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pricegouge · 4 months

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Fatted Rabbit, Part Thirteen on AO3

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Bearshifter!Price x reader | explicit

"No bones, either. Like a man stripped naked, then got absolutely atomized not ten feet away. Poor bastard, huh? Weirdest part was the way the tracks died. They shouldn't've, you know? Too muddy. So I poked around some more. Found the guy's wallet. Wanna take another guess whose it was?" There's a pit in your stomach but you're not sure why. You know who he's gonna say; know John didn't get eaten by a bear. But you don't know what he's getting at, what he thinks he saw. Distantly, you remember how he talks to himself when he thinks you can't hear. "Was it John's?" Finger gun, pointer finger flush against your temple. "Bingo."

A/N Well I did it. Someone gets eaten this chapter so sayonara if that's not for you. I don't think it's gratuitous, but also I'm a gore hound and my standards aren't normal so proceed with caution if you must. As a heads up, this is the beginning of the end, folks. I think there'll only be two, maybe three chapters after this :(

Simon's resolve finally breaks when John takes a winding corner in the foothills of the bighorns too quick and they nearly roll over the guardrail. His grip on the holy shit handle, white knuckled and muscle bunching as it had been for hours, yanks down hard enough to break it and even he can't play that off casually, although he's sorely tempted to try when he realizes Price is too focused on the road to have noticed. Simon sighs and throws the handle out the window before telling Price to pull over. He's ignored, so he snaps his fingers obnoxiously in John's face and nearly gets them bit off in the process.

"Fuck off, Riley," John growls, shoving the other man's hand away, but Simon persists, shoving right back.

"Pull over now , Price."

"Nearly there," John mutters, accelerator never wavering.

"Roight, but the plan is to get there, yeah?"

John risks taking his eyes off the road for exactly two seconds in order to glare at his passenger. Simon, of course, glares right back, hopefully managing to make it look apathetic despite the fact he'd recently torn a piece of Price's car off.

"Pull over, cap. I'll drive."

"And what'll I do?"

"Not kill us for a start," Simon grumbles and John snarls but complies anyway. It's a quick exchange, and soon Price is simmering in the passenger seat while Simon tears through the countryside at a slightly less lethal pace. It's bad for him, probably; leaves his mind free to wander and envision worse and worse scenarios. Simon hopes it fuels the fire, leaves the general din of anxiety in his gut roiling. He's been beside himself since he'd heard Graves come through that door, sitting up stiff as a board as he yelled through his earpiece for the bird to wake up. It's not good, but it's useful. Himself, he remains as quiet as ever, content to let John simmer, and by the time they make it to the motel where the bird's phone last pinged from, he's damn near frothing at the bit.

Simon pulls up alongside the Wrangler and John is jumping out before the Suburban is even fully parked. The driver's side door hangs slightly open, battery evidently dead after keeping the dome light on half the night. Simon studies the ground around it while John inspects the car thoroughly. He finds a set of keys not far off, crouches to get them and pops back up in the passenger window, watches as his longtime friend sniffs the driver's seat like a bloodhound. He briefly wonders how well a joke would go over right then, thinks better of it when John snarls something at him that sounds maybe a little like 'What?'

Simon just shakes his head minutely, weighing options he knows Price is too wound up to consider. If the Jeep is left here, someone will eventually come to tow it. And then someone will need to be billed, and cops will get involved. But John's found blood on the door, and Simon very much doubts they'll want cops sniffing around by the end of this.

"Jump it," Simon instructs, dangling the keys at John. I'm gonna go see what the clerk knows."

"I'll come with -."

"You won't. You're too distracted, and I'm scarier. Jump it." He lobs the keys over the roof of the Jeep and Price grumbles but complies, returns to stewing.

The reception area is dim, mildewy, the carpet so thin and threadbare the concrete dust of the subflooring puffs around each of Simon's quiet, careful bootfalls. There's no one at the desk so Simon takes it upon himself to slide behind it and knock the mouse of the computer just to see if it's locked. It is, of course, because nothing can go right anymore, so he thumps the help bell hard enough to break it and sits to await the clerk, for all appearances just as patient as ever.

Simon can hear the clerk muttering to himself about customers as he rounds the door of the office in the back, voice thin and high. He half expects Anthony Perkins, gets frumpy old James Stewart with a hell of a black eye instead. The man stops dead when he spots Simon, takes a half a step back before thinking better of it and trying to square his shoulders up. "You're not s'pposed to be back here," he gripes, thick American accent adding to the vague washed up aura of him.

Simon ignores him. "Where'd you tha' shiner?"

The man falters a bit, squeezes an old-looking ice pack in his fist absently. They both track the movement, and when Simon looks up again, the man - Les, by his nametag - has a grim, resigned look about him. "What d'you want?"

"Wanna know who you lost a fight against, first. Then I wanna see some security footage."

"I can't disclose that to anyone but -."

"No, but you will."

"And why would I do that, now?"

"We'll get there," Simon grumbles, leaning forward in the seat until it creaks ominously under his weight. "Who gave you the beat down, Les?"

The man sighs, gives up pretending he's not in pain and plasters the ice pack back to his face. "Didn't give a name."

"I'd imagine not, but you can do better than that."

"I don't know, man, Jesus. Blond fella. Sharp nose."

Simon leaves a beat of silence where another person would hum contemplatively. "And what did you give 'im?"

Under all the swelling, Les pales. "Nothin'."

It's hard giving a man an unimpressed glare, when you make it a point to look unimpressed every moment of your life. Still, Simon must manage it because the clerk visibly wilts, shuffles. "You a cop?"

Simon nearly laughs. "Do I look like a cop?"

"He wanted a key," Les sighs, "to a tenant's room. I swear I didn't give it to him, just her room number. Figured he'd make a hell of a commotion trying to get in and she'd have time to scram, or call for for help or somethin'. But then he hopped the desk and nabbed it. Shoulda seen that comin'," Les huffs, no humor. "I'm sorry if she's your girl, I just didn't know how to stop him."

"And you didn't think to call the authorities when you 'eard 'im peeling out and saw the Wrangler was left ajar?"

"Didn't notice -." He cuts himself off when Simon raises his eyebrows sharply. "We don't… like cops comin' 'round here, 'specially at night. Figured I'd wait 'til she missed check out and call then."

"Gave 'im a hell of a head start," Simon observes, patience growing thin.

Les shrugs dejectedly. "I panicked, man. Had shit goin' on here last night. It was either she goes missin' or a whole mess of people wind up in jail."

Simon lets him flounder a moment, stands to his full height and watches the effect it has on the clerk. "'ere's what we're gonna do. You're gonna show me that security footage like I asked -" Les attempts to interrupt but Simon carries on right over him, "- because if you don't, I will beat you within an inch of your life, call the authorities and tell them all about what you did - or didn't do -, and I'm gonna get to see the footage anyway when I tell them about my friend. And when they ask about your state, I'm going to blame it on that sharp-nosed fucker, yeah?"

Another nervous squeeze of the ice pack. Les looks around for help, finds none. "And if I let you see it, this all goes away?"

"We'll even take the Wrangler."

Les nods. "Hang on. Gotta find the password, should be in the boss's office." He turns and ducks through the door, closely followed by Simon who does not want to lose him out a back window or something.

"You're not the owner?"

"Night manager," Les grumbles, shuffling through a spiral bound notebook so old and thumbed through, the binding resembles an abused slinky. He briefly compares himself to this sorry old man, wondering if that'll be him some day, second in command of a rapidly sinking ship and makes a note to check on Price's finances. Nothing wrong with being thorough.

"Should be it," Les mutters to himself, moving past Simon into the lobby again.

Simon watches Price through the bay window while the old man works, grumbling to himself all the while about technology he can barely understand. It takes him a bit, but Simon doesn't mind - just keeps watching as his mate grows more and more irritable. It's a gamble, probably, but Price has always had a short, effective fuse. All he needs to do is find a direction to aim the man and soon they'll all be home in time for dinner.

If Price is still hungry, that is.

He texts Gaz to make sure the man can help him if he gets a plate number, frowns at the emojis he receives in response. A thumbs up and a saluting serious face. Probably an affirmative.

"Here it is," Les finally announces, and turns the screen toward Simon. Must not want the big man coming back behind the desk again, smart lad. He does it anyway, just to be an arse.

"Is that a bloody Escalade?" Simon prides himself on keeping most emotions out of his tone, but he can't help the sneer of disgust the gaudy SUV incites.

Wes nods sympathetically. "A champagne one too, looks like."

"Christ," Simon mutters, watching as Graves drags a concerningly limp bird into the back seat. "Get me a decent shot of the tags." Wes does, eager to please now that he knows his intrusive guest will be clearing out soon. Simon copies the number over to Gaz and asks for a print out of the shot for good measure. He claps his hand on Wes's shoulder when the man produces, squeezes threateningly to gain his attention.

"Wes, you wanna hear my favorite Norman Bates joke?"

"Uh, s-sure," the man agrees, hackles raised.

"It goes like this: if I ever find out you stood idly by while another girl gets abducted, I'll come back here and taxidermy you, yeah?"

"Y-yes, sir." He has the decency to sound shamed, at least.

"Roight. That wasn't very funny, was it?" Simon hums as if in thought, pats Wes on the back too hard again as he straightens out and walks back around the desk. "Tell you what, I ever come back, I'll take another stab at it." Wes doesn't laugh, the tasteless git. Simon nods at him in paying and shuts the door unsettlingly quietly behind himself.

He's halfway across the parking lot when Gaz calls him.

"You sure that's the right car?" The younger man greets him when Simon answers.

"Quite sure. Saw Graves pull the girl in and everything."

"Strange. It's registered to a Hershel Von Shepherd… the third."

"Two wasn't enough?"

"Apparently not. This guy's like, the real deal, bruv."

Approaching Price now, Simon puts Garrick on speaker. "What d'you mean?"

"Some high ranking general, looks like."

Simon and Price exchange a look. "She said she thought Graves knew someone high up there," Price supplies, and Gaz takes a minute to think it over.

"That shell company we found Graves works for… how likely is it looking that's some paramilitary thing?"

Simon chews that for only a second. "Very."

"Should we -?"

"'M'not worried about it."

There's very little room for argument in Price's voice, but Gaz tries anyway. "I am. What's the plan when you pull up on a compound, eh? You lot got some Rambo shit going on I don't know about?"

"Are we headed for a compound?" Simon interjects before Price can get too heated. Best to steer clear of discussing the plan, considering the best he thinks they've got is 'sic a werebear or whatever on him and hope for the best,' and he's quite certain Price doesn't want Gaz knowing about that.

Kyle huffs. "No," he allows after a moment. "Shepherd's got a cabin down near Denver, looks like. If Graves is looking to return his buddy's car, my bets on that."

"Send the address," Price barks, already climbing up into the Wrangler. He forgot to slide the seat back first, looks bloody ridiculous, all spitting mad and folded like a paperclip.

"Cap," Garrick hedges, but Price isn't listening so Simon assures Gaz he'll talk to the boss before signing off. "Don't get yourselves killed," Gaz mutters, but hangs up all the same.

"We need to talk," Simon announces, Captain Morgan-ing his boot into the door jamb so Price can't close it after figuring out the seat.

"Christ, Simon, I am sitting on blood splatter, now really isn't the time," Price seethes, but Simon doesn't so much as flinch.

"Think it's the perfect time, cap. Gotta have a plan." Price rolls his eyes because he's a petulant child, starts the Jeep and shoves at Simon's leg. He's mildly surprised when the old man succeeds in dislodging him but he covers it fine, steps into the way of the door. "Graves knows about you," he announces and finally, Price stills.

"Knows what?" The man growls, and Simon just keeps staring up at him blankly.

Price takes a moment to eye him over, assessing. "And what is it you think you know, Riley?"

"Know your current plan amounts to 'go all berserker and eat 'im up in one big gulp,' but I'm telling you, if this whole paramilitary shit is true, 'e's gonna 'ave lot worse than some backwoods hunting rifle waiting for you."

There's a tic in Price's jaw as he tries to decide how much of his hand he's willing to show. Simon remains unflinching, letting the other man see exactly how unaffected he is by the truth. He's known for years anyway, plenty of time to grow used to it.

"'e thinks we're both…" Simon waves his hand demonstratively, "furries -."

"- Shifters," Price corrects, long suffering.

"Whatever. Us and Johnny. 'e's an idiot, 'course, but 'e's expecting three bears to show up, if anyone -."

"But he's not expecting anyone. That's what the mace was for." Simon raises an eyebrow in question, and John huffs in frustration. "Can't smell her. I could've tracked her by scent alone if that fucker hadn't sprayed me. I can only assume that's why he wasted time with me before going after her. Thinks he's safe."

"Still leaves me and Johnny."

"Then bluff, Simon. Pretend you got a hell of a trick up your sleeve if you have to."

Simon nods, backs up half a step but holds the door open as another thought occurs. "How'd he know to do that? Get you where it hurts?"

"Because he knows even one singular factoid about bears, I assume?"

"You don't think it's odd how quickly he accepted your fur -."

"-Shifter abilities?" Price eyes Simon over, mustache like to crawl off his face, he's so irritated by this point. "Think it's odd how quick you accepted it."

People usually shrug here, but Simon schools himself into stillness. "Unflappable, me."

"'Course. We're not done talking about this, but I haven't eaten properly since everything started tasting like mucous, and I got big dinner plans." Price plants his boot on Simon's hip and pushes him away, slams the door behind him.

"And what am I supposed to do?" Simon calls through the window glass. There's a speck of blood by the side view mirror which he tries not to think too much about.

"Well, you brought your backwoods hunting rifle, right?"

***

The cabin is nice. Suspiciously nice. Like, 'Has the man you've been committed to for the last several years been secretly married to some successful plastic surgeon this whole time?' kind of nice. But the few pictures that adorn the mantle feature an older, sterner man and his younger, conservative looking wife. No kids from what you can tell, corroborated by the lack of warmth within the walls. It's decorated well enough alright, but in that sterile kind of design you think Joanna Gaines should be brought to the Hague for. You fashion yourself a crutch from a dining chair. It's bulky and awkward, and Phil yells at you whenever you use it while he's inside, but it allows you to take stock of your surroundings, puzzle out places you can hide if need be, or items that could make a decent makeshift weapon. Unfortunately, 'rustic minimalism' leaves you with few options. Less still for a good splint. After close inspection, you'd been relieved to find the break was above your ankle, and probably only restricted to your tibia. You'd found a clothes drying rack the first night at the cabin, broke it apart while Phil slept and used the rods to brace your leg, fashioning it all in place with corded saran wrap. It wasn't great; the plastic itched where it met your skin and it slipped down your leg if you moved too much, but it was better than nothing so you made do despite Phil's mocking laughter when saw it.

Phil's ear oozes blood and pus, marks up all the starched dish towels. He doesn't eat anymore. Well, he might, but you've yet to see it. You'd drifted in and out of wakefulness on the trip down to the cabin and it was easy to assume you'd missed it, or maybe that he'd been running so full tilt that he hadn't stopped at all. It had left you starving, but it wasn't like you were about to ask him to make a special stop for you. It doesn't get better when he stops running. He goes outside a lot, says he's sick of looking at you. Through the window you can see him talking animatedly on a phone he keeps hidden on his person at all times. When he pockets it, the hem of his shirt rides up enough you can see the pistol he keeps in his waistband. You sneak uncooked pasta from the pantry while he's distracted, stay out of his way when he's not.

He hasn't been terrible, all things considered. He likes to grab his gun through his shirt threateningly, but hasn't pulled it on you yet. You keep your head down, watch him in your periphery. He cleans his ear obsessively, mutters about old werewolf movies when he thinks you're not listening. You worry about this new Phil, this man who seems to be courting madness, and sprinkle powdered bleach on the clean rags when he's not looking, listen to him groan in pain every time he goes to clean his ear.

The second night in the cabin finds you laid out on the bed next to him, over the blankets. The threat of him makes you physically ill, but he doesn't touch you, just stares at you malevolently in the wan light that filters in through the rough woven curtains. His ear is a pool of tar in the darkness, oily and slick. It stinks, compiling with the lingering nausea of your head wound and the general sickness his presence brings you to have you turning your nose into the pillow. It smells like straight Borax because the lady of the house probably thinks modern cleaning agents will turn her ovaries queer or something, but you breathe deep anyway, which prompts a cruel laugh from Phil.

"Don't like it, darlin'? Me neither. Got your man to thank for that, you know." It's his fighting voice - the one that warns you there is no response that could appease him. You're so tired.

"Said he bit it off," you chomp illustratively, huff as if it's funny. You hang your finger over his wound suggestively, but your muscles are lax to show him you're no threat. " Holey field indeed."

He snarls, slaps your hand away anyway. "Think it's funny, do you?"

"A little," you admit, brace yourself for a strike that doesn't come. When you can meet his eyes again, Phil looks almost impressed. "What are we doing here, Phil?"

"Hiding out for a bit. Don't know how much you told your man."

"Why?"

"Rather not get mauled in the -."

"No, why are we here? You hate me, Phil. Why not just move on?"

Phil sighs, heavily, plants his open palm on your cheek a little too aggressively and shakes you by your jaw. "So soft, darlin'. So pretty. Simple." He flicks your temple and you flinch, head throbbing, drawing another cruel laugh. When he speaks again, his voice is low and flat. Dark. "I don't share my toys."

You try to drop it, turn back to his ear. "You still got glass in there." He doesn't, it's the bleach drying his flesh out so bad it's turning the cartilage brittle, but he can't see it properly to call you a liar so you'll take your bargaining chips where you can get them. "I'll debride it for you if you get me a splint."

He scoffs. "Glass… ain't worried about the glass, despite your best efforts."

"Human mouths are gross," you agree. "We could both go -."

"Ain't worried about the human part, neither." He sits up with an irritated sound and you keep your lips zipped, the strange stalemate you'd found yourselves in bleeding away and taking your gall with it. "That man of your's… sure know how to pick 'em, don't ya?"

You might tell him he'd left John with little choice, but you know better. Phil continues, "That bear you were friendly with. Never struck you as odd?"

It's hard to speak past the knot that builds in your throat when you realize just how closely Phil must have followed you. You don't remember seeing an Escalade around, which means he followed on foot in some places, skulked through underbrush. It's a miracle (a curse) he himself never got a bit 'friendly' with the animal. You shake your head.

"Not very bright, you. Thought about calling that thing in a few times. It's a damn freak, you know? Huge, too. Woulda made a damn fine trophy. I traced its tracks one time out of curiosity. Wanted to see where something like that kept itself hidden. You know what I found?" At your continued silence, Phil prompts you to guess. "I could give you all fuckin' night and you'd never get it, but I wanna hear you try anyway."

Well, ain't that just like him? You sigh. "I don't know, Phil. Bear shit?"

"Cute. But bears shit in the woods. Got a whole thing about it. Your buddy bear, though, he came from out by the town - manifested in a birch grove far as I could tell. Found a pile of clothes there, blood splatter a few yards off. Thought that was strange."

You do too, unable to keep the confused scowl from your face. What the fuck is he on about?

There's a pit in your stomach but you're not sure why. You know who he's gonna say; know John didn't get eaten by a bear. But you don't know what he's getting at, what he thinks he saw. Distantly, you remember how he talks to himself when he thinks you can't hear. "Was it John's?"

Finger gun, pointer finger flush against your temple. "Bingo. I thought, 'what luck!' Bastard went and took care of himself. Stood there debating whether or not I should call it in, but must've waited too long. Damn bear came back. Remembered they sometimes bury fresh kills so I sat around and watched cause nothing would've pleased me more'n to see your man all tore up. Even started filming for posterity's sake. Didn't quite get that, though," he chuckles darkly. "You wanna see something? Wasn't gonna show you cause I know how you are about gorey movies -," if he was withholding information, it wasn't to spare you. He was probably just trying to keep the upper hand. "- but I can tell already you won't believe me if I don't, so maybe this is best."

Phil digs into his pocket, procures his phone. You sit in apprehensive silence as he flips through it. "Hold my hand if you get scared, darlin'," he drawls, turning the screen towards you and pressing play.

There's no denying it's your bear, at least. Tall and broad as a shed, strange shaggy quality of his collar that makes him look bearded. He lumbers into frame with his head lowered, snuffles around the pile of clothes Phil had mentioned. His ears pin back at whatever he finds and peers around for a bit, nose held high. But whatever he finds can't be too concerning because he settles back after a moment, shakes his great hairy body. And keeps shaking.

It sloughs off him in one great pelt, leaving spare few patches to dot the sinewy, thin-skinned freak which stands on its hind legs and stumbles away from its own flesh. You watch in horror as it groans in pain, oddly jointed arms reaching blindly to keep tree limbs from scraping its tender flesh. It looks like raw chicken until it doesn't, flesh bubbling as if being cooked, growing darker and tougher as it reshapes itself. It pants in exhaustion when it finally stops, familiar weathered hand stroking down a broad, inviting chest as if to take inventory of itself.

John pats his hips in satisfaction, points at his discarded clothes as if he'd lost track of them for a second. He dresses himself efficiently and does one more pat down to be sure he hasn't forgotten anything and then walks off, calm as can be.

You can feel Phil's eyes on you, but it's hard to school your expression into anything other than abject terror. He's smiling when he pulls the phone away from you, your reaction all he needed to know you hadn't been bluffing, that you honestly had no idea what John was capable of.

"Just when you think you know a guy, huh?"

***

Phil brings you outside with him after coffee. You try to demure, hoping to snag some more dry pasta, but he says the sun will do your head some good. You doubt it, even just the threat of it peaking through the tops of the pines enough to lance pain down your optic nerve, but it's not like you can very well fight him on it, so you let him guide you onto the porch and watch while he goes about setting up wood to chop. You wonder if it's a threat tactic and stifle a laugh when his diminished arms struggle with the maul after only a few logs. You tune out after that, unwilling to be caught so much as grinning at his expense, and think about your conversation the night before.

It makes sense, is the biggest problem you're having with the whole thing.

You' laid awake all night thinking through every interaction you'd ever had with either John or the bear - with him , you suppose, in both cases. It's shocking to say the least, but in a strange way, you're almost relieved. All the fears he'd been keeping tabs on you, all the convenient excuses you'd had to craft to explain them away; all your worries, tied away with one extremely unlikely ribbon. You'd still need to have a talk with him about using his other form to keep tabs on people if you ever got a chance to speak to him again, but somehow it's less malicious this way. It's not his fault you'd decided to use a wild animal as a therapist, after all.

Mostly you're mad he didn't tell you, though you can't really fault him for playing that close to the chest. More than that, you're mad at Phil for taking it upon himself to spread the information around. You watch him as he works, eyeing his ear suspiciously. He'd told you before turning in that he was worried he'd wind up like John. You were worried too. John made for a sweet bear, if a little intimidating. Something tells you Phil would not have the same temperament.

"Had a dream you were a fox," you call to him after the silence grows too long.

Phil frowns up at you. "A fox?"

"Yeah. Right before you… revealed yourself, back at the motel. Was dreaming about the bear trying to wake me up. And then it was a fox. Looked kinda like you. And then it was you."

He chuckles, hefts the maul a little closer to himself. "A fox, huh? That how it works, you think? What's that make you, big boy? Damn mountain lion?"

You frown in confusion, follow his line of sight off to your right. "Simon!" you gasp, leaping to your feet. You forgot about your leg in your excitement, however, and stumble down the porch steps with a yelp.

"Careful, darlin'. Gonna get yourself hurt," Phil laughs, siddling closer to you. He yanks you to your feet and places you between himself and Simon. It takes you a moment to understand why, eyes taking in the rifle he's got aimed at Phil belatedly.

Simon is silent as he stalks out from behind the cabin, heavy boots never so much as snapping a twig. You wonder how Phil even noticed him, and then wonder if he let himself be noticed. "Olright, pet?" he calls softly, and you nod, eyes scanning the treeline.

Phil brings the business end of the maul to your throat. It's not terribly sharp, but it wouldn't take too much effort to throw you across the steps and split your head open and the threat is clear. You swallow your panic and hang on to his forearm for support.

"Where're your buddies?" Phil's voice is high with nervous tension. You think your's would be the same if asked to speak.

"'Round," Simon drawls, kicks a rock over when Phil's anxious circling nearly turns you both around.

It works. Phil twists back toward the sound and Simon carries on, nonchalant, making more noise. Your breath comes rapidly, in through your nose, out through your mouth. You think you can smell something musky on the breeze, and your grip slides down your captor's arms, toward his hands.

"Hold still," Phil warns, and Simon draws to a halt. A soft shuffling noise continues despite his stillness and Phil spins to meet it. Your bad leg takes most of your weight and you stumble to the ground.

A deafening crack echoes in the small clearing and Phil slumps over you, his shoulder a mangled mess. You're still trying to process what happened when an ear splitting roar shakes the very ground and you look up to find the bear thundering at you from the treeline. Phil sees him too, and the two of you scramble for the maul. He kicks you in the shin cause he's a bastard, so you use his leverage to help you push the sledge against his shoulder. He grunts in pain and you wrench it from his grasp, start to roll out of his reach when a lethal click stops you dead.

It's not you he's aiming at, though.

Two quick, successive shots. You turn in time to see the bear falter, the hump of its back shaking with impact. It doesn't stop for long. A few more steps and the bear's on him. It - John - sinks his teeth into the meat between Phil's scapulas, tries to stop on a dime, can't, goes tumbling over with Phil still clamped in his jaws. Phil gets slammed into the ground with a sickening crunch that turns his screams into silent wheezes. John settles his weight on top of Phil's prone body and holds his head down with a massive paw so he can pull against it, tearing muscle as easily as the thin cotton of his shirt when he shakes his head like a dog.

Phil's screaming again. John doesn't seem inclined to stop it until the breath you hadn't realized you'd been holding whistles out of your chest raggedly. The bear asses you for a moment, chewing contentedly on the scrap of flesh between his teeth like a cow with cud. Your eyes dart from John to the dying man below him rapidly, unsure what you're asking for.

John grumbles, but wraps his maw around the column of Phil's throat and bites down hard enough that Phil's screams turn to gurgles, give way to a sickening crunch. When he pulls away, a fat tongue licks the geyser of blood and finally, your stomach roils.

"Let's get you inside, pet." You wipe your mouth, turn to find Simon crouched next to you. "No need to see this."

"He's hurt." Simon looks at you like you might be simple so you clarify, "John."

You both glance at the man - bear? - in question, tearing at a scrap of viscera that sounds upsettingly like jerky. He glares at Simon ominously, as if daring him to touch you in any way that could cause offense. There's blood matting the fur of his back and shoulder but he pays it no mind.

"Think 'e'll be olright."

You hold a hand out, expecting to have him help you up, but the big man tucks his arms under you instead, lifts you with little more than a huff.

"Seriously, what are they putting in the water over there?" You mutter. He'd laugh, but he's being careful of your leg. Some jostling is inevitable, though, and he hums deep in his chest in sympathy when you grimace.

He carries you back to the cabin and you watch over his shoulder as the bear turns Phil over onto his back, pawing at clothes to expose his belly.

"Scrawny bastard can't be very tasty," you quip, and here Simon does laugh.

"You ever listen to someone eat a Slim Jim?"

"Oh god," you grumble, stomach audibly gurgling. This time Simon's laugh is a cruel thing.

He sets you up on the couch with a pillow propping up your leg. He goes back outside and you hear him yelling something about a phone. The bear lowers at him, but the wet squelching of Phil's vulnerable underbelly stops for a moment and soon after comes a dull thunk. When Simon returns, he's got Phil's phone in one hand and a thumb in the other.

You lip curls, "Is that necessary?"

Simon doesn't even spare you a glance. "Just gotta figure out who he's told what."

"About you and John?"

"Oh, I'm not a furry." It's stupid and unexpected enough to startle a laugh out of you. Simon carries on as if there's nothing wrong with what he's said. "But yes, that. And gotta figure out if anyone's gonna come looking for 'im."

"There's a video in there," you offer, "Of John… changing. Don't know if it's backed up to anything."

"Good bird, I'll check." His eyes meet yours for a moment. "'e showed you then, I'm assuming?"

You nod. "Suppose it was for the best in the end. Would've shit myself if I saw that thing running at me without knowing what was going on." Simon nods exactly once. You take it for agreeance. "How long have you known?"

"Years. But don't tell Price that."

"He didn't tell you?"

"No. Didn't even know I knew until yesterday."

"Well then how'd you find out?"

Simon turns his big apathetic eyes on you. "'e doesn't 'ave a house in Phoenix. Telling you now, in case you're still holding out for the snowbird lifestyle."

This time when you laugh, you think you spot a slight crinkling of Simon's eyes as well.

***

An hour passes mostly in silence. You ask Simon to check on John occasionally, but he only ever says things are unchanged out there so you take that to mean John hasn't died of blood loss. You try to come to terms with everything you just witnessed, but it's still too fresh, your adrenaline too high. Instead, your thoughts circle back to John repeatedly, your fingers itching to inspect his wounds. That's probably not a normal reaction, but nothing about this situation is normal so you give yourself a break.

When John does stumble in, he's naked. Simon squawks, which would be funny to you if John wasn't also covered in blood. You try to climb to your feet to meet him, but he's on you quicker than you can even process, kneeling beside the couch and running sticky hands all over your face.

"Are you okay?" you both ask at the same time, and you nod feverishly, subject yourself to the desperate kiss he plants on you in response.

The taste of him is heavy, seems to coat your tongue. You can't help the full body shudder it elicits and John retracts, brushes wet, whiskery kisses up to your temple instead. He stays there for a moment, just breathing you in. You use it as an opportunity to peer over his shoulder, inspect his back. He's leaning away again before you can make sense of what you see back there.

John holds your face between his massive palms. He looks you over, eyes desperate and wild. You give him a reassuring smile, hold onto his forearms while he tries to wipe some of the blood off you. Smears it, if the way he frowns at his dirty hand is any indication.

"That your blood?"

"I wish," he growls, and uses the hem of your shirt to try wiping it off.

"You wish?"

"You already smell enough like him." You finch when he presses against your head too hard and his scowl deepens.

"Here." A towel lands over John's head, another on the floor next to him. You grimace at Simon apologetically and try to get John covered while he completely ignores your attempts, focused entirely on cleaning the blood off you, hands much gentler this time.

"John, I'm fine."

"Not fine, bunny," he seethes. You blink at him, but give him a pass when you realize he's mad at your state. "What happened?"

"How about we get cleaned up first, eh?"

"We have to get you to a hospital."

"Me?" you scoff. "You got shot!"

He shakes his head. "Don't worry about me. Simon, go get the car, yeah? We gotta -."

"Okay everybody hang on. You are naked and covered in a dead guy's blood. Let's deal with that first."

"Bunny -."

"And then I think we should get our story together before we waltz our hot fresh gunshot wound slash old broken leg combo into a hospital." The words are out before you've even thought them through - what it means for you, that you'll be an accomplice to your own ex's… murder? It's not murder if a wild animal kills and eats you. John isn't a wild animal, but it's not like he was all there mentally at the time either.

You hope.

Well, maybe it would be okay if he knew what he was doing, but you're gonna delicately avoid saying that outloud.

John's mustache twitches irritably, but Simon looks about as supportive of your idea as you think he's capable of appearing. Nodding, John stands and tucks his towel around his waist. His belly is so full it's nearly distended and you try not to think about it too hard. You're not surprised when he picks you up. Simon tactfully turns away in case there's a wardrobe malfunction, but the towel stays firmly in place as John carries you down the hall. You know where he's headed and you point the way to the master bath.

What does surprise you is the way he strips you too, unwinds your makeshift splint so achingly carefully. His palms are impossibly light when they smoothe over the indents the saran wrap has left in your skin and you both frown at the bruising which has pooled under your skin.

"That's gotten worse," you comment, and John presses a kiss to the inside of your knee, breathing in the sweat there deeply.

The shower is blessedly huge. John gets the water to a comfortable temperature before helping to lower you to the tiled floor. He doesn't even bother to wash any blood off before he's plastering himself to your side and burying his face in the crook of your shoulder. Red runoff slips over both of you, swirls in the drain. Your hands are on his scalp, his neck, his shoulders. They trace the rivulets of water down his back and he grunts when you find the first open sore.

"You know they call the police for gunshot wounds."

John shakes his head. It jiggles your tit a bit when he does it, enmeshed as he is with you. "Clean through."

"What?" Pushing him away, you drag a palm over his chest in search of the other wound but he just holds your hand in place over his pec.

"Through my shoulder hump, sweetheart. In my other form. I'll be fine in a few days."

Confused and unbelieving, you push at him until he turns to show you: a gnarly hole over his lower ribs which bleeds profusely, and a smaller, far less concerning mark up over his scapula which somehow looks already knotted over. It doesn't make sense here, but you suppose if you twisted and contorted his body enough you could draw a straight line between the two. Still, you drag your thumb gingerly under the cleaner of the two wounds, watch the tender skin jump.

"How is this nearly closed over?"

John shrugs. "Quick healer."

You suppose it makes sense, after the horror you watched his own body inflict upon itself in Phil's video. All that skin remaking itself. "Of course."

"Told you it's you I'm more worried about." He leans back against the wall, cradles your entire face in his palm.

"I'm good now," you try to convince him, but suddenly your voice is anything but and John crumples.

"Do I scare you?"

Your lip wobbles, unauthorized. You shake your head before you can really think it through, and then sob in relief when he wraps you in an all-consuming hug and you realize it's the truth. He should scare you. He really should. But for better or worse, the only thing you feel wrapped up in his strong arms like this is safe.

It's hard to stop the tears once they start but John holds you all the while, occasionally pulling away just enough to inspect your face and kiss your eyelids, your nose. You hold him back as best you can, but the angle is awkward so you mostly just end up stroking his hairy chest and you both know you've cried yourself out when your fingers get picky, start combing icky bits out of his pelt.

John lets you groom him, scrub away every last trace of Phil. He cleans you too, careful to filter water through his hands when he sees you flinch as the hard water pressure beats against your bruised scalp. You make him rinse his mouth, pick something that looks like bone from his chops and surprise yourself with how well you handle it, watching apathetically as the suds push it along toward the drain. It's possible Phil didn't quite deserve this fate, but you decide it's not your job to determine that; you're just glad to be free of him.

"Gonna remember the way you crushed his throat until the day I die, I think," you murmur, inspecting his nails and hairy knuckles.

John goes still. "I'm sorry you saw that, bun -."

"Not a bad thing, John." When you risk meeting his eye, you're met with an intense, desperate gaze.

"Don't leave me again, bunny."

You feel like an idiot, throwing yet another item onto the pile of forgiven things that would have sent you running even just a few weeks ago. But it's not a threat when John says it; just a raw, honest plea. This man's tracked you across multiple states, revealed his deepest secret for you. Killed for you. And still, he doesn't demand you return with him or hold all these things he's elected to do of his own accord over your head. Just begs you to stay.

He still tastes like blood when you kiss him, but it's just more fuel for the pyre of forgiven, ignored warnings.

A/N Want you guys to know that I figured out the choreography of this bear attack by wrestling with my infinitely patient dogs, so if you ever need a good pick me up, just imagine looking out your window one day and seeing your fat neighbor putting their 70lb dog through a death roll and pretending to rip its throat out, snarling all the while as if they've gone fucking rabid.

Next>>

#bearshifter!price #captain john price x you #captain john price x reader #john price x you #john price x reader #bear!price #fatted rabbit #💷🔪

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yjhariani · 2 years

Text

Mud, Puddle, and Dirt

Simon 'Ghost' Riley X GN!Reader

Word Count: 1000± Warnings: Profanity, Ghost being kinda goofy?

A/N: Dedicated to @bubble-dream-inc because this post about CoD men and what car they're driving immediately put this idea into my head because, of course, Ghost would drive a Wrangler. So, might as well take him to an off road track and have a day full of banter with him.

“Hey,” Simon softly called.

Turning to see him, you saw him putting his arm out to hold your shoulder.

“Ready to go?” he asked.

You nodded and smiled at him before looking ahead to the muddy tracks that consisted of a lot of bumps and hills. The 4x4 that you leaned your back against would be on that soon.

It was one of the rare occasions when Simon was going out with you without his mask on. A full day of looking at his face.

To be fair, mostly because the last time you did this, Simon got mud all over his mask.

“I will conquer this fucking track,” you said.

Simon only looked at you for a moment before running his hand up and down your back.

“Remember what the fuck happened last time?” Simon asked.

How could you not?

Last time, you got the car stuck in the mud. It was to a point where Simon had to get out of the car and pushed while you tried to work the gas.

At first, you were actually trying, but feeling that you would need another car to pull your car out of the mud, you stopped trying. Meanwhile, behind you, pushing the car, Simon was covered in splatters of mud.

“Simon, are you even pushing?” you dared asking.

“Are you even driving?” Simon replied.

“I’m driving! Are you pushing?” you replied.

“I’m pushing the shit out of this thing!” Simon stated.

“I doubt that,” you said. “What use are all those muscles if you can’t even push a car?”

“Yeah? You fucking push, then. I’ll drive,” Simon said.

“Sure,” you agreed.

From the mirror, you saw Simon stepping back. You hit the gas again, sending another splatter of mud at him.

Simon only looked at you for a long time. Then, you turned around to see him as if you had done nothing wrong.

“Come here, you fucking twat!” Simon said before rushing towards you.

Laughing, you hopped out of the car and ran off. However, because you had not seen where you were going, you ran uphill and ended up slipping down before falling on Simon’s arm. It was fortunate that he caught you else you would have fallen into a puddle.

However, right away, Simon wrapped his arms around you and smeared the mud that was all over him on you.

“Damn you,” you said. “Now I’m covered in dirt.”

Simon opened his arms, revealing all the mud that was also all over himself.

“I’ll call someone to tow the car,” Simon said.

A moment of silence happened before Simon was trying to blow a lot of air out of his mouth. He also tried to spit out something through his mask.

“I got muck in my mouth,” Simon said.

At the very least, the rest of that day was not so bad. The two of you ended up going on a long drive, covered in mud and all. At the end of the day, when you both returned to the place you were staying the weekend in, you took your time cleaning each other up in the shower.

This time, you were staying at the same place and honestly quite excited for the end of the day.

“Yeah, well, last time we were shit out of luck,” you said.

“Just so we don’t get fucked like last time, how ‘bout I take the first lap?” Simon offered.

“No, Simon, I need this,” you insisted.

“I’ll backseat drive you, then,” Simon shrugged.

“You can backseat drive me, but I can’t promise I’ll listen,” you smiled.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Simon sighed. “Sure. If we’re both upside down, it’s all your fault, then, yeah?”

“Oh, are you scared I will get us fucked like last time, Simon?” you teased.

“I… there’s a footy match, if you get us fucked like last time, I’ll miss the kick off, love,” Simon replied.

“I thought you brought me here to spend time with me,” you said.

“It won’t take more than two hours,” Simon reasoned.

You only looked at him, displeased.

There was a thin smile forming on Simon’s face as he looked at you.

“Tell you what, if you make a full lap with no trouble, I won’t watch it tonight,” Simon said.

“Deal,” you said.

With that, the two of you hopped onto the naked Jeep. You started driving towards the start line.

“Start slow,” Simon said.

“I know what I’m doing,” you replied.

“Yeah, start slow,” Simon repeated.

Out of spite, you hit the gas. You went straight ahead, passing through rocks and pebbles without feeling anything.

“Jesus,” Simon muttered. “Puddle!”

This time, not wanting to make the same mistake as last time, you treaded lightly. You carefully went around the puddle before climbing up the dirt hill that was standing a few feet ahead of the puddle.

There was a bit of a struggle climbing up the hill. There was a lot of mud splatter left behind you. With a little bit of force and consistency, you finally went over the dirt hill.

“Doin’ well so far, love,” Simon commented, his voice shaken by the rough track you were driving on.

Continuing on the track, you drove ahead, leaving splashes of dirt and mud behind you. The track was getting rougher and so was your driving.

Occasionally, Simon guided you through your drive. He also encouraged you, giving you half compliments. Regardless, it was giving you the support to tackle the roughness of the track; the pebble that was just out of place, the big rock that was only visible when you were too close, the turn that seemed impossible to take.

“What the hell are you doing turning this way? The track went the other way,” Simon questioned after you took a turn.

“What? No, it went this way,” you replied.

“It went that way,” Simon argued, pointing to the direction behind you with his thumb.

“I remember route,” you said with a little bit of hesitation as you looked back through the mirror.

“You don’t,” Simon said.

“You wanna bet?” you asked.

“Do you?” Simon asked back. “If you’re wrong, I’m watching that match.”

As soon as he said that, you had to hit the brake because you were faced with a cliff.

Simon looked at you as you kept your eyes forwards.

“Yeah, I’m watching footy tonight,” Simon stated.

#simon riley #simon ghost riley #ghost #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #mind dump

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sonicasura · 3 months

Note

Ok Wrangler's life was definitely messing with them at this point. They had somehow been transported to a place called North America, located on a place called what was it again Dearth? ( Props to anyone who knows where I got that) No that's not right Earth, by the Goddess there was so much information to remember. They had holed themselves inside of a Library in a City they were just passing through. They gathered many history books, maps, reproduction copys of texts that spoke of this worlds magical history, and books that explained cultures and the world's inhabitants.

They inhaled all the information for 2 reasons. 1 to better navigate these new lands that were way more advance in there technology ( expect no Airships, which was a downgrade in their opinion) and 2 too hopefully spark an idea or give them a lead on how to get back home. This was a headache for sure and that wasn't even counting those strange Monsters that would attack them or how they were called here demons. Terrifying creatures that are ruthless in their attack, wether it be on humans or at times eachother to gain more power and status to excert over there own kind. Scary to be sure but nothing Wrangler couldn't handle with ingenuity and there Monster companions at there side.

An.. ttack... in... Market Fair...al

A broken voice snapped them out of there thoughts, curiosity as to the source of the voice led them near the front desk where the librarian watched there small static box ( which they learned were called TV's) with raptured attention.

" I repeat, Market Fair has been attacked by demons, the local police are waiting for military reinforcements, all civilians please evactuate to safe areas and stay clear of Market Fair"

A demon attack? Down by the Market Fair, that was relatively close to the library, and it seems that the Millitary would take a bit to get here... hmmph it seems that Wrangler would have to leave until it was sorted out. Well that was the plan until they noticed in the background of the TV when they went to get a closer look, civilians were trapped left to run for there lives or be killed. Seeing that sparked something in Wrangler, it brought back to the forefront the want to help and protect others. The same thing they wanted to be given for years until they met Monty and the other villagers of Rosehill.

" Oh jeez I just can't turn a blind eye can I?

So though the silver haired royal as they walked with there Monster companions in tow towards the epicenter of the attack, not knowing that twin silvered- hair Demon Hunters were heading down there too

Looks like two worlds about to collide. Hopefully Dante and Vergil hold their suspicions since they probably pick up Wrangler's strange demon aura.

#sonicasura #sonicasura answers #asks #foolmariofest #dragon quest #dragonquest #dragon quest series #dragon quest monsters #dq #dq series #dqm #psaro #devil may cry #devil may cry series #dmc #dmc series #fan writing

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platypusisnotonfire · 2 years

Text

I just had a lovely interaction with, of all people, a roadside assistance dude.

I’ve had to call roadside assistance three times this week because that’s the garbage week I’m haveing but every other time it’s been a clearly neurodivergent burly bearded man who know everything about his tow truck and nothing about how to talk to people and tbh those interactions were delightful in a different way like, you are here to remove my car from the ditch and clearly that’s the #1 thing you are good at and can do in your sleep and thank god.

But todays little dude was about my age and fun looking and we troubleshooted my car issue together like buddies and chatted about the best jeeps (my crap car is sadly not a jeep and therefor the reason I’ve had to call roadside. He likes C70’s. My next vehicle with be a J10 honcho if I have any say it it. Having a conversation even mildly deeper than “oh yeah wranglers are cool” was fun.)

He even fixed an unrelated issue with my trunk that happened while he was there (because Carlos the car is breaking down around my ears every new second) that I was going to give up and strap down with ratchet straps.

10/10 best human interaction in weeks.

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wimpydave · 2 years

Video

youtube

How Does the Jeep Wrangler 392 Tow When it's FULLY Loaded? We Hookup a T...

#youtube

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vehiclers · 8 months

Link

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rangeroverengine · 1 year

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Land Rover Defender vs. Other SUVs: Which One is Right for You?

In the ever-expanding market of SUVs, choosing the right vehicle can be a daunting task. Land Rover Defender stands out prominently, but how does it compare to other SUVs? We will dissect the Land Rover Defender and compare it with other SUVs, helping you make an informed decision. We will also delve into the heart of these vehicles, exploring the Land Rover engine and Range Rover engine, understanding the power that propels these machines. If you are looking for a versatile, capable and stylish SUV, you might be wondering which one to choose among the many options available in the market. One of the most iconic and popular SUVs is the Land Rover Defender, a legendary off-roader that has been redesigned for the modern era. But how does it compare to other SUVs in terms of performance, features, comfort and price?

Performance of Land Rover Defender

The Land Rover Defender is powered by a 2.0-liter turbocharged four-cylinder engine that delivers 296 horsepower and 295 pound-feet of torque. It can also be equipped with a 3.0-liter turbocharged six-cylinder engine that produces 395 horsepower and 406 pound-feet of torque. An eight-speed automatic transmission and four-wheel drive are matched with both engines. The Defender can tow up to 8,201 pounds and has a maximum payload of 1,984 pounds. The Jeep Wrangler is available with several engine options, including a 3.6-liter V6 that makes 285 horsepower and 260 pound-feet of torque, a 2.0-liter turbocharged four-cylinder that generates 270 horsepower and 295 pound-feet of torque, a 3.0-liter turbodiesel V6 that offers 260 horsepower and 442 pound-feet of torque, and a 6.4-liter V8 that pumps out 470 horsepower and 470 pound-feet of torque. The Wrangler can be equipped with either a six-speed manual or an eight-speed automatic transmission and comes standard with a four-wheel drive system. The Wrangler can tow up to 3,500 pounds and has a maximum payload of 1,351 pounds.

Features of Land Rover Defender

The Land Rover Defender comes with a host of standard and available features that enhance its functionality, safety and convenience. Some of the standard features include LED headlights, heated power-folding mirrors, rain-sensing wipers, keyless entry and ignition, dual-zone automatic climate control, leather upholstery, power-adjustable front seats, a 10-inch touchscreen infotainment system with Apple CarPlay and Android Auto compatibility, a six-speaker sound system, wireless charging, blind-spot monitoring, lane-keeping assist, forward collision warning, automatic emergency braking, adaptive cruise control and a rearview camera. Some of the available features include panoramic sunroof, heated steering wheel, heated and ventilated front seats, heated rear seats, four-zone automatic climate control, navigation system, Meridian sound system, head-up display, surround-view camera system, park assist, terrain response system, air suspension, locking differentials and skid plates.

Land Rover Defender: A Timeless Icon

The Land Rover Defender, with its robust design and legendary off-road capabilities, has been an icon in the automotive world for decades. Renowned for its durability, the Defender offers a blend of ruggedness and luxury, making it a favorite among adventure enthusiasts and urban dwellers alike.

Comparing Land Rover Defender with Other SUVs

When it comes to SUVs, there are various contenders in the market, each with its unique features. Comparing the Defender with other SUVs like the Jeep Wrangler, Toyota Land Cruiser, and Ford Bronco provides valuable insights. We will assess factors such as off-road performance, interior comfort, technology, and safety features, giving you a clear picture of how the Defender stacks up against its competitors.

Land Rover Engine: Powering Your Adventures

At the heart of every Land Rover vehicle lies a powerful engine, designed to deliver exceptional performance both on and off the road. Exploring the Land Rover engine, we will delve into the technical specifications, horsepower, and torque, understanding how these factors contribute to the Defender’s impressive performance. Whether you are navigating rough terrains or cruising on highways, the Land Rover engine ensures a smooth and exhilarating ride.

Range Rover Engine: The Epitome of Luxury and Power

For those seeking the pinnacle of luxury and performance, Range Rover is a name that resonates. We will explore the Range Rover engine, examining its cutting-edge technology, fuel efficiency, and superior horsepower. The Range Rover engine represents the fusion of power and elegance, delivering a driving experience that is unparalleled in the SUV segment.

Making the Right Choice: Land Rover Defender or Other SUVs?

After a detailed comparison and understanding of the Defender, its engine, and the Range Rover engine, we will help you navigate through the decision-making process. Choosing between the Land Rover Defender and other SUVs involves considering your specific requirements, budget, and preferences. Whether you prioritize off-road capabilities, interior comfort, or advanced technology, we will guide you toward the SUV that aligns perfectly with your needs. Read the full article

#LandRoverDefender #LandRoverDefenderengines #LandRoverDefenderenginesforsale

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fenil-bhut · 1 year

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Jeep wrangler variants

Jeep Wrangler: A Guide to Its Variants

If you are looking for an iconic SUV that offers adventure, fun, performance, and capability, consider the Jeep Wrangler. The Jeep Wrangler is a legendary off-roader with a loyal fan base worldwide. It comes in 2 variants with different features and prices¹. Here is a brief overview of the variants and how they differ.

Unlimited

The Unlimited is the base variant of the Jeep Wrangler. It comes with a 2.0-litre turbo-petrol engine with an automatic transmission¹. It offers features like LED headlamps, 18-inch alloy wheels, dual airbags, ABS, EBD, traction control, hill start assist, hill descent control, rear parking sensors, 8.4-inch touchscreen infotainment system with Apple CarPlay and Android Auto, dual-zone climate control, push-button start, keyless entry, and more¹. The ex-showroom price of the Unlimited variant is Rs. 59.05 lakh¹.

Rubicon

The Rubicon is the top-end variant of the Jeep Wrangler. It comes with the same engine option as the Unlimited variant but adds some more features like full LED package, 17-inch alloy wheels with all-terrain tyres, four airbags, electronic sway bar disconnect, front and rear locking differentials, rock rails, skid plates, tow hooks, and more². It also offers a superior 4x4 system with a low-range transfer case and a crawl ratio of 77:1 for better off-road capability². The ex-showroom price of the Rubicon variant is Rs. 63.05 lakh¹.

If you are interested in buying a Jeep Wrangler, you should visit the Landmark dealership near you. They offer attractive deals and discounts on the Jeep Wrangler and also provide excellent after-sales service and support. You can book a test drive or request a brochure online at their website or call them at their toll-free number.

#Jeep #JeepNearMe #JeepShowroomNearMe #JeepDealerNearMe #JeepSalesNearMe #JeepWranglerNearMe #JeepWrangler

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bullet-prooflove · 1 month

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In For Five: Tyler Owens x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @hunterthecharmer @heylookwhoitis @shakespeareanwannabe

Companion piece to:

The Mechanic - Tyler faces a problem when Boone brings his mechanic ex girlfriend back into the fold.

Rigs -Tyler reflects on history with you

Ford Mustang - Tyler extends an olive branch.

Engine Parts - Tyler and you try to clear the air.

Your first job with the Wranglers is to get Tyler’s truck back to your garage in Lawton. When you step out of your tow truck and lay eyes on it, you know it’s going to be a bigger job than you initially reckoned because the poor thing is barely holding itself together in the aftermath of it’s adventures in a tornado.

“You can fix it right?” Tyler asks as you stand before the vehicle with your arms crossed over your chest.

“It looks like it needs an exorcism.” You tell him with a sigh before attaching the chain to the truck. “Let’s hope it holds together long enough for me to get it home.”

Arnett is almost three hours away from Lawton and Tyler decides to ride shotgun, leaving the other Wranglers with the RV as they help locals rebuild the community where tornado hit.

“It’s where the money from all the merch goes.” He tells you as you hurtle down the 60, your eyes on the road, Luke Combs on the radio. “We try to help out as best we can.”

He was the same back then too, you recall, throwing himself into the thick of it, pitching in any way he could.

It’s an hour into the trip that you realise he’s fallen asleep, the lyrics to Fast Car are still playing but Tyler’s voice isn’t accompanying them. You look over to see him tucked up against the door of your tow truck, head resting on the window, arms crossed over his chest. He looks so boyish in that moment, so care free and you remember what Boone had said when he’d taken you aside after Tyler had climbed inside your truck.

“He hasn’t been sleeping since the big one.” He confides in you. “He says he’s fine but what happened in that movie theatre scared the shit out of all of us especially when we almost lost Lily.”

Tyler hasn’t talked much about the tornado other than a brief outline of Kate’s work, it isn’t until that moment you realise just how close it had been for all of them. It explains the smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes these days.

It’s when you pull into the garage that you try to wake him. You try saying his name but he doesn’t stir so instead you reach across to touch him, your hand lightly squeezing his shoulder. He jerks awake, his body tensing, his eyes wide and fearful and you know that he was back there again, trapped in that movie theatre along with everyone else, waiting to die.

“Hey, it’s alright.” You say softly, your hand coming to cup the side of his face, your thumb tracing over the dusting of stubble across his cheek. “It’s just me.”

His hand clasps your palm to his face, his heart thudding in his chest as he closes his eyes and his breathing stuttered.

“In for five.” You whisper and he draws in a deep breath. “Hold for five and then out for five.”

It’s a throwback to three years ago, when you used to wake up with your pulse racing in the middle of the night. He’d be right there with you, his forehead resting on yours as he soothed away your tears.

“Do it with me.” He’d say as he looked into your eyes, drowning out everything else but the sensation of his chest pressing moving in time with yours. “In for five.”

His breathing starts to even out, his shoulders relaxing. His lips brush over the underside of your wrist, his heated breath ghosting over your skin as his eyes meet yours. It takes you back to the last time the two of you were together in a motel room in Kansas, him undressing you by the light of the street lamp outside, his lips chasing over every inch of you before he took you apart.

“We’re home.” You whisper and Tyler sighs because home is where ever you are, it’s just taken him this long to realise it.

Love Tyler? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#tyler owens #tyler owens x reader #tyler owens imagine #tyler owens fanfiction #twisters #twisters 2024 #twisters movie

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4wdsuspensionaustralia · 2 years

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Picking the Right Lift Kit

Is it true or not that you are in that frame of mind for another lift unit for your Jeep Wrangler? You've come to the perfect locations. Presently you need to conclude what your Jeep's actual design is for prior to proceeding. For the greater part of us, our Jeep is a blend of an everyday driver, rough terrain toy, setting up camp vehicle, and maybe you toss a little towing in to a great extent. On the off chance that you are searching for a Suspension Lift Kits for this multi-use circumstance, the objective is to track down the legitimate harmony between on-street driveability and rough terrain suspension adaptability. On the off chance that you have the advantage of claiming a committed wheeler, the greater part of its higher speed dealing with qualities can be forfeited to boost suspension explanation. Simply recall that suspension is just a single piece of the situation; you should likewise address the vehicle's haggles, alongside the drive train... the key is to get these three vehicle frameworks cooperating to give the most ideal footing consistently, here and there street.

A portion of the more significant inquiries to pose:

What is your Jeep be utilized for?

What size and sort of tires might you want to utilize?

How much cash do you have?

Likewise, on the off chance that you're not an accomplished repairman, it could be ideal to have it expertly introduced to guarantee that it is done accurately. The establishment cycle includes a great deal of work and time to under your Jeep. On the off chance that you don't have insight in this space it might best to counsel an expert to keep away from any unexpected harm to your vehicle.

Assuming you introduce the lift yourself, you will probably go through hours under your apparatus tweaking everything again and again... until it is perfect.

In the event that you're going for a bigger lift (3.5" in addition to), you should consider different lower control arms and longer shocks. You will likewise have to protract the front and back brake lines. In the event that you lift" at least 4, you will probably require longer upper control arms also. Besides, you should supplant the track bar, and you could have to add longer crisis brake lines.

As there are many units to browse, I've separated the fundamentals of each sort to make it simpler to choose.

More modest Lifts

In the event that you need somewhat more freedom under the exchange case, or somewhat more space to run 31" tires, then a more modest lift is the best approach.

Regularly, this kind of lift will comprise of curl spacers put under the stock springs to give it a little knock in level in front with long shackles in the back. You could go with blocks in the back In the event that you have new areas of strength for or. 1.5 to 2" is the most widely recognized "little lift"

Stars and Cons:

The processing plant ride is kept up with.

It's exceptionally modest so you don't burn through every last cent.

It is fast and extremely simple to introduce.

There are seldom any establishment complexities.

Not many future mechanical issues connected with lift.

Incidentally purchasers get regret, wishing they had gone greater in the first place.

Medium Lifts

This is the most ideal decision for most wheelers. It offers great tire leeway while giving you a well taking care of on street drive. Tires somewhere in the range of 32" and 34" are great for this size lift. Frequently you don't require such a large number of increments to the lift when you go this course, however you actually could require wheel spacers or longer brake lines, which are exceptionally modest. In some more current Jeeps, an alternate drive shaft might be required, yet just on automatics (manual transmissions are a lot more modest and the stock drive shaft turns out great). These packs frequently accompany new shocks as well. 2" to 3.5" is the most widely recognized "medium lift"

Geniuses and Cons:

Astonishing leeway at a sensible cost.

It is discernibly more noteworthy to Going 4x4 romping capacity.

Your Jeep is more appealing, while as yet keeping up with on street capacity.

Greater tires mean loss of force, so re-equipping might be justified.

Greater Lifts

A bigger lift ordinarily brings about a more forceful look and astonishing rough terrain execution, while as yet keeping a stock on-street ride. Bigger lift packs commonly accompany new an entire slew of parts, and it is smart to understand what you are doing prior to introducing one of these. A great many people run 35"+ tires with great outcomes.

Masters and Cons

These are the most costly lifts; much more so would it be advisable for you adventure into coilovers.

Intricacies are not out of the ordinary, since certain lifts fundamentally re-plan the whole front-end math. This is for the significant rough terrain fan.

For more details, visit us :

Best 4wd Suspension

Isuzu Mux Lift Kit

Ford Ranger 3 Inch Lift Kit

Toyota Hilux 3 Inch Lift Kit

#Best 4wd Suspension #Jeep Wrangler Lift Kit #Ranger Px Lift Kit #Tough Dog 4x4 #Toyota Hilux Lift Kit #4wd Suspension Lift Kits

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doubleleoenergy · 3 years

Text

My Oh My

A little bit older, a black leather jacket. A bad reputation, insatiable habits.

Pairing: Alpha!Bucky x Reader

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, oral (female receiving), HEAVY breeding kink, dirty talk, knotting, mating, beta in heat, blood

Word Count: 2132

Author’s Notes: I am sorry that I am such a whore. This is disgustingly filthy.

“Y/N?” Bucky has one hand on the steering wheel of the Jeep Wrangler, the other gripping his cellphone against his ear. He was headed back towards the ‘Pack Dwelling’, as some would call it, representing the large house in the middle of the woods that his pack all lived in. Bucky had been out meeting with the Stark Pack, a pack of ten located about two hours away from their property.

It was mating season, and having been more ESTABLISHED than the Stark Pack when it came to that time of the year, their alpha Tony had asked to meet up and give advice to his group of betas. Tony himself had been through MANY mating seasons with his mate Pepper, but his pack of betas were fairly young and hadn’t experienced anything related to the first heat. Tony and Bucky explained the process to the males, bringing in the females after with Pepper in tow to help explain to them how their heat would affect them. After staying for a late lunch Bucky finally said his goodbyes, thirty minutes from home when y/n called.

“Buck…” She whined on the other end, the alpha sitting up straighter in his seat. He KNEW what was going on from the sound of her voice, a deep growl leaving his chest. This was it, this was HER first heat. His foot instinctively pressed harder on the gas, a wild look of excitement spreading across his face.

Y/N and Bucky had been together for about three months now, and the moment his cerulean hues locked on her he KNEW she was his. She had been a member of the Romanoff Pack originally, but had lost their alpha in battle. The new alpha that had taken over was cold-blooded, had a thirst for human hunting, something SHE and half of her pack did not agree with. One night, while everyone was asleep, they made their escape, becoming omegas for a few months before stumbling upon Bucky and his pack in town. The rest was HISTORY.

“I know, doll. I promise I’m hurrying.” He was going at least twenty ABOVE the speed limit at this point, not giving a fuck as he traveled on the backroads of town. No cops ever traveled this far back, and there hadn’t been another vehicle on the road for at least ten minutes. “Are you alone?” He questioned, his cock stirring in his dark denim jeans.

“Yes, Peggy also went into heat about the same time as I did today, Steve has been taking care of her in their room. But the new betas, the ones without MATES, they can smell me. They’ve been trying to get in the room but I threatened to rip off their heads if they did.” She KNEW Bucky was pissed, a darker growl wafting through the phone speaker, hearing the sound of the Jeep speeding up.

“They KNOW better.” He snapped, hearing her hold the phone away from her ear as she screamed at the betas who continued to claw at the door. “They should know you belong to ME, you have the mark to prove it, don’t know why they think they can touch their ALPHA’S property.”

Bucky’s words make the wetness between her legs worse, her panties already soaked in her denim shorts. “You can deal with them when you get here. But I really need you to hurry, Buck. I’m SO hot right now.” It felt like her body was on fire, her hips bucking against the pillow on the bed to create stimulation to her clit.

“I’ll be there in FIVE. Then I’ll show those dogs who you BELONG to.”

Bucky barely gets the Jeep in park out in front of their rustic estate, ripping his seatbelt off and slamming the door, the muscles in his arms bulging TAUT against his favorite black leather jacket. The door smacks against the wall as he enters, making the female betas watching a movie on the couch jump.

“Where are they?” He questioned through gritted teeth, pulling his leather jacket off and dropping it to the floor carelessly. One of the betas points in the direction of y/n and Bucky’s master bedroom, his footsteps getting louder as he strides against the hardwood floor.

“BOYS!” His voice is booming, the low growl settling in his chest. The three young betas clawing at the bedroom door stop, turning to look at Bucky with fear in their eyes. “What the FUCK do you think you’re doing?”

One of the boys looks back at the others, visibly shaking. “W-We’re sorry, alpha. Y/N just smells so GOOD. We can’t help it, we don’t have anyone.” Bucky moves to stand directly in front of them, gesturing to the door which displayed THICK scratch marks now.

“You want her that bad, huh?” He snaps his teeth at them, making them flinch. “Get out of my FACE before I rip your throats out with my TEETH.” The boys scramble, knocking into each other as they sprint down the hall and into the kitchen.

Bucky turns his attention back to the door, jiggling the locked handle a few times before he hears it unlock, pushing it open. Of course the SCENT of her arousal wafted a mile down the road, the stench only getting stronger as he walked closer and closer to the bedroom. His eyes take in the site of his mate, his cock hard as a rock now in his jeans.

She had discarded her shorts and tank top by now, the heat overtaking her, NEEDING to be free. Her drenched panties still clung to her hips, her breasts completely exposed. She looked DAZED, like she was trying to see through a fog, her mouth open and panting for cool air.

Bucky kicks the door shut behind him, walking up to y/n and kissing her deeply, his hands running through her hair. She melts against his lips and his body, feeling him press his tightened jeans against her, a moan leaving her lips when she could FEEL how hard he was already for her. She’s panting again loudly when he breaks the kiss, his hands roaming over the beads of sweat along her back, caressing her body and placing kisses down her jawline. He gently walks them backwards until they fall onto the bed, all of Bucky’s weight pinning her down.

“Buck! I need you, I’m literally on FIRE.” She croaked out, her hands going up into his long locks and tugging. A deep growl emits from his throat again, his teeth scraping against the darkened mating mark on her skin, drawing a few droplets of blood. He’s licking and sniffing all over her neck and collarbones, snaking his body down hers as he scents her, marking him as HIS. This would keep the betas away for sure, her scent covered with HIM.

Bucky watches as y/n arches her back into him as his lips latch onto her breast, sucking for a moment before moving to the other. His lips trailed down her abdomen, stopping to place wet kisses just above her pantyline. “Gotta taste you first, you smell so DELICIOUS.” He teased, a sharp fingernail slicing easily through the thin fabric of her panties. He pulls the shredded bits away, admiring her folds as they glistened with her honey.

Bucky wastes no time, lapping against the juices on the outer folds before diving inward, his beard scratching PERFECTLY against her skin. Soft moans are falling from her lips, her fingers still toying in his hair, hips bucking into his face to take MORE. It isn’t long before she cums, sending sweet liquid to his tongue.

“H-holy shit.” Her eyes close in pleasure, Bucky slurping up all of the liquid she gave him before he pulls back with a smile. “Doll, you taste even SWEETER than usual.” He gets off of her to remove each article of clothing he still had on, kicking his shoes in with the pile, his cock slapping against his stomach as it became free from the fabric binding him in.

He steps forward towards the bed again, tugging on one of her ankles to pull her so her ass is RIGHT up against the edge of the bed, her legs instinctively flexing open at her sides. “Want to take you like this first, fuck you slow on my cock, see your face when I first press into that needy cunt of yours.”

Y/N whimpers on the bed, her flingers moving to tug at her pink nipples. “Please, Buck, NEED to feel you now. I promise I’ll be GOOD.” Bucky settles against her slit, the tip of his cock red and angry, a light sheen of pre-cum leaking out. He lines himself up, one of his hands gripping her hip as he pushes in. His eyes focus on her face, watching it contort with pleasure at being filled finally. His cock was long and girthy, y/n’s cunt swallowing him in until he couldn’t push in any further.

He barely moves backward before she cums again, tears falling to her cheeks from how incredible it felt. “Baby please move, need MORE of you.” Her nipples are hard from the way she pinched at them, one of her hands moving down so her fingers can press against her clit. Bucky’s hips move back so he’s halfway out of her before plunging back in again, bottoming out. He can HEAR how wet she is as he picks up his pace, a rumble stirring in his chest.

“Doll, you feel so good, so wet for me. Look at you, milking my cock for more.” He fucks her like that for a few minutes before pulling out, y/n whimpering at how EMPTY she felt. “Get on your hands and knees, ass up.” She does as she’s told, rolling over onto her knees and sticking her ass up high. Bucky SHOVES his cock back in, going deeper in this position than he had been before. His rough hands grab onto her hips, his nails digging into her skin as he fucks into her animalistically.

“So fucking good, look so BEAUTIFUL on your alpha’s cock.” Her walls tighten as she cums a third time, mumbling nonsense, a lazy smile spreading on her face. Bucky chuckles, one of his hands moving into her hair, tugging her flush up against him. He tilts her face so he can see her, her eyes fighting the urge to close. “Look at you, going fucking STUPID on your alpha’s cock. Can’t even stop yourself from coming, like the whore in heat that you are.”

She’s drooling a bit, letting him fuck her senseless. “Yes alpha. I’m a whore in heat, only for YOU.” He can feel his orgasm building, a guttural groan escaping his throat.

“Gonna cum in that sweet cunt, fuck you down onto my KNOT to fill you full.” The hand on her hip snakes around to rub over her stomach, his hips snapping against her harder. “You’ll look so good all SWOLLEN with my pups, gonna keep you full of my cum always, make you my breeding whore.” Y/N loses it again, submitting as she cums one last time, the hand Bucky had in her hair moving forward to grip her throat, touching along their mate mark.

“You like the thought of that, huh? You came just from THINKING about me using you as my breeding whore. Maybe when you’re heavy with my pups I’ll bring you out into the living room and make the beta boys WATCH as I fuck you, let them watch what a whore you are for me. Let them know who you belong to as I fuck you stupid.” She’s whimpering at how good all of it sounds, swallowing as best she could with his hand around her throat.

“Y-yes alpha, PLEASE, want you to do all of that. Want you to breed me, tie us together with your KNOT, want to be your breeding whore.” Her words are all it takes before his knot builds inside of her, tying them together as she wanted, ropes of cum spurting deep inside of her, breeding her full. Her stomach BULGES from all of the cum that’s pumped inside her, wincing at the sting of the knot as it locked her into place. Bucky releases his hand from her throat, her body heaving forward and collapsing on the bed, his own body resting atop hers.

He places gentle kisses to her shoulder, nuzzling against her. “Did so GOOD, doll. Can’t wait till we have a little family of our own.” She smiles, her breathing finally steadying and the fire on her body dissipating a bit.

“A little family of potential alphas to take their daddy’s place someday. I like the sound of THAT.”

#alpha!bucky #alpha!bucky x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader smut #marvel fic #marvel smut #marvel #bucky barnes #doubleleoenergyworks

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kthynes · 3 years

Note

hey! i have a tiktok imagine lol

maybe where reader does the tiktok prank on chris where you wipe of your boyfriends kiss to see how he reacts HAHA

alright that’s all! i love your work : )

miss me, kiss me, don't you dare diss me

pairing: jake jensen x fem!reader

warnings: 18+ minors dni ; some swearing, implied smut

author's note: because I don't write CE/rpf I went about amending this request (fret not the original concept stands!). So please enjoy my first attempt at writing Jensen and let me know what you think! Also to nonnie - I'm glad you love my work, truly the best kind of compliment a “writer” can get and so I appreciate you!

Reblogs, likes and comments are encouraged! And as self explanatory as it should be, please do not copy and/or translate my works onto any other platforms. Thanksies :)))))

This is not beta'd - any mistakes are my own.

taglist: @patzammit @mrs-djokovic

I do not own this gif - credit goes to the righful owner

Everyone was in their respective cruiser. You were lucky enough to ride shotgun in the open wrangler, taking in the warm breeze that swirled around the island bay.

It was a another routine date night but with the whole gang in tow. Jensen wanted to hit up a local pub that was hosting a League of Legends night - whatever that meant. The only thing you were absolutely sure of was that the drinks were strong and the food was plentiful which is why almost everyone acquiesced.

So when day turned to night, you came out of being a switchboard attendant and eagerly awaited for your goof in variant disguise to arrive while you chose to be in your best ascribed element.

You were hyper focused on your phone camera; eyeing the bang out "make up" job, courtesy of Aisha who by way took assault of your face.

Apart from the camo and Franklin Sport stickers, you demised a different aesthetic this time.

With bewilderment, you donned partially red glossy lips, pouty and plump which came in contrast with the light smearing of skin tint that radiated your natural beauty. Aisha had perfectly curated this façade and you were slightly beheld by her talents.

You definitely owed her some liquid cocaine. Maybe at some fraction or another.

"You're over your head aren't ya Buzzy?" Clay hoists up his forearms against the doorframe and leans into the Jeep, snarling as per usual. You manage to scoff at him, keeping your phone pressed against your chest and away from his vices.

Buzzy. That was your given pseudonym, an onomatopoeia for a bee. You were meant to be drilling mind noise, fracking on the enemies weakness and sometimes being a rueful distraction. At least that's what Clay thought of you.

"Not for you to leer. Is there something I can help you with?" You snap politely at the de facto leader.

"Yeah why him?" Clay was meant to be your adversary but instead he wore his frayed heart on his sleeve and made it abundantly known as to how much he wanted you all for himself.

"Here we go again." You sing and groan.

"Oh what now. You really think he's it for you?" Clay gets up in your face, nearly stealing your air and encroaching your personal bubble. You smell the stench of fresh Corralejo reeking his vernacular and that explained for all the inundated bravado.

You scrunch your nose up at him, unable to further palpate the ardent odor. "I'm not looking to be with a synthetic Alpha. Or at least the makings of one." You stifle with high ground.

"Oh hoh, hoh! Is that what you think of me darling?" He bends back on his knees and ducks at your advances with forced laughter.

"What is your deal chapo?" The discordance you both shared was passive aggressive and felt at the pews.

"One day, y'hear me." He opaquely reminds you, eyes darkened with unyielding pursuit.

"Nay say."

“What is that damn boy up to? And Coug? He should know better.” Roque fusses impatiently, you don’t bother to look his way as he came up from the sunroof. "Seriously?"

“Ayo Y/L/N! He’s talking to you.” Pooch scrounges on your neglect.

“I know as much as you do, Poochie.” You answer while fixated on posing up in front of the camera.

"You are just like him." Pooch hisses after hearing another iteration of his nickname. Clay pats him on his shoulder, reaffirming his pity with a calming gesture. "God I hate it here."

"You'll be fine." Clay pulls a toke from the joint that was idly being passed around.

The drug was starting to wear on and you were facing an empty industrial complex where Jensen had his hideaway tech lab. No one was allowed in so you all had to wait it out.

And what was supposed to be a 10 minute wait turned into an hour long debacle, each second was clawing on someone's nerves.

"Hey hey, I'm so sorry about that. Picked up a game of Battleship and then after that I got caught up in the bathroom." Jensen arrives out of breath while yanking up his fly in the process. Cougar shook his head and mentioned something in Spanish while approaching Pooch who instantly dabbed him up.

"Don't tell me you still gotta jerk off when you have her around?" Roque scintillates with confusion as the whole gangs snickers.

"That wasn't it." Jensen sternly spouts while denying the half truths. “No I just had to really—“

"A release is still a release my guy." Pooch offers over him on the side, thwarting his partner as a reminder.

"You're right. There's never really a time and place is there?" Roque adds lowly as everyone else scatters.

"Alright gang let's head out." Clay enforces while he reluctantly looks to his little lady friend in the passenger seat. She's pretty and good enough for him, not his first choice and definitely not Aisha but still a reasonable fuck. They were both chatting away while you’re accompanied by your regular, one who doesn't pick up on social cues all too well but does his due diligence.

"I am so ready to League of Legends up in this bitch!" Jensen is amped as he swings right into the drivers seat. He breathlessly puckers his face while glancing at your sunken form. You're dressed like Lara Croft, wearing nothing but a low cut black tank and some denim shorts.

Jensen feels the wanton heat as he quickly licks his lips with devotion before starting up the jeep that rumbles and jolts back to life.

“Hey you.” He awkwardly greets you with a twitching smile.

You eye him up and down, wordlessly chiding him for his tardiness. "Unbelievable."

"What? I'm here now." He exasperates with a grin, knowing your exact torture and the whole play by play. "Also, I wasn't jerking off by the way. I just had to really pee... like a race horse."

"So he says." You merit while holding up your phone camera again. You pretend to fix your hair and blot your lips, tiring out a bored look on your face. Jensen frowns and studies your high strung schlump as he reverses out of the vacant lot.

"Can I get a kiss at least?" He goads you while turning the wheel around. You distractedly stick your lips out for him and he eagerly smacks his mouth against yours for a quick peck that settles with the dust.

“Actually that wasn’t enough, c’mere.” He playfully contemplates, bracing your jaw for another bruising kiss.

This kiss lasted more than a fraction of a second and when you both pulled away Jensen was left all bashful, shoulders rolled back to confer his doings.

"That's more like it." He triumphs, manually cranking the gear shift with a beaming mega watt smile.

"Mhm yeah." You repulsed under your breath while using the back of your hand to swipe your mouth and rid his kiss, as a joke.

"You're kidding me." His face dropped. You ignored him and went back to scrolling through your phone. "Did you just really do that?"

"What's going on JayJay?" Pooch intercepts through the built in walkie.

"I can't believe you!" Jensen squeaks as if you had kicked a newborn puppy into the throes of time and space. Or even worse stomped on his gaming PC which he took the liberty to name it Yolanda.

"Seems like there’s trouble in paradise. Can't trust these two shakers." Roque quips from his piece. "Hey Cougar you might wanna stall a tracker and run it while you can."

"On it chief." The quietest member pledges to get his task done and it's the first and last time you hear of him.

"That's it... I'm taking a detour guys." Jensen curtly informs his teammates with vengeance and you snap him an incredulous look. "I don't know through what way, just don’t ask!”

"What the heck!" You holler, tightly gripping onto the armrests as your boyfriend accelerates on a high speed conquest.

"Great we got Scully and Mulder on the run." Clay states with displeasure even though you are the prime recipient of his contempt.

"We'll be there." You prompt into the intercom and they all laugh boisterously, each vowing a 'yeah right.' "Just re-route us back, Jake. Jake! Oh my god.” You growl into the palm of your hands.

"Have fun you two." Aisha got it. Jensen coyly smirks, wiggling his brows at you while fully releasing his foot on the gas and almost swerving right into a ditch as he tries to woo you.

"I'm gonna die you guys!" You loudly profess to static noise.

“And what a way to go!”

Jensen shakes his head before he veers off, yanks down the gear shift and parks up on the sideroads. He turns his body to better face you, one hand on the wheel while his other arm is draped over the leather seating behind you. "Now how about we try that again."

"We're not doing this right now." You caution him the minute you catch your breath.

"Why not?" He turned off the running ignition just to sing to you. "Whyyyy not."

"Because Steve Perry do you see where we are?" You flail your arm around at the desolate backroads, somewhere in the countryside where the street lights were shot out and not a single soul was heard by.

"You two are on Sideroad 50, just 4 miles away from Chuck and Murrey's Roadhouse." Cougar makes the conscience effort to relay this information and you tsk at his meandering capability. “We should be expecting you in about 20 minutes?”

“Can’t say.” Jensen makes a funny thinking face and taps a finger against his chin.

"Thanks Coug, that'll be all." You boom begrudgingly, undoing your seatbelt and going into attack mode.

"Anytime mija." Once his partner clocked out, Jensen flipped the switch and you immediately caught him off guard by holding him back and jumping into his lap in a matter of seconds.

"Oh."

"Is this what you had in mind?" You straddle him with your head tilted to the side while his pawing hands gripped the divot between your hips and the swell of your thighs.

"I don't know Buzzy you're going to have to do a lot more than- oof." He groans the second you lift your bum and roughly ground back into his crotch, trying to situate yourself in the open qualms of Roque's getaway Jeep.

"OK so I had that coming. Not that I don’t mind.” He whined, pushing his glasses back up and keeping them from slipping down the bridge of his sweaty nose. “This is great. Y-You’re great.”

"Mhm." You murmur a little too sweetly as he rested his head back, attempting to fiend off a growing erection that you feel thaw at full mast.

You pressed insinuatingly hot, open mouthed kisses down the column of his neck, consolidating the entire mishap and eager to ruck up an orgy.

His hands kept you firmly planted as you indistinctively ground into him, rocking back and forth, building up your inner release along with his. Your kisses are ravaging him and in order to suppress his deep seeded moans he began to sprout nonsense.

“Did you know you that you are 13.8% more likely to die on your birthday. I wonder what the ratio is like when you're having sex?" His Adam's apple bobbed down and back up again as he gulped, clearly riddled with anticipation.

"Wouldn't you like to know." You huffed while trying to pull off his belt with haste. You needed to feel him, raw and wholly. So you spare him a heads up before his cock got encased, impaled and sodden. “Now if you don’t mind…”

“Abso-fucking-lutely. You don’t need to ask me twice babes.” He huzzahs with a faltering laugh, helping you help him by undoing his cargo shorts. "Oh thank god I went commando!"

And so for the rest of the night, it's missionary. He bottoms out in you, spewing more trivial knowledge while trying out all sorts of back breaking positions. The pub doesn't miss you but you sure as hell make the most out of the awkward backseat fucking that happens around a nearby ditch; ensuing the fun until one of you gets paged by Clay.

#chris evans #jake jensen x you #jake jensen smut

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yeosangsleftbicep · 3 years

Text

sand, salt, and tears

series information:

pairing: Johnny x reader, Jaehyun x reader

summary: You have a boring job at the beach for the summer, but one day your life is spiced up after meeting a handsome lifeguard named Johnny and all of his friends.

genre: lifeguard au, summertime romance

warnings/themes: alcohol, drugs, (eventually maybe) smut, fluff, second-lead syndrome (?), angst, love-triangles, jealousy

"I’m here to help, you’re gonna be okay."

Ch.1

warnings: blood (small injury), swearing

word count: 2.1k

next chapter >>

You never intended for the summer between your sophomore and junior years of college to be packed with hard work and stress. In fact, you thought that having a part-time job in a beach town would be quite the opposite. That it would be full of seasonal flings, sunburns, and plenty of time relaxing on the beach enjoying your sappy romance novels. Instead, your absolute bitch of a boss, Cindy, had you working 35 hours a week wiping tables and taking orders, sometimes even being a substitute bartender if it was a busy night. Luckily for you, your best friend Karina also decided to take the plunge into the world of summer waitressing with you, and the two of you had almost every shift together. But still, you would much rather be stretched out underneath the sun right now than punching your 100th order of the morning into the restaurant’s computer system. You sigh aloud at the thought of the salt water lapping at the shore, seagulls flapping around while the local surf rock station plays quietly on the radio in the sand next to you.

“Y/N!!” an obnoxious voice shouts, shaking you out of your seashore reverie. Your eyes refocus just in time to see Cindy storming towards you in anger, her eyes scrunched with a fury that only ever comes out when you’ve messed up. “You’ve been standing there for 2 minutes doing nothing,” she hisses through her teeth. “Pull yourself together. You only have a half hour left on your shift, and then you’re free to be as useless as you want.”

“Sorry,” you mumble under your breath, holding back a sarcastic retort to the last part of Cindy’s criticism. You punch the order into the system and sweep yourself back into the dining room to do rounds and check on the tables that you’ve already served food to.

---

True to her word, Cindy released you from hell 30 minutes later. As quickly as possible, you strip off your apron and change into one of your favorite blue bikinis in the employee bathroom, wanting to hit the beach as soon as possible. You find Karina waiting outside the restaurant in her white Jeep Wrangler, roof and doors removed for the warm summer weather. On the rare days when the two of you don’t share a shift, this is always your routine. Karina picks you up at the end of your 2 o’clock shift and drives the two of you to the beach where you spend the next four hours basking in the sun and body-boarding in the water.

Today is no different, and the two of you soon find yourselves spreading out your towels and slathering yourselves in sunscreen, preparing for an afternoon of the reason you truly came to the small beach town this summer: relaxing. After an hour or so of sunbathing and reading some rather spicy parts of your latest romance novel, you and Karina decide it’s time for a dip in the ocean. “Hey, Y/N, go check what the water temperature is so we can mentally prepare ourselves before turning into popsicles in the ocean,” Karina giggles, gesturing towards the nearest lifeguard stand. You nod in agreement and make your way over to the back of the tall white chair where information such as water temperature and high tide is usually posted. As you near the stand however, you notice that instead of temperatures and warnings, someone had written the words ‘Ask me!’ over the chalkboard.

You glance up at the lifeguard to try and catch their eye, but an umbrella has been propped sideways to block a northward wind, preventing you from being able to see the person sitting there. “Excuse me!” you shout, hand shielding your eyes from the sun as you make your way around to the front of the stand. “Is everything okay?” a gentle voice responds. The lifeguard, a rather lanky, handsome man with black hair brushing the top of his ears, leans over. “Everything’s fine,” you respond with a timid smile. “I was just wondering what the water temperature is?”

The man’s form visibly relaxes as he realizes that there was no emergency and you just wanted some information. “Oh! Yeah, the temperature is 67°,” the lifeguard responds.

“Okay, thank you!” you shout, turning away to walk back to where Karina was waiting.

“Wait! Are you planning on boarding at all?” he asks, forcing you to turn around. He glances over at Karina and the boogie boards lying on the sand next to her while she watches us.

“Um, yeah. Is that okay?” you respond, placing your hands on your hips.

“Of course, of course! You should just know that there’s some serious undertow and a pretty strong rip current in this area today. If you get pulled out just swim parallel to the beach to get back in or signal if you need help,” he smiles helpfully.

“Oh. Thanks, but I think I’ll be okay,” you nod. “I’ve been coming to this beach and boarding since I was a little kid.”

The lifeguard just shrugs and sits down, but you can feel his eyes on you and Karina as the two of you grab your boards and dive into the frigid waves. Unfortunately for you, the lifeguard was quite right about the strong currents, and you spent half of your time in the water struggling to not be dragged down the entire length of the beach. After about a half hour of unsuccessfully attempting to catch some waves, Karina sighs and starts to swim in. “Maybe tomorrow will be better conditions. Neither of us are working so we can be out here all day if you want,” she exclaims, always the optimist. “Ok,” you reply. “I’m going to stay out here a little longer and then head in. Do you mind taking my board?”

You un-velcro the strap from your wrist and push the board towards Karina for her to drag it onto the sand. As soon as you let go of the board, you begin to realize just how much you were relying on it to keep you afloat in the strong current, especially considering you aren’t in an area where you can touch the bottom. After just a couple of minutes of treading water, you decide to follow Karina’s idea and begin to swim towards the shore. Karina sees you making her way towards her, but she waves her hands and shouts, pointing to the ocean behind you. A quick glance tells you that there’s a massive wave just seconds away from crashing on your head. “Shit,” you curse, turning around and bracing yourself to be pommeled. Had you been farther out, you might have been given the chance to dive under the wave as it crested, but you were in the exact area that, when the wave finally arrived, the only thing you could do was take a deep breath and hope for the best.

As the wave crashes around you and catches you in it’s white waters, you tuck your knees into your chest, feeling yourself bounce around, your shins catching the sharp shells and rocks being thrown around you. After what feels like forever, you finally resurface, gasping for breath and a little red-faced from the embarrassment of wiping out, but still alive. And yet, something felt weird. As you catalogue your surroundings, you notice that you are farther from the shore than you were when you went under. Much farther. You try to plant your feet on the sand beneath you, but instead begin to sink below the surface. Having been tired out from fighting the waves for the past hour, you begin to panic, forgetting everything that the lifeguard had just told you about swimming out of rip currents.

In your own panicking and splashing around, you fail to notice someone swimming towards you. Someone wearing red swimming trunks with a bright orange buoy tied around their waist. When the lifeguard finally reaches you, he grabs your wrist to place your hand on the float, causing you to scream out in surprise, still not realizing that someone was there to save you.

“Shhh, shhhh calm down it’s okay,” the lifeguard says, reaching for your hand again. “I’m here to help, you’re gonna be okay.”

You try your hardest to hold in your tears as you grip onto the lifeguard’s buoy, but you feel like you can barely breath from the panic that you just experienced. You squeeze the orange plastic so tightly that your knuckles turn white, something that the lifeguard is quick to notice. “You’re going to be okay,” he once again reassures you. “What’s your name?” he asks in a soothing voice.

After a few deep gasps, you’re able to get out, “Y/N.”

The man smiles. “Hi, Y/N. I’m Johnny. I’m going to get you back to solid ground, okay? But I’m going to need you to stay calm for me, okay? Or else it’s going to be a lot harder for me.”

Unable to respond, you just rapidly shake your head, eager to have your feet touching the earth again. Johnny places one of his hands on the other side of the buoy, and uses his right arm to begin towing you back towards the shore. In no time, the water grows lighter as you and Johnny cut through the water, eventually reaching an area where you can once again stand. “Are you okay?” he asks, turning towards you with a worried sound to his voice. You once again nod, embarrassed to meet his eyes and not trusting your voice to be stable if you spoke.

Johnny gives you a once over, his eyes lingering on your knee. You follow his gaze and notice that during the wave, a shell must have gashed your leg open, and a steady flow of blood is now streaming through the cut on your knee. “Why don’t you come up to my stand and let me check that out?” Johnny asks, although it comes out as more of a command. “O-Okay,” you whisper. He places a steadying hand on your back and guides you up the sand to where Karina is waiting for you. “Oh. My. God,” Karina shrieks, seeing the injury on your leg. “She’ll be fine,” Johnny comments to her. “I just want to clean and bandage the cut to make sure that it doesn’t get infected.”

He guides you to sit down on a foldable chair at the base of the lifeguard stand while he climbs up to get a medical kit. “This might sting a bit,” Johnny apologizes in advance, opening the bag to pull out an alcohol wipe. “It’s okay, I can handle it,” you grimace.

“Just like you said you can handle the ocean?” Johnny asks, looking up with a small grin. “Sorry, too soon.”

“For your information,” you begin. “I would ordinarily be able to deal with that wave, no problem. I just wasn’t ready.”

“Mm-hm. I’m sure,” Johnny nods sarcastically.

“Hey,” you frown. “You don’t know me well enough to be making fun of me- HOLY SHIT THAT HURTS!”

You glance down to see Johnny dabbing at the wound on your leg with the cleansing cloth. “Sorry,” he grimaces. “I did try to warn you.”

Johnny goes to wipe at the cut again, another wave of pain rolling over you. You involuntarily reach out to squeeze the closest thing, which happens to be Johnny’s bare back as he’s bent over your knee. “Jesus, woman,” Johnny swears, pulling away as your nails dig into his skin in pain. Your hands shoot up to cover your mouth. “I’m so sorry!” you squeak. He sucks air in quickly through his teeth as he glances over his shoulder to look at the scratches you left on him. “I normally have to buy someone a few drinks before I get them to mark me like that,” he chuckles, turning his attention back to your leg, which he begins to cover with a bandage.

Your cheeks color a bright red at the suggestive comment, although luckily Johnny doesn’t glance up at that moment to see your embarrassment.

“There. All done,” Johnny says, gently patting your knee and standing up. “The next time I tell you to watch out for the rip, listen to me,” he orders, raising an eyebrow at me. “Yessir,” you say seriously, giving him a sarcastic little salute. Johnny’s grins. “I’ll see you around, Y/N.”

“See you around, Johnny,” you respond, slowly limping your way back to Karina.

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a/n: Please like if you enjoyed it so I know whether to keep writing!

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