little hurt. Of course the moment had to be ruined.

- But what? Come on, let’s go!

He was like nothing happened. He avoided my eyes. His voice was stern and his movements sharp as he took a few items from the shelves and walked towards the door. He didn’t look at me, he didn’t say anything, he didn’t even hold the door for me. I felt hollow.

Nasty almost ran back to the bus. I tried to keep up with him but gave up and just watched as he hurried under the neon lights. They painted his hair with a green glow and made his skin look even paler than usual. The darkness around felt like it was creeping in on me. I pulled the jacket tighter around me. It smelled like home.

[andtheyweredeskmates]

Of Latte’s and Lingerie- Chapter 14

SO, I am very very sorry I took so long to update this my life is insane right now but I have two chapters to post here today! This chapter is more of a filler but the next one is where the fun really begins :) Without further ado, please enjoy

Chapter One - Chapter Thirteen- AO3

Taglist: @toodaloo-kangaroo @catsssmeow @le-na-co

When Marinette got off work at 5 she felt relieved. For one because she managed to leave at such an unbelievable time. For another, she had also managed to practice, in front of other people and not embarrass herself. When Marinette got home she fed Tikki, brewed a cup of coffee and ran a bath. The stylist that had dolled her up had done an impeccable job on her hair and makeup and Marinette had every intention of utilizing that tonight. She would likely have to touch up her makeup a bit but her hair was secured with an array of bobby pins in a gorgeous updo that Marinette didn’t dare touch. When the bath water was just shy of boiling, Marinette stepped in and let every worry flow out of her.

Once she settled in, she texted Adrien.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng

You never told me how to dress for this surprise date

Coffee Buddy

That’s true

Marinette rolled her eyes.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng

Okay smart ass, are you gonna tell me now?

Coffee Buddy

I don’t know. Whatever you want. Probably whatever your wearing now is fine.

Marinette snorted.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng

I somehow doubt that. C’mon, give me something. Do I need to wear a dress, sweat pants, a derby hat?

Coffee Buddy

Yes, all of the above.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng

Well if you don’t tell me what to wear before I get out of this tub than you can go on the date by yourself.

Coffee Buddy

You’re in the tub?

Marinette Dupain-Cheng

Not for much longer, the clock is ticking and you need to get your mind out of the gutter.

Marinette set her phone down on the edge of the tub and sunk into the water letting it rise up to her neck. Hot water always had a way of relieving the tension in her muscles. She lingered in the hot soapy water for almost 30 minutes before deciding to get out, all the while imagining what kind of date she was about to go on and sort of hyping herself up for it. She checked her phone to see if Adrien had decided to be more forthcoming.

Coffee Buddy

Okay, Okay! Dress cute casual (that’s a thing right?)

Marinette chuckled.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng

Yes, that’s a thing. I’ll see you at 8

Marinette felt relaxed getting dressed and ready for her date. There wasn’t much to do and she really only felt the need to touch up her makeup before getting dressed in her favorite jeans and blouse. Cute casual had always been her favorite. She played her music and danced around the bathroom as the melody echoed off the walls.

At 6:30 Marinette was dressed and ready and brewing herself a cup of coffee. This was the first time that Marinette had ever been dressed and ready for an occasion on time, let alone early. She decided to pass the time with a fresh, piping hot, cup o’ joe and her sketch pad where she doodled her ideas away. She felt satisfied and relaxed which was the perfect combination for productivity. She got so caught up in her sketch pad that she didn’t even notice that it was nearly 8 o’ clock.

The sound of her phone ringing was the only thing that brought Marinette out of her trance.

“Hello?”

“Hey Mari, I know I’m a few minutes early but I’m here at your building. Are you ready.” Marinette’s head swiveled to the time on the microwave and she cursed as she floundered around for her shoes.

“Um, yeah I’ll be down in just a minute Adrien.”

…

If Adrien was honest, he would have told Marinette that he’d really been sitting in the parking lot of her apartment complex for almost thirty minutes. But that sounded a little stalkerish to admit on a first date.

Adrien was jittery and nervous and he hated it. It wasn’t often that he felt so anxious but then again, it wasn’t often that he took the girl of his dreams out on a date. A girl who supposedly had a secret that Adrien was dying to know.

When Adrien saw Marinette walk out the front door of her building, he pulled around and got out.

“Hey,” she said. Her smile was big and dazzling and Adrien was stunned for just a moment.

“You look perfect,” he said matter of factly. He pulled open the passenger door for her and waited for her to get in.

“Thanks. How gentlemanly of you,” Marinette said, still smiling. Adrien smiled back, suddenly feeling at ease.

“Only the best for you, bugaboo.” Marinette laughed, and the sound reminded Adrien a little of tinkling bells. He shut the door gently when she sat down and walked to the drivers side.

“You have a nice car,” Marinette said, looking around at the leather interior. Adrien began to drive.

“Thank you, its new. I actually just learned how to drive a few months ago,” he admitted. Marinette laughed again.

“Well keep your eye’s on the road handsome, you won’t win any brownie points if you wreck before we even get to dinner.” Adrien grinned.

“Hm, duly noted.” They sat in a comfortable silence for a moment before Marinette spoke up.

“So are you gonna tell me where we’re going?” Adrien was shaking his head before she even finished speaking.  

“Nope. You’ll see when we get there. Besides, it’s not too far.” Marinette groaned dramatically and Adrien chuckled.

“You’re gonna love it. I pinky promise.” He held out his pinky and Marinette looked at him with mock suspicion as she wrapped her own pinky around his. They didn’t say much else for the remainder of the drive. They bantered lightly with small talk about work and when they finally arrived, Marinette looked at Adrien with pure glee and surprise.

“Oh my god. A cat café?”

Next Chapter

[katehuntington]

Title: Ride With Me (part three) Fandom: Supernatural AU Characters series: Reader, Dean Winchester, Bobby Singer, Ellen Singer-Harvelle, Jo Singer (Harvelle), Benny Lafitte, Ash Miles, Garth Fitzgerald IV, Castiel Novek, and many more. Timeline: 2008 Pairing: Dean x Reader (eventually) Word count: ±5200 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 three: Things are awkward between the Reader and head-wrangler Dean, and her nerve wrecking first day at Gold Canyon Ranch hasn’t even started yet. 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: Check out ‘Kate Huntington’s Ride With Me playlist’ on Spotify! Author’s note: Thank you @kittenofdoomage, @coffee-obsessed-writer and @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish for helping me. You girls are awesome betas. 

Ride With Me Masterlist

     Before the alarm even has the chance to awaken Y/N from her restless sleep, she turns it off and rises from her bed. As she hops off the small mattress, she hits her head against the top bunk and lets out a groan. Wonderful, she thinks to herself as she rubs her head and grids her teeth, just what I need at 5.30 in the morning.       She flicks on the light, which stings her eyes the moment the rays hit them. For a second she glances around the ten-by-six room, of which most of the space is occupied by the two-story bed and a closet. Oh well, at least she has the room to herself. She would feel even more claustrophobic in the small space that she can call hers for the next six months. 

     By taking in a deep breath, she tries to calm herself down. Today is the first line of a new chapter in her life, the chapter in which she will prove to the world that she is not just some stuck up rich kid from upstate who is offered all life’s best opportunities by her parents. She does get everything she wants, alright, because she works hard for it. She has worked hard for her degree, she has worked hard to become a pro reining rider. And now she will work hard shoveling horse shit. Y/N isn’t a simpleton; she saw how interns were treated at the livery stable where she boarded her horse, back in Freeport. They tend to end up with all the chores nobody else wants to do; the dirty jobs. Come to think of it, she might have used an intern to clean up her mess every now and then, and boy, does she regret it now. If karma exists, today it will bite her in the ass. 

     With a sigh, she gets up, grabs a towel, her shampoo and makeup bag, and quietly heads for the shower without waking anyone. The warm water falling on her skin does not only cleanse her body from a damp and restless night, but also her mind. The intern expects today to be dreadful, but she needs to stop being so negative.           Maybe you will get to go on a trail today, that would be fun, she reassures herself under the spray. You’ve got Jo to back you up, you will be fine.

     You. Will. Be. Fine.

     Nevertheless, nerves tighten knots in her stomach again, as it did when she stepped into the saloon last night. What if I won’t be fine? What if the workload is too heavy, what if I’m not cut out for this job?      Getting tired of her own brooding, she washes out the conditioner and turns off the shower. After drying her hair, she wraps the towel around her chest and secures it by tucking one hem behind the other, then starts on her makeup. 

     This is her daily routine, no matter how early she needs to get up for it. Confidence is not her strong suit and looking as good as she can, gives her just enough boost to get by, especially on nerve-wracking days like these. After fixing her eyelashes with mascara, she hears a door creak open in the hallway; sounds like the rest of the crew is waking up too. After tightening the towel, making sure that it’s not coming off on her stroll back to her room, she opens the bathroom door. A young woman with dark wavy hair throws an old coffee filter in the trash. All she’s wearing is an oversized plaid shirt that reaches over her thighs.       “G’morning,” the brunette greets friendly.      “Hi,” she returns, somewhat hesitant, then extends her hand towards her as she takes a step in her direction in order to introduce herself. "I'm Y/N."      “Casey,” the natural beauty replies, shaking her hand.      Last night, she was there in the saloon, but Jo didn’t introduce them. Y/N assumed she was a guest, but now that she finds her here in the bunkhouse, she figures Casey must be personnel.       While pouring herself a cup, she looks up at Y/N. “You want a cup of coffee?”       “Yes, please,” Y/N obliges, appreciating a mug full of warm brew to help her wake up. "I'll throw on some clothes first."

     As Y/N turns around to retreat back to her room to get dressed, the door closest to the kitchen area opens. When she sees the man at the door, her jaw drops and she swears to God that her heart beats twice as fast from the moment her eyes capture the person in the doorway. It’s Dean, but wearing distinctively less clothing. His worn-down jeans are the only thing he’s wearing, hanging from his hips, only held by a leather belt with a silver inlaid buckle. Y/N’s eyes glide up, noticing the happy trail running up his abdomen. My oh my, is that body a nice one. Proportioned, toned, and tanned from years of ranch work under the Arizona sun. Broad shoulders, strong arms. In her mind, it feels like she has been taking him in for at least a minute, but thankfully she only needs a split second to snap out of it, not wanting to get caught staring again. It’s only then when she realizes that she herself is draped in nothing more than a towel, exposing almost as much skin as he is. There it is, the first moment of the day when she wishes to be invisible.      “Morning, Yankee,” he greets, his voice still raspy from sleep.      “M-morning,” she manages to mutter.      She then points at her room awkwardly, pressing the towel against her chest, after which she stammers something unintelligible and turns to self-consciously walk back to safety. His eyes burn in her back, and when she turns towards him as she closes the door, a suppressed smile that expresses both amusement and appreciation adorns his handsome face. Y/N only breathes out again when the door falls in the lock behind her. God, could you be more embarrassing? Good job on not making a total fool of yourself!       She takes a deep breath and runs both her hands through her hair, trying to push the moment to the back of her mind, then drops the towel and quickly hoists herself in underwear, and after that a pair of dark jeans. Get yourself together, Y/N. Sure, he looks incredibly hot, but he is not the first good looking guy you’ve come across. He shouldn’t have this effect on you, Jo warned you about him, for crying out loud!       Lecturing herself, she puts on her bra and a denim blouse, after which she steps in her boots. The shine has worn off, since she kicked through the dirt on her way to the bunkhouse last night, making them a little less conspicuous. Quickly, she blow-dries her hair, straightens it out with an ironer, and glances at the reflection in the small mirror. A nervous and insecure little girl stares back, the image having her sigh deeply and close her eyes on herself. On the corner of the bedpost, her custom-fitted Milano western hat waits. She brought two hats to Arizona, one being a navy blue Stetson that she has had for ages, the other is the black Milano, which her grandfather gave her before debuting at the State Championships. Ever since that win, it has become her lucky hat. She picks it up by the crown, moves it over her head, and then pushes it down on her hair, pulling the front dip down a little deeper over her eyes. There, much better. Just walk out there, pretend nothing happened. You’ve got this.       After another deep breath to ground herself, she exits her room and joins the others in the living area. Jo, Benny, and Garth are there too, trying to wake themselves with some caffeine. Dean has settled on the leather couch, also sipping his coffee. He’s fully dressed now, thankfully. She’s not sure if she could have looked in his direction if he wasn’t.

     “Hey! Slept well?” Jo wonders, pushing a coffee filled mug in her direction.      “Yeah, fine,” Y/N answers, forcing a smile.      Not at all, but no need for them to know. A quick glance at the clock above the stove tells her it’s 6.20; only ten minutes until this dreadfully slow day is going to start.      “Is Ash up yet?” Dean checks with the rest.      “What do you think?” Jo returns snarky.      With a grunt Dean gets up, walks over to the door next to her and bangs on it loudly. “Ash!”       A loud snore comes from behind the closed door, followed by nervous rummaging. “I’m up!”  

     With a chuckle, Dean returns to the living room, where Casey stood up from the chair. Wearing the same clothes as she did last night, she walks up to him.      “I’m heading off. Breakfast with the girls,” she announces, after which she leaves a kiss on his lips. He answers her and closes his eyes as he does, stalling the motion for a second longer. Then they part and he smiles down on the gorgeous girl.      “See you in the saloon tonight?” Dean checks.      “You betcha,” Casey replies, staring him down flirtatiously, before she exits the bunkhouse.      The wrangler pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, grinning content as he settles on the couch again. All this time Y/N has watched him, a bit perplexed by what just happened. Suddenly it makes sense why Jo didn’t introduce her to Casey; she’s a guest who just happened to have spent the night here, with Dean. When she directs her focus to Jo, the blonde cowgirl mouths ‘told ya?’ triumphantly. Chuckling, Y/N shakes her head. Jo was right, and boy is she glad that she told him to find his booty call elsewhere. 

     In the meantime, Ash has joined them and five minutes before their shift starts, the group of wranglers and workers head out. The moment Y/N steps outside, the heat that lingered despite the night hits her. Dear lord, she hasn’t lifted a finger yet and she’s already sweating. Before she can complain out loud, the intern looks up, instantly captivated by the landscape. Last night the veil of darkness didn’t allow the scenery to be appreciated, but now that the sun steadily rises in the east, warding off the clouds that float at the horizon above the Superstition Mountains, she is fully aware of its beauty. Bright rays of orange and yellow spread their light over their surroundings, draping all that’s in the sun’s reach with gold. Cows and their calves impatiently wait in their large stretched out pastures by the fence, moohing, eager for new hay. The dirt with a speck of red in it crunches under their boots as the smell of the country fills her nostrils.

      Suddenly the intern’s first day at the ranch seems a little less intimidating. She can’t wait to be around horses again, to hear them rustle their noses through their roughage and hear them neigh the moment the stable doors open. The way their presence triggers every sense of her to take in as much as she can possibly absorb, purely to enjoy the bliss feeling of belonging. In a year’s time, only a few days passed without spending at least some hours around these majestic animals. Christmas was one of those moments, yesterday was one too. One day without them and she already craves for their touch, their interaction, their companionship. Something called homesickness. Not for Maine, not for her friends and family, but for horses. Home is where the heart is. There’s a lot of truth in those words.

     “So, what is today going to be like?” she wonders eagerly, after catching up with Jo.      “We start with feeding, turning the horses out, and mucking stables. Dean and I usually ride a couple of horses before breakfast at 8.30. After breakfast, we tack up for the trail rides with the tourists. A few wranglers go out with them, others stay behind to groundwork horses, clean tack, stuff like that. Lunch at 12.00, depending on the heat we take a break and get back to work at 2 PM,” the ranch owner’s daughter fills in.      Y/N tries to memorize the schedule as well as she can. Her description of the day helps, though. It offers a grip on the situation, calming the nerves.      “The afternoon is different every day. Sometimes we have extra trails, the vet might come in, or clients for the horses that need to be sold. When it’s quiet the workers do maintenance on the property while we train more horses. We feed the animals round at 6.30, dinner is served at 7. Final feeding round at 10.”

     The humid air was already pressing heavily on Y/N. Getting through the day without passing out, is definitely going to be a challenge. Despite those circumstances, she catches herself looking forward to this day, something that she couldn’t imagine last night when she retired to bed. She directs her attention to the group again, when some of the workers fan out, heading for the hay barn next to the stables. Within seconds she hears the tractor start and watches Ash roll out the big old machine that pumps black puffs from the exhaust with every strike of the engine. A trailer loaded with hay bales is attached to the rusty tractor, carrying Benny as well, who found a comfortable spot in the back.       “Keep up, Yankee!” Jo looks over her shoulder, waiting for Y/N to step to it.      Quickly she follows the cowgirl, who on her turn is right behind Dean and Garth.       Seems like they aren’t the only ones who got up early to get work done, because Bobby is already pushing the feed cart through the hallway between two rows of stalls, scooping pellets into the horses’ feeders through the bars. Some impatiently kick against the wood in an attempt to rush the old ranch owner, but he’s not in a hurry. Instead, he mutters something to the grey in the left row that is making a fuss.      “Mornin’, y’all,” Bobby greets them, somewhat grumpy.      “G’morning. What are we up for?” Dean consults with his boss.      “Two rides. A slow ride in the morning and a mountain hack in the afternoon,” Bobby fills in, closing the lid of the bucket half full of oats, then turns to his new intern.       “What time does your horse arrive?” he asks.      “Around 2 PM, the driver would let me know if he would run late, but I haven’t heard anything so far,” Y/N notifies.      “The first box on the right is unoccupied. It’s yours for the next six months, but I expect you to work for it,” he says, an encouraging sternness in his voice.      “I will, Mr. Singer,” she assures him.      “Alright,” Dean interrupts. “Y/N, you’re with me.”      The authoritative way he speaks unsettles her a little, but she tries her best to hide it. She’s on his hip from the moment he starts walking through the barn, showing her around.      “Tack room is on the right. Wash the bits clean before you hang the bridles away and always fold a cover over the saddle. Put back everything where you found it, otherwise Garth will rip you a new one, he likes the place neat. The cafeteria is over here, we all gather here for breakfast and lunch. Same deal, keep it clean. The coffee sucks, but it will wake you up in the morning.”      Dean gives her a short moment to glance inside the small yet comfy hangout, which contains a wooden picnic table for ten, and a small kitchenette. Her eyes glide over the numerous photos on the wall of show horses, the ranch from a birds-view, and many other images, together with won belt buckles, ribbons, and a messenger board.      “You’ll find the schedule of the day on there, also important phone numbers, to-do lists, memos, you name it. Check it every morning before you start and every evening before you leave. If a horse loses a shoe or needs special care, write it on the board,” he tells her, after which he retreats back to the hallway.

     His flirtatious manors have disappeared after she flipped him off last night, just the way she wanted at that moment. But now that he has this coldness over him on the work-floor, Y/N isn’t so sure if this is what she was after. Is he a sore loser? Is that the reason why he’s so reserved all of a sudden? Or is he keeping personal and business separate? Confused, she follows him as the wrangler heads for the horse boxes.      “These are all training horses, some owned by us, some by clients. They are turned out in small groups, except for the stallions, which are turned out alone in the high fenced paddocks. Learn their names and description quickly, we can’t have a mare in a pasture with a stallion, and believe me, you wouldn’t be the first to do such a thing.”

     On the other side of the barn, he lifts the heavy bar out of the hinge in order to open the tall doors. Behind them lays several acres of land, split up in pastures and paddocks, their gateways surrounding the outdoor tack up area in a U-shape. In the center, a Joshua tree reaches up to a clear sky. The old specimen must have been here for a while, since it has grown to a stunning height of at least thirty feet, offering shade to whoever needs it. To the right, a round pen is situated together with a large outdoor training arena. The yucca tree as well as the wooden fencing, are illuminated by the warm rays from the rising sun. Y/N tips her hat forward to protect her eyes from the brightness, enjoying the view. It’s a gorgeous sight and she wonders how long it has been like this. The tree almost seems sacred in this setting, an old soul that has been watching over these lands for decades, maybe even centuries. In the far distance, a herd grazes on the slopes leading up to the Superstition Mountains.           “Those are our trail horses. We’ve got about twenty of them. They stay out in the fields twenty-four seven and only come in for rides,” Dean tells her, after which he goes on with the tour, pointing out each while naming them in a rush. “Stallion paddocks, pastures, round pen, arena.”

     He heads back inside, expecting the intern to be right on his heels, but she hesitates, still absorbing the information. For a split second he observes, because she isn’t the only one who is taken aback by the view. Her silky hair falls down from under her western hat, the profile of her nose, lips, and chin outlined by the morning sun. The place mesmerizes her, just like it did when he first saw it. In fact, one of the first memories he can recall is sprinting through the barn towards the sunrise, his mom requesting with a gentle voice not to run, because it might spook the horses. He listened and halted in the large door frame, gazing at the enormous tree in front of him. He couldn’t have been more than four years old. Pushing the memory away, Dean lifts his gaze back at his intern and gets back to business.      “C’mon, we ain’t got all day!”            Y/N snaps out of it and approaches him, clearly not at ease and he regrets striking such a tone instantly. He can’t help it, though. Of course, he needs to be tough on the rookies, he has to if he wants to determine if they are right for the job or not. Ranch life is hard work, not to mention that they are handling horses and cattle weighing a thousand pounds each. A small error can have huge consequences, and since she’s under his supervision, he wants to prevent mistakes at all costs. But is it just that? If he’s honest with himself, is he really being an ass because he’s the boss? Or does he have to admit that he’s still slightly annoyed by the fact that his ego got damaged by this fierce new face? Normally he would shake off a rejection - not that he had many - yet she brought out of balance. Why is that? He gave it some thought, especially the way she responded to him right after she entered the saloon. Those lingering stares they exchanged, the way she got all flustered when he surprised her with his eyes. It didn’t go unnoticed, so the harsh ‘no’ when he went over for a chat still feels like a slap in the face. Somehow, it didn’t add up, because he could have sworn he felt a connection. It occupied his mind to a degree that he was still thinking about the woman who shot him down while having sex with Casey. 

     Forcing himself to get a grip, he continues to walk down the alley between the stables, footsteps echoing under the high ceiling. Jo and Garth already started preparing the horses for their free time outdoors, strapping protective boots to their legs. Bobby��s daughter takes a bay quarter horse out of his box after which she opens the stable door for a beautiful palomino as well and leads the two horses outside. Iron horseshoes click on the paved grounds rhythmically, soothing like a metronome.      “Each horse has its own halter. Some wear leg protection, which you can find in these bags,” Dean continues, taking a pair of overreach boots out of a canvas bag hanging from the stable door, along with a halter.       He opens the stall without making eye contact with his intern, focusing on the horse that curiously comes closer to meet him. Uncomfortable, Y/N waits for his next instruction by the door. Should she speak up? This time she reconsiders her words carefully, but she cannot stand the tension that is hanging in the already humid air.      “Dean, about last night…”      Her voice is so hesitant that it triggers the wrangler to turn and face the young woman, his expression shifting from annoyed to something much more gentle. In comparison to the deliverance of her message yesterday, she seems timid now.       “I know I was a little… blunt, when I told you to go find your luck elsewhere. The thing is, that I really need to focus on this job and on my placement here, do the best I can. I don’t want to mess this up or get sent home early. I can’t afford distraction,” she explains, trying to smoothen things out.      Observant Dean returns her gaze while he gently pulls the halter over the horse’s ears, securing the snap of the throat lash to cheekpiece. He doesn’t mean to, but a small smirk fights it’s way up to the surface. He’s got to say, he respects her for keeping her eyes on the ball. Bobby was right; she is a go-getter.      “Where is this coming from?” he wonders, voice much softer than it has been all morning.      “Well, I kind of had the feeling you are giving me the cold shoulder,” she confesses, uneasy.

     Again silence, this one at least as awkward as the previous one. How many hours ago have they met each other? Not even ten? And yet, despite being a little insecure about it now, she seems to be able to express herself quite well. It’s an aspect that stands out, one that Dean likes. She doesn’t beat around the bush, that’s for sure.      “You might have a point,” the wrangler admits. “But I need to be tough on the interns. It ain’t a cashier job at Walmart, this line of work can get dangerous. Do understand that I’m your supervisor and that it’s my responsibility that you--”      Whoa whoa whoa, stop it right there. Rewind and play again. He’s her what now?      “You’re my supervisor?” she repeats in shock.      Dean nods, confused. “Yeah, didn’t Bobby and Ellen tell you that?”      She shakes her head and buries her face in her hands as the embarrassment washes over her like a tidal wave. She cannot believe she wasn’t aware of this!      “N-no, they didn't…” Y/N stammers. First, they forget her at the airport and now this? God, this place has communication issues!        “I’m so sorry. What I said, that was just downright disrespectful,” she apologizes, feeling the blood rush to her cheeks.      “Don’t worry about it,” he says, shrugging it off. “Can you get Argo? He’s in the box next door.”

     She nods, not entirely at ease just yet. Nevertheless, she steps to it, takes the halter and splint boots, and enters the stable to the right. Not being in the same box offers time and space to revise strategies, because she doesn't feel like the conversation has come to a solid end. Good grief, she feels like such an idiot. For someone who takes the job seriously, it was a pretty dumb move to talk back to the one person who is going to be her guide and mentor during this placement. He barely said a word before she treated him so rudely! He came up to ask if she was looking forward to her first day, for crying out loud! She has got to say something, anything to make it right. Before she can continue, though, the wrangler beats her to it.       “Look, I might have come on a little strong. I didn’t mean to put you in a compromising position. If I did--”        “No, it’s fine,” Y/N insists. “I think last night went down a little different than we both anticipated.”

     The wrangler keeps a hold of her gaze for a second and then nods, deciding to settle with that. She’s right; they both could have handled the situation differently. It’s good that they cleared the air, though. He usually enjoys bossing rookies around, but with her, he’d rather take a more gentle approach.      “I’m gonna take you thinking I’m a distraction as a compliment, then,” he comments jokingly.      Y/N looks up from her work as she puts the halter on the chestnut, chuckling lightly. Dean smiles at her response, her little laugh lifting the weight off his chest. Their eyes lock as they observe each other through the bars separating them, both very well aware of the slightly different vibe in the air. Dean - who was left somewhat disoriented after her decline - seems to have found his footing again. She can see it in the small crow’s feet at the corner of his eyes, in the dimples of his cheeks when he smiles. Damn, that smile. And there it is again, that sparkle. A shimmer in his eyes, like holding a beautifully cut emerald gemstone against the light.        “I was warned that you can be very distracting,” she returns, correcting him.      Jo walks past to fetch more horses to turn out, glaring at the pair as she passes by. Dean catches her ‘what the hell are you up to?’ stare, which he replies to by raising his eyebrows and intensifying his trademark smile.      “Let me guess. Jo told you all about how I spend my evenings?” he replies to her comment, almost a whisper to prevent his cousin from listening in.      “And your lunch breaks,” Y/N adds, well aware of the value of the intel.      He cringes at that, then chuckles, busted, as he clasps the lead rope to the halter, after which he bends down to strap the overreach boots to the lower leg just above the hoof. He never thought the day would come, but his experience with women isn’t exactly working in his favor right now. Is he keeping his hands busy trying to hide the embarrassment?       “Seems like I’ve built myself quite the reputation,” the cowboy concludes.

     She watches him through the barred wall, considering if she should say something. After all, she doesn’t want him to feel ashamed. What he does in his own time is none of her business. So what that he sleeps around? That doesn’t make him a bad person. Why should she even care? And yet, she can’t deny that when Casey kissed him back at the bunkhouse, jealousy tucked at her heart.       “No, you haven’t,” she reassures, trying to take away his embarrassment while pushing down her own thoughts. “I promise I won’t jump to conclusions anymore, okay?”      “Alright,” Dean agrees to that. “And you’ve got my word that I won’t treat you differently from now on. Despite that you were busting my balls yesterday.”       Finally at ease, she smiles, glad that they both find the memory amusing now. When she looks up at him again, the curved line of his lips evens out a little.       “Despite that - and please don’t take this the wrong way,” he adds on a more serious note, the short pause hanging between them, the moment intensified by his kind eyes, “I believe that you’re somethin’ special.”

     Surprised by his words, Y/N stares back at him. It’s not a joke, is it? Nor is it innocent flirting. She barely knows the guy, but she can tell he’s being sincere. Unlike yesterday, Y/N accepts the compliment, because this time she truly believes it’s not just a way to seduce her and lure her to his bed. He means it, and something tells her that he hasn’t said something like that to many girls before. That’s what she wants to believe, at least.       The flustered smile that his words ignites should give him even more confidence than he already possesses, but it does the opposite. With any other girl his eyes would remain fixed, letting his gaze do the talking for him. He would have let his content smile grow larger, he would keep his head up, stand straight with his shoulders back, not a speck of insecurity to be noticed. But not with her. With her, he averts his attention to the horse next to him, gently running his hand through the gelding’s mane, unable to keep his posture. Why does he do that? He was doing just fine the first time they locked eyes last night. Hell, he stared for so long, that she didn’t know what to do with herself. He was in control, until he settled down on that barstool next to the cowgirl. Until she told him ‘no’. Until she took the reins.

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 four here