#honey backwoods

[wildones777]

#backwoods #forever #420 #blue dreams #dutches #honey backwoods #haze #2018

[heysoojr]

#backwoods #honey #bay area

[satorena]

can i request riding choso while he’s high 🌚

❝ DRUGS 'N HELLA MELODIES ! ❞

𐚁̸ featuring. choso kamo.

𐚁̸ warnings. explicit content, foul language, substance consumption (weed), cunningulus, shotgunning, light dom/sub undertones, sex under the influence, established relationship, choso has a tongue piercing, cowgirl riding, overstimulation, unprotected sex, breeding, afab!reader.

𐚁̸ rena's note. i was bullied into writing this… i don’t like it that much :(

“now stick out your tongue f’me. . . mhm, make sure ‘s nice n’ wet, yeah?”

your tongue darts out of your mouth, peeking past your kiss-bitten lips and lolls out. you feel a firm hand cup at your jaw, fingers steadying your stance with the gentleness of the pad of his thumb grazing at your skin. the coolness of silver jewellery blends alarmingly well with the heat emitting from his trailing touches up the column of your neck.

when the tip of your tongue lands on the corner of the rolling paper, you’re hit with a distinctive earthy taste– one that has you delirious in its addictive familiarity. the tobacco darkens as it soaks in your saliva, your tongue swiping from one corner to another. 

you don’t miss the way he stares at your every movement, lust and desire swimming in hypnotic violet orbs. choso watches you with want, thumb hooking at your bottom lip when you pull away from the rolling paper, a filthy string of saliva connecting between you and the backwood.

“there’s my good girl.” he praises your good work, honeyed words rumbling out of his chest like a mantra. he runs the pad of his thumb at your bottom lip, collecting some of your fallen drool at his skin. the warmth of his palm at your cheek has you leaning into his touch, nuzzling your nose into his palm as siren eyes return his sensual gaze back.

choso is a very weak man whenever it comes to you. you remain mute, the slow fluttering of your lashes and the intensity of your gaze doing the speaking for you. he can feel your panties dampening against the material of his sweats, leaving a trail of your arousal at his thigh. he had done light foreplay on you earlier– certainly not enough to get you this wet, but he supposes you’re just as weak as he is– and greedy too.

“promise i’ll take care of you baby– just the way y’love it,” he reassures you, lightly nipping at your lip with his thumb and forefinger. he rolls the plushness in between his digits and tugs on it lightly, much to your dismay, if the way you pouted said anything.

“but let’s get some sativa in your system first, hm? ‘s gonna have you feelin’ like y’re floatin’.”

he pulls away from your face in favour to steady his hold on the blunt, before bringing it to his own lips. he never once looks away from you, his eye contact so prominent it nearly makes you shy when he drags his own tongue to coat the paper where you once had. 

his pink tongue seals the blunt together eloquently and with practised ease, pupils blown and strong as they stare into yours. you see the twinkle of the shiny jewellery sitting in the muscle, tauntilizing you.

you can’t help it when you bite your bottom lip, core tightening in lust and envy, as you soon wish he’d been going down on you this way. all clear and focused– though his tongue control is precise and messy with spit. 

you huff, hands caressing at his bare pecs, gently scratching his skin beneath your nails. it sounds silly as soon as the sentence leaves your lips, but the subtle grinding of your hips into his reveals the truth behind your words before they need to come out. “stop teasing– thought you were s’posed to be nice t’me, cho.”

he pulls away from the blunt, tilting his head in confusion at your statement. “but baby– i am nice to you.” his fingers maneuver the blunt with care, sealing it with ease. you watch with a pout as he sighs, twirling the joint between his knuckles, before leaning back into the couch, though his hands never trail too far from your body.

you narrow your eyes at him, never wavering and choso chuckles at your impatience, running a hand through wild locks. “alright, alright– ‘m sorry baby, now c’mere and let’s light this shit up. ‘m ready to fuck you stupid now.”

those were just the words you’d been wanting to hear, and if you eagerly whipped out the lighter from where they sat in the crevice of your breast, your boyfriend makes no note to comment on it. you roll your thumb and watch the fire ignite to life, flames showcasing a mesmerzing blend of a fiery red and orange. 

when choso places the blunt in between his mouth, you know that’s your cue, bringing the flames to the adjacent end. the crisp sound of your blunt burning as it glows a cherry red tells a tale– with furrowed brows, choso inhales the smoke the blunt releases and feels as it fills his lungs. you pull the lighter away from him, chucking it to the side of the couch, before redirecting your attention to your boyfriend.

you watch dreamily as he parts his mouth and ghost inhales, the cloud of smoke compressed and it vanishes as quick as it came. he stares at you with low lidded eyes, tilts his head to the side as beckons you to come closer with two fingers. the smile that creeps at your face mirrors his own, a charming smirk etched onto his flushed out face. you comply with his unspoken request, leaning forward and pressing your chest against his own. 

his hand cups at your jaw and slides his lips over yours, and you mimic his movements, accepting the warmth of smoke that was exhaled into your mouth. you feel your lids close at the euphoric feeling, your body conditioned to the bliss brought by sativa weed, limbs already falling limp. it doesn’t help when you feel his hand creep in between your thighs, knuckles teasing rubbing at your clothed clit and fingers toying with the flimsy material of your panties.

you moan, arching your chest into his as your back dips into a beautiful curve– you drag your hips forward, your body chasing after the source of this euphoria stroking at your swollen bundle of nerves. he soothes the ache at your pussy, rubbing at your damp folds with his forefingers, knuckles glistening with your arousal.

“can you hold this for me, doll?” choso grumbles, voice low and deep, and reverbrets against your chest. he hands you the blunt, and it nearly escapes your grasp when he redirects his focus to your cunt, pushing the flimsy material aside. you gasp when the cool air of the living room breezes past your folds, and you clench your pussy around nothing at the sudden exposition.

your clit drools slick down his lap, and choso watches with blown pupils as you drip down his thighs. you’re borderline embarrassed by his sudden quietness, but the way he darts his tongue across his bottom lip and the hardness of his cock stirring to life against your inner thigh says enough.

your hand is shaky as you bring the blunt to your lips, stomach tightening as you desperately chase his fingers once more with your hips, “mmh, hurry up baby– needa feel you right now!”

“i know, i know. . .” his breath is warm in the crook of your neck, lips latching at the supple flesh of your jugular. he nips and nibbles at your skin, inhaling your musk and letting it simmer in all of his senses. you’re smooth and soft– though littered in bites and hickeys, you’re still as perfect as they come, and if you continued to tell him what to do in that breathless voice you put on– there’s no telling how his body would betray him. he’s still a man at the end of the day.

the butt of your blunt glows red as you suck, inhaling a hefty amount of smoke. once enough has entered your system, you pull the blunt away and let the sativa course its way into your veins– the blissful sentiment of peace and lightweightedness simmering in your bones. your body soon begins to feel limp, out of your control in a way that doesn’t stress you but instead turns you on– every emotion felt amplified off the drug.

it’s as if you feel him everywhere at once–his fleeting touches begin from your backside, and he rubs the softness of your bare thighs, trails his hands up to your navel and lands on your chest, groping the plush mounds against your lace bra. his breathing against your collarbone turns moist as he coats your skin in saliva, sensual kisses at all of your sensitive areas leave goosebumps where his kisses follow. he’s everywhere, and his touches feel electrifying against your hot skin, sending jolts of shivers down your spine. 

“ngh– feels ‘s gooddd,” your words begin to slur, heavy on your tongue but mind incredibly light. you rut your hips against his fingers like a dog in heat, the contact between his fingertips rubbing at your clit at this angle driving your brain to mush. he was hardly doing anything, and the most minimal contact in this state had already stupid.

“yeah, that’s right mama. . . just relax and lemme take care of you.”  he slips in his middle and ring fingers first, past your folds and into your warm cave. you whine, body tensing as your muscles clamp down on his digits. the intrusion feels overwhelming despite past experience, but is definitely welcomed, as he works into your pussy, knuckles rubbing at the spongy walls entrapping him in.

the blunt sizzles and soon enough dies as it's shared between you both, taking enough hits to equally share the high. choso multitasks between accepting the puff you blow into his mouth and scissoring your tight cunt open, preparing you for upcoming events. he’s painfully hard as the sativa in his blood rushes all the way to his shaft– it sits bricked and heavy against his thigh, and you’re drooling and whining, gripping at his biceps and tugging at his locks just the way he likes it– he’s battling demons to avoid creaming his pants.

he watches you through low lidded eyes, and how your body reacts to each drag of his fingers into your cunt. he takes his time with you– fingering your pussy knuckles deep with precision, every stroke with intention and desires to make you come undone. your thighs tremble and your back arches, your head hangs back as your arms tighten around his neck, pulling him deeper into your embrace. you’re oddly more vocal, jaw slackened as words babble past your lips and dissipate into thin air.

he knows your body inside out, and so when he curls his fingers and repeatedly abuses your golden spot, he anticipates the squeal you let out, fingernails clawing at his mahogany tresses as your folds latch greedily onto his fingers. your squelches fill the room, a naturally produced sound so filthy it makes his mouth run dry and balls tighten pervertedly.

“‘s coming– oh god cho, fuuuck, ‘m cumming– hnng!” you moan as the knot in your stomach finally snaps and releases the dam. and when the orgasm does hit you, you swear you feel an out-of-body experience, momentarily. your mind is fuzzy, clouded with weed and the ultimate desire to cum– and for the slightest moment, you think about absolutely nothing at all.

your orgasm is pulled right out of you as is your soul, all in the hands of your lover as he draws you to that orgasmic finish line. you feel tingles creep at every extremity of your limbs, a buzz striking you from the top of your head to the top of your toes, as your cunt clenches down and leaks your fluids all over his sweats. you grind against his fingers, coming down from that high as your skin fleets tremors of electricity.

from beneath you, choso gawks at your beauty. you’re stunning– skin flushed from marijuana and tacky from sweat accumulating but god, you looked like you were glowing. lips parted and glossy, whining and voice throaty as it broke into melodic moans. “my beautiful girl– makin’ a mess all over me. . . go on princess, lemme know who’s makin’ you feel this good, yeah?” 

“‘s youuu, only you baby– makin’ it s-so good!” you nod your head, sating his ego as you babble your answer. drool leaks past your lips and dribbles to your chin, trailing downward to the crevice of your boobs.

it’s only then he realises the state of your chest and expertly unclasps the bra with a hand. with your chest now freed, they bounce from the sudden release, and the buds immediately harden from the coolness of the breeze in the room. it’s a no-brainer when choso latches his lips around the stiff bud, nipping and sucking at your nipple while his other hand works at massaging the tender mound.

he moans greedily around your chest, his tongue flat and heavy against your skin as he savours the taste of your skin. he feels as though his senses are heightened– every particle of your body leaves a distinct taste on his tongue, one that is so undoubtedly you, that his cock strains in his sweats, a damp spot amongst the other ones on his lap from where his tip leaks beads of pre come against his lap.

“chosooo,” you whine, your hand slithering between your bodies and trailing down to the string of his sweatpants. despite having just came, your hunger for his dick grows the longer you wait, and so you take matters into your own hand.

time feels rather still, and you can’t tell if you’re actually moving or not– all slump in his hold, but you suppose you managed to grab ahold of his cock when you feel him release your tit with a pop! in favour of hissing at the contact. you’ve gathered slick at your fingertips, fisting around his lengthy dick before slowly pumping the inches.

your fluids lube his dick and ease the slide, your palm rubbing at the underside of his cock. you stroke him languidly, working your way up and down, fingertips reaching his tip and kneading at his slit with your thumb. choso jerks his hips up, always having been a victim to caving in to your touch. his abdominal muscles tense as he pants heavily, sweaty chest rising up and down.

“b-baby, if you keep– fuck, goin’ like that, ‘m gonna finish t-too soon.” he holds at your wrist, but makes no actual attempt to stop you. his skin flushes pink and his matted baby hairs stick to his forehead from sweat building at his hairline, eyebrows pinched in focus.

you hum, interlocking your fingers with his, continuing the jerking of his cock. you lean into his touch, resting your forehead against his and let your eyes fall shut. the sounds your boyfriend lets out from light touching alone makes your pussy wet in arousal yet again, roaring and eager to be filled to the brim with his cum. 

“c’mon babyyy,” choso whines, hips rutting into both of your holds. his breath is warm and fans your face, lips ghosting right over yours as you feel the vibrations of his words land on your mouth. his eyes are hazy and you’re certain he’s somewhere floating on the same dimension you’d been when you were cumming just a while ago. “needa c-cum in your, ngh, pretty pussy–”

the guttural moan that chokes out of his throat doesn’t compare to the rush of hot cum that fills your inside as soon as he bottoms out. purple orbs roll to the back of his skull and he lifts his hips up, forcing you to elevate with him as you moan from the penetration. his cock pulsates and spurts loads of creamy cum into your pussy, balls tightening and releasing all the semen he had to offer. his hands grip your ass so tightly, you’re certain he’ll leave bruises.

“motherfucker, shit y/n, y’can’t just– oh fuckin’- ‘s so good, god baby!” curses slip past his lips, body seizing as every single muscle contracts from his orgasm. he’d never felt anything like it before– his toes curled, thighs trembling and balls painfully tight.

he’d never get used to how life-altering nestling in your cunt was, no matter how many times he’d break your pussy open. at the end of the day, you held the most power and control over him, clamping down on his cock so tightly, damn near snatching his soul out through his slit.

his whole body is shuddering, pink lips parted and you lean forward to slot your own lips against his, immediately licking at the roof of his mouth. he moans into you, hands moving up from your thighs to hold at your lower body and kneads the skin delicately, bringing you impossibly closer to him. he can feel your heartbeat thudding through your ribcage, and something about the closeness of your bodies indulges in the intimacy of the matter.

you pull away just barely, the both of you gasping as a string of saliva connects the bottom of both of your lips. you plant your palms against his pecs and push him to rest against the back of the sofa. he’s sprawled against the couch, but once more, his hands never leaving your body as they feel up on your backside. he stares at you in anticipation, chest heaving as he collects himself– he needs to get it together for your pleasure, it’s never about him but solely about you.

 “y’better be ready for more. . .” you warn him, shifting your hips up as you feel him semen trickle out of your cunt and leak down to the base of his shaft. he winces when you slowly rock your hips, grinding back and forth on his sensitive dick. “‘cause ‘m far from finished baby– finish what you started.”

“you a-already know this dick ‘s all yours, love, so ride it like y’mean it,” his hands grip at the fat on your hips, guiding your body on his with his help. “don’t shy away now, princess.” it’s effortless, as he’s a rather strong man, and he helps you work your way back and forth, up and down, clockwise circles on his dick. he watches as you soak in the pleasure, head thrown back without a single care in the world, riding him like you needed to cum more than anything. 

your breast ricochet with each bounce, jiggling as you hop up and down on his dick. the sounds your pussy makes are fucking lewd– squleches of his cum and your juices mixing at the base of his cock, the sound of your ass clapping echoes loudly, and lest he forgets the way your moans fuse into broken laughs, as if you’ve gone delirious already. as if he’s merely your sex toy, and you’re milking the shit out of him for your own pleasure. 

your clit drags at his pelvis when you switch angles, and when you claw at his pectorals, his nipples get caught in your fingers– he’s remarkably embarrassed by the way he mewled at the frottage. your thighs strain as your movements never cease, your pussy sliding down his length entirely, covering every inch of his cock in your fluids. the circumference of the base of his dick is encircled in suds– a mixture of his cum and your slick, the blend sticking at your cunt and inner thighs with every bounce.

tears build in your lash line from the overwhelming pleasure, as your gut is knocked with a familiar tightening sensation. choso held onto the mounds of your ass tightly, whether it’d been to ground you from moving or holding onto dear life, you couldn’t tell, but he’d planted his heels to the carpet on the floor and decided he wanted in on it. 

he fucks up into while you grind down– the synchronisation of your movements hitting harder as he’s penetrating deeper into you from this angle. your jaw slackens and your lids rest shut, your body working onto his shaft to bring you to that blissful orgasm. his cock sits heavy and pulsates against your walls, and everytime you arch your back in that specific way, you feel the tip of his dick kiss at your cervix.

it’s all too much, you’re uncertain if you can handle that constant pounding into your sweet spot– it brings stars and galaxies behind your lids, and you feel your soul being pulled to the core of the earth, limbs utterly useless as they fall prey to numbness. 

your arms give out before you notice, but you don’t miss the stinging feeling in your scalp at your hair being pulled. you do notice choso has your hair in his grip, holding you up while his other hand pulls your body flush against his. his arm is securely wrapped around your waist, and your back arches as your vision is now limited to the ceiling of your house.

“just, fuck, hold on– promise ‘m gonna get you there, yeah?” he grumbles, breath hot and his voice low as it resonates against the shell of your ear. you mewl and nod your head, hands clawing at his biceps for support. he’s big and beefy beneath your touch, veins prominent and bulging at his pale skin.

choso holds weight to his promise as he slams into you, hips rutting up as he bottoms out entirely into your warm cunt. you scream as he pounds into your pussy, breast bouncing in his face as the skin of his thighs meet your ass in a loud echo. he feels his entire being crumble beneath you, stomach tightening the more you squeeze down on him and cry out his name.

his thrusts are fast and deep– you feel him all in your stomach, puncturing your womb roughly as you’re stuffed with his semen and cock, balls deep. the room reeks of sex and marijuana, but the odour is oddly comforting– so familiar that when a dribble of your sweat lands on his tongue as he laps up at your neck, the salty taste of your fluids drives him into a frenzy.

and it’s as if your souls truly are connected, because your body tenses and all of your muscles clench as you release your juices all over his lap when his semen also intrudes your womb once, rushes of hot cum flooding your pussy. 

your moans blend into one, resonating a beautiful harmony into the stillness of your house, as it disappears into the darkness of the night. tears stream down your cheeks and you’re shuddering against him, your body jerking and stuttering in his hold while he empties his load yet again into you. his balls squeeze when you kegel on him, squirting as you clench your ass, grinding down on him to drag out the high even longer.

“perfect fuckin’ pussy– mine, a-all mine, wanna fuck you full of my nut—oh god, fuckin’ love you baby, jus’ take it all f’me— good girl.”

i still don’t like this or him.

#stargirl★rena. #www.tumblr.com/satorena #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #choso kamo x reader #choso x reader #choso kamo smut #choso smut #choso kamo x you #choso kamo x y/n #choso kamo x female reader #choso x you #choso x y/n #choso x female reader #x reader

[cherienymphe]

Basic Training (Peter Parker x Reader)

Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, MURDER, violence, minor character deaths, kidnapping, captivity, public sex, degradation, forced pregnancy, forced marriage, stockholm syndrome, ptsd, housewife kink, cop!Peter

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies​ | divider by @whimsicalrogers​

➥ series masterlist

summary: A pit stop during a road trip ends tragically when a small town cop sets his sights on you. You’re the newest addition in a long standing fucked up family tradition.

~

You browsed the shelves with a deep frown, the sounds of your friends’ laughter in your ears as they searched for their favorite snacks too. You guys were halfway to Florida, the excitement in the air contagious as you embarked on the road trip that had been in the works for almost a year. You could hear Wanda telling you to hurry up, something about making the process rocket science.

“Sorry,” you dragged out, joining her at the counter. “…but I think what snacks you choose for an hours long car ride is pretty important.”

“We’re literally going to eat right after this,” a familiar voice said from over your shoulder as MJ pulled up beside you. “…and shopping too.”

She grumbled that last part, and Wanda chuckled.

“The whole point of this trip is to have fun,” the redhead reminded her.

“In some small rinky dink backwoods town?” Michelle murmured. “They don’t even have a mall.”

The man working the counter gave her a look at that, and you nudged her with a look of your own. You definitely had similar thoughts of your own when Pietro stopped here, Wanda’s brother voicing his desire for something to eat. It certainly wouldn’t be your first choice, but it had its charm you could admit. Everyone seemed nice so far, and you were quick to scold Michelle when you made your way out of the gas station.

“Don’t be so snobby,” you told her. “Besides, we’ll be leaving in a few hours anyway.”

“Finally,” you heard Pietro groan as the three of you approached the car. “I was about to leave you.”

Wanda lightly pushed his head as she slid into the passenger seat, you and Michelle settling into the back. Driving from Maine to Washington to Florida sounded like an insane thing to do when it was first suggested, but the more you and Wanda had laughed about it, the less funny it became. Michelle pretended to need her arm twisted into going, but it was obvious that she was into it. Once Pietro offered to be the main driver, the plans were set.

“I was googling restaurants here while you three were taking your sweet time,” he said, pulling onto the road.

You watched Wanda snatch his phone, scrolling through what he’d pulled up.

“We should see the Statue of Athena when we get to Tennessee,” Michelle suggested, looking out of the window.

Pietro mumbled something unintelligible, but Wanda voiced her agreement. You were mostly quiet on the way to the restaurant, but it wasn’t a long drive. Michelle was right when she said the town was small, and the restaurant that was decided on took no time to get to.

It was a quaint place, nothing too extraordinary or even huge. There weren’t many cars in the parking lot, and the only notable vehicles were two police cars near the building. Wanda and Pietro were going back and forth about what the restaurant may or may not serve while Michelle slid some shades onto her eyes to block out the sun.

There was a bell above the door that rang when it opened, and you looked around the establishment as Wanda talked to one of the waitresses. As the woman led the four of you to a table, your gaze passed over four cops seated in the corner of the restaurant. You didn’t know if they were on break or officially done for the day, but if their table was anything to go by, they’d been eating here for a while.

When the waitress came back with menus and glasses of water, you asked her if there was a bathroom.

“Oh, sure, honey,” she sweetly told you, pointing towards a hallway over her shoulder. “Just through there.”

“Why didn’t you go at the gas station?” Wanda wondered as you stood.

“…because it was probably ten times more disgusting than this one could be.”

You told Michelle what you wanted to order just in case you weren’t back by the time the waitress returned to get orders. You hurried into the hallway, finding the bathroom with ease. There was only one, and you were relieved when your knock on the door was met with silence. Like you predicted, this bathroom was cleaner than you expected the one at the gas station to be.

You’d drank a lot of water since the last stop, and you didn’t even try to hold in your sigh of relief as you peed. Just as you were pulling your pants up, you heard a knock on the door, and you hurried to button them and wash your hands.

“I’ll be out in a second,” you called.

With one last look in the mirror, noting that car ride sleep was doing more wonders than sleeping in your own bed, you opened the door.

You were startled by the sight of one of the cops you’d seen earlier. You blinked at the sight of him, noting how boyish he looked up close. He seemed just as taken aback by you, although why, you didn’t know. You had the stray thought of wondering if he was even old enough to be a cop, and you shook it away. You knew guys from back who started making moves to be one the second they turned eighteen.

“Sorry,” you apologized for almost running into him. “It’s all yours.”

You sent him a polite smile, the smile dropping some when he didn’t really…move. A few seconds passed of him just looking at you, and after some time, he finally blinked himself, shaking his head. You noticed some strands of his dark hair move with the action.

“Sorry.”

Now, it was his turn to apologize.

“I shouldn’t have been standing that close,” he said, finally moving out of your way so you could walk out. “Enjoy your food.”

You sent him another polite smile at that, returning to the table. Pietro told you that they’d ordered when you sat back down, Michelle confirming that she’d ordered for you. When you made yourself comfortable in your seat, you glanced around again, your gaze catching an unfamiliar blue one. It was one of the cops at the table, a blond man with an intimidating build, and you quickly looked away.

“I kind of don’t want to skip North Carolina,” Wanda said, and both MJ and Pietro sighed.

You chuckled, already knowing why she wanted to go there.

“Outer Banks is just so far out of the way, Wanda,” you told her.

“Yes, but it’s a road trip,” she quietly whined. “The whole point is to see things and have fun. Besides, it’s not like we have a set date on when this is supposed to come to an end. It can end whenever we want, right?”

None of you had an argument for that, and she smiled, almost triumphantly.

“Okay, don’t get ahead of yourself. We all still have to agree,” Michelle said, but she couldn’t fight back her small smile.

“…but I’m driving,” the only man of the bunch spoke up, and Wanda flicked his arm.

“There are three of us and one of you. Hush before we put you in the trunk,” Wanda teased.

The waitress brought your food over before another word could get in, and you glanced up to thank her. As you did, your eyes passed over that same cop from earlier, the one you’d ran into outside of the bathroom. Your gazes briefly connected, and you had an odd reaction to it, a shudder traveling down your spine.

You frowned a bit as you gave your attention to your food. It wasn’t that weird, you guessed. It was a small restaurant after all, and aside from them and your friends, there were only about three other people in the building. It was probably your own bias to be honest. Men in positions of authority never bode well with you, and policemen were at the top of the list for a multitude of reasons.

You guys discussed the rest of your trip over your lunch, making a list of things you wanted to see. Pietro huffed at every third suggestion. When there came a point where you could feel yourself getting full, you peered around for the waitress. With no sign of her, you decided to just go to the counter and ask for some takeout boxes. What you presumed was the owner nodded at you.

“Yeah, give me one moment…”

When he walked away, you pulled out your phone to see if there actually was any place decent in town to shop at. Worst case scenario, you guys would wind up at a Walmart or something. Google was just pulling up some results when you felt a shift in the air, a shift at your side. You glanced over and was shocked to see that same cop from before next to you.

You didn’t acknowledge it outside of that, facing forward again just as he spoke.

“Hey, Nick! Bring some out for us too,” he called.

Your attention was drawn to your fingers on the counter, tapping them and drawing circles into the wood. You could feel the heat of a gaze on your face, and you thought that maybe you were imagining it until the man next to you spoke up.

“Are you and your friends new in town?”

You were startled by the question, by the act of him talking to you, and you looked at him just as he spoke again.

“…or just passing through?”

There was a small smile on his lips as he said that, the corners curving upwards ever so slightly.

“Just passing through,” you finally answered. “Road trip.”

He hummed with a nod, gaze passing over you.

“My buddies and I went on a small road trip a few years back. It was pretty fun.”

You gave a tight lipped chuckle at that, looking towards the kitchen and wondering what was taking the owner so long. You both felt and heard the cop move closer, and you glanced at him out of the corner of your eye just as he spoke again.

“Our town isn’t much, but there’s a few nice shops and boutiques around here,” he said, making you look at him in wonder.

“Oh?’

“Yeah,” he said, pulling out a pen and paper. “I’d hate for you to leave here with a bad impression.”

He chuckled, and you eventually joined in.

“We need you to come back. How else will we make any money?”

“Right,” you lightly said with a smile.

You took the list from him with a thanks, and he held it for a few seconds longer than necessary before finally letting go. You folded it up as he introduced himself.

“Peter,” he said, holding out his hand.

You hesitated, eyeing the appendage for some reason.

Peter seemed nice enough, maybe overly so, but again. That was probably just your own bias. Besides, even if he was a little strange to you, you would never see him again. You guys would be leaving in a few hours and heading further south. On the off chance that you did ever come back to visit, the chances of running into this same cop were low.

You gently shook his hand, introducing yourself too.

The owner finally returned then, bringing a bunch of carryout boxes with extra to keep at the counter. You took a few, thanking him and leaving the man Peter without another word. Your friends were in a discussion about Pietro’s ex-girlfriend when you returned. You told them about a list of shops in town as they packed up their food.

“That cop told me,” you told Wanda once she asked, walking outside. “The youngest one.”

You didn’t think of him again once you were in the car and driving down the street. Wanda was happy with the suggestions, finding at least two things at every shop. You and Michelle stopped for ice cream while Wanda went into some mom-and-pop pharmacy. Pietro was by the car and on his phone. While Michelle complimented the chocolate mint she got, you glanced up and caught sight of a cop car slowly passing by.

You only gave it a second glance when you recognized the cop in the passenger seat as the same blond from the restaurant. You frowned a bit, Michelle’s words fading to the background. You reminded yourself that it was a small town, and while the police department back home had hundreds of cops, the one here maybe had a total of fifteen. It was probably normal here to see the same cop several times in the same day.

You and Michelle met Wanda back in the car, Pietro telling you guys to get a move on. You were texting your mom, telling her you guys were on the road again as Pietro started the car. You loved her, but she worried too much, and while you didn’t mind placating her and keeping her up to date on where you were, it still made you roll your eyes.

After eating and walking around for a bit, you could feel yourself getting sleepy. It was to be expected. All of that combined with the smooth drive was really doing you in. Wanda and Michelle’s conversation became nothing more than a soft hum, and you were drifting more and more, but you knew Pietro hadn’t been driving long when you felt him starting to slow down.

You didn’t think a thing of it at first, not until you heard him curse anyway.

“What’s wrong?” Michelle wondered.

“The engine is cutting out,” you heard him say. “There’s…the gas. It’s gone.”

You opened your eyes at that, peeling them open just as the car came to a complete stop on the side of the road. You blinked, rubbing them and sitting up.

“What?” you heard Wanda say.

“Didn’t you just get gas?” you wondered.

“Yeah,” Pietro scoffed. “What the hell…?”

He tried to start the car a few more times with no luck, and only then was that when you started to get worried. When the twins got out of the car, you followed with a frown. Michelle poked her head out of the window as Pietro popped the hood.

“We had a full tank and then suddenly it just dropped,” he said from under the hood. “It has to be the fuel line…”

Wanda leaned against the car, and you pulled out your phone. You started texting your mom, and after a while of it not going through, you realized you must be on a bad stretch of road. You were holding your phone high as Pietro tried to figure out what was going on with the car. Wanda was trying to make a call too, and you’d just dropped your arm in frustration when the sound of a car reached your ears.

“Someone’s coming. Maybe we can get them to call someone or bring us some gas,” you suggested.

As the car appeared at the top of the hill, you realized it was a cop car. You weren’t sure if you should feel relieved about that, and you sank your teeth into your lip. Without even needing to flag them down, it started to slow, and you moved closer to the rental as it stopped right behind it.

You didn’t really know how to feel when a familiar face rose out of the passenger seat.

It was the same cop from the restaurant.

Peter.

The one who rose out of the driver’s seat was at the restaurant too. You remembered him, skin dark and hair cut low, and you wrung your hands together, frown deepening. You wondered how many coincidences became weird, became something that was no longer a coincidence.

“Hey,” Peter waved to you, that friendly smile on his pink lips.

You could feel your friends’ eyes on you, and you sent the cop a tight smile.

“Hi,” you nervously breathed.

“Car trouble?” he wondered, moving closer.

His partner lingered by the cop car…watching. You crossed your arms over your chest, feeling weird all of a sudden, and you glanced over your shoulder. Pietro was peering from around the hood, and Michelle had gotten out of the car, now.

“Yeah,” you finally answered. “We think it’s the engine or…something. One minute we had a near full tank of gas and then nothing.”

You shrugged as he neared the front of the car, peering under the hood. You glanced back at the other cop nervously, unable to help feeling like something was off. Peter didn’t remain under the hood for long, straightening and sending a nod to his partner. You heard the other man speak into his radio, and Wanda spoke up.

“What are you doing?”

“We’re just going to give you guys a ride back to town,” Peter said, and that didn’t relieve you.

“What about the car?” Michelle wondered.

“We’ll get someone to come and get and take it to a shop,” the other cop finally spoke up.

All four of you looked at each other. You still didn’t know what exactly was wrong with it, so it made sense to have it looked at, but this was definitely putting a dent in your plans. Not to mention how off this all still felt to you.

“There’s four of us,” you commented. “Honestly, if you could just call for a tow…”

“Well, that’s why I called for backup. That way we can give everyone a ride,” the other cop replied.

You looked to your friends, trying to gage how they felt about this. This just didn’t feel right to you, but you guys were stuck practically in the middle of nowhere with no gas and a faulty car with unknown reasons as to why. You didn’t want to be the one to disagree if everyone else was okay with it, but Wanda spoke before you could.

“Actually, I think we’ll just keep trying to call a tow.”

You could see another cop car coming over the hill, now, and you moved closer to Michelle. Peter, the only cop whose name you knew, was near you again, and he sent you what was meant to be a comforting smile, you were sure.

“It’s no trouble. Just let us drive you back to town and-.”

“Thanks, but we’re just going to decline,” you told him. “That’s nice of you though…”

You made to get back in the car when Peter stopped you. You were startled by the feel of his hand on your wrist, looking at him with wide eyes, and Pietro’s voice reached your ears.

“Hey,” he called, nearing you both. “We appreciate the offer, but we’d rather just call a tow truck, alright?”

He grabbed Peter’s arm, the action drawing his attention to Pietro, and you used the opportunity to stumble away. Peter looked at your friend with a gaze in his eye you couldn’t name, but it unnerved you, cementing that odd feeling you’d felt since they’d arrived. Peter didn’t look so boyish, now, so…nice. His dark eyes studied Pietro’s hand on him, and the other cop car had slowed to a stop, now.

“I could arrest you on assaulting an officer,” he quietly said, and your heart skipped a beat.

“You grabbed our friend first,” Michelle argued, the concern that you’d been feeling all along now reflected on her face.

“Pietro,” you said, reaching for him and trying to get him to back up.

He did, but you had a feeling that the offense was already done.

“He shouldn’t touch you like that,” he spat, and Wanda was now standing with you three.

You didn’t like the way Peter was looking at Wanda’s brother, and you looked over as the other officers got out of their car too. Your lips parted, chest clenching painfully as your eyes landed on that same blond-haired, blue-eyed cop from the restaurant. The brunette at his side had been there too, and you sharply inhaled.

Something was very wrong.

The blond was quickly approaching, speaking to Peter as if the four of you weren’t even there.

“What’s the problem?”

Peter spoke before any of you could.

“Car trouble. We tried to offer them a ride back to town, but their friend here thought it was okay to assault an officer.”

The way Peter spoke to the blond, it made it clear who was the higher up of the two, and you scoffed at the words leaving his mouth.

“That’s not true. You grabbed her and Pietro-.”

“Pietro, is it?” the blond cut Wanda off, approaching her brother. “You have the right to remain silent...”

“Wait,” Wanda cried. “This is insane, he barely touched him. Your buddy-.”

“Anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law. You have the right to an attorney.”

You blinked in disbelief, unable to understand how some simple car trouble had escalated into Pietro getting arrested. While Wanda was trying to argue with the cop currently putting Pietro in handcuffs, you didn’t notice Peter moving closer to you until his hand was on your arm.

“We’ll drive the rest of you back to town…”

“No!” you pulled against his hand, shocked when he didn’t let go. “I don’t want to go anywhere. You can’t arrest him, he didn’t do anything!”

Panic filled you when Peter appeared to be stronger than he looked, practically dragging you away, and Michelle called out. It had gotten Wanda’s attention too, and they both ran over.

“Let go of her,” Michelle cried.

In all the commotion, you didn’t realize the other two cops had come over too. There was too much going on, and in the chaos, you found yourself tripping over your feet and out of Peter’s grip. Your chin knocked against the pavement, and you winced. You pushed yourself to your hands and knees, glancing up just in time to see that blond cop reach for his gun.

Your lips parted at the sight of Pietro pushing against him, unaware of what was about to happen.

You screamed his name just as the sound of the gunshot rang through the air, and you felt your skin grow cold at the sight of your best friend’s brother going…limp. Blood had never bothered you before, but in this context, it was the worst thing you’d ever seen. Wanda’s scream brought tears to your eyes, and you heard Peter curse.

“What the hell, Steve?” one of the other cops said, and their cavalier attitude about it had you stumbling to your feet.

The blond cop, Steve, finally spoke up.

“It was going to happen now or later, right?”

You looked at him, horrified, and you mindlessly reached for Michelle’s hand, but she batted it away. You looked at her, meeting her dark eyes as she seemed to have come to some conclusion you hadn’t yet. She looked disturbed, and she wouldn’t take her eyes off of you.

“Run,” she whispered.

Obviously, you guys were going to run, but her hand was pushing on your arm, pushing you away. Wanda was a screaming and crying mess, detained by the brunette who’d come with Steve, and more than you wanted to run, you wanted to hold her. What had just happened didn’t quite feel real, and you had a hard time convincing yourself that this wasn’t some awful nightmare you’d conjured up while falling asleep in the car.

Pietro was dead…and your eyes studied the way his blood crawled away from him. It made your stomach turn, and Steve’s next words took what little breath you had left.

“Peter…are you taking her or not?”

He sounded irritated, frustrated, and you slowly looked from him to Peter. His eyes met yours, and you took a step back as several things happened at once, too fast for you to comprehend, but just slow enough for you to witness.

The other cop, the brunette with hair that brushed his chin, took out his gun, and suddenly Wanda was just as dead as her brother. Steve was grabbing Pietro like he was nothing, the fourth cop was reaching for Michelle, and Peter was taking a step towards you. You didn’t even have time to react to it, Michelle grabbing your hand and taking off.

You couldn’t quite register that you were running, feet moving so fast and clumsily that it was a wonder you didn’t fall. Grass and twigs were scratching at your ankles and branches were snagging on your clothes. Witnessing the death of two of your friends wasn’t something you were able to process, too in disbelief, too in denial.

Michelle’s hand was tight in yours, and then it wasn’t.

You stumbled to a stop as she collapsed, your wide eyes falling to her frame. She was gasping and clutching her chest, a horrifying gurgling sound leaving her lips. Blood was soaking her shirt in a terrifying capacity, and when you fell to her knees beside her, her bloody hand pushed at you. Against your better judgement, you pressed your hand against her chest, but you knew it wouldn’t do any good.

Every cough coated her lips in more red, and you could hear the hurried footsteps approaching.

You felt like you couldn’t breathe, and even though Michelle couldn’t speak, her dying action was to harshly shove you away. You glanced between her and the approaching cops, and feeling like your body was working on autopilot, you struggled to stand. It took you too long to take your eyes off of her, breaking out into a confused run.

You didn’t want to die, and you didn’t know why this was happening.

Michelle’s blood was on you, all of your friends were dead, and you were being chased through the woods by cops you had never even seen before today. Your vision blurred from your tears, and you felt like you weren’t getting air fast enough. You couldn’t hear anything else outside of your breathing, ears deaf to all other sounds.

You had never been particularly athletic, but the adrenaline coursing through your veins had your legs pushing farther than they ever had. Your mind couldn’t focus on anything beyond the sight of your dead friends, fear tightening your chest at the thought of ending up just like them. You thought you were running fast enough, but maybe it was silly to think you could outrun a cop who’d trained for things like this.

You hit the ground hard.

Truthfully, you didn’t even understand why you’d fallen at first. You’d just started flailing and screaming, and in the commotion, sometimes your hands or feet would connect with something. Or better yet, someone. Your nails broke skin, and you couldn’t tell what blood was MJ’s and what blood was…Peter’s.

“Hey, hey,” he gently said, trying to shush you, pressing his body against yours and trying to get his hand over your mouth. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

You didn’t believe him. Why would you believe him? You couldn’t stop crying, couldn’t swallow down the heavy sobs that kept climbing out of your throat. Every swipe of your hand got more of Michelle’s blood on his face, and the visual made your stomach churn. You were pushing your arm against his throat as he reached down, and so sure that you were going to die, you were shocked by the feeling of being shocked.

The taser made you jerk, halting your movements long enough to allow Peter to grab your arms. Your body was still shaking some when he turned you on your stomach, and you squeezed your eyes shut, your breath moving dirt. You couldn’t stop crying even if you tried, and you wailed at both the feel and the sound of the handcuffs clicking into place.

“Sam,” you heard him call, his breathing just as heavy as yours.

Peter was sitting on your lower back, knees pressed into the dirt on either side of your waist. You felt him pull the back of your shirt down, a pinch making you wince, and you didn’t miss the way the hand that held your head down was massaging your scalp with its fingers. It was almost soothing, or maybe that was just from whatever was in the syringe.

Your body felt weighed down by more than just the grown man holding you down, and when he moved, starting to lift you, you confirmed that. You stumbled, vision tilting and spinning, and Peter leaned you against him. You could feel his arms holding you as your knees buckled, and you blinked up at him, your breathing shaky. The corners of your vision were going dark, and a few more tears escaped.

“I don’t want to die,” you heard yourself whisper.

You could make out his frown, the way his dark eyes ran over you. You shuddered at the feel of his fingers on your cheek, brushing a tear away, and you swallowed when he shook his head.

“You’re not going to.”

The stench of blood was the last thing any of your senses registered.

#peter parker x reader #peter parker #dark!peter parker #dark!peter Parker x reader #peter parker fic #peter parker fanfiction #marvel #marvel fic #cop!au

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Farmer's Daughter 9

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Walter Marshall

Summary: You notice a peculiar change in a family friend. (short!reader, sorry size kink is out)

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

After the tense morning, you don't speak to Walter again that day. Or the next. When he arrives, he stays outside with his thermos of coffee and waits for Timothy. At the end of the day, he gives your brother an excuse about chores at home. Maybe not an excuse. He has been spending a lot of time around here.

Nearly a week after it happened, after everything changed, your mother appears in the kitchen with a crease in her forehead. You offer her a cup off coffee as she rubs her eyes. She yawns and and shakes her head.

“We'll grab a cup at the hospital,” she says, “you're father has a check-up. Timmy's taking us.”

“Oh?” You pour yourself a mug and lean on the counter, “I forgot.”

“Lots going on,” she sighs, “can't blame you for being distracted.”

“Uh, yeah, I guess,” you shrug.

“I called Walter, left a message,” she checks the clock hung above the door, “wouldn't be too bad if he did swing by, huh?”

“Hopefully he doesn't waste the time,” you grumble.

“Honey,” she chides playfully, “you know, I think your dad would approve… if he could. He always liked Walter.”

“Mom,” you frown, “please, I have enough to worry about.”

“Oh, I'm sorry,” she whines, “I'm just… looking for a little sunshine through the clouds.”

You wince, a pang of guilt between your ribs, “I'm sorry, mom, I just… Walter's nice. He helps so much and I think… I think maybe it's too much.”

“Don't I know it.  He is so generous. I gave him some money and I found the envelope in my purse,” she tuts, “you could do much worse. He… he could take care of you.”

You exhale, “mom.”

“Just listen,” her tone turns dire and her eyes gleam, “your pa can't. He's not gonna be able to ever again. I already know what the doc's gonna day and you shouldn't fool yourself. Walter won't help forever, not for no good reason. And next year, your pa won't be back on his tractor…” she sniffles and dabs her nose, “those days are behind us.”

“Ma, you don't know–”

“I do,” she utters solemnly, “I see the man I married but he's hollow. He's… a shell, honey. He's there but he's not really.”

“Oh, ma–”

“I'm just saying… we need to weigh our options. I'll look into selling if we gotta and Timmy, maybe he can go work with Walt–”

“Aren't you getting ahead of yourself?” You cross an arm around your middle.

“We shoulda been talking about this a week ago,” she shakes her head.

“Well, I can apply at the grocer or–”

“You do that,” she says, “but you think real hard. You got options,” she steps closer and cups your cheeks, “you're a pretty young thing. That doesn't last forever.”

You don't say a word as her greyness seeps into you. She draws away and you bow your head. You wait for her to go as you stare into the black depths of the coffee. You take a sip to try to chase away the ice in your veins but it only sends a shiver through you.

🌾

Your parents go off with Timmy in the truck. You set to sweeping the porch to keep yourself busy. Your mother's words ring in your ears. She can't be serious, there's more out there than the farm. Pa always said as much and you don't think he meant Walter.

As you get to the steps, the distant rumble of an engine rolls over the ground. You turn as gravel grits under treads and Walter's large truck lazily rocks along the bumpy road. You still the straw broom and grip the handle as he pulls up. Did he not get your mother's message?

He lingers in the truck as you squint against the sunlight. His door pops open and he jumps down, sending up a cloud of dust. He goes around the bed of the truck and opens the back.

He slides out a sheet of wood and drags it towards you. You watch in confusion as he stops and leans it against the side of the porch. His eyes meet yours and his brows furrow.

“Morning,” he checks his watch, “barely.”

“Morning, Mr. Marshall,” you eke out.”

His eyes flash and he nods. He turns and marches back to the truck, pulling out several planks before carrying them over. You watch him as you lean on the broom.

“What are you doing?” You ask.

He stops and looks up at you. He points to your feet and flicks his finger up, “building a ramp. For your dad.”

You look down at your slips flecked in dirt and stray strands of straw, “oh? Didn't ma call–”

“She didn't ask,” he says bluntly. 

Your lips slant and you tilt your head, “that's real nice.”

“Yeah well, I'm a nice guy,” he huffs and spins on the heel of his boots, stomping away once more.

He goes back to the truck and retrieves his toolbox. His agitation roils off his tense shoulders and the stone set in his jaw. You're too afraid to ask but you do need to. He has been avoiding you.

“Well, I'll stay out of your way,” you lift the broom and back up the stairs. “If you need anything–”

“Not in the way,” he says curtly as he takes out a measuring tape.

“Oh, I know but I wouldn't wanna bother–”

“I don't mind,” he shrugs as he steps onto the stairs and measures the angle over them.

“Right, of course, do you need anything? A glass of water or–”

“Seems like I'm the one bothering,” he stands and lets the tape retract harshly.

“No?” You bat your lashes at him, “I didn't say that, Mr.--”

“Walt,” he growls, “you know what I like best in a woman. Honesty. So why don't you be honest and tell me what you really feel?”

“I…” you gulp, “Walter, er, Walt, I… I'm just… confused.”

“Don't act like a child. We both know you're not,” he crosses his arms over his broad chest. You've seen him angry before but it's never been aimed at you. 

“I… I don't know what to say. I'm sorry.”

“Sorry. Okay,” he shakes his head and unfolds his arms, going back to measuring, “I'm open to talking when you wanna be an adult.”

You flinch as you watch him. He grits his teeth, ignoring your presence as he focuses on his work. You turn, hiding the hurt deep in your chest. You never meant to hurt him but you really don't know. As much as you try to wade through your feelings, you only feel as if you're drowning in them.

#walter marshall #dark walter marshall #dark!walter marshall #walter marshall x reader #drabble #night hunter #the farmer's daughter #series #au #backwoods au

[oneforthemunny]

stop, in the name of love |cop!eddie munson x reader|

prompt: based off my birth week writing challenge lol. I was just going to leave it for other authors, but I'm feeling self indulgent for now :)

requested: #20!!! With cop!eddie he’s trying to stop teens from hooking up but reader comes to the woods just for that reason!! please make him feel like a teen again 😭❤️❤️

thank you @ali-r3n for rbing my works so i could find this lol. you are an angel on this earth i love you <3

contains: 18+ MINORS DNI. cop!eddie, p in v sex, voyeurism, hopper catches them lol. fluff and good times with cop!eddie and his lil trouble maker.

Eddie huffed, arms crossed in the uncomfortable uniform, radar gun in his clenched fist. Hopper had stuck him out here- a punishment, no doubt, for the flop that was the D.A.R.E program he conducted at the middle school- leaving Eddie in the backwoods near Lover's Lake. After an influx of complaint calls about teenagers speeding through the area, and hooking up or drinking down by the waters or in the woods, Hopper decided to stick his best guy on the situation.

Eddie was furious.

Not only was it a slap in the face to be put on patrol of that area, usually only given to rookies, it was so fucking boring. He couldn't leave the area, contained to that spot for most of his shift, unless backup called. He couldn't drive around the city, taking all the nuisance calls, or even stopping by to see his friends and chat- stop by to see you. Oh no, here, he was quarantined to this small space.

The crunch of the gravel beside him had his ears perking, lifting the gun and sitting up in his seat, ready to bust a frisky teen. Instead, he saw the familiar, powder blue car pull up beside him- your car.

"Hi, there, Officer." You grinned, shutting the door to your car.

"Evenin' there, little lady." Eddie gave you a toothy grin, tone adapting to Wayne's southern-esqu drawl that always left you a little weak in the knees. He liked playing up the stereotypical cop, like Rosco in Dukes of Hazard, teasing and fun.

"Are you out here all alone tonight?" You asked tilting your head to the side. Eddie snorted, watching you push your upper body through his open window, upper half dangling inside the car. "No backup?"

"Not tonight." Eddie shook his head, giving you an exaggerated pout. "Just me out here by myself."

"Oh?" You quipped brow raising in surprise. "So no one out here to do this," You lunged at his utility belt, reaching for his baton, while Eddie's scrambled to halt your movements. Damn, you were quick.

"Easy, easy!" Eddie snapped, prying your hand off his baton. "What did I tell you about messing with my things, baby? Hopper's gonna kill me if he has to replace something else we've broken."

You giggled, folding your arms over the window. "'M just kidding." You hummed, batting your eyes up at him. "Just worried about you. Missed you."

"Missed you too, honey." Eddie's smile had you melting, an ooey-gooey feeling of warmth that was thick in your veins, leaving your head spinning. "I get off at eight."

"Yeah, but I got off at six." You pouted. "And that's so long to wait for you."

Eddie snorted, grinning and shaking his head. The curly tendrils, slipping out from his bun, sprung free, hitting his cheeks. Eddie reached for his aviators, revealing his brown eyes to you. "What're you up to, trouble?"

"Trouble?" You feigned hurt, an exaggerated gasp leaving your lungs. "I would never, Officer, I'm a well behaved, law abiding citizen."

Eddie laughed, loudly, making you smile. "Yeah, right." He scoffed at you. "What'd you come here for? To show your appreciation for all my hard work?"

Your lips twisted in thought. "Yeah, kinda." You nodded. "Came here to fuck you."

Eddie snorted, shaking his head at your bluntness. "I'm on the clock, baby."

"That's never stopped you, baby." You mocked him with a slight glare. "Please? You've been working the second shift all week. I barely get to see you."

Eddie pressed his lips together in thought, eyes flickering from the road back to you. You pressed your bottom lip out further. "Please? Just quick, I promise."

Eddie huffed, moving to pull the keys from the patrol car, that was the last thing he needed stolen. "Fine, but just really quick, alright." He pointed a finger at you. "I don't have long. Go around back."

You practically skipped to the back of the cop car, hidden behind the tall lights and the trees, nestled away from the road.

"Place your hands on the hood of the car." Eddie boomed, loud and authoritative, a tone he only used when arresting someone. You knew he was teasing, but fuck, did it make you throb.

You laid your hands flat over the trunk of the car, pressing your upper half forward. Eddie drooled, eyes trained on the little sundress you had on, catching in your cheeks as you moved. God, how he wanted to drop to his knees and devour you. He missed your taste so much, but not now wasn't the time. No, he'd contain himself for now and indulge later tonight.

Eddie bunched the material of your dress in his hands, shimmying it up your frame. He grinned wolfishly down at you, white knuckled grip on the material. "No panties?" He asked, tone lilting in teasing surprise.

"No, sir." You hummed, craning your neck so you could look over your shoulder at him. "I knew you'd want them off anyways." Your eyes batted at him.

"Bad girl." Eddie smirked, tongue rolling across his bottom lip. "Very, bad." He rasped to himself, eyes glued on your puffy lips, slick and peeking out from between your thighs.

Eddie gripped your cheeks, lifting them so he could reveal your pussy to him, the wet click! sound that your lips made when he pulled them apart made his abs clench, knees shaking.

"Spread 'em, baby." Eddie barked, a little raspier than he would someone he was really arresting, but he settled his black boots between your feet, pushing them so they slid open wider.

You whined, shuffling your feet apart with his, pressing yourself further into the hood of the car. Your ass was out, presented to him, drooling pussy and bare skin all for his taking. Eddie swallowed hard.

"You gotta be quiet, alright?" Eddie smirked, unzipping himself. He'd have to make this work, needed to be able to respond quickly if need be. "Can't get me caught when I'm supposed to be catching teenagers hooking up out here. How bad would that be?" Eddie chuckled, freeing his cock and pulling it through his zipper.

You giggled, airy and light, eyes already glossed with lust. Your hips wiggled in anticipation. "'M ready, Mr. Officer." You purred, feeling the tip of his fat head rub through your folds.

Eddie pushed into you, tight from the lack of foreplay. Normally, he'd work you open with his fingers, get you relaxed with a couple of orgasms before trying to fit himself in.

You groaned at the stretch, burning but your velvety walls clamped down on him, nonetheless. You groaned, low in your chest, vibrations rattling through you and onto the cop car. Eddie let out a straggled breath, hips flush to your ass, grinding into the fatty flesh there the way you liked.

Eddie pulled back, thrusting into you, deep and filling, leaving your eyes rolling back. "Oh!" You cried out, a straggled gasp leaving your lips.

Eddie started to move, long and slow thrusts that had you crying out. He pulled you up, hand cupping your jaw and moving you so your back was to his chest, his big hand covering your mouth. "Shh, baby, gotta-fuck- be quiet." Eddie hissed in your ear.

Your eyes rolled back, his head jabbing a spot deep inside of you at the new angle, a spot that was making you drench with every stroke, knees shaking. You moaned and whimpered against his hand, feeling his hot breath ghosting over your jaw and cheek, tiny grunts and huffs in your ear. You loved it when he'd moan so you could hear. You'd record it and play it on a loop if you could, hearing his tiny whines when he was close, breath hitching and catching, and his pitch rising.

"Fuck, baby, I-I'm close." Eddie grunted, jaw clenched as he tried to control himself. He was a little embarrassed to admit how easily he was coming undone, but fuck, it had been a while. And your pussy was enticing, felt like heaven with every clench of your wet walls strangling his cock.

You moaned against his hands, Eddie feeling you get a little heavier against him, slipping down him. He knew you were close. Using his free hand, Eddie slid his hand down your hip, snaking down between your legs, using two fingers to rub at your clit.

You cried out, still loud even with his hand muffling the sound, knees wobbling and locking a little, before you came, hard and unforgiving over Eddie's cock. You felt yourself fall against the truck of the car, the cool metal exterior pressing to your cheek, while Eddie jackhammered into you from behind chasing out his own high.

Eddie was so close, he could taste it. Abs clenched, toes curling, eyes rolling back, his cock punching your womb deeply, cock twitching deep inside you; so close.

The wail of a siren had him stopping, eyes snapping open and blurred vision clearing. He looked around seeing the familiar lights shine red and blue, jarring and unmistakable, while Hopper's car slowly crunched over the gravel.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit." Eddie was out of you in a second, scrambling to shove his cock back in his pants, turning away so he could try and pull himself together, with fumbling shaking hands.

You had pulled down your dress, hand smoothing over the mussed back of your head, while you stood rigidly to face Hopper.

"Well," Hopper sighed heavily, slamming the door to his car. "Guess I know why there's still a problem out here." He frowned at Eddie.

Eddie swallowed hard, brown eyes wide and alert, a deer caught in headlights. "Turns out my officer I sent to patrol is the horny bastard who keeps hooking up out here."

"Hop, I-"

"Save it, Munson." Hopper held up his hand, shaking his head. "I got a call about a disturbance down by Skull Rock, dispatch tried to get you and no response. Thought something had happened, so I came to check it out, and..." Hopper's eyes flashed from you to Eddie, before frowning deeply in disapproval. "I see now that you were busy."

You cringed, looking at Hopper with a round eyed, pleading look. "It really was my fault. I-I came here and-"

"I really don't need the details of that, thank you." Hopper said sarcastically, cutting you off with an eye roll.

"Munson, finish out your shift, then tomorrow, my office. First thing." Hopper barked, glaring at him.

"Alright, Hopper." Eddie grumbled, shoulders deflating at the threat.

Hopper scoffed, pulling his door open. "And you two stop fucking outdoors, alright? That's still against the law, and you should know better." He pointed at Eddie, thick brows furrowed and mean.

You watched Hopper drive away, nervously turning to Eddie. "Well, this is fucking great." Eddie scoffed. "I'm going to get written up and have to do fuckin' cross walk duty for a week, and I have blue balls still." He growled, hands motioning down towards his crotch.

You bit back a giggle, tucking your chin to hide your smile. Eddie's eyes flashed at your dangerously, dark and playful. "You think this is funny, huh? This is your fault, you little minx." He growled, teeth barring at you.

"I'm sorry, really." You smirked at him. "I was just trying to help you out."

"Yeah? Well, just you wait baby." Eddie pointed a finger at you, stepping closer to close in the space between the two of you. His eyes were dark, still lust blown from earlier, a little meaning when they peered at you down the slop of his nose. "You're in for it when I get home."

You giggled with excitement, his arms wrapping around you, teeth nipping at your bottom lip in a playful bite that had you squealing. A car whizzed by, blaring loud music and heading towards the lake. The teenagers from the complaint, no doubt.

Eddie sighed, resting his forehead against yours for a moment. "Duty calls, Officer." You grinned cheekily.

"Yeah, can't wait." Eddie huffed, heavy boots stomping towards the car. "See you when I get home?"

You nodded. "I'll be waiting on you." You batted your eyes up at him.

Eddie grinned. "Good. Get ready for me. Wear that little lacy thing I like, alright?" He winked at you, ducking back into the patrol car. "Stay outta trouble until then, you hear?" He threw out at you playfully.

You laughed, opening your own car door. "I'll try. No promises." You jested, shrugging with a wide grin.

Eddie smirked, flicking on his lights and peeling out towards the lake. You watched him drive away, legs still a little shaky from before, pressing together at the thought of what awaited when he got home.

#oneforthemunny #eddie munson au #eddie munson au #cop!eddie munson #cop!eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader fluff #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x you #jim hopper #eddie x reader #eddie munson #eddie stranger things #stranger things

[grimesgirll]

“do you have any weed?”

“why? you wanna get stoned, baby?”

you shake your head eagerly. the sanctuary is not for the faint of heart. negan may have let you hang around his wives’ quarters while he toyed with the idea of adding you to his collection or sending you home to alexandria at a price, but that didn’t mean you were shielded from the absolute shit show that this place turned out to be. a joint is the least he can offer.

“you’re a little pothead, huh?”

you snort. “as opposed to being a big drinker?”

negan shrugs. “pick your poison i suppose.”

“do you smoke?”

“not since before this shitstorm all went down.” negan admits, resting a large hand on your thigh as you sit, legs long on top of him on the leather sofa.

“well, maybe you should have your goons bring up a half and some backwoods, and we can relax a little,” you burrow into him in an attempt to appeal to his physical motives.

he doesn’t pretend to be unaffected by you digging your ass into him and leaning back for a kiss. he halts you with a finger to your lips. “you really are a little pothead, aren’t you?”

“i hope it’s not obvious,” you retort, relaxing into him.

the leader takes the opportunity to slip his thumb into your mouth, pushing past your pillowy bottom lip. “i might be able to work something out. if you can ask nicely.”

a week ago, you would’ve spit in his face but now you’re more than ready to beg for a joint. tongue lolling around the pad of his thumb, he retracts the digit to let you open your mouth and put on your best sultry voice and ask negan, “negan, can you please have your men bring us some weed. i think it would really calm my nerves.” you quiver your lip for extra effect. “i’d do anything.”

negan is whistling before you can get another word out of your mouth, “baby, anything you want. whatever you want to get you settled in.” he promises against your ear.

suddenly, he’s cupping your face, giving you one of his signature overpowering - overwhelming kisses, leaning into your open mouth and then he’s up again and on his way out the door.

with a creak of a hinge you hear, “hey, dwight! ready for today’s mission?”

your cough has negan snickering at you. “what?” you sputter, smoke creeping from your mouth.

negan sat you down in the conversation pit of the common area after all his wives retired to their bedrooms. you didn’t get your own bedroom - yet, negan had threatened. a rolling tray with two pre-packed blunts and a shiny silver lighter sitting pretty, just waiting for the two of you to get straight into it.

“i thought you were a hardened stoner, sweetie, a little joint has you coughing already?” the man teases

rolling your eyes, you take another hit, not bothering to angle your exhale out of negan’s face.

a man of his word, negan had slapped dwight’s ass and sent him on a sanctuary wide search for something for you two to light up with. the sanctuary, being the cesspool it is, is rife with reefer and even some vanilla flavored tobacco rolls. you can’t fault negan for coming through, and you’re thankful he did as you indulge in another soft puff.

wanting to try something, you offer the blunt to negan.

he waves a hand at you. “not my thing, honey.”

you tilt your head with curiosity. “are you sure? i think you could benefit from a hit or two.” the raised joint remains in the air. “only if you want to, though.”

“fuck it. why not?”

and that’s how you lose over thirty minutes of your life caught up in studying negan’s face and fumbling through hazy conversation - at least on your part. a hand digs into the squishy blue leather of the seating beneath you. the unhinged part of you is placidly observing every inhale and exhale that the man offers for your viewing.

“wanna watch a movie?”

he’s breaking the new silence that’s developed since you melted into the couch, however. you also know what that’s code for but you’re nodding and following him out of the conversation pit and to the bedroom towards the entertainment center anyways.

the sanctuary is technically your prison but with every passing day, you grow more and more complacent. negan moving you in with him was supposed to be a temporary punishment - the price to pay for returning daryl to alexandria, the result of what happens when you fuck around and find out with negan. why would you risk even more punishment by running when he’s letting you order room service marijuana to his quarters. that’s some shit you weren’t doing everyday back in alexandria. the day will probably come soon enough that you’ll have to patch together a plan to ditch this place, but for now you’ll just build trust and your strength for when you eventually make your escape.

your high has you cozy on the couch and before you know it, you’re more than comfortable in negan’s lap.

“i think i like you baked, baby,” the man whispers between kisses into the skin besides your bra strap. the crisp white oversized button up you’d been wearing is conveniently strewn on the floor and out of negan’s way.

“let me make sure you don’t have cotton mouth down there.” negan’s fingers fall below your waistband. “mhmm, course’ not.” he doesn’t need to dip a finger into your messy entrance to see how soaked you are with how saturated the upper crotch of your panties are.

grinding yourself all over his lap, your self control is slipping faster than he’s undoing his belt.

“baby, i think you’re wetter than usual,” he remarks with a finger between your silken folds and the other hand finishing off his belt. you smirk until your face begins to blush with how his firm finger works you open, tag teaming with his thumb to torture you from the inside out.

the crimson creeping onto your face at the thought of him being between your legs routinely enough to notice a difference burns you. you don’t want to let it slip that smoking renders you wildly horny, so you just allow yourself to tilt your head back and let him do all the work.

your stresses are fading with each press of pleasure negan is inflicting on your clit anyways. it’s effortless to let the sheen sweat and the glowy, lightweight combination of marijuana and euphoria engulf you.

how sensitive you are scares you for a moment but the overwhelming pleasure is more than enough to have you jolting your hips and canting backwards into negan. fucking yourself on his fingers.

“fuck, next time i’m gonna have to make you look in my eyes for that next time.”

that earns him an eye roll. “you like seeing me all ditzed out?”

“i don’t want you any way else,” the salt and pepper haired bastard declares.

he wants you just like this: sprawled on top of him on the bedroom futon with a finger or two buried inside of you. the sounds you’re mewling are more than enough to have him rock hard against your ass and disregarding how truly loud you are. that is until he can’t move past your words.

“you already want my cock, darlin’?”

negan is grinning ear to ear from needy request against his ear. he’s more than happy to grant you your wish and flips you over onto the firm, scale-like leather.

“yes, negan,” you reply dreamily, fingers towing his short hair.

“you want it like this baby? you want me to fuck your high ass into the couch?”

is water wet? are you wet right now? is that even a question?

you nod like when he first asked if you wanted to get stoned. “yes, negan, please! you know you stretch me out sooo good.”

“do i?” a playful haze consumes his face.

“yes!” your breath hitches as he moves your hair out of your face to envelope your lips, biting your bottom lip before inviting his tongue inside your mouth. it’s then that you feel his massive cock poking at your slippery wet entrance.

precum coating his head, negan rests his dick against your hair covered mound, tucked against your clit in a manner that has you strategically gyrating your hips to access any sort of friction.

“i’m ready. you’re ready.” negan notes, toying his head up and down your slit. “wow, what they say about drying up and all that is bullshit.”

“c’mon, i thought - thought you were gonna fuck me.” you hum and direct your doe eyes at him.

mustering up the energy to bat your eyelashes at him has his cock lined up with your seeping hole and suddenly negan is nowhere near holding back.

the sanctuary’s leader grinds your gears but he also grinds his girthy cock against your clit so poignantly pestling pleasure just on the way in. the sensation of every detail, ridge, and texture of him cramming your taut walls has you breathing erratically into his shoulder.

“you’ve got this, honey.” he presses a purple kiss to your collarbone. “i know you can take this cock better than you think you can.”

negan is right but god, the stretch is still something you’re getting used to. thick and long, negan has a hard cock to take with an even more impossible personality to stomach. that cock fucks you nice and deep enough to at least temporary take your captivity off of your mind, so you don’t mind it. you actually yearn for it - in your core.

that heat that’d consumed you before returns and fluctuates and flickers with the older man’s vigorous pace. every snap and thrust has you clenching and digging crescent shaped marks into his skin.

little bursts of lightning snap inside of you as negan doesn’t spare you his fingers. resuming their pace on your clit as if you hadn’t just come on his fingers a minute or two earlier. you’re not ready to let go quite yet but you can already feel the pressure mounting as negan angles his hips to brush against every part of your interior anatomy. it’s like he’s fucking sightseeing - one of the locations being your cervix, already

“mhm,” you’re mumbling beneath him.

“god, i don’t think i’m ever gonna get tired of stuffing this pussy.”

“love when you stuff me.” you breathe. that weightless feeling starts in your core and without warning, you flutter around the thick cock inside of you, constricting and tightening as he bumps against that same spot he’d been stimulating on the way in with, now with his fingers meddling in an effort to push you over the edge.

“can’t wait to creampie you. fuck, it’s worth all the plan b.”

you’re too sex distracted to feign concerned. negan could come in you as many times as he wants - as long as he keeps up the mind bending rhythm that has you babbling and on the verge of forgetting your name.

“god, you got me so close already tonight, girl.” the man’s hips are already stuttering, so much that you’re swiveling into him.

“negan, negan,” the name leaves you lips as a cry.

“just like that, say it again,” he commands and fists a handful of your hair, forcing eye contact.

his eyes focused on your lust blown pupils, you offer him some more figure eights so he’s won’t be the only one who contributed to your soreness tomorrow. struggling with raspy, lust addled breaths, you moan, “come in me, negan.”

and that’s all the permission the sanctuary’s fearless leader needs to completely fill you up. your pussy maintains an unrelentless death grip on his cock at the same time. the needy vortex between your thighs sucks negan in.

a corresponding climax is washing over you, complimenting the warm come oozing from your freshly stretched little hole. god, the full body bliss you unlock once your core gives in numbs your bottom half. your face must be numb too because you’re smiling like an idiot.

wow, he really creampied you. the aforementioned promise of plan b placates you enough to shut up and accept your orgasm, happily accepting the kisses he scatters in his post-sex glow along your newly relaxed nipples and up your throat.

“damn, we’re gonna have to get stoned together more often, baby.” negan places another soft kiss on your forehead. “don’t think too hard while i’m gone, sweetie.”

with that, he’s paying your ass a squeeze as he shifts off the bed. you stay belly down despite the rustle of clothing and the door hinging open.

too tired to care what negan‘s up to, you tug down the large fleece blanket on top of the futon and bunch it around you. your brain is too fried to prioritize getting to bed right now. if negan is nice enough, he’ll move you to bed later like he did the other night after you fell asleep in his arms in the conversation pit.

you’re smirking when you hear negan greet dwight, who you can imagine is sitting in the common area, stopping in to do a quick tune up on negan’s in home arsenal.

“hey, dwight! you ready to roll some more magical blunts?”

#the walking dead #negan smith #negan smith x reader #negan smut #twd #twd dead city #twd negan #the walking dead negan #negan imagine #twd smut #twd imagine #not beta read #featuring maryjane #dub con #purely because the reader is hangin at the sanctuary not by choice #no aftercare sorry #p in v sex #cream🥧 #ditzy thought fr #grimesgirll

[z3nitsusgf]

Will, my muse, my cowpoke, my insane cheese-brain detective <33

Will Graham is soft like moss from the backyard. All wide-eyed and toothy, like the refracting image of water on the surface of the lake. He’s country charm at its finest. The very definition of it. He’s real rough and tumble, oh your bluegrass outlaw. Banned from the saloon and kicked from the county jail - he wanders the backwoods alone.

You can just imagine it, the old cowboy in him. Sitting on the porch with his hat tipped down over his eyes, chewing on long dried wheat and humming Jonny Cash. The sun dips down over the west, singing cicadas and buzzing mosquitoes, he’ll lay his head on your shoulder and once in a while, kiss it.

He once told you he likes to help people. That, when he loves them, he wants to make them feel like he’ll always be there to solve it.

He said, “I’ve never seen you cry, I don’t know if you can. I don’t know if I can either.” And in a way, you knew he just wanted to hold you one last time.

You know if you asked sweet enough, if you shared your canteen and offered a palm to his cheek - he’d nuzzle it like a dog and let you clean his wounds till he cried. The glow of fireflies caught in jars.

He’s a spur in your side, a rough kick of a steel toe boot to your heart. But you want it.

You want that life. To live in that small town with winding back roads and train tracks that blare in the night. Barefoot on the stairs, tracing the smooth dark wood of the bannister. Drinking sweet tea on the swinging bench and listening to him talk about his truck.

It’ll roll off his tongue like sap from a tree, “babydoll what’d ya think?”. Thick country accent slurring from his mouth, hands creeping up the valley of your chest, canines peeking through his lip.

To watch him fix his engine with oil stained hands, cap shielding his eyes from the blistering southern sun. August sticking to the back of our throats. Dog days. He’d look sweet as sin, like cold whiskey at the bar.

You’ve always been a dreamer. You’re quite choked with the tenderness you have for him. If you admitted it, it would kill you.

You wonder, faintly, if he’s religious. Would he find God within you? Would you find God in him?

“Oh my sunkissed cowboy, my lover boy, my partner in crime. Let me hold you by your blue jeans, let me curl my fingers round your belt loops and step on your leather boots, let me kiss your honey suckle mouth.”

You see it so clearly. You need him with the utmost certainty.

#will graham x reader #will graham #will I’ll always love youuuuuu #no one can make me hate you will #val.writes ❦

[yikesharringrove]

He didn’t mean to hightail it straight to the nearest bar. He didn’t even know what a dive bar a was doing out in the fucking backwoods of Indiana, anyway.

Billy’d just gotten in a big fuckin’ fight with his old man, shimmied out the window of their new house, and started walking.

And he happened across a bar.

He didn’t have his wallet on him, rookie move, but he figured his black eye and three-day-old moving stubble might help him out a bit here.

The bouncer gave him an odd look, glaring him down as he approached, but let him pass without asking for identification.

There were motorcycles parked in the gravel lot, along with some sensible looking Mom Cars.

It was dim inside, and the floor was kinda sticky, but they were playing Patti Smith on a shitty jukebox, so he decided to stay.

He took a seat at the bar.

The bartender gave him the same funny look the bouncer did. She was one hell of a woman, her leather jacket had a pair of handcuffs sewn onto the front, she had her nose, lips, and eyebrows pierced. Her hair was greying and cropped into a very similar crew cut to Neil’s.

“What’ll it be?”

“Whiskey, please. And maybe a beer, Darling.” He winked.

She laughed.

“Honey, you know where you are, right? This is a fuckin’ dyke bar, and you’re no older than sixteen. You’ll have a pop and you’ll be grateful for it.” She had a slight southern drawl to her voice. Texas. Like his mom.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Okay, quit it with that shit.” She scooped ice into a glass, and poured him a cola from the well. “Why you here? It got somethin’ to do with that shiner?”

He took a long drink of the soda.

He didn’t know if it was her voice, or the fact that for the first time in a long time, he was with his own people.

“Yeah.”

“Someone at home?”

“Yeah.”

“‘Cause you’re a homo?”

“Yeah.”

She smiled at him, although this one wasn’t the sad one he’d been expecting. It was understanding.

“We’ll, Baby. You come here if you ever need a safe place to roost, okay? We all know when one of our own needs saving. You come here, and you ask for Susan, and we’ll get your mind off that bruise.”

He took another long drink of his soda, but this time, to try and swallow down the stupid sob that was trying to force its way out.

“Thank you. I’m, I didn’t realize what kind of bar this is. I didn’t really know that people like us were out here. My dad, he, uh, moved us here. From California. He caught me with a boy.” He averted his gaze from Susan’s face, making patterns in the condensation on the side of his glass. Patti Smith turned over to The Runaways. Some women were dancing by the jukebox now. “He told me we were coming here so I couldn’t do any of that fairy shit.” He furrowed his brow on the last line, puffing up his chest in an imitation of his father.

“Just because people hate us more here, doesn’t mean we don’t exist. Queers live everywhere, whether people like your daddy like it or not. He can’t stop us from living any better than he can stop the sun from rising.”

Susan scooped some ice into a clean bar towel, securing it closed with the yellow crunchy around her wrist. She slid it across the bar to Billy, and he put it on his eye gratefully.

“Don’t lose that scrunchy. That’s my wife’s favorite one, and she won’t speak to me for a month if I give it to some kid.”

“Yeah? Your old lady a hardass?” Billy grinned.

There was something, so fucking good, about talking to Susan. Talking to an actual fucking grown up. Someone with a life, and a partner. A queer, like him, who actually found love. And, by the dreamy grin on her face, had found happiness.

“Hollie would yell herself hoarse is she heard you call her old. She don’t look a day over thirty-five, she’ll tell you. We’ve been together for over twenty years. That’s why she’s my wife. We can’t get married yet, but she’s not my fucking girlfriend. We’re not silly high schoolers goin’ to the prom, and shit. No offense.”

“Nah, I may be a silly high schooler, but I’d rather be dead than go to any prom. Especially with a girl. No offense.”

“Hey, you’re in my bar, and we don’t allow bad talk about women. Unless you ex-girl fucked you over. Then we talk a whole lotta shit.” She refilled Billy’s soda. “But you could always go with a friend.”

“I’ve lived in this town for four days, I don’t have any friends, let alone a beard. Maybe if I did, my dad wouldn’t’ve popped me tonight.”

Susan’s smile faltered a little bit.

“Sweetie, I don’t like to interfere. And I know that most of the time, getting CPS involved makes it worse. But Baby, are you safe? I know he hits you, but do you think he’d-” she trailed off. “I’ve just seen some shit, you know? Boys like you with fathers like yours. Boys that didn’t survive.”

“Everything my dad does, is because he’s scared of how people see him. He’s terrified that people won’t think he’s a great father or a respectable citizen. I don’t think he’d get that low.”

But, in truth, Billy didn’t know.

He’s been getting hits from his dad since he was a kid. And there are times when Billy had thought well, this is it.

But Susan was right. CPS never did anything but piss off his dad.

Susan looked thoughtful.

She grabbed a napkin, and pulled a pen out of her leather jacket.

“I’m giving you the number here. You call if you need anything. We take care of our own, okay?” He nodded in response. “Finish your pop, and get back on home. I’m sure you have a curfew to mind.”

Billy winced, looking up at Susan, feeling like such shit after her kindness.

“I don’t have my wallet.”

“Yeah, you don’t have shoes on either, Dumbass.” She winked at him again. “Holl!” She shouted towards the group of women dancing by the jukebox. “This little birdie needs a ride!”

A short woman came drifting over. Her hair was dark black, and swept clear below her ass. She could’ve sat on it and not noticed.

The scrunchy made sense.

She was short, much shorter than Susan, but she beamed up at her, turning to smile just as warmly at Billy.

“What’s your name, kiddo?”

“Billy.”

It was kind of nice, being called terms of endearment by these two women. He liked that they weren’t trying to pull one over on him. He felt safe.

Susan slid a set of keys to Hollie.

“Take Billy home, please. We don’t need him walking around outside.”

Hollie ushered Billy out of his seat, climbing in the stool herself to lean over the bar. She and Susan kissed over the bar, and that funny hopeful feeling washed over Billy again.

“You’re welcome here whenever you want, Baby. You’re not the first little gay boy we’ve had in here, and you won’t be the last. Don’t be a stranger.”

“Thank you, seriously, I-thank you.”

Susan beamed at him, sliding Hollie’s yellow scrunchy back in her wrist.

#Susan is based of a real person and she’s the most specialist to me #billy hargrove #yikes writes

[rubydracogirl]

WOW SO

I did not expect that drawing of Stanley to get notes. Thank you all so much for that, I keep rolling around in the likes and reblogs like a husky in fresh fallen snow.

Since I wrote a one-shot with Reader kissing Ford, I thought about it, and Stan needs a hug.

Why don't we give him one? ^_^

Stanley PinesXReader

Rated T for depictions of tobacco and adult conversations.

"Just A Hug"

It had been such a long day at work. You couldn’t wait to lock up and leave, though you dreaded walking in the snow. The bitter cold was waiting for you with wide arms, and as you clocked out and zipped up your coat, you regretted taking this shift.

Fuck it, I need the money….

To your surprise, when you stepped out, you noticed someone out in the parking lot. A lone car, with someone leaning against it, smoking. You squinted, recognizing the silhouette. It was that weird science guy from the woods. Stan something. He’d just come in for a pack of cigarettes, a loaf of bread and a carton of eggs an hour before the store closed. But that was over an hour ago…

What was he still doing here?

You weren’t normally nosy, but it was late, and you had some… neighborly concerns. You didn't know him well, he'd always been a bit of a hermit. He had been coming into town more often this past month, so you'd seen him a lot more. You liked him alright, he seemed harmless.

You shivered in your jacket.

Why was he sitting out here in the freezing cold?

Screw it.

“Hey there, buddy, y’doing alright?”

He seemed slightly startled by your voice as you began to walk over and he waved at you sheepishly.

“Fine, fine, just, uh, enjoyin’ the uh, night life.” His gravelly voice called back to you.

“Yeah, real wild hangout this is. You should see it in the summer, we get all sorts around here.” You chuckled. “Can I bum one off ya?”

He looked at you with surprise before reaching back into his pocket.

“Didn’t take ya for a smoker, toots.”

“On occasion. Much appreciated.” You replied, reaching into your own pocket for a lighter.

You lit up before taking a deep drag, ignoring the cold and focusing on the calming rush of nicotine. As you blew out a thin wisp of smoke into the air, you looked at him from the corner of your eye.

“So, you wanna tell me why you’re hanging out so late at night?”

He gave a hoarse chuckle.

“Didn’t think anyone would care. It's not illegal, right?”

“No. Not illegal… but weird.” You replied. The pale smoke drifted into the air, and you leaned against his car with him. 

“C’mon, buddy. You can talk to me.”

He looked at you with narrowed eyes.

“Sweetheart, I don’t even know your name. M'not gonna bare my soul to a stranger, even if you are cute.”

“I wear a name tag, y’know. You probably would’ve seen it if you weren’t so busy looking at my tits all the time.” you replied boldly.

He snorted sheepishly at that. “Sorry. I uh, thought I was being discreet about it.”

“You’re not exactly the type of person I would label 'discreet'.” You chuckled. “You’re also not the first guy to ogle…. It’s (y/n), by the way. You’re Stan, right?”

“Yeah…Stanford Pines.”

You hummed thoughtfully.

“There, we’re acquainted now, for better or worse.”

He chuckled.

“You’re awfully pushy, Miss (y/n). I don't know if I like that.”

“Hey now, I'm not pushy, just worried… no one just hangs out in an empty parking lot during awful weather, not even in this backwoods town.”

He grunted.

“I don’t really want to talk about it, no offense, toots.”

You nodded.

“That’s fair… can you at least promise that you’re not up to mischief here, Mr. Mysterious guy?”

He looked down at you, and you saw the barest hint of a smirk appear on his rugged face.

“Not the kind of mischief that you need to worry about, honey.”

You squinted, trying to read his emotions. It was impossible, though you could clearly see lines of care and some deep worry behind his tired, dark eyes. In that moment, with the cold night pressing in and his presence the only warmth around for miles, you felt your heart clench into a single desire. He didn't want to talk to you, that was fine… but you weren't going to leave him like this.

“Ok, Stan. I won’t bug you anymore… can I ask for a favor though?”

“Depends on the favor, but shoot."

“Can I hug you?”

He actually choked, coughing out smoke and turning from you as he tried to regain control.

You winced in sympathy, but as he turned back to you, his already reddened cheeks were even redder.

“You're serious? A hug?” He repeated incredulously, his voice raw from the coughing. 

You nodded, adding sternly, “Don’t get any bright ideas, wise guy. It’s only a hug.”

“Oh, no, I didn’t- that wasn’t…. Sure. Yeah. I could hug you.”

It was obvious you had caught him off guard, but as you put out your cigarette and opened your arms, you didn't expect how strong he was. He pulled you in against his body effortlessly. The heat from his body stole your breath and suddenly, you didn't feel so cold.

His bulky frame shielded you from the winter air, his arms enveloping you perfectly. Your heart skipped as you felt him sigh.

You squeezed him tightly, resting your head against his shoulder. He smelled like cigarettes, cheap cologne and some strange, musky smell, like burnt metal. It was a strangely comforting scent, and you thought you felt him turn his head towards you. 

"You're so small…" he murmured softly, his breath puffing against your hair.

"Naw, you're just big." You shot back, but didn't lean away or let go. In truth, you didn't want this moment to end...

Inevitably, he let go after a moment, awkwardly patting your back, his cheeks still rosy, though it could have been from the cold. You gave him a smile. 

"Hey, if nothing else works out for you, you can at least know that you're a good hugger, Stan Pines."

"... Thanks." He replied quietly. You suspected he wasn't just thanking you for the compliment.

It was getting close to midnight, and you decided you had been nosy long enough. You patted his shoulder, giving him a soft grin.

"I suppose I'll leave you to it. See ya around, Stanford."

He piped up, looking somewhat embarrassed.

"Wait, (y/n)… look, do you, uh, need a ride?"

You considered it.

"Hmm. You're not gonna kidnap me, right?"

"No! No... Not tonight, no." He chuckled.

You giggled.

"Not tonight huh? Too bad. But, well, sure, I could go for a ride. Thank you."

He grinned back, a spark of sincerity lighting up his dark eyes.

"Don't mention it. Let's get out of this crummy weather."

#Gravity Falls #fanfiction #my writing #stanley pines x reader #Stan Pines #Mullet Stan #he just needs a hug #we give him one #after smoking with him #i initially wrote this with my name so #apologies if I didn't catch all the Rubys #also female pronouns are used #angst and fluff #strangers to lovers vibes

[magicbystarlight]

Chapter One: Visitation

Prologue

Summary: You catch the eyes of three ghastly figures. If only you knew before it was too late.

Warnings: 18+, creepy behavior. Dark series with parts that will include rape/noncon as well as other explicit and violent triggers. Heavy religious themes. All parts will be tagged accordingly. Minors DNI.

Word Count: 981

“What came first, preacher? The sinner or their sin?”

“How long do you think you’ll be out there?”

Erica’s voice came out through hissed static in the receiver. You hoped the horrible reception was connected to the rain and constant overcast sky but, given the state of the rest of the town, you doubted there would be much improvement on a clear day. 

“I’ve got about two months of vacation saved up, but I don’t think I could be in this place longer than a couple weeks.”

“Oh, it can’t be that bad.”

“The deadbolt doesn't even work. It's stuck or something. So I'm screwed if some killer rolls through town. And the roads here aren't even roads, it’s all dirt and gravel. What's worse is that the closest Starbucks is forty minutes out of town.” 

“Oh yeah,” she laughed, “a place without a Starbucks is a far bigger crime than you not having a lock on your door. Heaven forbid you have to get a coffee anywhere else or, you know, make it yourself.”

You snorted, leaning against the old fridge. “I prefer to overpay for my bean water, thanks.” 

“Yeah, well, then you better get started on the house, huh? Unless you want to spend an arm and leg on gas for that piece of junk.”

“It’s not that bad —”

You cut off as you looked out the window to the beat up thing, surprised to find it wasn’t the last car on the gravel driveway. A decades old police car—older than even Grandpa's truck—with a singular red light stuck to the top sat behind it. A man wearing an equally outdated hat and a shirt tucked under his overhanging stomach was making his way up the gravel driveway towards the house. Was the town really that strapped for cash? As if he could feel your stare, his attention turned to the window. A smile pulled onto his face as he waved.

Erica’s annoyed “Hello?” brought you back to the phone you were clutching. Averting your eyes, you shifted out of the sight of the window.

“Sorry, I think I’m gonna have to call you back. Some cop showed up.”

Her annoyance vanished as she asked, “Do you want me to stay on the phone?”

“No…no,” you said, despite the tightness crawling up your throat. Memories of one too many bad interactions with a cop stirring in your mind. “He seems…friendly.”

“I'm sure he’s a very friendly backwoods cop,” she said with a disbelieving snort. “Call me back when he’s gone, alright?”

“Yeah, I will,” you agreed, hearing the wooden steps creak outside. Ending the call after a quick goodbye, you waited until you heard two knocks echoing against the front door.

The cop was handsome. Older and overweight, sure, but undeniably handsome. His eyes must have been the cause of the overcast sky, the cerulean stolen by irises far too enchanting to belong to some small town cop. “Sorry to bother you, ma’am,” he said, tipping his hat. “The Reverend mentioned you got into town yesterday and I wanted to come by and pay my condolences.”

Reverend John hadn't mentioned anything about that to you. “Oh, thank you, um?”

“Sheriff Bodecker.” He held out his hand, one you were surprised to find freezing cold. “But a pretty thing like you can call me Lee.”

"Right, thank you, Lee."

"Your grandfather was a good man. Never caused no trouble, kept to himself." His playful smirk felt at odds with a man paying his respects for the departed. "Real shame he was all alone when it happened." 

You pulled your hand back from his, his handshake far too long and words far too harsh for his honeyed voice. "We'd been trying to get him to go to a nursing home closer to us," you rush out defensively. You had been trying to convince him. No one else in the family seemed to care that Grandpa had been getting to the age where he had trouble taking care of himself. By the state of the house, it had gotten worse since Dad had been around the year before. Or, more likely, Dad hadn't wanted to spend the money to get him the help he needed and downplayed how bad it was.

"Those old folks' homes are so impersonal. Like living at the hospital.” He adjusted his belt, eyeing you up in a way that made you pull your cardigan closed. “Though if the nurses were as pretty as you, suppose it wouldn’t be so bad.”

“Right…” The interaction had taken a nosedive. Why were men such men? “Well, thanks for, um, stopping by. Appreciate it. But I’ve really gotta start getting this place sorted. There's a lot of stuff to do to go through."

He licked his lips. “You know if you need another pair of hands, I'm more than happy to help. A girl like you shouldn't have to do any heavy lifting.”

The cold fast food that had served as a poor replacement of breakfast bubbled unhappily in your stomach. Handsome as he may be, something felt off. Not quite right. “I'll keep that in mind,” you lied, grabbing the edge of the door, “but I’m just going through things for now.”

“Well, if you need anything at all, you can always give the Reverend a call. He'll get back to me faster than any dispatch I've seen..”

“Of course." The door already half-way shut before you called out, "Have a good day, sheriff.”

“You too ma’am,” he said, stepping back and tipping his hat again. "I look forward to seeing you again."

You stood at the door unmoving as you listened to his slow, retreating footsteps that crunched through the gravel. You waited for some sound of a creaking metal door. To hear an old engine roar to life. Tires against the rocks. Minutes passed and nothing. 

But when you peaked through the window, he was gone.

Dark!All Taglist: @bamboozledflamplant @my-current-fandom-is @squishytomatoes @theresa-b

#arvin russel x reader #lee bodecker x reader #preston teagardin x reader #robert pattinson x reader #sebastian stan x reader #tom holland x reader #the devil all the time fanfiction

[sassy-ahsoka-tano]

I love that skinny dipping prompt. Could you make it with 70s Elvis, maybe a hint of smut at the end. Thanks!!!!

Just Like Old Times

70s!elvis x reader | 🌺 - skinny dipping

tw: sad reader but that's it! || word count: 2.0k || rating: Pg-13

A/N: i'm baaaack!! it's been so super long since i updated but hi!! i hope all of y'all are thriving and are healthy and happy! i'm starting out slow with some blurbs (thank y'all for the requests fr!) but hopefully i will soon be able to step back into doing full-length fics as well!

~❉•────᯽────•❉~

You clutch the pillow harder and wipe a stray tear from your cheek. The moment your fingertips swipe it away, another takes its place. You ignore the sound of the creaky door opening, his footsteps on the carpet, the way the bed dips down when he sits on the edge. You squeeze your eyes shut in denial when you feel your husband’s palm stretching across your back.

“I’m sorry, baby,” his deep voice comes out raspy and strained.

You can tell that he’s been crying, too. For a moment, you feel accomplished knowing that you’ve hurt him. He should be upset; the whole argument was his fault to begin with. If he would just spend a little more time at home, if he would just settle down…

What are you saying? He’s Elvis Presley. There’s no such thing as settled down for him.

“You okay, honey? I don’t like this not talkin none,” he continues. “I can’t promise I can fix it, but what I can do is promise to listen. For real this time.”

“What good will listening do, Elvis?” You muster the energy to sit up, sniffing as you straighten.  “I’m sick of this. I can’t do it anymore. I shouldn’t have to.”

“I know baby, I know,” he replies, taking ahold of your hands. “Believe me.”

You drop your gaze down the bed, feeling your chest tighten.

“Let’s go for a walk like we used to when you first move in here. Can we do that, darlin? Please?”

Your spirit brightens at the mention of your early days together, the honeymoon phase, when you had just moved into Graceland. A smile tugs at the corner of your mouth and you remember fonder times just after your marriage. You newlyweds had taken so many walks in the backwoods of the property. You talked to Lisa Marie in your stomach as you walked, telling her about the trees and the flowers and the fireflies.

When you raise your eyes to your husband’s, you hard exterior softens immediately. His eyebrows are turned upward, his eyes glistening with tears. He has always been able to break you down so easily. You sigh and nod.

You pull on a pair of sneakers and grab a jacket, just in case. Summer is turning to fall and the Tennessee weather is unpredictable. Elvis holds out his hand but you can’t bring yourself to take it just yet. You gently push it away and descend the stairs before stepping out into the familiar night.

For the first few steps, Elvis trails behind you. You guess he’s gauging how much trouble he’s really in and trying to decide how close he can get without upsetting you. You walk with your arms crossed over your chest, the jacket hanging loosely on your shoulders. You keep your eyes trained on the ground beneath you, watching each step carefully. He must have taken your silence as a good sign, because he circles around to your side and falls in step with you. You walk in silence for a while, nothing but the sound of your feet crunching through the grass and leaves to fill the crisp night air.

“I’m just frustrated is all,” you say quietly. “I married you because I want to do everything with you, share everything with you, be with you all the time. Now…I hardly see you and, when I do, I’m not even sure you’re really there.”

You are met with silence. Again, the air is filled with the sounds of your feet trekking through the backyard. After what feels like a long while, you lift your head to the side. Elvis’ fingers are busy rubbing repetitive circles on his temple.

“I know, darlin, I know. This has been botherin you for a long time now. I jus…see, I know how to fix it but I just gotta make myself do it. I know I gotta make more time for ya. For you and Lisa. I know that but I…I jus can’t. That’s the problem.”

Your feet scuff to a stop and you turn toward your husband, exasperated.

“Why can’t you? What are you so afraid of, Elvis?”

He throws his hands up, his head rolling to the side so that he doesn’t have to face you directly.

“If I take time off, I feel like I…like no one’ll…Nah, nevermind, it’s stupid.”

“Elvis,” you step closer to him. Your palm slides onto his face, forcing his eyes down to yours. “Nothing you could ever say will sound stupid to me. Please tell me what’s wrong.”

His jaw clenches and you can tell he’s clearly thinking. He sighs and nods resolutely.

“If I take a break, I’m worried that nobody’s gonna remember me when I come back.”

Your frustrated expression softens once again and you step closer to him, brushing your thumb across his cheekbone.

“Oh Elvis…baby, they’re not gonna forget you. No one could forget you. Hell, those fans know you better than I do right now. I feel like I hardly know you anymore. They got their time with Elvis Presley. Now it’s my turn.”

He hesitates, shaking his head. His face contorts into a concerned expression, so you grip harder onto his face.

“It doesn’t have to be forever, Elvis. Just for a while. I want my husband back, even if it’s just for a bit. A vacation. I think we should take one. We could take Lisa to Disney World or go on a cruise to the Bahamas or…whatever you want.”

Elvis closes his eyes, dropping his head down. His forehead crashes onto your chest. Your fingers tangle into his hair, gingerly brushing through the locks. You remain like that for a few moments before Elvis lifts his head. He presses a chaste kiss to the bottom of your throat and then pulls away. He sniffs and offers a small smile before holding out both of his hands. His body circles around you.

“C’mere,” he says.

“Where are we going?” you ask, even though you’re already reaching out to meet him.

“You’ll see.”

He starts to pull you along, on a path you don’t immediately recognize. You squint into the darkness but, without the generous light from the streetlamps, all you have to work off of is the beam of white light from the full moon above you. Despite the darkness surrounding you, you can still see the way your husband’s eyes sparkle. You haven’t seen that in a long time.

You stumble behind him into a small clearing. Your breath catches in your throat as you start to comprehend where you are. You giggle and bite your lip as memories flood through your mind.

“Remember this place?” he asks, stepping behind you.

“Yes, of course I do,” you reply.

You grin sheepishly as you gaze out across the small stretch of freshwater pond in front of you. The reflection of the glinting stars and the moon shimmers in the water as a gentle incoming autumn breeze blows through the air. Your arms raise automatically when you feel Elvis’ hands wind around your waist. He pulls you backward into his body and tucks his head in the crook of your neck.

“Remember what we did here?” Elvis continues in a hot breath across your skin.

Goosebumps rise on your neck and arms. You tuck your head to stop the sensation from spreading.

“Yes,” you reply through a cheeky smile, “I remember.”

His fingers start to trail down the exposed skin of your neck, intensifying the goosebumps already there. His soft touch sends shocks down your spine. He hasn’t taken the time to touch you so carefully in a very long time. He deftly lifts the jacket from your shoulders and then pulls the straps of your nightshirt down your shoulders. As the fabric falls limp on your arms, exposing your shoulders to the night air, you shiver.

“Elvis, it’s cold out here,” you mumble.

That doesn’t stop him. He moves to the hem of the shirt, his fingers dancing underneath it. He lifts it smoothly over your head. Although your entire body is shuddering, you gladly allow him to undress you. The growing fire inside your gut is countering the frigid temperature around you. Elvis’ warm lips press to the side of your neck. Your head falls to the side as the touch of his tongue warms you. Your hands respond by reaching backward to tangle in Elvis’ hair, pulling softly. He grunts in response and you close your eyes to take in all of the sensations coursing through you. While he works your neck, Elvis’ fingers are busy sliding off your pajama bottoms. Your clothes pool around your legs in a lifeless pile.

Suddenly, he’s gone. Your eyes flash open and flick back and forth as you search for your husband. It’s so dark without the street lamps that you can barely see. You squint into the dark, but, when you finally locate him, he’s rushing past you to cannonball into the water. You laugh as the wave he created splashes onto the side of the pond's bank. Elvis resurfaces with a loud yelp.

“Woo! Damn, that’s cold!” he shouts and you giggle again. “Come on, darlin! Whatcha waitin for?”

You glance down at the water and your smile fades. You turn away from the water, shaking your head.

“Elvis…”

“Nah, don’t you Elvis me. C’mon. Need somebody to warm me up, mama.”

That is an invitation you just can’t refuse. You carefully walk forward, one foot at a time, to brave the cold waters. When you dip a toe in, you gasp. It truly is frigid. You aren’t sure how Elvis is handling it all by himself.

You turn away again, tempted to go back inside and warm up. You aren’t really in the mood for this, especially after the fight you just had. But when your eyes flick back to your husband, waiting so patiently and expectantly for you, you find your body moving forward into the water.

You jump in, crashing below the surface. An electric shock swims through you when you hit the water. The memories come flooding back in the darkness. You automatically start to move your arms and legs, resurfacing as soon as possible.

“Holy shit!” you yell as soon as you pop back up. “That is so cold, oh my god.”

“I know, baby. C’mere,” Elvis says, chuckling.

His arms reach out for you again, pulling your body closer to his. You wrap your legs around his waist to hold yourself against him. You drop your arms to his shoulders and wind them around his neck to support your body. Elvis’ hands fall to your waist and hold you steady.

“There we are,” he mutters. “Now you better get real close, mama, cause I’m freezin.”

You chuckle, pulling yourself closer to him. Although your bodies are shivering together, you feel a warmth that you haven’t experienced in quite a while. Elvis brushes some wet hair from your forehead. You lean down, letting your lips tickle against his for a previous moment. You hover in the shared space and Elvis’ fingers tighten on your waist. One of his hands slides up your spine, pressing your chest against him. Your back arches in response and you release a desperate breath.

You feel the corner of his mouth quirk up in a smirk. He finally connects your lips, pressing hard against you. You melt into his touch, kissing him back fiercely. Your mouths work together, fighting for dominance. Elvis’ tongue swipes across your bottom lip and you open your mouth to let him in. You love the way his mouth tastes on yours. Your hips move forward against him and that tempting feeling in the pit of your stomach pulses through you. His fingertips glide across your skin, smoothly under the water. As his palm slides down the inside of your thigh, a breeze floats through the air. You both shudder violently, your lips detaching.

You gasp and squeeze your eyes shut, burying your head in his chest.

“I guess it was warmer last time,” he admits sheepishly.

You giggle, biting your lip. You tilt your head, brushing your lips against Elvis’ ear before you whisper.

“Take me inside, Presley.”

~❉•────᯽────•❉~

🦋 mila

#elvis #austin butler #elvis 2022 #milasthings #milaselvisblurbs #milaselviscontent

[a-strange-inkling]

Day 16: Tradition

Chicago, Illinois 1986

“No,” Eddie shakes his head wildly, curls whipping back and forth. “Nope! Absolutely not!”

“Just a little?” Chrissy asks, sliding over to sit on his knee, her bottom lip swelling as she wraps her arms around his neck.

Very, very, cute. But, still no.

“Come on boy, it’s a family tradition,” Wayne objects, already a little slurred, reaching for the mason jar to fill a glass for her. “One shot after dinner, just let her try some.”

“Noooo!” Eddie replies, snagging it from him. It’s always concerning when he’s the voice of reason in the room. “I find myself a nice girl and you’re trying to fucking poison her, old man.”

“Excuse me, boy, you watch that mouth.” he scolds. “It’s Christmas!”

Eddie rolls his eyes. Of course he’s still sober enough to reprimand him.

“Aren’t I family?” she asks in a tiny voice, really overselling it with the big sad eyes and fluttery eyelashes. God help him.

He gives her waist a little squeeze to placate her. “Of course you’re family, sweetheart,” he consoles. “But you’re also a hundred and eight pounds and the strongest drink you’ve ever had is ginger ale.”

Her pout becomes less sad and more petulant. “I’ve had a vodka cranberry before.”

“A half of a vodka cranberry and that almost did you in.” he chuckles, taking her chin in his hand. “Don’t make that face, you know I can never deny you anything, so believe me when I say that this is too rough, baby.”

“But, I just want to try the tiniest bit.” she whispers, pressing her forehead against his, pinching her finger and thumb as close as possible without touching to demonstrate just how tiny she means.

He pulls back and looks her dead in the eye. “No.”

“Eddie!” she whines. “C’mon!”

“If she’s going to be a Munson, she needs to try it at least once. It’s a rite of passage.” Wayne insists. “Our girl is tough as nails; she can handle it!”

“See!” she cries, shaking his shoulder. “Wayne says it’s fine!”

“That’s because Wayne is toasted after two shots! Wayne!” Eddie tells her pointedly, holding up the jar for her to see, the clear liquid sloshing around inside. “Honey, this isn’t your regular everyday hard liquor, okay? It’s handmade, southern, backwoods acid.” he explains. “It’s pure moonshine. It burns holes inside your guts. You know all the shit I’ve done and tried, and I swear to God, this this is the nastiest stuff I have ever put in my body.”

She stares at it for a few seconds, then looks back at up at him. “Just a little drop?”

“Oh my God,” he sighs, head falling back in exasperation.

“Good lord, you know you’re going to cave eventually, just let her have some.” Wayne grumbles.

“Please.” she draws out at that sweet high octave that makes him absolutely crazy.

Eddie groans under his breath before snapping his head back up. “You know what, hot shot? Fine, you can take a sip off the top of mine, but just a sip, you hear me?”

She nods eagerly as he pours his shot glass.

If Eddie was a smarter man, he’d have taken his shot first and left her a little leftover to sip. But he did repeat the twelfth grade three times and this concept doesn’t come to him until after he hands her the full glass and she chucks it all back in one go.

“Woaw! Hey! Holy shit!”

@hellcheerxmas

#tbc lol #hellcheer countdown #hellcheer #hellcheer xmas #hellcheercountdown #hellcheer advant calendar #eddie x chrissy #eddissy #munningham #chrissy x eddie #hellcheer fanfiction #hellcheer fanfic #old haunts

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Farmer's Daughter 8

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Walter Marshall

Summary: You notice a peculiar change in a family friend. (short!reader, sorry size kink is out)

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You finally manage to quell your sobs. A slight trickle stains your cheeks and falls onto Walter’s shirt. You sniffle and reach to wipe your nose with the back of your hand. As you do, your fingers brush against his chest. 

You hear his heartbeat, steady as you’re anything but. He’s warm and soft and sturdy. You feel a sudden rush of guilt for spilling all this out on him. You slowly sit up, pulling away as Walter gently, almost reluctantly, slackens his embrace. 

“I’m sorry, I–” you raise your head but find your words smothered.

You don’t realise what’s going on at first. Walter’s hand cradles your face as his lips press to yours, tilting your chin up as his thumb slides under it. You hum in surprise, eyes round as the scent of his sweat invades your nose.

You put your hand flat to his chest and push. You bring your other up and shove until he lets you go. His arm falls away and you turn, shifting and sliding off the step. You stand, dizzy and confused, clutching your splitting head.

“I… I’m sorry,” he stammers as he rises too.

You run past him up the steps, legs wobbling, skull pulsing from the hangover of your grief. You push the door inwards and clamour inside. You don’t stop. You barrel upstairs and down to your door, swinging inside with a careless snap of wood on wood.

You lean on the door and slowly slide down, knees bent to your chest as you hang your head forward and shield it with your arms. You hear shuffling and a set of hinges groan. Footsteps pad quietly outside your door.

“Honey, are you okay?” Your mom calls through.

“Yes,” you force out evenly, the effort further thumping in your temples.

“Oh, uh, I’ll be downstairs,” she says, her voice silty with sleep, “you in the mood for coffee?”

“No thank you,” you eke out.

You wait until she’s gone before you can breathe again. It can’t be real. That can’t have happened. You really didn’t believe it when your mother said it. Walter? Why would he ever think of you like that? And now? Of all times?

Your father is sick, your mother is in shambles, and life is already so complicated. It isn’t that he’s a bad guy, he’s nice and helpful and all of that. It’s just that you’re already scared and lost. It would only make things so much more complicated.

🌾

You stay in your room for the rest of the night. When your mother comes to check on you, you tell her you have cramps. Your period isn’t due anytime soon but PMS can be a bitch. Just as much as life can.

She leaves a plate on your nightstand regardless and you thank her. You’re not very hungry and only pick at it before giving up on the meal. You wallow in your restless discomfort. Your head pounds until you’re nearly delirious.

You fall into a sleep less than refreshing. Your headache follows you into the void and its shadow greets you with the daylight. You wake and roll over, unready for the day but knowing you must face it. You wash and dress and head down to pretend everything is okay. Again.

You start on breakfast as your mom has yet to appear. You don’t mind, it keeps you busy. You count out the eggs and strips of bacon, a few sausages too. You stack a plate with bread ready to toast and yawn over the percolator as you put it on to boil.

You hear tires and an engine. You go rigid, frozen as you stand at the counter. What do you do? Go get your mother? Help her with dad? Or Timothy? He can keep Walter distracted.

Too late. There’s footsteps on the porch then a tap on the frame of the screen door. You panic and clear your throat. Nothing happened. Nothing’s changed.

“Come on in,” you call and pull out a skillet to heat up.

The front door opens and your ears tweak as you listen to his movement. Deliberate and drawn out, as if he’s also avoiding you. You keep your back to the door as you work at the stove, adding a touch of oil to the pan.

He enters, his shadow flickering over the wall, and you sense him. Is he watching you? You refuse to look back and check in fear of being caught. You grab the sausage and the bacon and lay them out on an oven sheet.

“Good morning,” Walter says.

“Good morning,” you return in a small squeak.

He’s silent. Neither of you know what to say. Each time you try to think of something, the friction of your lips remind you of the feel of his. You hadn’t been thinking in the moment but you remember how soft but determined he was.

Why would he do that? After you were just bawling on his shoulder? Seeing you like that, a mess, vulnerable, half-broken? Your stomach knots as you keep your hands moving and eyes averted.

“How are you?” He asks in a strained timbre.

“Fine,” you answer sharply, taking a breath to ease your tone, “you?”

“Tired,” he says, “you need any help?”

He steps forward and you shy away. You stop yourself from going any further and shake your head, “I got it.”

“Right, I…” he begins.

“Alright, Patty,” your mom’s voice wafts from upstairs, “that’s it. You’re doing so well.”

“Oh, I gotta–”

You turn with the spatula and nearly run into Walter as he also moves towards the door. You stop as you face each other, wavering as you stare. His jaw squares and his cheek twitches, his eyes sparkling.

“You’re cooking. I’ll help.”

“Really, you do too much–”

“I know,” he agrees staunchly and turns away, “too damn much.”

He strides out and you stand there. What does he mean? Too much of what? Well, you can’t ask from him. He has helped more than he should, but is that what he means? Or does he mean… that? 

He wouldn’t just walk away because of that, would he?

#walter marshall #dark walter marshall #dark!walter marshall #walter marshal x reader #drabble #au #backwoods au #series #the farmer's daughter #night hunter

[kazosa]

Wildwood Sequel: Interlude

Summary: Jensen and the reader are in a soft, blissful part of their relationship before reality fully kicks in. They go back to Y|N’s house, with the touches she added with Jensen in mind, to slowly ease back into the swing of their lives. They have a lot to do before they go to Texas, like breaking the news to Y|N’s mother and brother. Jensen still has some secrets to reveal.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x female reader

Word count: 18429

Warnings: really covers the gammut... swearing, drinking, yelling, jealousy...

a/n: this is pure fiction in regards to the real life celebrities. They are merely a face-grab for characters of my creation.

Tags: @coffee-obsessed-writer   @leigh70  @sandlee44  @coldhearted93  @djs8891  @magssteenkamp  @babykalika2001  @ladysparkles78​  @supernatural3002

The dog days of summer were ending and it felt more like fall the morning when they left Wildwood. He’d taken care of the cabin the night before and even cleaned out the fireplace. It meant there would be no heat running in the cabin, but he and Y|N had found ways to stay warm. Going back to reality would be an adjustment to both of their lives and he was confident they would figure it out together.

Before Y|N got to the cabin, he’d been so out of sorts. He couldn’t make any sense about what to do about his situation. Then, as time passed, he was beginning to wonder if she would find him. When he finally realized it was her walking down his road, the relief set in. The giant, swirling abyss dissipated. She, somehow, always would show up when he needed her most. Sure, he’d given her a clue, but she showed up. She still cared.

He looked over at the passenger seat where she sat in his truck. She’d only gotten more beautiful as time had passed. He couldn’t stop sneaking glances at her and she’d caught him more than once. Y|N would smile a little, tuck her hair behind her ear and look down. When he would catch her watching him, he knew she still had some kind of feelings for him, too. Even if it was pure lust, or just pent-up years of desire, he would take it because he had been holding them in, too. He really couldn’t get enough of her.

They were basically driving into the sun, but it didn’t bother her too much. She had her head down, writing in the notebook she’d forced him to stop to buy. It was bright enough that she still wore sunglasses as she wrote and the sun gave her hair a halo. His angel. Once in a while, she would whisper two sides of a conversation, or other bits of dialog before putting the pen back to the paper to continue the flurry of writing. She went on like that for a couple hours before she lost some speed.

She turned yet another page in the notebook and wrote something at the top of the page before she finally gave him her attention again.

“Okay, we need to talk about some stuff. I need your opinion on things,” she said.

“God, finally,” he said. “You’ve been so quiet, except for whispering dialog, I thought you forgot me.”

“Oh honey, I could never forget about your fine self. Look at you, you sexy sonofabitch,” she said. She smirked when she saw how pink his ears got. “I was writing so I could get the scene out of my head so I could get to you.”

“Get to me?”

“I’m starting a new book in a series I do and I want your input,” she explained.

“I thought you were never going to use me as your smut muse?” he said. “I think we have a pretty good story going.”

“Oh my sweet boy,” she said, “you really are adorable. Let me ask you this, have you read any good books lately?”

“Not lately, but yeah. It’s this guy, a lawman, who fell from grace, gets a job as sheriff in some backwoods area during prohibition, tries to take down bootleggers and other bad guys…”

“... encounters some weird shit in the woods and has an eye for the lady that runs the diner?” she finished for him.

“Yeah, you know the books?” he asked. When she didn’t answer, it hit him. “Are you telling me you’re Ross Black?”

You laughed, “Yeah. Honestly, I thought you knew. I did kind of make it obvious.” You waited as he thought it over. “It’s basically you and all of the cool western lawmen and broken lead characters. Dean, Clint, you, Longmire. Rolled ‘em all up to make Hobart Gibson. Hell, I even gave him your physical description.”

“Hold on,” he raised his index finger at you as he drove. “I need to process this.”

You patiently waited for him to think it all through.

“So, you’re Nova Scott, who, from what I can tell since I’m not allowed to read the books, is on par with Nicholas Sparks and Danielle Steel, and have published however many of those…”

“...about a dozen,” you answered.

“A handful have been made into major motion pictures. Not only am I not in any of those movies, I’m also not the muse. And yet, every single one had some big name in it and made a shitload of money.”

“Are you telling me you want to do a romance movie?”

“No. …I don’t know… maybe?”

“Well, what do you think of Whiskey Hollow and Bart Gibson?” you asked. You’d spent a lot of time and energy getting the character just right.

Jensen looked at you a moment, “He’s a total badass. I love how salty he is, but is soft for Lill.” He paused, “You ever gonna get them together?”

“Do you think they should?” you already had it in the plans but you wanted to hear his opinion.

“She’s obviously in love with Bart.”

“It’s obvious?”

“Every time Bart goes to the diner, Lill personally makes his favorite sandwich and gives him a cookie. If she didn’t love him…”

“... no cookie?” you grinned.

“No cookie,” he tipped his head, his eyes still on the road. “Sugar was precious in the depression. You don’t just slip random people a cookie.”

“Unless she’s in love?”

“Unless she’s in love.”

“Is that why you give me ring-pops, ‘cause you’re in love with me?”

He looked directly at you before switching back to the road and back to you again, “Are you fucking with me right now?”

“Depends on your answer.”

“Have I given you more than one?”

“Jay, you don’t forget much. I know you remember.” There have been many over the years.

He sighed. “I knew it was a trap,” he muttered. “You already know I love you.”

You nodded, “I know that.”

“Is Bart going to make a move on Lill? Are you getting any movie options offers coming in?” he asked.

“Lillian isn’t going to make the first move, I can tell you that much. If he has any kind of warm fuzzies for her, he has to tell her. Cookies and ring-pops won’t cut it. They’re gestures, she wants to hear him say it.”

“He’s not going to say it just because she wants to hear it. If he’s going to tell her he’s in love with her, he’ll do it when he’s ready.”

“Nearly three decades isn’t enough time to work up the nerve?”

“I knew we weren’t talking about Bart and Lill anymore…” he let out a sound of annoyance.

“Who do you think Hobart and Lillian are, Jay?”

“We were only able to get together a few weeks ago. I hadn’t seen you in person in over three years. If we, you and I, are going to be together, I want to do things the right way and that means taking things one step at a time, getting familiar with each other again.”

“Don’t I get a say in this? Relationships are give and take and I feel like I’m doing all the giving. I left my job to come find you. I know I don’t need the job, but that isn’t the point. That’s a burnt bridge.”

“Just like you can’t demand I tell you I’m in love with you. If I want to say it, I will when I’m ready. Individually, you and I have been through too much shit to not try to give us the best shot possible and that’s exactly what I want to do. Are you going to do the same or are you going to keep fucking pushing?”

“Knowitall,” you grumbled.

“That’s rich coming from you.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“It means you’re the same way. You’re one of the smartest people I know, but you also know you’re smart and don’t leave room for other people’s opinions.”

“Even if they’re wrong?”

“See?” he raised his index finger and wagged it in your direction. “That right there. That’s why it’s an opinion. Just because it’s different from yours, doesn’t mean it’s wrong.”

“Oh really? You sure were vocal when you thought I was wrong about things,” you countered.

“When?! Examples.”

“Every single guy I dated was either an asshole or a douchebag, as you were all too happy to point out.”

“But they were douchebags and assholes. Knew from the start Grant was a manchild freeloader.”

“That may be true, but in that case, your opinion was irrelevant because he was my choice. And not all of them were bad guys, they just weren’t a good match for me.”

“And that’s what makes them douchebags.”

“You married the one I told you was a stuck-up, snobby-assed bitch. What’s really got a bug up your ass, Jay? Seems like we both made dumb choices in the name of love.”

He went silent. You weren’t entirely sure if you’d really made him mad or not. He had both hands on the wheel and slightly tipped back, the expression on his face was changing from annoyed to resolve over and over again.

“Jesus, I can see you thinking in there. You're gonna say what’s on your mind or do you need to pull over and walk it off?” your tone was still snotty.

He clenched his jaw and you decided, maybe too late, to shut up and cool off, yourself, while you rode in silence. He needed to do the same, you supposed. You forgot that he liked to take time to think things through. You should have known not to push him so hard. He needed the time to consider all options and you were more in the moment and needing immediate action.

“Hey,” you wanted to apologize, but the truck began to slow down. He might have needed to walk it off after all. “What are you doing?”

He didn’t say anything, he only pulled over and stopped the truck, putting it in park. He got out and you watched as he walked around the front and came to your door.

He flung open your door, “I take it back.”

Confused, you asked, “Take what back?”

“When I said we shouldn’t try to be together because of our careers. When I said it wasn’t “our time” I was full of shit then and I knew it. I wanted you. I always wanted you. I knew that Christmas at my parents’ house that I didn’t want to let you go. When you told my mom we were just friends? I didn’t like it. All of those boyfriends you had were douchebags because they weren’t me. No one would ever love you, or treat you as well as me.”

He stepped on the running board, leaned in and unbuckled your seatbelt, then turned your knees toward him as he stepped down.

“I should never have let you get on that airplane. I knew I was in love with you then, just like I’m in love with you still.”

He took off his sunglasses and looked up at you in the truck.

Your hands went to his face and neck, touching him wherever you could reach.

“Promise me one thing?” he asked.

“Anything,” you whispered.

“Never be away more than a couple days,” he said.

You nodded.

“Honey, I need you to say it.”

You slid to the edge of the seat and out of the truck. Jensen kept his hands on you, helping you down to the ground, his arms around your waist.

“My sweet boy, I promise, never to be away more than a couple days,” you managed to say while looking into his beautiful green eyes.

The intensity that Jensen exuded could often be overwhelming or scary depending on the situation. He wasn’t one to throw away words. He said what he meant. He was in love with you. 

His forehead rested on yours as you stroked his head and neck. “I could never give my whole heart to someone because you had it, Jensen, my whole heart, since the day we met. I was so scared I would never see you again. I cried when we left the hotel, just like I did when I got on the airplane. I shouldn’t have left.”

If he hadn’t been holding you so tightly to his body, you might have started crying. As it was, you felt like you could barely breathe. Putting words to feelings you’d held down so firmly and for so long seemed to have robbed you of oxygen. It was amazing to finally be able to say it out loud and to the man you’d loved since he was a boy.

He tipped his head down and to the side, his lips meeting yours with subdued passion. The occasional car driving by reminded you both you were still in public. Jensen had been extremely private in his relationship with Danneel. Making out with him on the side of the road felt somewhat out of character. It wasn’t until the last car that went by and honked their horn that he decided to come up for air.

“We’ll finish this later,” he said.

“Jay,” you stopped him. He came back to you, his hand cupping your face. “I’m sorry for pushing too hard. I didn’t mean to upset you, that was the last thing I wanted. I just get hyper aware of what I want and get too focused on it.”

“Mhm,” he grumbled, “you’re forgiven.” He gave you a quick peck.

“Hey Jay, remember when we did the photobooth?” He nodded, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “I was really glad to have you as a friend, but that’s also when you were more than a friend. No one has ever been good enough since then, because, whether I knew it or not, I was in love with you, too.”

“Now you’re just sucking up so you can see my half of the photo strip.”

“Please, can I see it? I didn’t even know you still had it,” you said. “I didn’t take you for that kind of sentimentality.”

He went to the back of the truck and hopped in with his usual athletic grace that still irritated the crap out of you. He barely put any effort into staying fit. Minimal cardio, minimal weight training, and he was good at everything. He went to the box you hadn’t even noticed he’d put on the truck. It was inside a bungee’d bin and he pulled out the box you’d seen at the cabin with “Nova” written on it. Sliding the box to the end, you were there to open the tailgate and join him when he sat down.

He opened the box for you to see all of the contents loose inside. Most of the letters that he kept were in their envelopes and only a few loose cards and pages. He’d kept a few things you’d given him, including a bottle of sand from the lake trip when you were kids, to the trinket you won at the arcade in Dallas. Something caught your eye at the bottom of the box, though.

“Are you kidding me right now?” you couldn’t believe your eyes. You immediately recognize the white and black material and black nylon straps.

“I guess it wasn’t so bad after all,” he shrugged.

“Now I know why you wouldn’t let me dig in the box at the cabin,” you said. “But why now? And how did you even sneak this out of my apartment? How did you find it?”

“When I was looking for stuff that belonged to fuckface to throw out. I had a moment of weakness. Look inside,” he said.

After you unzipped the main pouch, you looked inside to find a piece of folded paper. Opening it, you saw what might have been the first letter you ever wrote Jensen. You remembered the aquatic stationery that you’d been so happy to find. In the folds of the paper was the bottom half of the photo strip. The edges were worn and some of the edges of the pictures were damaged, but the important parts were still there.”

“I think you were laughing at some dumb face I was making. And that bottom one, that’s my favorite,” he said, shyly. “You still look at me like that, you know.”

It was the picture of your forehead on his that got you, the bottom picture. Your face had a happy smile, your hand on his chest next to his neck and your other arm around his shoulders. The look on his face and the body language of you both spoke volumes. You put the picture down and looked up at him, speechless.

“I thought about it… kissing you… really wished you had tried. I was too shy and scared of your dad to make a move,” he admitted.

You wiped your eyes, “Honestly, I wish I had too, but I was too scared and I didn’t know what the hell I was doing to even attempt it.”

“Me either,” he admitted, “but I was willing to find out, if you were.”

You couldn’t stop looking at the pictures. The top half was in your house and you’d seen them many times, but the bottom half was so different. There was an undeniable shift in the bottom. The top was just two kids having a good time. The bottom was two kids having a very intimate moment.

Jensen started putting things back in the box and gently took the photo strip from you. “Alright, let’s just pretend you didn’t see those.”

“Nope, too late. I already know the truth.”

“What’s that?”

You watched him put the box back in the bin and secure the bungee cords.

“Despite years of blatant denial, you are, in fact, a hopeless romantic, Jensen Ackles.”

He hopped down from the truck bed and stood directly in front of you, pushing your knees apart to stand closer. You locked your legs around him as your fingertips went under his shirt to caress his warm belly. His skin shuddered at your touch, his breath catching.

“Sweetheart… you tryin’a jump my bones on the side of the road?” he asked, not hating it.

“Maybe.”

“How long to your house?”

You eased up on him, but it was hard to not keep going.

“Not sure, but I think we’re at least four hours away, still,” you said.

“Grab on,” he said, then quickly added, “around my neck.”

You did as he asked, then he did the rest and carried you to the passenger side of the truck where he put you down. He did it like it was nothing, not even so much as a grunt. He took a moment to give your ass a smack before moving on to close the tailgate and get back inside the cab of the truck.

When you were back on the highway, your mind went back to Bart and Lill.

“Jay…I do need to talk to you about Whiskey Hollow and…” you trailed off. It wasn’t like one of your books hadn’t been turned into a movie before, but this time was different.

“Shoot,” he replied.

“You do like the series, right? And the characters? I mean, I did write Bart for you, specifically…” you really needed the validation from him.

“Yeah, I really do. Bart isn’t strictly me or any of the people you mentioned, but an amalgamation. I like him a lot. A good man who does the best he can and isn’t perfect. Bart’s backstory is good and it definitely explains why he is the way he is.” He gave you a pointed look, “I’d tell you if I thought it was shit.”

“Okay, good. Please always give me your honest opinion… when it’s work-related.”

“And if it’s not work-related?”

You smiled, “I always look good in whatever outfit I choose.”

He nodded once, “That won’t be a problem.”

“So… my agent was begging me to write a script for Whiskey Hollow rather than have another writer do it. She wants to shop it around to studios and see if anyone will pick it up. But I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. I’ve never written a script before and have no clue about what’s important. I want to do a good job and I need your help. I don’t want to embarrass myself, especially on my own story.”

“You won’t embarrass yourself,” he said. “Alright, hit me. How can I help?”

Over the next two hours, you wrote as fast as your brain and hands would allow. Thankfully, you’d adapted a shorthand method that made getting your flow of words out quickly without losing anything. Eventually, Jensen needed to pull over for gas and you both took the opportunity to use the restroom and grab some food for the ride, especially since you were sure there wasn’t anything to eat at your house.

“What’s all this?” he pointed at your purchases on the counter.

“Milk. Bread. Jelly. Peanut butter. Chips,” you said. “Pretty standard stuff.”

“How are we going to make sandwiches in the truck?”

“Very carefully.”

You pointed him in the direction of the paper plates and plastic cutlery to complete your grocery shopping. You paid for all of the food and gas for this stop and were back on the road fairly quickly after. Jensen held out the keys to you and told you he needed a nap. Gladly, you took the keys and got comfy in his truck. It never failed to amaze you at how quickly he could shut off his brain and go to sleep. Before he was totally out, you let him know you needed to make some calls and he gave you a thumbs-up without opening his eyes.

When you got your earbuds in, you pushed a button on your phone, then said, “Call Jen.”

She picked up on the third ring.

“Where the hell have you been?!”

“I told you,” you spoke quietly, “I needed to find Jensen.”

“That was almost a month ago, Y|N.”

“It took a minute.”

“Does that mean you found his fine ass?” Jen asked.

“I sure did,” you still kept your voice low. “About three weeks ago.”

“Three weeks ago?! So you found him almost right away? What the hell were you doing? Were you doing him?”

“Shh! Yes, we were making up for lost time. I’m with him right now, in his truck, and we’re going to my house. I know I don’t have to remind you, but please keep this quiet. We’re going to need to go to Texas at some point.”

Jen was only just beginning to process what you’d told her. “How was the sex? Was he any good? Did you scream?”

“Jen!”

“I can hear your friend,” Jensen said, quietly.

“Oh my god, he can hear you,” the blush quickly rose to your cheeks.

“No, go ahead, tell her. I want to hear your answer,” he paused. “Tell the truth,” he cracked open an eye.

“I’ll talk to you later, Jen,” you were mortified. “I need to call Janice, too.”

You disconnected the call and turned down the volume in your earbuds. You were about to call your manager, but Jensen was curious.

“Well?” he asked.

“Do you really want me to tell you?” you countered, hoping he would drop it.

“I can take constructive criticism,” he said.

You decided to just say it. “You are the only person to crack the code. A few have gotten close, but you… are masterful,” you couldn’t bear to look at him.

He gave a sleepy little fist pump and grin before crossing his arms over his chest again and closing his eyes. You waited a good twenty minutes before you attempted to call your agent, Jan. The two of you discussed the books you had going and what you’d been doing, then caught her up to the details about the script she wanted you to write.

“Sweetie,” she began, “you know I love that you have two secret identities, but you need to give me more to do. You have phenomenal numbers in BOTH fan bases. When will you let me get you on TV for some promotion? We really need an author reveal. Also, I have a big-wig on the hook for your script, really need you to get that to me as soon as you can, sweets.”

“I promise, I’m making progress. I bought the software. I have a consultant. I just need a few moments peace to crank the sucker out,” you liked Jan a lot, but there were times you wanted to kick her, not super, hard, but enough to leave a bruise.

“What would it take to get you out on a promotion circuit?”

“A miracle.” 

“Pretend I’m a magic genie. If we’re gonna do a reveal, let’s go big,” she said.

“I have conditions,” you said.

“Lay ‘em on me, sweetie. Genie Jan is ready,” she said.

“If you manage to sucker someone into buying the script… if the studio or producers give the green light… I will do TV with whomever is cast as Bart. I want it noted with emphasis that Jensen Ackles should be strongly considered for Bart. He is, after all, whom I was thinking of when writing Bart. I will do Seth Meyers with Jensen.”

“Jensen Ackles? Are you sure? Isn’t he kind of imploding right now? Aren’t they still looking for him?” Jan asked.

“He’s on my wishlist, Jan. He is the one who should play Bart,” you reiterated.

“Sweetie, I understand. I just want the best possible outcome.”

“Anyway, I’m sure he’ll be found soon. That woman’s story isn’t ringing true, either. I think she was just trying to scam money out of him.”

“And you want Seth Meyers? Why not one of the Jimmy’s?” she asked.

“I’m a fan and I dated a Jimmy, It didn’t go well. Besides, Seth is funny and the only late night show I’ll watch,” you explained.

“If I can get you on Seth’s show, you’ll do it and not back out?”

“My conditions are simple. I will do it, but it must be like that.”

“Alright, I can work with that,” she said.

You ended the call shortly after that and felt a lot better about things moving forward, not just with your career, but also with Jensen. When you did get home, you were going to look into that “hussy”, as Donna called her, and see what you could find out, maybe enlist the help of Shelley. You just wanted to ask the woman why she was targeting Jensen. You drove on in silence thinking of all the things you wanted and needed to do when you got to the house. Before you knew it, you were driving 25 mph down the main drag of your hometown and Jensen stirred awake at the speed change.

As you got closer to your old apartment, you looked up and noted the light was on in the living room.

“Mom is still up,” you looked at the clock, 10:09 PM.

Jensen looked up at the windows as you stopped for the stop light. “It’s weird not going to your apartment.”

“I know. Before today, now, it didn’t bother me, but it does feel strange.” The light changed and you drove on toward the bridge. “I hope you like my house, though. I did a couple things with you in mind.”

“You did?”

“Don’t get me wrong, it’s for me, too, but I thought you’d find them appealing,” you said.

“You didn’t have to do that. Your apartment was great though,” he said. Curiosity got the better of him, “What things?”

“I’ll give you a tour when we get there,” you said, crossing the bridge that went over the river. “I’ve had to buy a lot of stuff just to maintain the land, it’s ridiculous, and I had to have out buildings built. I’m a proper adult.”

He snorted, “Do you use the equipment?”

Sometimes it was annoying how he could see through your bullshit so easily. “Sometimes. Shut up!” you laughed. “I hired a guy I went to school with to come out to mow and plow once a week and as needed. I use the mower to keep my trail growth down and the snowblower is hella cool.”

Jensen just stared at you as you turned onto your road.

“Stop looking at me like that, weirdo,” you pulled up to the gate and entered the, very particular to you and Jensen, code. You’d embraced your secret life, the one where you were a notable author with a hot and famous best friend, who had become your boyfriend. It was something like your own inside joke. If anyone had ever guessed how you were able to buy land and build a house, no one ever said anything to you. You found most people didn’t ask questions if they got paid well for their work and you were a generous tipper. Every little bit helps.

The gate came to life and rolled open, enhancing the anticipation. You really wanted him to like what you had created. When it opened and you pulled ahead and stopped for it to close before moving on. The driveway to your house was lit with small lights to lead the way. The house itself wasn’t visible from the road and you followed the driveway to the left and through the trees around a small hill. After the trees, the land opened up into a clearing where your house stood. Every time you drove through the trees and the house appeared, it struck you that the modern appearance of the home was so well complimented by its surroundings.

“Whoa. That’s… I don’t even know what…” Jensen sputtered.

“Good, though, right?” you were quite proud of your home.

“Yeah, I like it. I honestly didn’t know what to expect.”

You pulled around to the side where the garage doors were and parked in front of the middle door. When you hopped out and went to the hidden keypad by the door, Jensen crawled into the driver’s seat and pulled into the open garage space when the door fully opened. You went to the inside control panel to close the garage and turn on the lights.

The stark white interior was nearly blinding from driving in the dark for so long. Jensen had gotten out of the truck by then and was looking all around the inside of the garage. It didn’t take long for his eyes to land on the classic car in the third stall.

“What have we here?” he said, admiring the car.

He was about to cup his hands around his eyes to peek in the window when you said, “My dad’s car.”

Jensen immediately stood up straight without touching the car in the third stall. “Your dad’s?”

You nodded, “Mhm. I started looking for it before the pandemic. It was a bitch to do, but my aunt works in the treasurer’s office and hooked me up with the VIN. Made it a lot easier to track down.”

“Wait, this is his actual car?” You nodded. “How long was it gone? And what condition was it in when you got it?”

You sighed heavily. “It was in pretty bad shape. Dad sold it before I was even born. He loved it.” It was impossible to not be a little sad and a lot mad. You had put these details in letters you’d sent to Jensen in Austin. “She kept a lot more from you than I thought… I put all of this in the mail, Jay.” You tried to keep the anger out of your voice, but you knew it seeped in. If anything, you understood why she did it. You and Jensen were so close, but it still made you mad since you both had tried so hard to stay platonic.

He stood silent for a few moments, “Alright. Can we go inside and talk about this?”

He grabbed the bags out of the truck and followed you inside. You led him through the laundry room and into the main house. You noticed he looked around to take everything in. The house itself wasn’t huge, but you’d also gotten creative with the design. Hidden spaces, secret doors, everything you’d ever wanted in a house when you were a kid. 

Jensen put the bags on the counter in the kitchen and started putting things away. You got out a couple plates and started making the two of you something to eat. Silently, you handed him a plate with a pb&j on it.

He sighed loudly, “I asked her if she – misplaced anything from you. She denied it. It wasn’t just her jealousy. It was the lying and manipulation that hurt the most. I’m ashamed to say that I started to believe it. There was a lot more I wasn’t even aware of.” He took a bite of the sandwich. “I asked what her relationship with Dan was,” he continued. “She insisted nothing was going on and that he was stalking her.”

“Did you believe her?”

“At that point, I didn’t know what was real and what was a lie. After that, I knew not to trust her word.”

“I wouldn’t believe a single word that comes out of her mouth in the future, either.” Jensen looked at you with an expression that told you he was done for the moment.

“Finish up and I’ll show you around the house,” you told him.

He took another bite and talked with his mouth full, “All I’m interested in is the bedroom.”

“Your mother will be shocked at your table manners, sir,” you said. “Also, you’re a perv.”

“Stop. You’re the perv. I was sweet and innocent until I met you,” he countered.

“So now it’s my fault you’re like this?”

“I said what I said,” he smirked, looking you over, his eyes resting on his favorite places.

You didn’t know what to say either to his words, or his scrutiny. “Alright then,” was all you could muster.

Jensen woke you up in the morning in the most pleasant way. Eventually, you both made use of your extra large, spa shower. You couldn’t help but stare at him. You stood in the shower and stretched as the hot water ran over your body. You could see the reflection of Jensen behind you at the 2nd separate shower. He was already looking at you like you were his next meal…again. You turned to face him and returned the gaze. He’d always been fit, but the muscle he’d put on for The Boys, and the work on the mountain had maintained it, was something to behold. He stood staring back at you as he washed his torso, a little, pleased smile on his face.

“You’re staring,” he noticed.

You rinsed your hair, “It’s like looking at a marble statue.” You stepped across the stall to where he stood, reaching out to trace the lines of the muscles on his arms, shoulders, and torso. “Are you going to keep these?”

He stepped backwards into the water to rinse the soap. Stepping forward again, he flexed a little, “You like ‘em?”

“I don’t mind ‘em. It’s kinda hot, but you’re just hot anyway,” you said. Your fingers traced the ‘V’ that formed at his waist, loving the sounds it elicited from him. “Love the hair and beard, too. The beard needs a bit of a trim, but still, dirty hot look for you definitely works for me.”

“Depends on the next role, but the beard is driving me crazy. Takes too much damn time to maintain. Same with this mop,” he said finishing up his routine. He suspected if he didn’t get out of the shower soon, they would need to wash up again.

“Such little butt, though. Nice shape. Not flat, but little,” you observed.

You turned to grab your conditioner and Jensen shut off the water on his side.

“Do you want me to keep it?” he asked.

“It’s good for ‘sports’ but I would have climbed that scrawny kid I knew way back in the day,” you said. “That sounds terrible.”

“Not everyone can have a perfect ass like you,” he said and gave your butt a solid smack, the sound amplified by your surroundings.

Reeling, not only from the stinging of your buttock, but also from the rush of heat to your lady parts. Rubbing the now hot skin on your butt, you called after him, “I still have you!”

He just laughed and added, “Touche!” as he wrapped a towel around his waist and left the bathroom. Almost as soon as he stepped out of the bathroom, something felt off. His clothes were in the bedroom and needed to grab the bag. Brushing the feeling aside, he walked through her closet into the bedroom. His peripheral vision caught the small dark figure near the door at the same time as a soft gasp met his ears, making him freeze in his tracks. His hand immediately went to his towel to make sure it didn’t go anywhere.

“Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my daughter’s house?” the woman asked.

He pushed his shaggy hair back off his forehead with his free hand and turned to look at Y|N’s tiny mother.

“Hi Deb,” he said, feeling very, very self-aware as it took her a moment to recognize him.

“J-Jensen?! Oh my god!” She quickly covered her eyes. “I didn’t know you kids were back in town. I was just coming over to check on the house, water the mail and check the plants. Oh god, you know what I mean! Where’s Y|N?”

If it had been happening to anyone else, he might have found it funny how Y|N clearly got some of her more amusing traits from her mother. Instead, he was beyond mortified that her mother had now seen him nearly naked and obviously sleeping with her daughter. “Finishing up in the shower,” he hated the awkward pause. Pointing back toward the bathroom, he said, “I’m just going to go…” he trailed off and took long strides back through the closet to the bathroom.

Y|N was out of the shower in a robe and was putting her hair up in a towel when he walked in.

“Babe,” he waited for her to look up. “Your mom is here,” he pointed, “IN your room.”

You looked at Jensen and how pink he looked and nearly naked. One plush towel was the only thing saving his modesty. The image of your disheveled bed flashed into your mind’s eye and you’d obviously just gotten out of the shower right after Jensen.

“I guess I don’t have to tell her we’re together,” you chuckled.

“Do you have another one of those robes?” he asked.

You shook your head. “I’ll be right back,” you told him and gave him a quick kiss. “Don’t worry, Mom loves you.”

Quickly, you went to your room and gave your mom the “one second” hand signal, grabbed Jensen’s bag and took it to the bathroom for him. He mouthed a relieved “thank you” and took the bag from you. Back out in your room, your mom was still standing by the door waiting for you to return.

“Oh my god, honey, I didn’t know you were both here. I came in through the front door, I didn’t even know you were home. What happened out there? Is he okay? I think we were both pretty shocked,” she said all at once.

Your mom was well aware of what had been going on in Jensen’s personal life. Donna and she still talked fairly regularly. “It’s okay, Mom, he’ll live,” you chuckled. Your mom had a funny smile on her face. “How about you? Are you okay? Did you get an eyeful?” you teased.

She put her hand on your arm, “Honey.”

“I know,” you chuckled again.

“So you two got together finally?” She looked hopeful.

You smirked and thought of all the inappropriate things to say. “Yeah, we’re finally going to give ‘us’ a try. Please, don’t make a thing of it. I don’t want to jinx anything.”

“Y|N!” she smacked your arm. Her eyes went wide then a little teary. 

“You’re making it weird,” you told her. “He wants me to go with him to Texas and wherever else he needs to go. Guess I can quit the grocery store now.”

“You could have anyway. You don’t need that job at all,” she reminded you.

“I like the structure,” you told her.

“You know, I tried to call you.”

“I know. Soldier Boy threw me in the river and it was in my pocket,” you explained. “I made him buy me a new one.”

“Soldier Boy?”

“The reason he looks Hulked out. He was at his batcave and the physical work kept the muscle. It’s kinda hot.”

“I’ll say,” she mumbled.

“I’m telling him you said that.”

“Don’t you dare!”

“Okay,” you laughed. “We’ll meet you downstairs, okay?”

You shuffled her out the door and gently closed it behind her. When you heard her on the steps, you went back to your bathroom. Jensen stood in there, fully dressed, looking like he was finding stuff to do until it was safe for him to step out.

“Smells expensive in here. Did you try all of my products, or just the ones that you thought smelled nice?” you asked.

He was studying the bottles of perfume. Finding the one he was looking for, he picked it up and showed it to you saying, “This one is my favorite. Warm and spicy, like you.”

“That’s my favorite, too,” you admitted. It was one you had found in one of the little shops near your hotel when you visited him in Rome. “I told my mom we would come down to talk with her. She’s going to want to know what the plan is for Texas and after.” You took the bottle of perfume from him and opened your robe to spray it on your body and put it back on the vanity.

“If we make it out of this room,” he said, snaking his hands inside the robe and pulling you to him. His hands moved over your bare skin.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, Ackles,” you warned him.

His full lips met yours, parting for his tongue to gently mingle with yours, stoking the embers that seemed to always be threatening to ignite around him. His right hand went up your back between your shoulder blades while his left reached down to grasp your ‘perfect’ flesh. Your heart raced in your chest despite the somewhat tender moment. He broke the kiss, but held you still, not wanting to fully break the moment.

“Love you like crazy, Nova,” his eyes were closed, forehead touching yours.

Despite the heat from your body and his, his deep voice and breath on your face gave you goosebumps. “Love you so much, my sweet boy.” You smiled with your eyes closed as your hand went up the back of his neck.

“You better put some clothes on before we go down,” he said, sounding a little like Dean, his lips brushing your forehead before he kissed you.

He left you standing there in a little daze to collect yourself and get ready as quickly as you could to meet with your mother.

Mercifully, by the time you and Jensen went down to the kitchen, your mother had rallied and was pretending like she hadn’t just seen Jensen nearly naked. She was looking through the cupboards for something.

“Honey, where’s your Keurig pods?” she asked after hearing you enter the kitchen, but she still kept opening cupboard doors.

You went to the pantry and showed her what you had for your selections.

“You don’t have any coffee?” she asked.

“I only keep that around for you. When you were here last, you used the last one. We only got here last night, so I haven’t gone to the store yet.”

You thought you heard a grumble from behind you.

“I didn’t know you would be here either,” you said over your shoulder to Jensen.

“Well, how long are you kids going to be in town? Do you want to put in an order at the store? I could go pick it up for you,” she offered.

You moved to the end of the island to stand next to where Jensen was sitting.

“We haven’t really talked about how long we will be here. Jensen needs to go back to Texas to deal with some stuff and I want to go with him. We’re not in a huge rush to get down there, but we do need to go, soonish.”

Jensen nodded. “We didn’t get much of a chance to talk about it on the way here. I was thinking we could ease into it. Take care of as much as we can here, then go down, maybe in a week or less.”

“I think it’s going to be crazy once we get into the full swing of your career,” you looked at him.

“Um, your career is doing pretty well. I’ll probably be the one keeping up with you,” he said.

Your mom looked at you with wide eyes. “Are you going to go public? You, Y|N, with who you really are? I mean about your writing.”

You nodded. “At some point. That’ll make my manager and agent very happy…and publisher.”

Your mom clasped her hands together. “Oh thank god. Please do it soon! It has been so hard to keep this a secret for so long, especially from your brother. I think he suspects something but I don’t know what.”

“Drug dealer,” you joked.

Jensen perked up, “You didn’t tell him that, did you?”

“No,” you admitted, “but he probably thinks that.”

“No, he doesn’t,” your mom admonished, “but he will draw that conclusion soon if you don’t tell him soon. He wondered how you were able to build this house. So far, he’s buying your NRC cover.”

“The government pays well,” you noted.

“Be that as it may, you’ve got to at least tell your brother the truth,” she said.

“So he can ask for even more money?” you grumbled. “It would be one thing if it weren’t so frequent.”

“I’ll handle him, even if you don’t tell him. His feelings will be hurt if you don’t tell him before you go public.”

You looked at Jensen. He shrugged, “Deb has a point.”

“Yeah, I know,” you admitted. It had been a long time since it all began. He didn’t really ‘deserve’ to know, in your opinion, but he should know, you supposed. “I guess I better make a to-do list of shit to get done while we’re here.”

“I know, and he’s terrible about keeping a secret. Anyway, I should go,” your mom said. “You two probably have a lot to take care of while you’re here.” She picked up her purse. “Let me know if you need me to run any errands for you.”

“Thanks, Mom,” you said.

She patted Jensen’s shoulder, “I was always rooting for you kiddo. I’m happy for you both.”

Your mom was going to leave it at that, but Jensen turned toward her. “Thanks, Deb,” he said and hugged her. “I feel like we’ve gotten closer today.”

They parted and your mom was blushing again.

“I’m so sorry, I was just so surprised,” she said.

Jensen chuckled, “Don’t worry about it. It was good to see you.”

“It was good to see you, too,” she said innocently. Then the realization of the double meaning washed over her features before she practically ran to the door.

“Now I understand where you get it,” Jensen smiled.

“She’s my mom, not blind. She’s always appreciated a hot guy,” you told him. You reached out to touch his neck. “This grizzly look is working, big time.”

“I don’t know if I can wait for Texas to get this cut. Do you have any scissors, razors, clippers or anything?” he asked.

“I do, but you’re getting the dullest ones I have,” you told him. You sighed, “We can probably get some at the store when we get groceries.” 

You could feel the cosmic pressure to get back to work coming from your agent, publisher, and manager. You gave Jensen a quick tour of the house but you eventually ended up at your desk in your office. You tapped the ctrl button a few times to wake up your system. Jensen left for a few moments while you opened your emails. You knew he’d noticed your secret, but you waited and kept reading.

After you answered a couple emails, Jensen reappeared to ask, “What’s with this wall?”

You tried to look confused, “It’s a bookshelf? I think I need one of those cool rolling ladder things.”

“You should definitely do that,” he pointed a finger at you for emphasis, but turned back toward the wall of shelves. “But…something is off…”

“What do you mean? Is something out of place?” you got up to join him. He was so close to discovering your secret.

Jensen scanned the shelves until his eyes fell on a book that seemed out of place from the others.

“Nova, you are the coolest chick I’ve ever known.” He stepped forward and tipped his head to the side to read the spine of one of the books. “Aerospace Engineering. Now I know you do a lot of research, and are smart as hell, but I read all of the Whiskey Hollow books and Bart wasn’t engineering shit.”

“Okay, smartass. How about you check the inside cover. It’s inscribed to me,” you gave him a playful shove.

Jensen reached for the top of the book to pull it off the shelf. When he grasped the top corner of the book and began to pull, there was a soft click and the bookshelf moved.

“No you did not do a secret library door! Where does it go? Can I go in? There isn’t a trapdoor for me to fall through is there? I can’t believe you Scooby-Doo’d your office.”

You went to the bookcase and pushed on the right side while pulling on the left. The bookcase moved easily and quietly opened like a regular door. It locked into the open position and the lights inside the room turned on to reveal both a spiral staircase going down and a room you had turned into a quiet office for your zoom meetings. It worked great for the meetings where you needed to focus and not get distracted, looking out the window.

It was cute to watch him. He looked like a kid in a candy store. The walls in the open space of the room were covered in a mural of muted greens and grays, displaying a misty forest scene and the lighting was adjustable to your mood.

Jensen stuck his head inside the booth and poked around looking at the mic and camera, but his eyes kept going toward the staircase.

“There is a trapdoor next to the staircase, but it isn’t a drop door,” you said as you motioned to the stairs, “After you, sir.”

Jensen went to the spiral staircase and looked down into the darkness.

“Make sure you use the handrail,” you told him.

Eager to discover more surprises, he rested his hand on the rail and began the descent. The lights turned on and got brighter as he went down each step. He immediately stopped, lifted his hands and took another stop to test his theory. He then ran his hands up and down the rails and the lights dimmed or brightened with the motions.

“Coo-ooo-ool,” he said then ambled all the way down the stairs which ended facing directly into the big surprise you’d incorporated into your house, just for him. “You did this for me?”

He went to look at each guitar, instrument and piece of equipment you had gathered for his in-home recording studio.

“How? Why? Babe… this is too much,” he said, though his voice was still far away, exploring and marveling at the gift.

“I hoped,” you began, “I hoped, that someday, you would be here and could use it. And… that you and I would be where we are now… You probably don’t even know you sing along to the radio, like, all the time. If you’re not singing, it’s humming. I wanted you to have a place like this where you could be creative if you wanted to. You never know when inspiration might hit.”

He was still quiet looking at things, “I tried to involve you in this, but I called some guys you know and they helped me pick out the right pieces and equipment,” you explained. “I didn’t mean for this to be a surprise. I just wanted you to be happy here. Happy to come visit.”

Jensen put down the acoustic guitar he’d been strumming and crossed the floor to where you stood watching him. He stood over you looking down into your eyes. You saw they had gone a deep green color as he looked into yours. His hands cupped your face and neck as he spoke softly to you.

“I want you to hear me and take this to heart, my Nova, as long as you’re with me, I’m a happy guy. I hope I never made you feel like I didn’t want to be around you. Hell, I even asked you to move closer to me,” he pulled you to him, his lips pressing to yours, one arm around you, the other touching your face. “I’m sorry I wasn’t around when you needed me, but I promise, I’m all yours.” He turned his head to the side, leaning down to kiss you again.

He broke the kiss but didn’t pull away. You were still floating somewhere close to heaven with your eyes still closed.

“It was Steve, wasn’t it?” his voice rumbled, breath on your face. His fingertip traced your lower lip.

“Steve who?” you were in a love daze.

“Carlson,” he kissed your jaw near your ear.

“Mhm,” you ran your hand through his hair, “and Jason, too.”

He moved to your neck and you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. “You’re mine.”

“They really liked helping me,” you prodded. “They’ve even been here before you. …and stayed overnight.”

“Never again,” he said against your neck, his beard scratching your skin.

“You’re not jealous, are you?” you asked, playfully.

The way he rocked and swayed with your body, it almost felt like you were dancing.

“You’ll never have to wonder where I am, or how much I love you, ever again,” he said.

“Why are you so sweet to me?”

“I give back what I receive,” he said simply, kissing you softly. “You set a high bar.”

You composed yourself and remembered you needed to get back to work.

“Hey, give it all a try and the amps. I won’t be able to hear a thing with the soundproofing,” you went back toward the stairs. “I really need to get back to work.”

He gave you a look of longing, but also a thumbs-up as a signal that he heard you and was already looking at his options. When you got upstairs, you left open the bookcase so you could hear him anyway. He could sing the alphabet and you would want to hear him. Steve and Jason had both been at your house at the same time for one visit and they had their own little jam session down there to test out all of the equipment. With all of the soundproofing, being in the basement, and closing the bookcase, you’d forgotten they were even there until they emerged several hours later.

Once you’d gotten resettled at your desk, you were disappointed to find that your unread emails and open documents were still there, unread and unfinished. Resolving to at least get through your emails, you trained your focus to your computer screen.

When the emails were all read and responses sent, you decided to take a break at your desk and listen to the music coming from below. You heard the last of “The Sounds of Someday” before he started “City Grown Willow”.

The lyrics to “City Grown Willow” had always resonated with you and you didn’t know why. It just felt like it was mean for your ears. It just hit differently now. The video he and Steve had done… the lyrics… it was almost like he’d been calling out to you with the song. You passed off the notion as wishful thinking and got back to work on the screenplay. It would be the introduction of Hobart and Lillian to the viewers who may not be familiar with the books, but also, you wanted to stay somewhat true to the first book, while assuming the viewers half-way know what’s going on in the universe.

The software package you bought was a life-saver and you were flying through pages and pages of script. Dialog had always been easy for you. Hearing the character’s voices had always been very clear for you. Thankfully, describing setting didn’t need to be wildly descriptive and it was the content of the scenes that were more important.

Whiskey Hollow had lived in your mind for years, but it was somewhat difficult to reintroduce the characters because they had come so far since the beginning. Thankfully, you still had your written notes and outlines from your original book and that was an incredible help. With your notes handy, you wouldn’t reveal too much, too soon.

It wasn’t until Jensen arrived with a bowl of cereal and a drink that you realized how much time had passed or that he’d even left the studio.

“Figured you might need that,” he said, pulling up a chair to eat with you.

“I’m sorry, Jay, I got in a groove and I had to go with it,” you explained.

“No worries,” he waved you off. “I got carried away down there, too. You did great with it. Whole thing,” he waved his hand in a circle, “A plus.”

“Well, you can thank Jason and Steve. They were a big help.”

“It was your idea. So I’m thanking you. I can’t believe you did that.”

You only shrugged. It didn’t seem extreme to you. You’d only wanted a space for Jensen to be creative in a way you knew he would love and not be held back by anything it could be lacking…but you did realize the truth of it.

“I think that, though my brain knew we were not a couple, my heart didn’t listen and wanted…to express my love for you,” you couldn’t believe you admitted it out loud. “Some people’s love language is touch, mine is outlandish gifts.”

He nodded as he chewed his cereal. “I know you don’t love people touching you, pretty much ever, but I love that you let me. Touch is my language and… it makes me feel important, special, that you shower me with your attention.” He took another bite of cereal, “I put a lot of what’s going on in here,” he tapped his temple, “into the songs I write with Steve. It’s not a love language, exactly, but… it also is.”

“What do you mean?”

“I know you’ve heard me perform. I’ve seen your vinyls of mine…” he was getting shy. “Do you have a favorite song?”

“Off My Mind,” you answered quickly.

Jensen smiled, “Yeah, that’s a good one. We ran with that one. I was feeling a certain kind of way with that one.” 

“Did you write that?”

“It was mostly Steve, but I put in my two cents. Any others, maybe off volume 2?” he asked.

““City Grown Willow”,” you answered.

“"City Grown Willow" is about you,” he said simply. 

“What?”

“Us,” he said, pointing back and forth between you and himself.

When you just sat staring at him in confusion and disbelief, he continued, “That video call, that one in December 2019.”

“The one where you didn’t get my spot on Edna Mode impression?”

“I know who she is now. Good movie.”

“I know…”

“Can I tell you this or not?”

“I’m sorry, please, go on,” you chuckled.

“After that call, it kicked things in motion. You were on my mind a lot and I needed time to process. Wrote the song to kind of push things out and into being.”

You remembered that call quite well and what he’d just said made you ask, “So talking to me made you realize that you had love feelings for me. You tried to stay with Dee, ultimately divorcing. Then you write the song. Then you go out and shag everything with boobs. Get into a situation. Text me the most cryptic text you’ve ever sent, and that’s saying something, and went into hiding hoping I would come find you.”

“When you put it like that, it doesn’t sound as good. We can edit that when our grandkids ask us about our story.”

“We’re having grandkids?”

Jensen shrugged and took a drink of the milk in his bowl. “We’ve been ‘shagging’ like rabbits for weeks…I know I wasn’t using anything, were you?”

“Holy crap,” you said. “I didn’t even think about it. I’m getting a little – seasoned. We better get to the store and pick up some tests, just in case. I didn’t think you wanted kids, Jay.”

“I didn’t think I did. I didn’t think it would be a good idea until now,” he said.

“What changed your mind?” you wanted to know.

“The right partner,” he answered. He seemed apprehensive, “I want you to know it’s okay if we don’t. I know you went through stuff with Dan…”

“For the record, before you say more, you came for me when I needed you, too. And while I was very sad to lose that pregnancy, I didn’t want to have a child with him. I felt really guilty about that for a long time, but I knew he wasn’t the one.”

“--are we doing this?” he asked.

“I don’t know. This is kind of out of nowhere, Jay. I don’t even know if my body can handle it at this point. What if I decide you’re a douchebag and kick you to the curb? What if I’m not the best thing since sliced bread and you decide you want soup?”

“Sweetheart, I’m a sandwich guy and that’s not gonna change. Not now, not ever,” he said with finality.

“You’re such a dork, though! Oh my god. What if I’m pregnant right now and this kid gets your sense of humor? I don’t know if I could take it from two of you!” 

“You’d love it,” he said playfully.

You avoided his gaze for a few moments, feeling a little overwhelmed. You hadn’t even thought about your cycle since before you left. You didn’t even know if you could have kids at this point in your life. It was possible, of course, but risky. “Jay, let’s not rush things, okay? I… I’m a little skittish after everything. Dan and Grant and all of the other disasters, I just… they all cheated on me and treated me like shit, used me for whatever reason… As my friend, I trust you implicitly…”

“I understand,” he raised a hand, as though to indicate, ‘say no more’. “I don’t want to rush either. I’m just saying if it happens, I’m going to be happy about it, and if it doesn’t, I’m good, too. I love what we have going on right now, too.”

“Are you sure?”

“Babe. I promise. You can trust me. Always.”

“Okay.”

“Let’s go get some groceries,” he said.

“Hold on now,” you said, finishing your cereal and milk. “How long do you plan on being here? I don’t want to buy a bunch of food only to throw it out.”

He leaned back in his chair, extending his legs to go across your lap. Absently, your hands rested on his legs. Jensen stretched his whole body shit his hands clasped on top of his head.

“How does staying the week and leaving on Saturday morning sound? IF we drive all day, we’d get there Saturday night.”

“Do you have your own place down there, or did you get to keep the house?” you asked.

“I let her keep the house,” he said. “It was never really mine. She picked just about everything. I got a little place on Lake Austin. It’s small, but it is secure, has a good view and access to the lake.”

“What did you do with the Impala,” you were suddenly fearful. “You still have it, right? Tell me she didn’t try to take it from you.”

“No, I made it clear there would be pushback if she tried. Clif is looking after it for me, for now. Also, she wanted a prenup and I signed it. I don’t go after her stuff, nor she mine. Another reason I didn’t want to have kids with her.”

“What do you mean?”

“If we’d had a kid, she could get half of my shit and alimony and child support.”

A thought sprung to your mind and you didn’t know if you should ask it or not.

“I can see your wheels spinning. Just ask.”

“Is there any-thing that is going to come back and bite you in the ass?” you asked.

“No?” he pulled his legs from your lap.

“Jay… I don’t trust her. I just get the feeling this isn’t over with her. She’s going to lose her mind when she finds out about us.”

“She can be mad all she wants. Divorce was final four months ago.”

“Okay, let’s go get some food,” you said, not wanting to discuss it any further. You just couldn’t shake that feeling of dread regarding anything to do with his ex wife. She didn’t strike you as one to give up on someone she wanted, or let go of a goal. She played the long-con for years and did what she could to keep you away from Jensen during that time.

“Can we make your pasta?” he asked.

You grabbed your bowl. “I told you you’d get hooked on it.”

Jensen drove you both into town to the local grocery store. Your little town has changed a lot over the years, including the grocery store. When you were growing up, there were two stores. Nowe there was only one and it was in a brand new building and location.

Jensen wore jeans, t-shirt, sneakers and a trucker hat. He looked funny with his hair smashed down and his beard sticking out. It was the little things that mattered though. He took your hand when you walked through the parking lot. Little touches as you shopped. The need to be separate, to hide your feelings, was gone.

People said hello to you both. Jensen got some second looks, but nothing to make them stop and ask questions. A few of the people you worked with stopped to chat and Jensen continued on shipping. When he found you again, your former boss, former classmate, and former neighbor, Brian was chatting you up.

“You look great, Y|N. You look really happy. What have you been doing?” he asked.

Apparently, Brian hadn’t noticed Jensen approaching. You turned at the sound of the cart and Jensen making noise as he got closer. Somehow, he’d taken on a rougher version of Dean, one who’d seen too much and he looked quite imposing.

“Me. She’s been doing me, Brian,” he said reading his nametag. 

The blush in your face was rising. He could never just be cool when a guy was talking to you.

“Brian, this is Jay. Jay, this is Brian, whom I just told I quit. I’ve also known him since we were kids,” you introduced your guy to your friend.

“Huh. Me too,” Jensen said. “Good to meet you, Brian.” He extended his hand to the other man. “Baby, I got us set for the week. Are you ready to go home?” his voice was full Dean and half an octave lower.

Dominance Asserted.

“Yes, hon, I’m ready. Did you find what you wanted?” you replied.

“Sure did,” he planted a kiss on you. He pulled you and the cart with him, leaving Brian behind you.

The two of you went to the register and a high school kid you didn’t know rang up your selections. She was quick and friendly and barely gave Jensen any attention. You paid and thanked her and left with Jensen pushing the cart to the truck.

“Jay? You good?” you were putting bags into the back of the truck.

“Do you know everyone here?” he asked.

You nodded, “Kinda. It’s a pretty small town and I did work here… Didn’t like Brian, huh?”

He shook his head, “Nope. He was looking at you like you were a full meal after being half-starved.”

“Seriously? I’ve known him since his family came to town. Literally my next-door neighbor.”

“Yep, dead serious. Maybe he didn’t ‘see’ you then, but he does now. Does Br-i-an know how you wrecked your friend’s bike when you were seven?”

Jensen put the cart away with emphasis. It crashed to a stop in the coral.

“Jay!” he stopped in front of you. “Only my immediate family, Lance’s family, and you know about that accident. My love,” you patted his chest, “wild horses couldn’t take me from you, you know that, right?”

He grumbled, “Nova, I don’t think you realize how hot you are. You could wear a burlap sack and I’d still want to do dirty things with you. People are always drawn to you. Friggin Glen practically ran to talk to you.”

“Glen is an old man,” you laughed, “and you were being an aloof mountain man. I think he was worried for me.”

“Old, not dead,” he said.

“Ooookay, I think you’re blowing things out of proportion. I know who I’m going home with and it sure as shit isn’t Brian…who is a total douche, by the way. Constantly cheats on his wife. And definitely not with crusty Glen. I’m the one who is supposed to be neurotic, not you.”

He sighed heavily, “It’s just that… I’ll tell you later. Let’s get out of here.”

At your house, you and Jensen got the groceries put away and he’d gotten back to his normal self. You hadn’t forgotten what he’d said and your curiosity was killing you. It had gotten close enough to dinner that the two of you could start preparing food.

Jensen helped cut the tomatoes while Y|N did the rest of the food prep. She hated cutting the tomatoes and it was the least he could do to help out if she was willing to do the rest. By the time the water was boiling, he had half of the tomatoes done and in the bowl where she was steadily adding the green onions and other ingredients. When the tomatoes were added to the bowl, he excused himself to get cleaned up for dinner and grabbed the bag that held his purchases from the pharmacy.

Upstairs in the bathroom he pulled the boxes out of the bag and saw the pregnancy tests at the bottom. He wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to be a father, but if Y|N was pregnant, he was happy to be a parent with her. Seeing them also reminded him of things he didn’t want to remember. He had to tell himself that Y|N was not at all like Dee and wouldn’t do what she had done. Normally, he was a happy-go-lucky kind of guy, but the last few years had severely tested his resolve.

He set up the clippers and got to work. He didn’t take off too much since he didn’t know what the next job would need… if he got another job. He just hoped there would be a next job. Tomorrow, he would start making calls. Hopefully his career was salvageable. 

Y|N had asked him if he wanted to retire. He supposed she asked because she already knew the answer. He didn’t want to retire and she had already pulled him out of headspace that had been quickly going down that path. It was hard being around her again and not think about all of the things Dee had been trying to brainwash him with. Despite knowing Y|N so well and trusting her, Dee had managed to cast doubt inside him.

“Everything is going to work out,” Y|N had told him. “Tomorrow, I’m going to show you how to use everything and you’re going to get back on track. Maybe you can finally start that production company you’ve always wanted to do, too. Maybe quietly start developing shows, actively look for new ideas and writers who are also in love with you.”

Dee had never said anything like that to him, never been so encouraging. He should have known not to doubt Y|N. She was always in his corner and had never waivered. He flipped on the clippers and set about taming his overgrown beard. There was no denying she made him happy. Hell, he couldn’t get enough of her. All he wanted to do was be around her, to touch her, to love her. It was nice to shower affection on her and have it returned rather than withheld. After all she had been through, it seemed like she needed it, too. Maybe they just needed it from one another. 

You took the candle stick holders from the mantle and put them on the table in the dining room. The pasta definitely wasn’t a romantic dinner, but you wanted to make it special somehow. Jensen was probably going to be very busy in the lead up to going back to Texas and you had a lot of writing you needed to get done. That morning was a good start, but there was so much more to do.

You were busy getting the candles set up and the bowls dished when Jensen reappeared, looking very over-dressed for a simple home meal. And yet, also slightly casual. He was rolling up the sleeves on a white, button down shirt, which was neatly tucked into black dress pants. No belt. No socks. Somehow, he’d managed to tame his glorious mane of hair and had it brushed back from his face. His tan skin enhancing his good looks and green eyes.

“Whoa,” you heard yourself say.

He looked up with his eyes and gave you a wry smile as he finished cuffing his sleeve.

“I am wildly underdressed…It’s really not fair that you make this whole combo look so fucking hot. Absolutely ridiculous.”

“You can take your clothes off,” he put his hands in his pockets, not moving from the dining room entry. He could see you thinking about going to change your clothes. “No. Not change. Off. Or as you are.”

Goddaaaaaamn. He raised an eyebrow in question at you. “I choose my modesty, I guess.”

“Hmm.” He entered the room and pulled a chair out for you to sit at the head of the table. He pulled the palm of your hand to his lips, your fingers touching his beard, which felt softer.

The man made you feel giddy inside. Of course, you’d been friends forever and he’d always given your heart a rush, but your relationship had shifted dramatically the day you found him at his cabin. 

“Jay – you don’t have to try to be someone else for me, you know that, right?” you asked. “You don’t have to be Dean, or anyone else. I just want my friend and confidant.

Jensen seated himself to your right. “I’m not trying to be anyone else. Now that you and I are together, I get to show you all sides of me…the ones I couldn’t show you until you found me on that mountain.”

You took a bit of food and reached for his hand. He took it and held it on the table. “You held back?”

He nodded, “Mhm, big time.” His thumb stroked the top of your hand.

“Me, too,” you admitted. “Like every time. Was it like that for you, too?”

He nodded again, taking a smaller bite, “Had to.”

A couple of bites passed with him holding your hand on the table top. “Were you –in love–with me–the whole time, too? Cuz–I was–with you.”

Jensen let go of your hand, used his napkin, then leaned way over to kiss you. “Mhm.”

It took you a few moments to collect yourself after that. You knew you would never get tired of hearing him say things like that to you. When your heart and stomach stopped jittering, you got out your phone  and told your sound system to play music. You and Jensen chatted over your meal and you were using your elbow and the palm of your hand to hold up your head. You couldn’t help but stare at him. His skin was tan, hair somewhat lightened due to being in the sun, his green eyes shining. White button down shirt highlighting his already ridiculously good looks. The music was playing and invading your thoughts while you appreciated the view.

“Can you dance like John Travolta?” you asked.

His fork stopped before reaching his lips, “What?”

“You heard me.”

“Only John Travolta can dance like John Travolta.”

“Hmm,” you smirked. “Stayin’ Alive’ was playing when it finally hit you who Jensen had been reminding you of with his glorious mane. “Barry Fucking Gibb!”

“Maurice Gibb,” he said confused. “The hell are we doing, naming BeeGees?”

You sat staring at him, both shocked and proud of yourself for finally pin-pointing who he’d been reminding you of.

“Oh my god!” you laughed and clapped your hands over your mouth. “No! You’re reminding me of Barry Gibb!”

“That’s not funny.”

“Yes it fucking is!’ you laughed. “Oh god, do I think Barry Gibb is hot?”

“That’s it, it’s coming off tomorrow,” he grumped.

You sat considering his thick hair. You’d really gotten to like running your fingers through it. “We could really complete the look with a spectacular blowout.”

“Woman, if you come near me with a blow dryer, I swear…”

“You’ll spank me?”

He put his fork down and wiped his mouth. “You’re filthy. You’ve spent too much time around ex-cops and ex-military.”

“No, I’ve always been like this, I just couldn’t say it before. You always had a lady on your arm,” you paused, “Does it bother you?”

He smirked, “No. I guess not. Guess we need to get to know each other again.”

“In a new way,” you agreed.

When you woke the next morning, it was not to Jensen’s kisses. He wasn’t even in the bed with you. You’d reached to touch the spot where he had lain and it was cold. Still waking up. Your brain wasn’t processing information. You looked around trying to figure out where he’d gone. Only briefly, you wondered if you’d dreamed it all. Then the sound of a song softly sung reached your ears. It wasn’t quite the deeper tone of Steve’s voice, but you recognized “Off My Mind” right away. 

Getting out of bed, you went into your bathroom and found Jensen in front of the mirror with the trashcan on the counter under him. He hummed the song when he was on his neck, then would vocalize the lyrics when he cleaned the counter of the bits that missed the trash.

Catching you watching, he said, “Good morning, Sunshine.”

You thought maybe you grunted in response. Jensen asked, “You gonna miss it?” He was taking off what was left of the beard. He turned the clippers back on and another soft plop of beard landed in the bin.

Moving to where he stood, you leaned against the counter with your back to the mirror. You’d caught a glimpse of yourself and were not impressed. You shrugged slightly, “It’ll be nice to see your face again. Are you taking it all off?”

“I was thinking I’d leave some. Dean still looks back at me sometimes,” he said. “I should have just taken it all off last night. Thought I’d be able to stand it a little longer.”

“Do you miss him?” you asked.

He nodded and continued taking the beard down to a thin layer. 

“I miss him, too. It’s okay with me if he shows up once in a while. It was really hard watching that last episode,” you paused, remembering. “I probably won’t ever watch it again, though.”

“That bad?”

“That traumatizing,” you said. You could feel yourself getting emotional. “Not only did I have to watch Dean die, I felt like I was watching you die, too. You and Dean are so intertwined, it felt so real. To have Dean go out like that… the writers did you dirty. I get why they did it, but I hate it! Dean deserved to be happy and have a life, too.” The tears were welling up. “If you ever bring him back, please, let someone love him. Someone who loves him for exactly who he is.” The tears broke over your cheeks.

He took a step to the side to hold you, “Baby, I had no idea you felt that way.”

“I know!” you mumbled into his chest, still crying. “You had me on radio silence and I had to suffer alone.”

“He had to die sometime,” he rubbed your back.

“Not like that! Not so young! They barely left room for you guys to come back. And don’t give me that bullshit about COVID and needing to make changes. They did not need to kill Dean in a dirty BARN with a random piece of absurdly large rebar in shitty lighting. Give me Dabb’s phone number.”

He squeezed you once more before letting you go and resuming shaving.

“I’m not giving you his number,” he said.

“Well…okay,” you sputtered, “but I’m going to fix it. I’m gonna plot out a whole thing and my sweet Dean will live.”

“Like fan fiction?” he asked, still shaving. Large clumps of beard falling into the trash can.

“No, not like fan fiction, butthole. Like a fully plotted out, written scripts that will fucking resolve that bullshit.”

“Don’t you have a whole movie to write?” he asked.

“Listen, Ackles,” you gave him tone and he grinned knowing he zinged you. “O’ll make it happen. Just you wait.”

“Okay,” he chuckled. “You do that. Can I help plot it out with you?”

“Of course!” you were feeling better now and excited about the prospect of potentially bringing your favorite character back to life.

Jensen put the final guard on the clippers and ran it over his face. He made sure he got any long pieces he may have missed, then cleaned up the mess he’d made on the counter. You were patiently waiting for him to show you his face. It still surprised you how long his hair had gotten, though.

“How long were you growing out your hair, for real?” you asked. “You were up there a couple months, but this grow out is a good six months or more.”

“About that,” he agreed.

“Do you want me to take some length off? I have scissors somewhere,” you offered. “Can’t guarantee it’ll look good, but I’ll leave enough a pro can fix it.”

“Knock yourself out,” he agreed and sat on your vanity chair.

Grabbing a towel, all of your hair clips, brush and comb, you got ready to cut Jensen’s hair. You draped the towel around his shoulders and reached around from behind to clip the towel together in front of him.

She brushed his hair, running her fingers through with each pass. Her nails scratched his scalp as she seemingly massaged his head.

“Mm. Your scalp is tense. How is your scalp tense?” 

“Might be because I have a nearly naked woman dancing around and touching me all over,” he remarked.

She looked down at her bare legs under his shirt. “So…if I lifted my arms above my head like this,” she flashed him, “that do anything for ya?”

It really did. He didn’t know why it was so hot when women wear their partner’s clothes, but it was. The shape of her ass just barely concealed.

“Yep. Like it. Like it a lot,” he was trying not to think about it.

“Oh…okay,” she said, and he knew she would tease him the whole time she cut his hair.

She brushed it back and tried his hair in different styles. He just let her do her thing until she could picture the style she wanted.

“Too bad, Barry Gibb is pretty hot on you,” she teased and got to sectioning his hair.

When she was done, he’d gotten his face full of her at least three times, and two views of her butt in the mirror. She took off about three inches of hair from all over his head. She brushed it again and checked her work, looking for missed, long hairs. She then got out the clippers and shaved his neck and evened out the line of hair. He was then given a mirror so she could check the final product while she cleaned up the floor gracing him with one luxurious view of her backside.

“That’s a lot of hair, hon,” she said, putting the clippings in the trash. “So?”

“Actually, not bad.”

“Really, or are you trying not to hurt my feelings?” she asked.

“Baby, I would tell you,” he assured her.

“Alright, let’s get some breakfast going. Then I can show you how to use all of the equipment,” she said.

After breakfast, you showed Jensen all of the things and where you kept your cheat sheets for him to use if needed. He seemed to catch on fairly quickly and you left him to it so you could get your own work done. Almost as soon as you got on your computer, you got a zoom call from your manager, Eleanor Mitchellhill.

“It’s very early in the day, Eleanor,” you answered the phone. An icy chill flowed through your screen.

“It’s not early here Y|N,” she snipped in her British accent. “Where the hell have you been? It took you longer than a couple weeks.”

“I was in an undisclosed location spending time with my friend who needed me,” you explained.

“Does this friend have a name?” she pressed.

“Elle…,” you stalled, “I don’t think you need his name yet.”

“Oh, I see,” she drew out the word. “It’s a he. Is this man the reason you’re practically glowing?” she wanted to know.

“You could say that,” you nodded.

“Well, whatever fuels your fire, I suppose,” she acquiesced. “We will come back to this soon enough.”

“I don’t need a background check, Elle,” you said, “but you’re right, we will need to talk about him later. I need a week. He needs to go to Texas.”

“And you need to go with him?” she guessed.

You sighed, “Elle, it’s complicated and yes, I’m going with him.”

“Can’t wait to hear about it in a week,” she said, dryly. “Right, let’s talk. For the love of all that is holy, when are we going to get you in the public eye? You’re cute as a button and the people will just eat you up. And my god, when they know about the mystery series…” she kissed her fingertips. “Perfection.”

“About that, I want to go public with the mystery series pen name first. The romance one, I don’t want to do yet. And I want to go public with the mystery one when the movie is about to release. Like, on the promotion circuit.”

“I suppose you’ve already talked to Jan about this?” she asked.

You nodded, “She’s aware. I also told her that when I get this script done, I want Jensen Ackles to get a shot at playing Hobart. So if he does, you’re gonna be okay with it.”

Eleanor leaned back in her chair, “Why would I need to do that?”

“He’s my friend, Elle, and I based the character on him. There really isn’t anyone better to play him.”

Eleanor sat quietly, just staring at you while she thought. “Alright. Now get that script done. And as soon as you get to Texas, I expect a call, immediately, Y|N.”

“Understood,” you confirmed.

After a few more calls and answered emails, you were able to get in some steady work and the words flew from your fingertips into the script. It was like you were putting what you could see so clearly in your head into the script. You still had the notes from when you wrote the first book so it flowed really well. The story of Whiskey Hollow was precious to you and it would have been hard for you to let anyone take over writing the script for the movie adaptation. You just hoped that what you were creating would be appealing to whichever studio wanted the script. Jan, your agent, would be working hard to find takers and you wanted to give it your best effort.

A few days later, you and Jensen had put in three very long days doing all manner of work on your script and getting his affairs in order. You had written a ton in the script and were nearing completion, but something had come up that needed to be dealt with. Your brother and mom were coming over and you were not looking forward to finally telling him your big secret.

You sat on the couch in your living room with a notebook and pen, jotting down a few words here and there as Jensen looked around while he waited. He liked to look at your things. He did it a lot when he would visit in the past. You supposed he just liked to get to know you by the items you kept, as well.

He turned toward the mantle. The light from outside shone on some glass pieces that had caught his eye. Stepping closer he realized the sparkle came from one of the crystal candlestick holders he’d sent her as a housewarming gift from himself and Danneel. Dee hadn’t wanted to sign the card, but he’d insisted. With one candlestick was the glass orb his mom had gifted her years ago and the Swarovski star he’d left for her at her apartment. Behind the glass art was a picture frame that held multiple pictures.

He needed to step closer to get a better look.

“Need my glasses?”  Y|N asked from the couch.

“Hush,” he returned. The pictures were of his family on various occasions through the years. He didn’t remember some of them.

“Where was I for this one?” he pointed to the picture in the top right location.

She put down her pen and paper to join him.

“Oh, I think you were in …shit…wherever Dawson’s Creek filmed… North Carolina?” she put her hand on his back. “Your mom said I was welcome to come by anytime I was in Dallas, so I did.”

“You did? How often did you go?” he was surprised she would go to his parents’ house without him also being there.

“Maybe once every two or three years. It was usually for work when you weren’t there. You knew when I was there for the conventions.”

He looked down at her, “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”

“Well, I wasn’t there to see you,” she smiled. “I went to see your mom and dad…and have your mom’s cooking.” She got on her tiptoes for a quick kiss. “You’re hot as hell, but even my world doesn’t revolve around you.”

She moved to go back to the couch and her notebook. He put his arm around her to keep her close. “Hey,” he waited for her gaze to meet his, “you know I don’t think that, right?”

“I wondered sometimes,” she admitted.

“When?”

Her demeanor changed and she looked uncomfortable.

“You can tell me,” he tried to reassure her.

“That time you asked me to move to Austin, or LA, or Vancouver to be closer to you.” A harsh blush rose to her cheeks. “It felt like it was only to make you happy. You were with Dee and it made me feel like your side-piece, especially when I was sure you knew how I felt about you.”

It shocked him to hear her say it, but it was hard to deny her viewpoint. Neither one of them had been very good at concealing their feelings for each other, he was realizing. It had been selfish of him to ask, but he’d truly just wanted her closer… maybe he’d just been lying to himself a lot longer than he thought.

“I didn’t realize what I was doing. I shouldn’t have asked to put you in such an awkward position,” he held her tight to his chest. “Forgive me?”

“Of course,” she said. Her hand snaked up the back of his t-shirt, her nails scratching the skin of his back. “I was so close to saying, fuckit, but I would totally have tried to be a homewrecker.”

He remembered asking her and he remembered that they had gone to the fair that trip. “I should have done something after you kicked fuckface to the curb. I thought I was doing the right thing. I didn’t want to make things worse. I thought Danneel and I deserved a shot. I did love her, but not like how I love you. Even she knew. It’s probably why I didn’t get any of the letters you sent to Austin. She kept them from me because she knew how much I looked forward to them, even before we got engaged.”

“You were right though. I didn’t know who I was or what I needed after the Grant situation. I thought about making a move on you, too, but I didn’t know if I just wanted to feel better or if I truly wanted to start something with you.”

“Remember that night I fell asleep on your bed?” he paused when she looked up at him.

“Yeah?”

“Totally watched you change your clothes.”

“Oh my god,” she hid her face on his chest for a moment. “You dirty dog,” she chuckled.

“Worth it.”

“You liked what you saw?”

He nodded. “You were my dream girl before I even knew what that meant. I should never have let you get on that airplane,” he lamented.

He released her from his embrace and watched as she went back to the couch to wait for her brother to take his sweet time arriving. When she bent down to pick up her pen and notebook, he got a good look. She still has a great ass, he thought.

There were a lot of pictures on the mantle. Mostly, they were of their respective families and some convention photo ops. Far too many with Richard, he thought. At the opposite end of the mantle held the matching candlestick and more pictures that included her travels and himself. His eyes fell on the picture of them at the lake on the deck. They’d had such a good time that trip. Young enough to be carefree, old enough to be left to their own devices. They’d gone to the tiny amusement park and rode the rides over and over. Of course, Nova had liked the Ferris Wheel the best because it overlooked the lake. She loved the water, Ferris Wheels, and me, he thought with a smile. 

Finally, a half hour late, your brother, Jarrod, rang the doorbell and you let him into your house. He greeted Jensen and Jensen poured drinks for everyone while Jarrod got settled.

“Mom told me you two finally got together,” he said in his usual loud voice.

“Yeah, Jarrod, it’s true,” you said.

“If you two ever need security, I’m available. You know I’ve got that training…” he said.

You tried not to roll your eyes where Jarrod would notice. Jensen stood behind him for a moment and did it for you before coming around to sit in one of the armchairs and sip on his whiskey.

“Clif has his own guys that Jensen uses, but I will tell Clif that you might be interested if there’s an opening. But the reason I wanted you to come over is because I need to tell you something…”

“You’re pregnant?”

“Jesus Christ, Jarrod. No, I’m definitely not pregnant. I need to tell you that I don’t work for the government and haven’t for years. I did work for the NRC, but I haven’t for years.”

He just looked at you like it was old news. “You’ve been at the grocery store for a while. I assumed you just had a good retirement plan.”

Sometimes it still amazed you that you and he had the same genetic material.

“The government doesn’t pay well enough for me to buy a whole goddamned city block in town, Jarrod.”

“Don’t get pissy with me. So if you didn’t work for the government, who did you work for? You obviously had some serious cash coming in.”

It was all you could do to not attempt to strangle him. “I write books. Lots of them. And I sold a lot. I am Nova Scott and Ross Black.” You waited for it to sink in. All he did was stare at you blankly. Your brother was not known for quiet reflection and was beginning to scare you. A whole new list of worries sprinted through your brain. “I need you to be cool about this, Jarrod, and to keep it quiet.”

“Does Mom know?”

“Yeah, from the start. Like three people in the profession know, Mom, Jay, and my one employee, Jen. Now you.”

“He knew before me?” you could hear the anger rising in his voice.

Jensen said nothing but carefully set down his glass.

“Barely. I only just told him about Ross Black. He knew about Nova Scott a few years ago.”

“What about your dumbshit exes?”

“No, Jarrod. Dan knew I wrote, but he didn’t know what or under what name,” you explained.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me sooner,” his voice boomed despite your plush furniture.

“I had my reasons,” you said simply.

He was obviously angry and hurt. He stood on the opposite end of the mantle from you. The sheer size of him was daunting and he scared the hell out of you when he was mad. Even if you got the upper hand, you knew you couldn’t take him. He was 8 inches taller and 150 pounds heavier, severely skewing your odds of being successful.

“Boy, nobody fucks you like family,” his volume only increasing.

“How the fuck is protecting my privacy about you?! I didn’t tell you for very good reasons.”

“You always thought you were too good for this family. Always smarter than me. The favorite child.”

“For fucks sake, Jarrod. This childish resentment needs to stop. I’m not smarter than you. I just tried harder. You’re mad at me about shit you could have fixed but didn’t and that’s on you.”

You didn’t realize you had so much built up rage.

“How long have you kept this from me?”

“Oh my god,” you were getting a headache. “I don’t have an obligation to tell you jack shit. I’m only telling you now out of courtesy because the press is going to find out about me and Jay and they will dig into who I am.”

“If you’ve been incognito this whole time, why now? You’ve known him forever. Has no one ever approached you?”

You shook your head. “What about you?” Jarrod shook his head. You sighed deeply as you told him about the plan. “If I tell you, I need to know I can trust you not to tell anyone, and I mean anyone. Not even Jenna.”

“What? Why not?”

“I’m not risking this leaking before its time. If you can’t promise me, I can’t tell you and you can leave now. Once it’s public then you can talk.”

Finally, he agreed and you told him everything. Jarrod went from fuming to understanding and back and forth as you told him your plan.

“So let me get this straight. You find out Bob is doing sketchy shit and your ‘source’ agrees to get you evidence of said shit. You find out other methods of embezzlement, not giving Dad a raise for 20 years, dad dies, you flip out at the funeral… I’m guessing that was the tipping point?” You nodded. “Debbie tries to start shit and you said what you said to her… so, are you going to do it soon, or are you just going to hold it over her, or them, or?”

“As long as they mind their own business, we’re cool. If they want to come at me, talk shit, or say any disparaging words about me and/or Jay, I will burn those motherfuckers to the ground.”

“Holy shit,” Jarrod muttered. “Still sounds like you’re the smart one.”

“No, I just hold a grudge and am willing to play the long game,” you told him.

Jarrod turned to Jensen who had been quietly listening to the exchange. “What about you? Are you good with this?”

“I know better than to get in her way. I trust her and the plan and will back her up to the end …not to mention happy to stay in her good graces,” Jensen answered, picking up his whiskey again.

“Guess I better do the same.”

The rest of the week continued to fly by. You were writing like crazy and Jensen was working with his lawyers, and team, to start getting him back into auditions for his various interests. He was collaborating with Steve, sending in voice work for his various cartoons and other voiceover work, calling all sorts of people to get his interests turned into reality. Meanwhile, you were writing, researching, asking Jensen questions and fielding calls from people like your agent, Jan.

“Hello Jan,” you answered. “What’s up? I wasn’t expecting you to call again this week.” You’d sent her what you had of the completed script on Wednesday morning and she had called Thursday morning.

“Sweetie, I don’t know what you put in that script but the studio called back already and they want to have a meeting.”

“A meeting? About what? Is that good?” you asked, worried.

“In all my years, this has only happened a handful of times. You need to get over there so they can ooh and aah over what can only be a masterpiece.”

“Or they want to tell me to my face how it’s total shit and need to redo the whole thing,” you lamented.

“Sweetie, the studio doesn’t fly you out to talk about garbage. When can you be ready?”

“Um…I don’t know…I need to talk to Jensen, but I’m thinking we can go out tonight or tomorrow morning.”

“Is this a package deal?” Jan asked. “If he’s included, I need to know now. I can try to get them to pay for the ticket, but I can’t guarantee it.”

“Book it regardless. He’s coming with me,” you told her. “We can cancel if need be.”

“Please tell me you’re going to get away from that tiny town you live in. You need to either be in LA or New York. You’re killing me with all of these connecting flights.”

You chuckled at her exasperated tone. “It may happen sooner than later. Hang tough, Jan. I want to try out the London West Hollywood this time.”

“Why not the Beverly Wilshire? You love that place and you can walk to the studio, you love that healthy shit.”

“Jan, that’s the Pretty Woman hotel and I’ll be going there with my new boyfriend.”

“So what, put it in one of those books you write. You are a pretty woman and that new guy of yours is a hot piece. You have your Pretty Woman experience, sweetie, you deserve it. And for what it’s worth, I like him and I don’t believe a word of the allegations. Nail that bitch to the wall. I did check around and couldn’t find anyone who had a bad word to say about him.”

“It means a lot, Jan,” you admitted. “I didn’t know you didn’t like the other guys.”

“Sweetie, you’re like family at this point. I tried to like ‘em, but it wasn’t my place to tell you who to love. I’ll get it set up and email you the details.”

“Thanks, Jan,” you signed off.

You got up from your computer to go find Jensen. The last you’d seen him, he’d gone through the bookcase. Inside the room, you’d expected to see him inside the soundproof room, but it was dark inside. You were reasonably sure you hadn’t missed a smoking hot man leave through your office, so you went for the spiral staircase to descend into the basement studio.

Jensen was at the soundboard with headphones on. His eyes were closed and you would have thought he was sleeping if not for his fingers tapping the beat on his chest. Your fingertips touched his shoulder first. He merely tensed his body before relaxing under your touch as your hand moved across and down his body. He held your arm against him then pulled you onto his lap. He reached for the keyboard and touched a button before turning his attention to you and took off his headphones.

“This is a nice surprise,” he held you gently as you settled. “I thought you were working.”

“I could say the same about you,” you returned.

“I took a little break to listen to some tracks and a few caught my ear. What’s going on?” he asked.

“Jan called. There’s interest in the script and one of the studios wants to meet on Friday. She’s going to book us a flight either for tonight or early tomorrow morning.”

“That was quick. Told you they’d love it. You sure you want me to go with you? I’m looking like damaged goods lately,” he said.

You touched his face and noticed the chop job you’d done on his hair. “Diamond in the rough, maybe.” You leaned in to kiss his full lips. “Of course, I want you to come with me. No more than a couple days, remember? Plus, the hotel is across the street and there’s hella good shopping all within walking distance.” You were softly touching his face all over. “Do I have to twist your arm?”

“No, just making sure.”

“My sweet boy, I will always want you. I’ve always had your back, I’m not stopping now, so will you go with me? Did you have your heart set on driving to Texas? I promise your truck will be safe here.” You paused briefly, “We still can, I just didn’t want to rush.”

“We’ll figure it out,” he agreed. “I’m so proud of you.”

His warm hand went under your shirt and up your back, expertly unclasping your bra. You pulled the garment from your body through the arm hole of your shirt.

“You’ve done that more than once,” you noted, kissing him again and feeling his lips smile against yours.

“It hasn’t been worth it til now,” his hand covered your breast, kneading your soft flesh then moving to your nipple. “Have any other hidden rooms down here…with a bed?”

His voice had gotten deeper and quieter.

“I have a sofa in my office,” you offered.

“That’ll do.”

You sat at your desk, both working and waiting for Jan to get back to you with travel plans. You were still adding things to the script and tweaking scenes here and there when the email finally dropped in. Jensen was reading a book on the sofa. You couldn’t really see the cover from where you sat, but you thought it looked vaguely familiar.

“Time to get packed,” you told him.

He closed his book and said, “I think we can go to Texas from California. My truck will be fine here. What hotel’re we staying at, anyway?”

“The Beverly Wilshire,” you mumbled.

“The Beverly Wilshire?” he asked. Reveling in her suddenly shy demeanor.

“I’m gonna tell Jan to change to the London,” you blustered.

He sat up on the couch, “The one from Pretty Woman?”

“You know it is, jerk.”

“Nice hotel.”

“Yes it is.”

“Have you stayed there before?”

“Yes, I’ve been there before,” you told him, “For the romance movie deals.”

He got up and put the book back on the shelf and you saw he was near the section that held your Nova Scott and Ross Black books, but your mind was on other tasks and couldn’t see which one he put back. You didn’t want to assume he was reading anything other than Whiskey Hollow and let it go for the time being.

“Are we going to the mighty SooFoo tonight, or in the morning?”

“Tonight,” you answered. “Jan somehow managed to get us in with only a short layover in Denver.”

You left your office to go up to your room to pack what you would need for a few days and clothes for the meeting. 

Jensen stayed behind, waiting to make sure she had gotten all the way upstairs before he went back to the bookshelf and pulled off the book he’d been reading. It was the first time he’d seen it in a long time, not since he was on set with all of the cast members reading the first #1 seller for Nova Scott. He tucked it into the back of his pants and pulled his shirt over to hide it. He thought he would bust it out on the airplane and take the consequences there rather than asking her to finally let him start reading them. 

#jensen ackles rpf #jensen ackles x female reader #spn fanfic #jensen ackles x you #Interlude #kazosa

[pockavas]

Halsin - trusting your fears

P.S. First time posting such thing. Hope all will enjoy it.

It was a long and tiring day, after which you didn't even want to talk to your campmates, but to retreat to some quiet corner and be alone with your thoughts.

Covered in dirt and dried blood, Ross decided that this peaceful spot by the nearby river stream is perfect and through its clear and cool water she could shake off the accumulated dirt on her body.

She hurried through her tent to get clean clothes and a special jar of scented oils, with that much-loved mix of rose oil and honey.

She liked a stony spot on the bank of the stream, where she could comfortably sit down and enjoy the refreshment. She didn't strip naked, she decided that there was no need, and started dousing herself with the towel, diligently scrubbing every single spot of blood and mud that she could see. When she decided she was clean enough, she devoted herself to caring for her hair, rubbing the oil in thoroughly, inhaling its relaxing aroma.

Immersed in her work, until the last moment she did not notice the approaching huge bear on the opposite bank, which with clumsy but steady steps directly entered the stream, noisily splashing the water around its powerful paws.

As a ranger who spent most of her conscious time in the backwoods and was intimately familiar with the flora and fauna of the forest, Ross decided it was best to lay low and see where the course of the event would take her. She took a closer look with her trained eye, and thankfully realized she knew this bear, it was Halsin, in his wild form. What a majestic beast he was in this condition, inspiring fear among enemies and respect among allies.

This druid, this rock of nature, was all that attracted Ross. Older, more experienced, wise even, strong and powerful, at the same time infinitely attentive, tolerant, concerned, funny even.

During their weeks together, in camp or on the battlefield, they got to know each other. Ross was definitely interested in him, and more than once she had asked him out for a drink, to relax away from cares and others, but he always refused, managing not to be rude and at the same time saying things that suggested to her that Halsin also has an interest in her but restrains from action.

Halsin Bear entered the stream up to his belly, and in the next moment he transformed back into his human form. This was always accompanied by a blinding golden light and was always impressive. Ross never moved, but he noticed her immediately, their eyes meeting. There was a moment of surprise in his look, and then he became calm as morning light, and a soft smile crossed his lips.

Ross hesitated for a moment longer how to react, seeing him naked to the waist, the water dripping from his hair, his wet body, his broad shoulders, his strong arms. It was a sight that made her hold her breath.

"- Sorry if I startled you!" Halsin said meekly, "I needed to get the goblin blood out of me. Although children of nature, they deny everything she stands for."

"-Yes, I understand you completely. I too felt this need and came here first."

"-But I interrupted you, I didn't mean to disturb your peace. Come, the stream is all yours."-Halsin held out his hands beckoningly to Ross, but she did not reach for them immediately. "-What's wrong, why are you hesitating?" he asked worriedly.

"-Well... I... Do you remember when we shared things about ourselves the first time, and I told you that I was afraid of water. At first you thought I was joking, but it really is. About this I'm standing here in the shallows."

Halsin's expression softened even more, a hint of apology running through him. He stepped towards her, still with outstretched arms:

"- I'm sorry, I shouldn't have underestimated your words then. Now I'll show you it's not scary. Trust me!"

Ross trusted him, he had saved her life more than once and she had saved his. She didn't wait any longer and placed her hands in his, which were immeasurably larger, stronger and surer. Like this, Halsin backed into the deeper part of the stream, slowly and calmly, reading her every expression. After only a few steps, Ross stopped feeling the bottom beneath her feet and panic began to rise within her.

One by one she removed her hands from his palms, clinging tightly to his biceps, then wrapped both arms around his neck as if she were a drowning man clutching a steady log, trying to stay afloat.

Halsin smelled the scent wafting from her hair, his favorite honey, a scent that made him inhale deeply and close his eyes for a moment. He remembered the first time he'd spotted it in the goblin lair, when Ross had saved him from them, saved a raging bear, not knowing if she'd be attacked in return for her help.

Halsin sensed Ross's fear instantly, not protesting but wrapping his powerful arms around her waist to make her feel more secure. She was so small and fragile in his arms.

And what a certainty that was. Halsin was like a monument that you knew would never yield. Every muscle of his felt infinitely warm, despite the cold water. A hug you never want to leave.

"-It's okay Ross, I'm holding you. I'm with you!" - he whispered to her - "There is nothing to be afraid of."

"-I... I know, I'm at peace with you, but it's a fear deep inside me that's hard to fight. Primal. You know what it is! And against nature, it's hard to fight."

Halsyn gently released her arms from the grip around his neck, placing her palms on his chest. She felt his pulse, so calm, steady, balanced. She just had to follow that rhythm.

"-Let me show you how nice it is to let the current wash everything away from you."

Everything needed to convince her was read in his eyes. Holding her hands again, Halsin placed her in front of him, now holding her with one hand on her back and one on her stomach. Without giving her a sign, Ross closed ers eyes, surrendering to her trust in him. She leaned back as if the water were the most comfortable bed, only her face remained above the surface.

It felt like you were floating on clouds, not swimming. For a moment the world disappeared, no stream, no enemies, just her and Halsin's warm hands on her skin.

Halsin was beside her, smiling blissfully, seeing the effect this small gesture had on Ross's mind.

He decided enough was enough. He gently straightened her up and pulled her to him. Ross didn't rush to open her eyes, and when she did, she saw him looking at her. She was all in his eyes, sinking into them. Ross realized that he had been staring at her. That her wet hair fell over her shoulders, that her underwear didn't really hide her nakedness, that her breasts had hardened, her nipples even more, from both the cold water and his unrelenting presence beside her, one of her straps had fallen, revealing part of her tattoos.

She didn't mind it, she wanted him to look at her, and not only that, she wanted more from him, but the current problems with the Shadow Curse, the guilt gnawing at him, made the deflections of her invitations somewhat murky. And she had decided, as much as she wanted it , to respect his will.

And how much he wanted her! But he couldn't indulge his desires just yet, not until the job was done. Until then, everything had to remain in his mind, in his dreams. But he couldn't deny his body. This woman, an excellent hunter, master of the bow, flexible and agaile as his string, fearless in the face of danger, yet so frail and small in his hands, who shared her only fear with him.

Wet, fragrant as spring, with clothes as transparent as morning mist, only hinting at the treasures beneath.

"-Halsin?" - called him quietly by name, approaching him, placing her hands on his chest again - "Halsin?" - even closer now. She could feel his warm breath on her face.

"-I'm sorry, I..., I forgot myself, I forgot I was immersed in the beauty and genius of Mother Nature's creation. I am happy that she trusted me and shared her innermost fear with me. It is a gift that I will keep close to my heart ."

Without waiting for her answer, he led her back to the shallows, leaving her to sit by the jar of fragrant oil.

"-Don't stay wet too long, I don't want you to catch a cold."- he ran his fingers down her arm, to her shoulder, a simple touch electrifying her skin, he put her shoulder strap back in place. A gesture that completely contradicted what he wanted to do - to tear the thin fabric and soak up every drop of water from her skin with his lips.

Realizing that Halsin actually intended to leave, Ross put her hand on top of his while still on her shoulder, the other running through his wet hair that was dripping onto her. Halsin was kneeling next to her, literally casting a shadow, so large he was, encompassing her entire being.

"-You don't have to leave. You can stay and make sure I don't catch a cold."

"-Don't think I don't want it. My desire extends far beyond that, ...but I must stay focused on the dangers that lie ahead. I fear that if I get too distracted, it could cost us dearly.

... And also.... I want to be able to give my full attention to the object of my desire, because it deserves everything, and nothing less. To do otherwise would not be fair, but egotistical on my part."

"-Halsin...."-what can you say against those words, sincere, kind, spoken in the warmest voice -"I will always respect your position. What else could I do?!"- Ross gave him an encouraging smile , behind which there was a slight sadness and a note of disappointment.

She didn't wait for Halsin to leave, got up before him, gathered her clothes and started back to camp. She did not notice that the jar of perfumes was left, a fact that did not escape Halsin's sharp gaze. He reached for the small container, opened the decorated lid. He couldn't resist inhaling the aroma that grabbed his mind and took him momentarily into his dreams where he was holding Ross in his arms, their bodies entwining in pleasure....indulging in their nature.... Even only in his, this vison, this desire, it was so strong that it strained his muscles, from the back of his neck to those between his legs.

Halsyn wrapped his fist around the jar, opened his eyes, a mixture of lust, disappointment, and anger. Lust and passion, struggling with disappointment in himself, that he has to turn his back on the object of his feelings for now to atone for his guilt. Anger at the whole situation, anger at him for almost pushing her away, denying the nature of both of them, and not knowing what the new day and the dangerous world they live in will bring.

#baldur's gate 3 #halsin #halsin baldur's gate 3 #halsin romance #halsin bg3 #baldurs gate 3