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The Surreal Murder of Stephanie Marsland

Stephanie Marsland died Friday, March 15th, 2019, she had turned 16 only three weeks earlier. They found her on the east side of Yew Dr., approximately a quarter before four in Harpy, Colorado. During the initial examination, experts determined she had died only 15 minutes prior to the discovery.

Drowning.

She was face down in a puddle of maybe 4 inches of water; it had rained through the night before, and into the day, stopping only an hour before school was released. The pothole that held the water was the infamous Silly Billy hole. The name, well disputed on who had given it to the pothole, was in front of the house of William Harris, an elderly man who, as many of the folks who lived in Harpy would have claimed, had been living in the house before the town was even built. Despite the rumors right after his death from a heart attack three days later, William Harris was not the one to find the girl. No, that task was left to 10-year-old Sean Abshear, who sat on the ground with wet cement soaking into his brand new jeans and screamed until someone pulled him away from the sight.

“Those jeans, they were stained. I had to throw them away. Spent nearly 90 dollars on them and threw them away because Sean didn’t have the common sense to knock on a door. He gets that from his father.” His mother, Kimberly Abshear, would tell their neighbor Beverly Turner when asked what had happened that day. But of course, when Beverly went over to the Abshear’s house, she was looking for the gruesome details.

Within four months, Silly Billy, who had been filled with asphalt every year only to return deeper and more vengeful each year, would disappear. As if overnight, the town of Harpy would close Yew Dr., and reopen it three weeks later, freshly paved.

“I guess something good came from that girl’s death.” Fred Bowman stood on his porch early in the morning, looking out on the new street. Standing just outside the door, his husband felt a shiver crawl up his back, the only other person who could have heard.

That girl.

“Stephanie was an angel; she had this bright future. We had just started talking about colleges, about her major, about growing. She wasn’t stupid, she wouldn’t have lain down in a puddle, she wouldn’t have killed herself.” Fiona Marsland told a student-made documentary almost a year to the date of her daughter’s death.

Stephanie Marsland was described as a kind-hearted, easygoing girl. She loved dogs, and her younger brothers, often described as a second mother to them. Over the 16 years she was alive, she had an influential impact on the town of Harpy, though mostly gone unnoticed. She would volunteer at events, or at the local hospital, but she was also a shy girl.

“She wouldn’t have won any popularity competitions, that’s for sure. The girl was smart, no question, but the girl was also dim. She could write a paper, and it would be this masterpiece, but the second the girl opened her mouth, nothing would come out. She had friends, I’ve seen her with friends, and she wasn’t ever without someone in the class to team up with, but once all eyes fell on her, she would freeze.” Launa Hempton, Stephanie’s sophomore biology teacher, would tell the police when they first launched their investigation. “No one hated that girl, or at least, I don’t think anyone would. There was nothing to hate, she probably didn’t have a single negative thought in her head. Poor girl, she probably passed out and fell into the wrong place at the wrong time.”

The most popular theory that passed around Harpy. On her way home, Stephanie lost consciousness and accidentally fell into Silly Billy, tragically drowning while no one was aware. But that could not be the case. In the official autopsy, the cause of death was purely drowning. There were no apparent reasons for her to lose consciousness; she was adequately hydrated and had food in her stomach. There were no indications of diabetes, drugs, or alcohol in her system. She did not suffer from anemia, seizures, or low blood pressure, and all her organs appeared to be in good health. Besides the post-mortem broken rib from the CPR, there was no trauma to the body, no blunt force, no sign of any sort of struggle, and no trauma to her body or genitals, her hymen was still intact with no signs of any sort of penetration.

Absolutely no sign of trauma.

In the case of Ms. Stephanie Marsland, her examination came back entirely unremarkable. In the ruling of her death, it appears, in my professional opinion, that she unequivocally drowned. No evidence indicated a fall; had she passed out as suggested, there would have been visible marks on her body, especially if she had completely lost consciousness and couldn’t protect herself. Any sort of wounds I found, three in total, at least a day old, if not older, please refer to my official records for more information on the wounds. Ms. Marsland was the picture of a healthy 16-year-old youth, I have doubts she had ever touched alcohol or any drug stronger than Tylenol. All foreign fibers and hairs came back explainable, again refer to my report. I signed off on the autopsy as drowning, with my report reading: Ms. Stephanie Marsland was in exceptional health, if she momentarily lost consciousness, she would have had lay down and rolled to the point her face found the water, she purposely placed herself into the water, or, and most likely, since an article of clothing seemed to have been removed from the body, she was placed there.

The investigation started within a few days of her death, teens were pulled from classes to answer questions, one of them being maybe Stephanie’s best friend. Jacklyn Pappas sat in front of the police, the grease pen drawn mustache for her dress rehearsal of Hamlet, playing Horatio, still on her face. The questions were straightforward, how long had she known Stephanie? (Since childhood.) How long have you two been friends? (Since childhood.) How well did she know her? (Better than anyone at that school, I would say.) When was the last time she had seen her? (As they dressed after PE.) Was Stephanie acting strange? (No.) Was she showing signs of distress? (I don’t think so.) Did she ever mention feeling sad, depressed, suicidal? (No, despite what people say, she was never a sad person.) What do people say? (Stephanie was suicidal because Justin Goodwin had no interest in her.) Who is Justin Goodwin? (A boy Stephanie did like, a boy that she felt she would never have a chance with.) Did she ever talk to Mr. Goodwin? (No, she was too shy.) Did that make her sad? (No, maybe a little, but she rarely talked about it, she was more focused on her future.) Was Stephanie wearing a bra that day?

Jacklyn could not recall precisely what color, maybe purple, but yes, Stephanie was wearing a bra that day. They had changed twice in front of each other, once for PE, and the second after, both times Jacklyn knew for a fact she was in a bra. To Jacklyn, she would have noticed if Stephanie had not, because, despite her petite frame, she was heavy-breasted. She was not one to go without a bra, not when she knew the attention her breast had already garnered with it on, and if there was anything that she hated more, it was the gawking she got when she began to fill out at the early age of 11. She had mentioned reduction surgery more than once, but it was a dream for when she was older.

When she was found face down in that puddle, Glenn Hopper, a retired medic three houses down from where the boy sat screaming, pulled her from the puddle and administered CPR, he noted the girl had no bra on. Even when her mother sobbed in the morgue with the bag of clothing that she had been wearing, she asked where the bra was. As if the fact this girl had drowned in a puddle did not raise enough eyebrows, the missing article of clothing did. The entire town seemed to agree unanimously that Stephanie lying face first in a puddle was acceptable, but they drew the line at the missing bra.

“She was really nice, she was pretty too, I don’t think many people saw that, but she was a pretty girl.” Franklin Singur had been recorded saying over the phone to the Just a Second in Time podcast. Later in the call, he mentioned to Theresa Hernandez more on the subject. “I know she had gone on one date, maybe a few weeks before her death, I don’t know if you would even call it that, but she had gone out with Lincoln Perry, and he was there that day, one of the last people to see her alive.”

“Did he do it?” Theresa would ask.

“No, no, it’s too easy, isn’t it? But no, Lincoln was just a bystander that day, the real beef was between Justin Goodwin, and Patrick Hawkins. Lincoln was probably home right after she left and had an alibi. I remember eyes were on him for a hot second, but off as if they were like, no, not Lincoln Perry.”

“What exactly do you mean the beef was between Justin Goodwin and Patrick Hawkins?”

The argument of precisely when Justin and Patrick’s abhor for one another began narrowed down to three separate incidents. When questioned by the police, Lincoln would recount the first one, as he had volunteered to talk to them the very second he heard of Stephanie’s passing. “Justin and Patrick never liked each other, Justin grew up in Harpy, where Patrick showed up in the second grade. He was always strange, Patrick, he had these jars, tiny jars, and in the jars he would put bugs. He had one friend, Drake, and Drake isn’t weird, we played basketball together, but even Drake never jumped to Patrick’s defense. We would call him weird, and where Drake would never join in, he would keep his mouth shut. Patrick started our school, and from day one Justin didn’t like the guy. It was never directly one thing, but I think what set it off was when, and we were kids, like seven or eight, but Justin opened those jars into Patrick’s lunchbox, and when he opened it all these weird insects scurried around the table. Everyone was screaming, but Justin was saying, ‘I told you, the freak eats them.’”

The next incident was told by Nicolas Banter after the case was closed when the official transcripts had been released, and the first set of true crime investigators clamped down. Henry James’ podcast, The Back Waters Crimes, would be one of the first to take an interest in the story. Although the broadcast lacked enough information to make it worthwhile, a patron tier granted the audience who contributed five dollars a month the ability to read transcripts of unreleased episodes.

Nicolas Banter: Leans back in his chair, chuckling at the report. Of course, that is the moment Link would say, the bugs.

Henry James: You think that wasn’t it?

Nicolas: No, this paints Justin in a negative light, as if he just judged the freak right off the bat. Yes, what Lincoln said was true, the two clearly hated each other the second their eyes met, but if it wasn’t for Patrick, it wouldn’t have escalated to this.

Henry: So, you think Patrick pushed Justin to spill the bugs in his lunch bag?

Nicolas: No, I know for a fact it was. Patrick envied Justin, his dad was a chief of police in a different county, about a week before Chief Goodwin arrested Patrick’s dad when he ran a stop sign, and then failed a sobriety test. You see, Patrick was in the damn car. I don’t know if he saw Goodwin and figured, or was told, but the next time he saw Justin he jumped on him, punching the shit out of him, screaming at him. I would not be surprised if the guy killed Stephanie, if COVID didn’t happen, I feel like the investigation would have ended differently.

Henry: What was he saying? To Justin, when he was hitting him?

Nicolas: ‘F—k you and f—k your pig father.’

The case never categorically went cold, but as the year ended, and the climb into 2020 happened, one year came, and it passed one piece of evidence reigniting interest in the case until it came to an abrupt halt late in March 2020, when the country shut down due to the pandemic. Only Drake Hamal knew a story that the other two were oblivious to, potentially explaining the true cause of the two boys’ mutual hatred. He penned his human-interest story in his college newspaper detailing the event.

Nearly three years ago, while I was in high school, a girl was found dead. She had been drowned in a puddle four blocks from my house. The biggest spotlight fell on two students that I had known since elementary school, an incident that occurred at school, and then developed through the day until escalating off campus. In the end, a girl was found dead, and the boy’s pointed fingers at the other, as they had done almost a decade before.

PH moved from Utah, his family was Mormons, as was JG, they belonged to the same church. Years later, PH finally revealed to me the exact details of what had occurred, a truth that I deeply regretted knowing. JG was no stranger to attending events put on by Mr. G, who was heavily involved in the church. The boys, who must have been seven, were left to watch a movie in JG’s family den, when the DVD skipped, and they both went up to the main house to inform the adults, but found the house empty. PH claimed that JG suggested checking upstairs, but they both ascended to the second floor upon hearing a noise. It was a relief, PH would tell me, they weren’t alone, but as he went to open the door, JG told him no, that he wasn’t allowed to when the door was shut, but PH still turned the knob.

PH’s parents plus JG’s mother were engaged in sexual relations as JG’s dad watched. He would tell me Mr. G sat in a chair tucked back in the corner, naked as the others were, but still never taking his eyes off what was unfolding in front of him. As a teenager, we were just about 15 when this story was told to me; he understood what exactly was happening, but there, as he saw what he would call a pathetic pig watch his wife take it, he felt as if Mr. G was who to blame, by extension, JG too.

Yes, they hated each other the second they met, the classic clashing of personalities, there PH would put his disgust for his own parents all on to whom he felt was liable. He claimed he was the one who pushed JG into the door, but JG would be the first one to throw a punch. Their parents would come out of the room still naked, to the scuffle. It would end with the H’s leaving, and within a week of the embarrassing tussle, JG’s father would be arresting PH’s father.

The article will tell the story of the incident that would lead to the fight outside of the school on the afternoon of March 15th, which would have been argued to lead to the death of Stephanie Marsland, an incident that would be better detailed in the official police report, besides the partial redaction. The report is:

Monday, March 25th, 2019

The past week I have had the pleasure of talking to one Mr. Patrick Hawkins and Mr. Justin Goodwin, son of Delt county’s Chief Goodwin. They eagerly shared the details of the events that transpired on Friday, March 15th, evidence securely gathered and awaiting processing. Mr. Goodwin’s testimony is as follows; rap star Gaze the Baptist came out with a new clothing line late the year before, selling out as fast as it had gone up. This clothing line included a $300 pair of jeans that Mr. Goodwin would claim he had been saving up to get and was one of the lucky ones to purchase. That week the package came, and despite Mrs. Goodwin’s protest of letting her son leave the house with those pants on, he would arrive at school in them. He would claim he was aware of Mr. Hawkin’s being a fan of this rapper, and when he showed up in the jeans, Mr. Goodwin is quoted as saying; “I knew I made a mistake, the look Patrick gave me was telling me I would not leave the school without regretting wearing them.”

The pants in question were taken from Mr. Goodwin and put on evidence, but later released back to the boy.

It had been noted that Mr. Hawkin’s favorite form of taking notes was in red pens, not just by Mr. Goodwin, but by other classmates and teachers. Some even were quoted as saying he would use variations of shades, but always red. In their shared 3rd period class, Mr. Goodwin would take his seat right before the late bell and proceed with the class as usual, taking notes and interacting as he would normally. At this moment in his story, he looked out the window for a long time, his face turning a slight red as he thought of his next words. He was called up to the front of the class to give his presentation, one he claimed he had spent weeks preparing, and as he stood the giggling started, and by the time he was in front of the class, everyone was laughing.

“Madison Thorpe even asked me if I needed a tampon, and that’s how the period jokes started.” He would tell us. On the left side, and into the middle of his buttocks, was a red stain. The pants, when presented as evidence, did not show any resemblance to blood stains. The stain had seeped into his pants, through his briefs, and stained his skin. “Even now, what? Two weeks later? I still have a goddamn stain on my ass.” This is where, unprompted, Mr. Goodwin would stand up, and present the stain on his buttocks, mostly faded but a clear pink blob. “It was that goddamn freak, and his goddamn red pens.”

When asked about the ink, Mr. Hawkins smiled but shook his head. “No, I didn’t do it, yes, it was funny, but the asshole deserved it.” When asked how he thought the ink got on his chair, Mr. Hawkins would tell us he was unsure, though he couldn’t have done it even though he knew he had a “reputation of red ink”, how the boy would put it. We questioned whether he perceived the targeting of Mr. Goodwin with red ink as a mere coincidence. “I got to class with two other people, while three others were already seated. I sit nowhere near Justin, if I wanted to do it, the others would have seen me.”

Both admitted to the lunchtime confrontation, where Mr. Goodwin went up to Mr. Hawkins and shoved him to the ground but was pulled away before it could escalate. In the next class, the two shared they were separated, but comments between the two were heard from other classmates. The last class, one shared with Ms. Marsland, ended while one boy was sent to the library and the other to the computer lab after a brawl almost broke out during quiet time.

Classmate, Peter Waller, told the police that it started when Mr. Goodwin went to turn a paper in, he went the long way around the desk to knock into Mr. Hawkins’ arm, prompting Mr. Hawkins to rise and was quoted saying; “Face me like a man.” Three others impeded the two before they were separated.

The real confrontation did not start until after school had gotten out.

[Redacted]

The redaction was blacked out in permanent marker in the unofficial report, but when typed out, a simple redacted was placed, ending the document. The blackout second was just about a page and a half long, but no other reports seem to mention what event took place after the school bell released the school. Edward Hobble, a private investigator, became interested in the case in his time, cooped up in his house during the shutdown. Hobble had grown up in a town near Harpy, and the case was brought to his attention by his son, who was writing his senior thesis on the case.

At first glance, Hoddle quickly concluded that the details were clear and straightforward. His theory, his son would quote him saying in the 30 page paper on the Marsland, was that she probably had an anxiety attack, the girl had clearly had an issue there and laid down on the ground when she felt dizzy and must have rolled into the puddle. The missing bra didn’t catch his attention, it was the unofficial redaction that did.

“Goodwin’s father was the chief of police, and then more than a page was redacted the second they mentioned the girl’s name. If anyone knows what happened to that girl, it’s either or both boys.”

The only people who were aware of what happened the afternoon of March 15th were Justin Goodwin, Patrick Hawkins, Lincoln Perry, and Nicolas Banter. In none of the interviews of investigations, has it been released whether Lincoln or Nicolas mention that afternoon confrontation, or if that information was told, just once more redacted. The common theory in a true crime Reddit thread, about the Stephanie Marsland case was Chief Goodwin made sure the boys wouldn’t talk. It was not until u/ [deleted] took to the forum.

There is a common theory that Chief Goodwin silenced those involved in the Goodwin v. Hawkins, and while I can confirm that we were told to keep our mouths shut, we never had to sign anything. We were minors, for Christ’s sake, and it’s not because we killed that girl. We left school, the three of us, and Justin was steamed up. He had changed into his gym shorts, and yes, he had this giant ass stain on his ass, I’d be pissed too. It was common knowledge that Patrick frequently used the back way home, which ran behind Yew Dr. There was a stream along the bank that Justin walk to, especially after it rained, but that day he kept making this jerky movement, like he was trying to see up the bank. We heard whistling. That’s the thing about Patrick all these reports failed to mention, this weirdo would whilst, very out of tone, always he would walk by, whistling.

I think Link said something like ‘I think that’s Patrick’ or something, but before he could even finish Justin was charging up the bank, us behind him. Link was the one to want to put a stop to the violence, but even there as Patrick froze as we bobbed up that mound, I think we all had the same idea, we’d scare the freak.

Justin was calling this guy every damn name he could think of, he grabbed him by the jacket and was jerking at him; we joined in, pushing him. I don’t know what the hell the kid had in his backpack, maybe jars of bugs, [A comment that would not be made clear until later, and many who would respond to this post would question this one line in particular] but it was heavy, he kept losing his balance until he finally fell over. Justin grabbed him by his ankles, dragging him towards the bank, telling him he was going to shove his face into the water.

If you want my opinion, that’s the reason that Chief Goodwin went out of his way to keep us quiet, Justin threatening to dunk this kid, and then the girl was found dead less than an hour later that exact way. But Patrick kicked out hard, and Justin lost his grip.

We grabbed Patrick before he could get away and held him for Justin, who looked as if he could murder Patrick. I think we would have let him go from an expression alone, but a voice stopped it.

Stephanie was shy, it’s been told over and over, but honestly, I didn’t think she would have ever said anything there if she didn’t see Lincoln. He liked her a lot, and I think she liked him, they had gone on a few dates, but he said she was too nervous to even kiss him, but he’s a good guy, he probably never pushed it. I didn’t know much more about her, but there she was, her hands on her hips as if she was a goddamn superhero. She told us to let Patrick go, to leave him alone, that three against one was grossly unfair.

Shit, it was the most I had ever heard the girl talk. Link was embarrassed, he let go first and even took a few steps away from the freak. Justin, on the other hand, just looked at her as if she was on the same level as Patrick and told her to eff off. Now, I doubted anyone had ever spoken to Stephanie like that, but it did not phase her. She told him he was being a bully in class, and he was being a bully now.

If I remember correctly, he looked at Lincoln in a way to ask him to calm his girl, but no one said anything back to her. She went up to Patrick, put her hand on his arm, and they left together.

Patrick Hawkins was the last one to be seen with her alive.

Whatever happened to Stephanie Marsland, Patrick is the only person who knows.

At the time of the post, an overwhelming interest in Stephanie Marsland flooded the internet. The subreddit became divided between believers and skeptics, as nobody could confirm the identity of the person speculated to be Nicolas Banter.

According to U/BrutalStar, it was impossible for it to be him, as it was a throwaway account that was created and deleted on the same day. However, it was u/GodsPrankOnAbraham that pointed out that the details in the story seemed to match up well with the reports that would be released later in the week.

It wasn’t until YouTuber Tylor Kamer, who would tell his own story on this post that the truth came to light. In the video, Kramer retold the story of Stephanie Marsland, connecting the dots to this Reddit comment. But was it truly Nicolas Banter who posted the comment?

“Here with me,” Kamer’s voice came over a video of him doing his research. “Is the real-life Nicolas Banter. Hello Nick, thank you for joining me today.”

Transcripts come over the screen. “Hi Tylor, thank you for reaching out.”

“Now, you were there that day, as it has been presented in the evidence.”

“Yes.”

“I know you met with Henry James’s podcast right after the comment had popped up on Reddit, but I read over those transcripts, and it never mentions the comment.”

“I think I did the interview, man, I don’t know, a week, maybe more after the comment on the subreddit, and I doubt Henry knew about it. Maybe a month later, I received an email, and I swore it was going to ask me for another interview just about the comment, but no, it was just telling me he didn’t have enough evidence for a full episode and that he would be put it on his Patron. I shrugged it off, wasn’t too aware how much popularity in the comment had gained.”

“Now, Nick, let me ask the question we all have been wondering since the comment came to light a year ago. Was that you?”

“Yes.” The words come on as music plays, and a voiceover goes more into detail about the comment before returning to the interview, but the unedited interview continues. “I have friends and something of a community that I connect with on Reddit. The whole Stephanie Marsland case was never fully connected to me, and I get where it is now, I realized that from that subreddit alone, but at the time she had shown up and was dead. One of my friends, I only really know him on Discord, Reddit, and Xbox, but he was the one that brought it to my attention. At one point our school photos were posted, and he was like ‘Man, I think this is you, it’s your name, and looks just like you. You never told me you killed a girl.’ At that point, I was just a freshman in college, on my own for the first time, and there was my picture in connection with Stephanie. I just created an account and deleted it, and I get how that would look, but I really didn’t want my account to be covered in Stephanie Marsland post from then on. What I wrote was true, I got a call from Lincoln a few weeks after and he didn’t even need to ask me if I wrote it, he was just like ‘Man hope to Christ Chief Goodwin doesn’t see that.’”

“You said that he never made you sign anything, what did he say to get Lincoln react like that?”

“‘You boys keep your goddamn mouth shut if you don’t want to end up in a juvenile detention center, the girl was basically raped, and drowned, that shit will never scrub off your name.’ But she wasn’t, yeah, the whole bra thing is weird, like she was never touched other than removing the bra? That’s trophy shit you read about in serial killers, but, I don’t know, we were one of the last people to see her alive, so yeah, we stayed quiet.”

“The bra, they found it though.”

“They found a bra, yes, but that was a year later, tucked in a goddamn maple tree.”

The case was never exactly cold, the police department of Harpy would claim they were just waiting through the rest of the evidence, but in the end, everyone knew how it would end. It would be an accidental drowning, all the strangeness surrounding the rest would be explained simply as; she had a panic attack and laid down and rolled, the missing bra might be that she felt constricted and removed it, Patrick and Justin would be cleared, and Stephanie Marsland would be forgotten.

Until the end of March 2020.

Couple Dean Oster and Patty Hearst would walk over their property on the outskirts of Harpy, a 3-archer land that backed into woods, when Patty spotted something sticking out of a tree. She would tell the newspaper that she thought nothing of it at first, bird would bring strange things into those trees, but then as they got closer, she said she cried. “It was a bra strap from the back. Dean saw it and goes ‘what is that?’ but there I was sobbing. It’s not like we didn’t find clothing on our property before, teen would sneak there to have sex, but it wasn’t the fact it was a bra, but it was black with these purple hearts, almost a year to the day they found the little girl dead.”

The evidence description of the bra is as fallows;

Agency: Harpy PD

Case Number: 09-0747

Item Number: 1

Date/Time: 03/10/2020, 1407

Description and/or Location: The bra, in size 36C, is black in color with purple hearts measuring approximately 2/3rds of an inch adorning the straps and cups. The fabric is covered in debris from the maple tree where it was discovered, but is otherwise in a clean condition. It must have been placed there within a day or two since no rainwater had soaked into the padding.

The information was not released to the public immediately. Fiona and Dave Marsland, along with Jacklyn Pappas, were shown it, but none of them could definitively confirm or deny if it belonged to Stephanie. Fiona would tell the police that she didn’t think so, Stephanie was more into solid colors, while Jacklyn would say maybe because she could remember purple, but both agreed on one thing. While the cup size was correct, the strap size was not. Fiona had brought samples of her bras, all reading 34C.

One size off. When asked if she would buy the bra because she liked it, but could not find her size, so she bought the size up? Fiona would firmly say no, and when prompted on why, because she only liked solid colors.

It was true, in photos presented, or videos, or any sort of media that would show Stephanie, she was always in a solid color shirt. From the age she would have dressed herself, a photo album marked Stephanie through the years, one could guess around seven, she would be in a solid color shirt, and jeans, or solid color leggings. Even her jackets and sweaters were all solid colors. Not even a brand, just one color.

In the photos that would be posted to her timeline, or she would be tagged in following her death would show her smiling with others, or doing her volunteer work, or playing the piano, all in solid colors, all but one photo.

It went unnoticed, until one Tumblr thread uncovered one photo that, until then, had gone unnoticed. The post emerged almost two years after the death.

anyone else notice that they keep talking about stephanie only wore solid colors but what about this photo?

The photo in question had three faces blurred as two of the people sat on steps outside of what looked to be a school, the other, alongside Stephanie, stood almost out of frame, but smiling at who took the photo, her shirt one of pink with flowers, a heart blooming out of the bundle. An altered picture emerged those who sat on the steps were Jacklyn Pappas, a guy she had seen and the original poster of the photo, Dale Hoffman, Stephanie, and next to her, almost completely cut off, but still obviously looking at her, was Justin Goodwin.

Justin Goodwin would be found converted to Catholicism right out of school, and in college majoring in philosophy, preparing himself to someday gain priesthood out in Rhode Island.

“Stephanie Marshland?” He had been shocked by the name as he agreed to sit down with amateur documentarian Rodger Dwyer. “That happened, my, what four years ago at this point? The case has been closed.”

“You are not aware of the popularity the story had gained on the internet over the last few years?”

“No, my online presence was never consistent in high school, and since I graduated, I have been completely off.” He would take this moment to look down at his hands, folded in front of him, before picking up his head to look just off camera where Rodger would be sitting. “I’m glad that Stephanie’s story is being told, I have prayed for her since her death, I pray for her safety as she ascended to God’s embrace.”

“Since the closure of her case, there has a few things that have been brought up in connection with her. Of course, you were a junior when the missing article of clothing was found, but are you aware of the controversy behind it?”

He would delicately shake his head. “Yes, I remember a bra was found, but I do also recall it was not hers.”

“There was not enough evidence to conclude if it was hers or not, but that’s not it. It had hearts on it. Everyone, including her mother, said she would wear soiled colors.”

“I know nothing about that.”

“But when posting photos for her birthday, someone posted this one.” Rodger would hold out a photo to Justin, whose eyebrows would come together, then relax.

“They think there was a relationship between Stephanie and I.” How he said it was not a question. “I hate to disappoint, but there was nothing between me and the girl. This photo was taken during a class project. If I remember correctly, we were heading to my house to work on it, and I was unaware I was being photographed.”

“But do you see how it implicates you? You are looking right at her.”

“I was not, I can see how you would think that, but I was looking at who was just off camera, the real person I was in a relationship with. I believe I have an uncropped version of this, or at least one taken concurrently.”

Rodger allowed Justin to leave, and within 20 minutes, he returned, this time carrying a photo album. As expected, another photo in it appeared nearly identical to the one posted, but with noticeable differences. Stephine stood a few steps above, a shy smile on her lips as she gazed at the photo taker. Dale affectionately kissed Jacklyn’s cheek, while Justin grinned as if he were laughing. However, the photo posted only displayed Nicolas Banter, as it had been cut off.

“After Stephanie left with Patrick that day, Nick and I went back to his place, his ring camera caught us 15 minutes before she would be found dead, and his mother was with us until I left an hour after.”

“What happened between you and Nick?”

“The same reason I left Mormonism, why I left Colorado. There was a force greater than me, greater than my relationship, greater than the world I had known and loved. If it weren’t for Patrick, I think that force would have consumed me, but after an exposure to my relationship with Nick, the novelty wore off for him, and the year we had spent together meant nothing. God came to me one night in a dream, and I saw the light there, I saw my path, it led me here. I wish it was different that day, if Patrick had exposed us sooner, maybe, maybe I wouldn’t hold the vengeful hate my father distilled in me, and I would have forgiven. Stephine may have lived.”

“What happened to Patrick?”

Patrick Hawkins. Grew up in Utah, until his father gained a promotion, moving his family to Colorado. He was the only child of the couple, but the youngest of his father who had been married once before, two children from that relationship, the younger of the two being over 10 years older than Patrick.

By the time he was about to finish his junior year of high school, concerning online comments surfaced about how he ‘wished I could take a semi-automatic to those fuckers’ getting him expelled. Little is known about what exactly happened to Patrick, questioning from the police made its rounds, but even those investigating could not find much after he left Harpy High.

At the time of Stephanie’s death, a video from in the interrogation room surfaced, Patrick sitting there with his father as the cops talked to the boy. “Patrick, you were the last one to see her alive, you left with her, no one else can tell where you were from the time she died to the time that you arrived home two hours after she had died.”

Patrick, who had his hood up, did not move. If he speaks, no mic can pick him up.

This guy did it, open and shut, why are we even fighting it? The comment with the most likes on the video would read.

Then, a little over a year later, Patrick once more sat in the same room, same cop, but this time with his mother, who would be recorded saying; “He’s a 17-year-old boy, he made a comment, he doesn’t even own a gun. Why are we here? Those kids pick on him, those kids hurt him, kick him, they put bugs in his lunch!”

“Ma’am.”

“No, do not ma’am me!”

“Mom.” Patrick would be heard saying. “I made a mistake, I’m aware of that. I had a bad day, and I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“You’re online, how did you have a bad day?”

“There’s there snapchat group chat that leaked, some people who hate me are in it. They said… they said I take it in the ass. I was defending myself, I posted publicly that it’s Justin Goodwin that takes it up the ass by Nick Banter, and it got back to Goodwin. I walk to through the graveyard when I feel too cooped up, and two days ago I was jumped by Justin. He kicked the shit out of me. I got home, and I felt so shitty, I lost it.”

From the two tapes, something became clear to Penny Upton, a popular true crime blogger, dove deeper into the connection between Patrick Hawkins and Stephanie Marsland.

The Surreal Case of Stephanie Marsland

‘Part 13

As those who have been meticulously following my investigation into the case of Stephanie Marsland may know from part 1, I had said Patrick was the one who did it, and though through the last four posts has been Patrick focused, I can say for sure today I have evidence to prove myself wrong. Patrick was the last one to see her alive, that we are aware of, yes, and where Patrick ended up going to jail for an unrelated incident, he did not kill Stephanie. Last week, I carefully reviewed two interrogation tapes numerous times as I prepared to write this post, yet something felt amiss. Why did he not get arrested the first time? The time he refused to answer?

The digging process was proving to be extremely difficult, but thanks to my favorite sleuth, NotAnotherCrimePost, she had provided me with an actual alibi for Patrick, one that I revisited the second video to realize he did not do it.

A house next to the graveyard has a nest camera pointed right at the entrance, that day, Patrick walked through the gate in the last 10 minutes of Stephanie’s life and did not leave until over and hour later. Stephanie herself stepping into view, alive and well, before stepping out as soon as Patrick was out of sight.

The fence around the graveyard is 10 feet high, with no other way in or out. The alibi was airtight. Patrick Hawkins did not kill Stephanie, and with no other evidence, I would have to definitively close this case in the manner that all of you know I hate the most, but I am firmly labeling it a freak accident.’

A freak accident. Stephanie Marsland died by accident, every story would report so, the Harpy PD would close the case as accidental. With the popularity the case would gain over the course of two years, it would never come close to the truth, either coming to the same conclusion, or burning out, or simply losing interest.

The closest to the truth that ever came to light, was one comment on a post that would get three likes, but never picked up by any of the investigators, a comment that one person would write, would post, and would forget about, never perusing how close they would be to asking the first right question to this case.

Who took the photo?

Back in the two photos, where Stephanie would intentionally dress in an unusual manner for herself, clearly smiling at the person who took the photo.

Each one would say it, each interview would give off the answer, but the questions were not being asked, and by the end of 2023, the case of Stephanie Marsland was officially no longer discussed, and the public would move on to newer cases, more interesting ones, ones that they would know the questions for. As for Stephanie, she was still dead, she still would be dead, and the truth would decay away with her.

The truth would be in a notebook, one that the only person who knew what happened that day would write in but would burn simultaneously before the bra would be discovered. A notebook that would be a confession that would disappear before a single person could read it.

The passage wrote out longhand, in a red pen, read as follows; She was beautiful, young, pure. She came to me one night needing help, and I wanted to help. I thought telling her she was beautiful would have her turn away from me, but she didn’t. The more often we spent together, the more she bloomed, her personality showed through her clothing, and the way she would smile more freely, especially for me. I knew of her shyness, but my god, if you could see how composed she was in private, you’d understand why I loved her.

I could not understand why she defended Patrick, why she went against Justin, but it irritated me. She looked at me; she knew I was there, and still walked away with him. Yes, I would be the first to admit I was jealous, she would leave with him, but no, she walked him to the graveyard; I doubted they spoke as they walked there. I stayed back, watching, making sure that freak did nothing to her, but before he went in he thanked her, that was it, then she started away when she spotted me.

The argument started, and I didn’t mean to get so angry at her, but I could not understand why she would defy me like that. She tried so damn hard to tell me I had nothing to envy, but the hell, I did. My anger, it gave her that panic attack, and she was breathing so hard that, I don’t know; she passed out. I held on to her, holding her up, unsure what to do. I loved her, but she made her choice to go with Patrick, and I would not let Justin get humiliated by him. She wasn’t supposed to die; I brought her over to Silly Billy in thoughts that she would wake up as soon as her face hit the water. Laying her down on her side, I removed the bra, and rolled her until she was face down into the water. The plan was to plant the bra on Patrick, so I went back towards the graveyard to wait for him. She wouldn’t name me, she was smarter than that to do it, she would just say she didn’t know or remember, but as I waited, that kid began to scream, and when I got back to where I had left her, she was dead.

The rest would be written on another date in a blue pen.

I knew I should have come forward sooner, but shit, this is murder. I still have the damn bra, but I think Justin suspects me, my plan was to turn myself in, but tonight I think I will have myself a fire.

The composer reread over his confession before tossing it into the fire in front of him, watching the pages get eaten away by the flames. Then, from his pocket, he pulled out her bra, his finger stroking over the fabric, more hesitant to throw it in.

“Dad?” Justin’s voice caused the composer to jump before looking back at his son, the bra shoved back into his pocket. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, yeah, I think, I think I’m going to go for a walk.” Chief Goodwin walked towards the front door.

“It’s nearly midnight.”

“Put the fire out before you go to bed.” He refused to look back at his son, already suspecting his sexual orientation, already the greater force that would drive Justin away.

“Dad? What’s going on?”

“One day, you’ll understand. Goodnight, son.” He stepped out of the house, setting his course into those woods.

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kazosa · 2 years

Text

Summary: you and Jensen have been pen-pals and friends since you were kids. You were always attracted to your friend but were never able to act on it... After an incident occurs and Jensen spirals downward and eventually falls off the radar for a while, his mother enlists your help to find him and bring him back. Will your feelings for him come to light, or will you fall back into your old buddy routine?

Pairing: female reader x Jensen Ackles

Word count: 9200

Warnings: alcohol consumption, language, sexual situations, skinny dipping, talk of abuse and exploitation

Author's note: please remember this is just fiction and not intended to be disrespectful to any real life people, this is merely how I want him to be in this situation

Big thanks to @coffee-obsessed-writer for creating the banner and helping me edit this monster

You had suspicions about where Jensen might be hiding out but you didn’t want to give up his location if he wasn’t actually there. Not to mention, you didn’t know if anyone else knew about his cabin. He must have kept it a secret from everyone if no one knew where to look for him to confirm if he was okay.

It surprised you to see he had a mailbox at the end of the road. All it had printed on it was “Wayne”. It gave you hope that you were in the right spot and he would be there. The postal carrier was the only person you could find who both knew of the cabin and would give you a lift up there. He was done with his route and you’d caught him at the local convenience store in your search for Jensen.

“You know the guy?” the carrier asked.

You nodded, putting your phone back in your pack.. You hadn’t seen him since before COVID, but you would still sometimes get texts from him and video calls, but those hadn’t been as regular as you would have liked. The last communication you’d gotten from Jensen had been over a month ago and it had only been an emoji, which was very unlike him. He always wrote out everything and didn’t even use abbreviations.

“Have you seen him?” you asked.

“No, but I deliver a lot of stuff here. Instructions say to just leave there,” he pointed to a cement pad with a small roof over it. “It’s always gone next time I come by.”

You thought about it for a moment. “That’s okay, I think he would prefer you didn’t. Thanks for the ride, Glen.”

“Get a lot of traffic up here?”

“Not really,” he shook his head. “Just residents or people who get lost. You want me to drive you up there?”

Glen raised his hand in goodbye before slowly pulling away from the drive. You couldn’t see anything past 50 yards up the road that would indicate anyone even lived up there. The road disappeared around a curve, getting lost in the trees.

You looked down at your trail shoes and hoped they would stand the test they were about to endure.

“Of course he’s gotta pick a goddamned mountain,” you muttered as you began the hike into the unknown.

He only had a few more logs to chop before he would call it a day. Still not sure if he would spend the winter on the mountain, or not, he didn’t want to get caught without firewood. Either way, it was good exercise and he would rather be safe than sorry.

He moved a log onto the stump and swung a few times before he caught movement out the corner of his eye. He swung again with a grunt and the log gave a satisfying crack, splitting about halfway down. He pulled the axe out, slung it to his bare shoulder and took a few steps toward whomever was dumb enough to hike up this far.

No way was the figure walking toward you was the man you were looking for. He looked like an actual mountain man with long hair and beard. His body was thick with muscle and shiny with sweat. If it weren’t for those tell-tale bow legs, you would never have recognized him from that far away.

“Who the hell are you?” he bellowed, holding the axe in front of him with both hands.

“Jay? Is that you?” you called out. Jesus, he can be scary, you thought. The only time you ever heard that particular tone of voice was when he was mad, and it was rarely ever directed at you, if at all.

“What are you doing here? How did you find this place,” he was a little closer now, his voice still booming.

“Jesus, Jensen, it’s me, (Y|N), and you told me you were here!”

“(Y|N)?”

You nodded.

“I texted you that a month ago.”

“I know, but you left your phone in Texas and no one could get in touch with you, dumbass!”

“I told everyone who needed to know that I was taking some time for myself.”

“A fucking cabin emoji is pretty goddamned cryptic.”

His tough exterior deflated a little.

“Shit,” he rubbed his hand over his face. He’d been gone too long without contact.

You shrugged your pack off your shoulders and pulled out your phone. Somehow, out in the boonies, you had one bar. Finding the name you needed in the list, you hit ‘send’ and listened as it rang.

“Hi Donna,” you walked toward Jensen, “yeah, I have some good news… yep, I’m with him right now and he’s fine…” you were within arms reach now, “hold on, he’s right here.” You held out the phone, “Talk to your mother.”

Jensen took the phone from you and talked to his mom while you went to grab your pack. He walked behind you and took your pack before you could even heft it to your shoulder, easily putting the strap over one of his arms. He motioned for you to walk with him while his mom gave him the business.

“Mhm… yes, ma’am… mom… mom, I’m sorry… yes, ma’am… you’re right, I’m sorry… I don’t know… no, I’m not sure I’m ready yet… I promise…” he sighed, rolled his eyes and hit the speaker button.

“(Y|N)?”

“I’m here,” you answered.

“Thank you for finding him and letting me talk to him.”

“Of course, Donna.”

“Please let me know when you leave, okay?” she asked.

“I will.”

“Jensen, I love you. Don’t scare me like that again.”

“No, ma’am,” he answered.

Donna disconnected and Jensen handed your phone back to you. You walked in silence for a while. Only the sounds of nature and shoes on the ground. It was a really pretty and peaceful piece of land. The road took you toward his cabin and ran parallel to the stream nearby. There was a small dock over the water. The cabin was in line with the dock and partially went over the water, too.

“Took you long enough,” he broke the silence.

“Um, that was over a month ago. Second, we’ve gone longer without talking. Third, you left your phone in Texas. What was I supposed to use, telepathy? And four, once your mom said you were missing, I figured it out and came up here. Which, by the way, was not easy to do and hard as fuck to hike up to. Because, of course, you chose a fucking mountain to hide out on.”

“What?”

“I texted you a month ago.”

“I knew you’d figure it out,” he grinned.

He leaned the axe against the cabin wall, turned the door handle and pushed open the cabin door. He let you go in first, following you in and put your pack against the wall by the door. You did a quick look around and noted there were only two rooms, one being closed off with a door. The rest of the space was all one room including a kitchen, a living space and a small area to eat, all constructed of stone and wood. There was a large fireplace on the wall that was over the water with a chair and side table situated near it. The back corner of the cabin had the kitchen and the main space had a daybed that doubled as bedroom and living space.

“And now you’ve seen the whole place,” he said. “Make yourself at home, I’m gonna go get cleaned up.”

You expected him to go into the room with the door, which you assumed was the bathroom. Instead, he grabbed a towel and went outside with what looked like 2 bars of soap. Before you even registered what was going on, he was already outside and stripping by the stream. Unabashedly, you followed him out just in time to see his bare butt disappear into the water.

“Get a good look?” he asked when he caught you.

Over the years, you’d seen him in various states of attire, or lack thereof, but you’d never seen him fully undressed.

“No! Why don’t you do it again,” you called out.

You’d always been attracted to Jensen, and flirted with him, but it never went any further than that. You’d met him by accident in 1994 when you went on a family vacation to Dallas. He wasn’t even supposed to be there. You liked to think that fate had thrown you two together. After that summer in Texas, you became pen-pals. Every summer, you begged your parents to go back to Texas. Eventually, through letters and those trips, you’d gotten to know each other’s families and would still send letters. When you became adults, it was easier to meet up more often and exchange phone numbers.

You leaned on the porch railing and really looked at this god of a man and wondered how it was you’d gotten so lucky to have met him and to have kept him in your life for so long. His career had skyrocketed and he could have left behind the summer vacation friend, but he hadn’t. Why were you the one he’d chosen to let know where he was? What was he expecting?

“Earth to (Y|N)!”

Your focus snapped back to Jensen in the stream. He motioned for you to turn around.

“Prude!”

“I’m shy,” he was beginning to shiver. “Wanna make it even and show me yours?”

Countless times, you had thought of offering just that, but your own shyness had never let you… not to mention your body image. You sighed and went back inside the cabin. Not much time passed before a soaked Jensen came back into the cabin wearing the towel and a t-shirt you hadn’t seen him take outside. Quickly, he was dressed and back in the main room with you, this time with jeans and bare feet.

“I barely recognized you when you walked up, you’ve changed,” he said.

“Me?” you’d only cut your hair and walked a little more often. “Look at you mountain man. I’ve never seen your hair this long. Not even on Dawson’s Creek…and the beard!”

He nodded in resignation, “Fair point. You look good though.” A few beats ticked by, “It’s good to see you.”

You sat with him on the daybed. “You could have just called before disappearing. What’s with all the secrecy? Doesn’t anyone know you have this place? Also, how come I’ve never been here, it’s amazing!”

“Thank you. Honestly, I just wanted this place to be for me. Kind of reminds me of the summers we had. It’s a good place to get my head right, sort of reset…”

He didn’t answer your question.

“It’s good to see you, too. Even through all of that hair,” you gently pushed his hair away from his forehead.

“It’s been too long. Do you want a drink?” he asked, standing up quickly, like the feelings were hitting him too hard.

You supposed he did need a break from the onslaught. You knew his life could be overwhelming and it made sense that he needed the cabin to relieve the stress. The media could be extremely intrusive and you knew that things had happened to drive him out of the public eye, but this had been extreme.

“Sure,” you said, and pulled out a few things from your pack.

“How long can you stay,” he asked from the small kitchen.

Jensen was waiting to hear your answer. You stood back up and took a few short steps to cross the cabin to where he was waiting for your response. The look in his eyes broke your heart. What had happened was tearing him up. You touched his arm and he turned fully toward you. Not even thinking about it, you reached up and pulled him down into a hug. His beard scratched at your skin as he nuzzled into your neck.

“I can stay as long as you can stand me,” you whispered, your hand stroking the back of his neck. He was giving you a bear hug and you tried to return the comfort.

You knew what had happened, but only after the fact. When Donna called you to find him, you knew it was serious and had done deeper research, including where to find him.

He never wanted her to leave. She always did that self-deprecating thing where she minimized herself and her importance, but he was always sad when their visits came to an end. He sent her that text hoping she would come. He needed his friend. She seemed like the only person he could trust and she always told him exactly what she thought about anything. It was all so overwhelming, the scandal, the shame, his feelings for his friend…

Eventually, he pulled away, but you wouldn’t let him go. You held his face in your hands forcing him to face you, but he was having a hard time making eye contact. His eyes were red and his face was a little damp. You used the palms of your hands to dry his eyes.

“Whatever it is you’re going through, you can tell me. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t care. Anytime you’re ready. I’ll follow your lead. What do you want to do? Work? Bullshit? Chill on the porch with our drinks?” you offered.

. “Yeah,” his voice was still a little emotional. “Let’s take these outside, it’s a great view.”

Because Jensen is who he is, he had his porch swing set up to overlook the most perfect view of the stream and woods surrounding his land. He held the swing for you so you could get in and get comfy. It wasn’t a typical swing. It was more like a bed inside a pod that could completely enclose two adults inside. He disappeared for a moment and returned with a blanket which he tossed to you. Somehow, he rolled into the swing like a cat and didn’t spill a drop of his drink.

“That’s some Jedi-ninja shit right there. Expert category drinker stuff,” you admired.

“I’ve practiced,” he said. The swing swayed a bit as he pulled in his long legs. “C’mere,” he patted his shoulder, “bring the blanket, it gets chilly at night.”

He was half sitting up against the wall of the pod. You thought for a moment about how you should rest against him. You wanted to cuddle into him, but he was your friend and didn’t want to do something unwanted. Instead, you scooted to sit next to him and he draped his arm around you.

“This is really nice,” you said. The two of you had known each other a long time and had even spent a lot of time together alone, but this time was different. He wanted you, maybe even needed you, to be near him. Nothing was pressing either of you to be somewhere else, or to do anything else. It was just the two of you and you had time to enjoy the company. Being in the pod with him was way more intimate, like maybe you weren’t just friends anymore.

You looked out at the landscape and were feeling very relaxed and happy with the help of the drink Jensen had made for you. The hike up the mountain had definitely helped your eyelids start to feel heavy.

“You sleep out here, don’t you?” you asked, already knowing the answer.

“Damn right I do,” he took a drink. “Gets hot in the house in summer.”

“Jay?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m not complaining, but why me? I’m sure there has to be someone else you’d rather have up here…”

“Why not you? Sometimes… Sometimes… I wish I weren’t this version of me.”

“If you weren’t an extremely handsome guy, the world at his feet, with the best pen-pal ever, who would you be?” you asked.

You could feel him shrug next to you, “I don’t know. I like who I am when you’re around… maybe a carpenter, or bartender who does karaoke on weekends and the best pen-pal ever visits whenever she can. I just want to be the guy I am when you’re around. I like him.”

You sat up and turned to look at him. Leaning over his legs you put your glass on the porch and took his drink to do the same before sitting back up.

“I think you’d be a great bartender,” you said. When you leaned back this time, you tucked into his side and wrapped your arm over his body, “Or a lumberjack,” you giggled, gripping his bicep. His strong body squeezed you tightly to him and you thought you might be in heaven.

“I’m really glad you’re here,” he said.

“I missed you, too,” you said. “I wish I had the freedom to visit whenever, but… I could… it would take time, though.”

“What’d you say to get out of work this time?” he asked.

“Told ‘em the truth. I said, and this is a quote, ‘My idiot friend has fallen off the radar and he’s scaring the shit out of his mother, so I need to go find him, ‘cause if I don’t and his mom finds him, she will do to him what she fears has already happened to him’.”

He chuckled knowing the absolute truth of what she said, “And what did they say?”

“They were concerned that, not only do I have a friend, but that he’s also missing and asked for a picture to help spread the word. Naturally, I declined and said my friend is hideous and any hungry wildlife would be doing us a favor if they took him out, but they insisted on seeing your mug.”

Jensen was silently laughing, his chest shuddering with laughter.

“Did you show them?”

“Yeah, I did. No one ever believes I know you. They just rolled their eyes and asked me to be serious. I said no-can-do buckaroo and lit out of there.”

“You got the time off?” he wheezed.

“No idea. I needed to get my stuff together and figure out your one emoji text meaning with zero context. Your confidence in my sleuthing ability is flattering… one fucking clue…”

“There were two,” he was catching his breath now.

“Are you serious?! You are so lucky I have a good memory.”

“Bullshit. Your memory is garbage. I know you keep the letters.” he said.

“Listen here, fucker… my memory may be garbage, and, alright, I do keep them, but at least I knew where to look! Don’t act like you don’t keep mine, too,” you countered.

“I’m not a sentimental simp like you.”

“Yes, you are! Maybe you don’t keep the letters, but you do have them all locked away in that brain of yours. You love my letters… butthole.”

“They’re so eloquent,” he laughed.

The back and forth between you had gotten animated and the swing still swayed for a few more moments.

“God, I’m glad you’re here,” he said, wiping his eyes.

“Well, it might be permanent after the shit I pulled, so, lucky you. You might owe me a job,” you warned.

“That can be arranged,” he spoke too soon. He didn’t know if he would even be going back to work acting. He didn’t know if he had destroyed his career, or if he would be accepted back into the fold. He would probably have to testify at some point.

“Hey, where’d you go?” you asked.

“Uh, just drifted off for a sec,” he said.

You wondered where he had drifted.

“Wanna go back inside? My drink is empty,” you asked.

He gave her a nod and watched her struggle to get out of the pod making it swing wildly back and forth.

“Got an ETA on that exit, hot shot?” he asked.

No sooner had he gotten the words out of his mouth than (Y|N) lost her balance and tumbled backward into him.

Jensen let out a little “oof” when you fell backward. The swing was going all over the place, making you feel more dizzy. You struggled to get your bearings and finally were able to get your hand placed to push yourself up only to see Jensen looking back at you. Only vaguely were you aware of his hand on your back.

“That drink was stronger than I thought,” you sputtered, staring at his mouth so close to your own.

“Lightweight,” a soft smile touched his lips.

“I think I need help getting out of this thing,” you conceded, still lying on his chest.

In one smooth movement, he had you lying on your back, looking up at him. His bodyweight pressed into you, heightening the intensity of the moment. Cautiously, your hands went to his back and shoulder. The gamut of emotion ran over his eyes. His mouth moved toward yours, but stopped. You moved your hand from his shoulder to cup his neck, your thumb on his jaw. Gently, you pulled him closer, letting him know you wanted him, too.

His mouth met yours, soft at first, quickly becoming more urgent. Your hands pulled up his shirt and Jensen pulled it off in one quick motion. Just as quickly, you pulled off yours. He kissed you again as he undid your pants. He laid you back and kissed you all over your body and down your belly. Your head was spinning from euphoria and barely noticed he had laid you completely bare for him. He removed his clothes before he moved between your legs, kissing up your thighs. His hands went under you, gripping your hips before he buried his face in your folds, devouring you. Your body responded to him in ways no one had ever brought forth in you. Sounds you didn’t even know you were capable of making… you clutched one of his hands and his hair as he brought you to one of the hardest orgasms you’d ever had. He kept working your body until your orgasm finally subsided allowing you to relax.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, trying to catch your breath.

Jensen wasn’t done with you yet. He crept up your body, worshiping every inch. His large hands cupped your breasts, softly massaging them, his fingertips brushing over your nipples making them rise to a peak.

“Just call me Jensen,” he said, pulling your leg up to his hip. His hand caressing your leg, knee to thigh.

“Smartass,” you said, kissing him.

“We should have done this a long time ago,” he said, touching your hair. He paused, “Has no one ever made you…”

You laughed, “No, not like that. Gawd, not like that.”

He laid between both of your legs and looked at you before tracing lines on your chest. “What a shame.”

“Hey, come up here, let me look at you,” you told him.

He pushed himself up and over your leg so you could lie next to him and up on your elbow. You couldn’t help but keep kissing him, his chest, his neck, nibbling on his ears. He pulled and pushed you on top of him and you reveled in the feel of his body under yours. So warm and strong. Still wet from before, he easily slid into you as he sat up with you on him. You both groaned with pleasure as his cock filled you. He buried his face in your chest and leaned you back to suck and bite on your nipples. He was getting your blood to flow in all the right places and you were getting desperate for relief. You tried to move your hips a little, but Jensen wouldn’t let you, grasping you tightly around your waist, forcing you to hang onto his neck and shoulders, for dear life.

The things he could do with his tongue were driving you crazy. If you didn’t get some relief soon, you were going to scream. You were already making noises. He was doing things you didn’t know were possible. He was doing things that were both extremely pleasurable and agony at the same time. He finally let you wrap your legs around his waist. What had earlier felt like pure animal lust, turned into tender love-making. He let you touch and caress his body how you wanted, moving your body with him inside you. You couldn’t keep your lips away from his. You wrapped your arms and legs tightly around him and he rolled you onto your back, pushing all the way into you, making you groan loudly, arching your head back. He looked into your eyes as he began to move again, slowly. He took his time as he brought you both to ecstasy.

“Oh my god, Jensen,” you muttered as he made you cum again.

Jensen shuddered with a moan and collapsed onto you with his face in your neck, breathing heavily. After a moment, he gave you another sensual kiss and carefully rolled off of you.

“Holy shit,” you breathed. “My legs are gonna be so sore tomorrow,” you laughed.

“I’ll give you a massage,” he offered.

You looked for your clothes in the darkness but didn’t find them and not knowing where Jensen threw them, you pulled on the t-shirt he had been wearing before this out-of-the-blue release happened.

“Whaaaat just happened?” you wondered aloud.

“Greaaat sex,” he sighed.

“Oh my god, yeah, but…”

“I really needed that,” he put a hand on your thigh.

You really needed it, too, but you wondered if it were for the same reason of pent up lust for your friend of almost thirty years.

“The sex? You could have had that with anyone. I have literally seen women faint in your presence.”

He tensed up a little. You could hear him roll his eyes rather than see them. “Come here,” you heard him pat his chest. He pulled you into his side and you laid on his shoulder. He grabbed the edge of the blanket and flung it over both of you. He held you snugly to him as he talked drowsily.

“I didn’t want ‘anyone’,” he said. “I wanted you,” he kissed your forehead.

“Me? Really?” you’d thought for sure your desire had been one-sided all this time.

“Yeah, but you or I were always with someone. It just never worked out to give us a try.”

“This day keeps getting stranger and stranger,” you muttered.

“You mean in a good way, right?” he teased.

You nodded knowing he would feel your answer.

“How long have you felt like this?” you asked.

“Remember when we met up the 2nd or 3rd time? It was either right before or right after I got Days and we were in Texas, and you met my buddy, Kenny?”

“Yeah?” you barely remembered Kenny, but what you did remember was, “Oh yeah, that was the summer you were a dick.” It finally hit you, “You were a jealous dick! Oh my god!”

It felt like a revelation.

“You were loving all of that attention from him,” he grumbled.

The memories were coming back in force.

“I really don’t remember Kenny, I just remember you being a grouch,” you said.

“I know, I was a shit,” he admitted.

You clung to him, “I forgave you.” You were feeling sleepy and had no idea what time of night it was. A wave of sadness hit you. “I should have told you how I felt… when we said goodbye, I knew… when you…”

“When I kissed you before you got on the plane,” he finished.

“I knew way back then, you would always be the one that got away.”

Somehow he held you even tighter, “Can’t be the one that got away if I never let you go.”

You couldn’t remember a time you’d slept so soundly. Sleeping out on the porch almost felt like being on a boat and it lulled you into a deeper sleep.

When morning came and Jensen was gone, you briefly wondered if it had all been a dream. You were still in the swing with the blanket covering you and wearing Jensen’s shirt. Your movement to look for him caused the swing to turn and you saw him sitting on the porch in his jeans with his arms wrapped around his drawn up knees. The sun was just starting to come up and he was watching the horizon.

More graceful this time, you got out of the swing, taking the blanket with you. The man had the audacity to look good with a savage case of bedhead. You draped the heavy blanket over both of you as you sat down next to him. He took the blanket and held it in place while you put your arm around his waist and leaned into his side. The blanket was big enough to enclose you both and let you sit on a bit of it so your butt wouldn’t freeze.

“I see why you like it here. It’s beautiful,” you whispered.

“It’s where I come to reset. Just taking longer this time,” he said quietly as he put his arm around you. “It helps having you here.”

“Did you sleep?” you asked.

He waggled his hand, so-so. “You’re like a furnace.”

“You’re welcome?”

He leaned in for a soft, good morning kiss.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Sore as hell, but happy. Not gonna lie, it’s been a while. Definitely not how I thought the night would end after hiking up a damned mountain,” you smiled and nudged him. “How are you? How’s your brain?”

He took a moment to think about it and what happened the night before. “Better than I was 24 hours ago.” He debated how much to tell her about why he needed to disappear and why this cabin and what it all meant to him.

“Jay?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m starving.”

Inside the cabin, Jensen said he would get some breakfast going and you told him you were going to use his shower. He let you know the tank isn’t very big and takes a while to refill.

“Got it, turn it off when not needed,” you said. He tapped the side of his head with one finger then pointed at you and turned back to getting the food ready. You didn’t bother washing your hair, it didn’t need it yet, and you doubted you would be able to get it clean with the lack of water pressure. That was probably the reason why Jensen went to the stream to get cleaned up, you supposed. You went as quickly as you could since the delicious smell of breakfast was wafting into you.

When you emerged, Jensen had made pancakes, bacon and eggs for you both. He was drinking what you assumed was coffee while he waited for you.

“You coulda told me to hurry up,” you said.

“Um,” he realized he was staring, “I just put it on the table.”

“Something wrong?” you asked

“No,” he said quietly and motioned for you to have a seat at the table.

“About last night,” you began. “What happens now? Do we pretend like it didn’t happen and carry on like usual? Or can this go somewhere?”

He wanted nothing more than to see where things could go together. Their timing had never been right. Even when they first met, he shouldn’t have even been there. He was supposed to have gone to a camp and had missed the bus. It had pissed off his parents enough to not let him stay home alone while the rest of the family went on vacation. While at the resort, (Y|N) had literally bumped into him and he was hooked.

They had become fast friends and when she’d suggested being pen-pals, he loved the idea. He’d told her things in those letters that he never told anyone. They’d bared their souls to each other in those letters. When he needed her, she was always there, no judgment. She never pulled punches with him and always gave her brutally honest opinion when he asked for it and sometimes when he didn’t, but those were the times when he needed to hear it most. He knew he could trust her with anything. He’d kept her away from the spotlight, fiercely protecting her privacy. The media could be so invasive and if they’d ever found out who she was to him, or asked her for a comment, she’d never told him about it.

Any time he had seen her, he’d think about asking her out, but she was always in a relationship, or he was. They would meet up and it was just easy to fall into the familiar “buddy” routine that they had going so well.

Last night had been completely different. A little liquid courage had gone a long way for them both. Maybe it had been the fatalist attitude he’d adopted of late, but he’d wanted to see if it would happen naturally and it had, much to his delight.

“Hold on,” he said, “I need you to read something.”

He got up from the table and went to the daybed. He pulled out a box from underneath and brought it to the table. (Y|N) was watching him closely and she didn’t miss much.

“‘Nova Stuff’, huh?” she noticed her codename on the box. “I thought I was the sentimental simp?”

She saw him digging through the box.

“Alright,” he admonished, “don’t get all cocky.”

“That’s all you,” she snickered, taking another bite of her food.

“Enough from the peanut gallery,” he said. She was trying to make him laugh and he loved her for it.

“Elephants like peanuts…” she was almost crying trying to hold in how amused she was with herself.

“Is that all you think about?” he couldn’t help but chuckle.

“It is now!” she had to wipe her eyes. “Oh man, I really needed that laugh!”

“Happy to help,” he tried to sound miffed.

“Don’t be mad,” she chuckled, “I tease you out of love and I only tease the people I love most.”

“You love me?” He held the letter he was looking for in his hand. It had all of the sordid details in it and some things TMZ hadn’t dredged up. If he didn’t give it to her, maybe she wouldn’t find out about what he’d done and why he’d been stowed away in the cabin for over a month. He put the box on the floor and held the letter in between his hands. Finally, he laid it down and pushed it across the table to her. “You might change your mind after reading that. Everything is in there, all of it.” He said it like he had to force the words out. He pushed his chair back from the table, clasped his hands on top of his head, and looked up at the ceiling.

You took the envelope and flipped it over to see his familiar scrawl addressing the letter to you.

“Let me tell you a little something, Jensen Ross Ackles. When my friend’s mom calls me up and says her oldest child has gone on a trip, no one’s heard from him in a month, and asks me to help her find him… If you think I’m not going to Dean Winchester the shit out of the situation, do you even know me?”

You got up from your chair and left behind the letter to sit on his lap. You put one arm around his shoulders and raised your hand to touch his face, “You saw some scary shit. It fucked you up, as it would for any normal person. You’ve been working so hard and traveling all over the world. You dealt with it in a way that maybe you didn’t realize was destructive in the moment. It happens. That skank was arrested for filing a false report. Everyone stuck up for you, everyone. No one believed her. It was clear she was just trying to drag you down. Your parents released a statement saying you were taking some time off and now, it’s just been a waiting game until I found you.”

You looked at his sad eyes and read the question he couldn’t ask.

“No, my sweet boy, I didn’t believe a word of it,” you brushed the hair away from his face. “How could I ever believe it?” You kissed his exposed skin. “Aside from my mom, you are the only other person who has been consistently in my life for so long. I know you, Jensen.” You kissed his lips. “And if I had known you would become such a good kisser, I would have upped my flirting game.”

“Your game was pretty good,” he said.

“It didn’t work, though.”

“One or both of us was always with someone else. What was I supposed to do with that?” he asked.

“You were supposed to realize your unending love for me and ditch whomever you were with and run away with me. Or fight the person I was with for my hand. But you were a ‘gentleman’.” you changed your voice and used air-quotes for emphasis.

He seemed to consider your words for a moment before sweeping you up into his arms and carrying you to the bed.

His skin felt warm and smooth under your touch. You couldn’t help but want to get to know every part of his body. He was in fantastic shape and you felt dumpy as hell next to him. Unconsciously, you pulled a blanket over you.

“Are you cold?” he sounded sleepy.

“No, just self-conscious,” you admitted.

“Stop it, you’re perfect.”

“I jiggle.”

“Don’t do that. There isn’t a single bit of you that isn’t perfect. You are exactly who I want,” he tried to assure you.

“Do you know I love you?” you asked, your hand resting over his heart.

“I know,” he paused. “I love you back.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t pick up that something was wrong earlier. I should have known as soon as you sent that stupid emoji.” you said. “You know what’s weird about you? Your complete lack of chest hair. I always thought you shaved.”

“You know what’s weird about you? Your inability to not say exactly what you’re thinking.”

“I mean, you’re so preppy… I thought it was a thing you did… but you really are dolphin-smooth.”

“Alright, that’s enough,” he tackled you.

After a little power nap, you decided to let Jensen sleep while you made yourself useful outside. Seriously under-equiped for cabin life, you made do with leggings, t-shirt, and trail shoes. You slipped your phone into your pocket and quietly went outside. There was a wood carrier near the door, which you grabbed and started for where you had seen Jensen the day before to gather the wood.

When he woke up (Y|N) was gone and her spot on the bed next to him was cold. A wave of panic hit him and he pulled on his pants to look for her. He dashed onto the porch and checked the swing.

(Y|N)!” he yelled.

A noise behind the house alerted him and (Y|N) popped out from around the corner.

“I’m right here!” she said, hand on her chest. “Are you okay?”

“Where were you?”

She held out the wood sling. “I was just bringing over the wood from yesterday. You seemed like you needed the sleep, so I didn’t wake you.”

That look was on his face again. The sadness that he’d been carrying around like the weight of the world was on his shoulders.

“You’re not going to get rid of me, Jensen.” you said.

“Let me get dressed, I’ll help you.”

It only took a little while for the two of you to haul over the loose pieces and for Jensen to finish the other logs he had. Even though it was somewhat quick work, it was strenuous and you were both sweating.

“If all of your fangirls could see you now… they would lose their ever lovin’ shit,” you said marveling at him, too.

Jensen looked at himself, covered in dirt, wood chips and sweat, “Seriously?”

You nodded. “You’re checking a lot of boxes.”

“Well I feel disgusting,” he said, flipping the axe into the stump with force. He looked over at you after you made a strange sound and saw you make a checkmark with your finger and a mischievous grin. “Y’all are dirty.”

The two of you collected the last bits and carried them to the cabin. If you weren’t filthy before, you definitely were now.

“Speaking of dirty,” you began, “what do we do about this?”

He waved you over to follow him down to the stream and dock where you both kicked off your shoes. You should have seen it coming, but you didn’t. Jensen grabbed you by the shoulders and pulled you with him into the water. You barely got your feet under you and stood up in the water, Jensen emerging right next to you.

“It’s a lot quicker than the shower,” he grinned. “Sometimes the fish get curious, though.”

You jumped on him, clinging to his neck and wrapping your legs around his waist.

He laughed, throwing his head back and for a moment, he looked like the boy you had known so long ago.

“Don’t worry, it doesn’t hurt, it’s just weird when they brush against you,” he explained.

“That’s not comforting,” you argued.

He just laughed and slowly spun you in the water, eventually dipping down til your shoulders were almost submerged.

Eventually she began to relax a little and could enjoy the water with him. It was cool and felt good after a day of hard work. She even got brave enough to put her feet down, but not enough to let go of his hand. Every moment he spent with her, he felt a little bit better. He should never have let her get on that airplane all those years ago. He just felt like a better person when he was with her.

“Human again?” he asked.

“Mm, yes, much better,” she agreed. “Also, can we talk about all of the hair?”

“What’s wrong with it?” he stroked his bushy beard.

“It’s definitely a look,” she said. She seemed to be doing something under the water. “And I’m not mad at it at all, it’s really working for you.” She held up her leggings and threw them at the dock landing with a wet plop and a soft ‘thump’. He became very intrigued by what she was doing. “My cha-cha, however, IS mad.”

“Excuse me? Your ‘cha-cha’?” he asked.

“Mhm. My downstairs kitty, vulva, specifically.”

“Any other notes?” he asked, amused.

“Oh no, we were quite pleased with the performance. We’re not asking for it to go away, just maybe a trim?”

She stood up straight in the water and pulled off her shirt, throwing it aside as she moved closer to him. He inhaled sharply at the sight of her. Her hands went to his jeans while he worked on his shirt. He quickly removed them when she threw his shirt on the dock next to hers. When he turned back to her, her bra was gone and she took his breath away…

You liked the way Jensen looked at you. It made you feel like you were queen of the world. He looked like he was ready to either devour you whole, or love on your body for hours. Either way, you would be happy. Never would you have guessed that your search would have led you here. Not just to the mountain and Jensen, but to this new chapter of your lives together.

You stood on your toes and pressed against his chest to kiss him. He wrapped his arms around you and kissed you back, seeming to relish in you.

“I think you better take me inside, sir.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“We should have done this a long time ago,” you said.

“I’m about to get dehydrated,” he said.

You gave him a playful swat on his butt. “No, I mean, you and me.”

“The things that happened before needed to happen so we could be here now. We did what was right for us at the time,” he said.

“I just feel like we missed out on a life together,” you said.

“I don’t feel like I missed out on anything with you. There are people I have known just as long, but none are as important to me as you. You are the person I always wanted to talk to first. I loved it whenever we could get together. This last couple years sucked, but we had video calls, at least.”

“Speaking of that, you owe me a new phone, too. Your mom is gonna be so pissed,” you teased.

A few weeks passed and Jensen ordered a phone for you, adding you to his plan. The two of you were enjoying every moment together. Eventually, you needed to go to the local store for supplies and managed to run into Glen while you were there.

“Oh, hello there, young lady. Did you find your guy?” he asked.

“I did,” you answered, “that’s him back there.” You turned to see Jensen looming behind you, almost glowering at Glen from under a trucker hat. “Be nice,” you mouthed to him.

“Got you a good, strong one there,” he said, still wary.

“Not much of a people person right now,” you explained.

“‘Least he’s got you to soften him up a bit.”

“Don’t let him fool you, he’s really very sweet and he treats me right,” you said.

“You folks plannin’ on staying the winter?” he asked.

“We actually need to talk about that yet,” you realized aloud.

“Best get on it. Winter comes early up here. You need to be prepared in case you get stuck,” Glen warned.

“Thanks, Glen,” you said with a smile.

“Thanks, Glen,” you heard Jensen mutter in a mocking tone from behind you.

Glen returned your smile and left you with a tip of his hat, so you and Jensen could finish your shopping.

You ignored Jensen for the moment, but things needed to be talked about whether he liked it or not.

The store you were in was, technically, a convenience store, but it had a very large grocery section since most of the locals didn’t want to go to the nearest large town with a proper grocery. Jensen gave you his keys so you could go out to the truck while he took the cart to the checkout and paid for everything.

When he came out, you tried to help, but he shoo’d you away. He loaded everything in the back and brought the cart back inside the store, before finally getting back in the truck with you. After starting the truck and putting it in gear, he slowly pulled away from the little store and headed toward the road that led to the cabin. Jensen was a little quiet, but that wasn’t too unusual for him. You were just happy to look out at the scenery.

“Oh, um,” he fidgeted in his pocket, “I got you this in the store.”

He held out a cellophane package to you. You took the package and read the label, RingPop. Quickly, you hid your smirk before you spoke. It was a cute gesture, but you couldn’t resist.

“Is this a proposal?” you asked.

“What?! No! It’s just a RingPop,” he said.

“But it’s my favorite flavor,” you went on. “Ooo, who would I be? Mrs. Wayne or Mrs. Ackles?”

“Whatever, it’s just a RingPop,” he said again, trying to look annoyed, but you knew better.

“Don’t try to deny it. One day, you’re going to ask me to marry you, Jensen Ackles.”

“Uh-huh,” he gave you side-eye, and half-mockingly said, “that would make you Mrs. Ackles then.”

“I thought it was just a RingPop,” you teased.

“Alright, enough,” he grinned.

Late one afternoon, you and Jensen were sitting on the daybed playing cards and having snacks. Since he didn’t have any, not one, single electronic device, it forced you to talk or get creative with how to entertain yourselves. At first, it had all been great fun and felt like old times, except the old times didn’t have great sex. But as each day ticked by, it felt more and more like you were hiding with him.

You drew a card, “Jay?”

“Hmm?” he was studying his hand.

You chose your discard and laid it in the pile, “As much as I love spending time with you, and I do, it’s been a great summer vacation…” Jensen drew a card and immediately discarded it. “Vacations end and people go back to their lives.” You picked up the card he discarded, rearranged your hand, then laid it down. “Gin.”

“Again? I swear, you cheat,” he said, reaching for the cards to shuffle for a new game, but you stopped him by grasping his hands.

“I’m fine here,” he said, blandly.

“Jensen… at some point, you have to face what happened.”

“I don’t know if…”

“You won’t be able to move past it if you don’t face it, and you know it.”

He stopped and started a few times before speaking, “I like it here. It’s peaceful.”

“Why?! Because it’s easy?! That is some serious, cop-out bullshit if I’ve ever heard it. You need to make a fucking choice. Are you going to lay down and let this one bad thing dictate your life and throw away 25 years of hard work? Or are you gonna stand up, set the record straight, and take back your fucking career and name?!” you couldn’t be silent any longer.

Jensen ditched the cards and went to the kitchen to fix himself some coffee. You would not be dismissed so easily and were hot on his heels.

“Goddamnit, Jensen, you may be able to shut out the world, but I will not let you shut me out. You need to quit hiding out up here and get your head out of your ass. The Jensen I know is a fighter, so fucking fight!”

You stormed out of the cabin, shoving the door open and walked down to the dock area where you collected some rocks to throw as hard as you could. You kept it up until you ran out of frustration and rocks to throw, finally sitting on the end of the dock with your feet in the water.

You sat there for a while, rehashing every word said and adding things here and there to strengthen your argument. Just when you thought maybe he wasn’t going to come out to talk, you felt footsteps on the dock. He nudged your shoulder with a mug. At first you didn’t want to take it, but its glorious smelling contents forced you to grudgingly accept the mug.

Jensen stood on one foot and lowered himself to sit next to you on the dock. For a few moments, he sat in silence, sipping from his own mug, not looking at you, just looking out at the water.

“You’re right,” he said, softly.

I know, you thought.

“I have been hiding. I don’t want to give up my career. I’ve worked too hard. I just…lost my head for a while. I know better…” he said.

“She took advantage of you when you were in a bad way and exploited the shit out of you for 15 minutes of fame. That is not your fault, it’s hers and that makes her a shitty human being, not you,” you took his hand and held it tightly on your lap.

“I don’t want to do anything else. I want to be in this industry. I haven’t just been sitting here. I have ideas for new shows, and I was writing songs. I’d at least like to give them a shot… I do need to stand up and fight. I’m not the guy that lets the bad guy win.”

“There he is… there’s my guy,” you smiled. “I’m proud of you.”

You leaned over for a kiss and he met you half-way. You felt a whole lot better about him and where he was mentally. He’d been sitting at the cabin in a sort of limbo and you’d helped kick his ass out of it. The weather was going to turn soon, you could tell, even the water in the stream felt colder. Your summer vacation was about to end and the familiar pangs of sadness hit you.

When you were a little kid, you used to cry when you had to go home. Not because you didn’t want to go home, but because you didn’t want to leave all of your new friends. By the time you met Jensen, you had your more childish emotions under control and were old enough to be serious about being pen-pals. What didn’t change was the crushing sadness you felt whenever you had to leave Jensen.

“You ever see that movie, ‘Same Time Next Year’?'' you asked.

Jensen finished off his coffee, “Mhm.”

“I don’t want that anymore,” you said.

“Nova… that’s not us,” he said. “We see each other whenever we can. We make time… That’s not us.”

“Well, what are ‘we’ then?” you wanted to know where he saw your relationship going.

“You are the only woman I want by my side. I’ll take you home, but only to pack it up, ‘cause I’m not letting you spend one more night without me next to you. It should always have been you, but things happened the way they did so we can be together now. And now that I have you… I’m not letting you go.”

You couldn’t help but get a little misty. It was nice to be wanted, especially by Jensen. We are so gonna get married, you thought.

“You could have said “girlfriend,” you joked, wiping your eyes.

“That’s such an empty word. You are so much more to me,” he said. “What did you want? How do you want things for us?”

“I just know that I want to be with you. I don’t really have anything holding me to my apartment. My friends are all over the country, so I’m not leaving any friends behind… I can go anywhere…”

“So how does Texas grab you?”

“Hot as actual hell, but acceptable,” you answered.

Jensen grinned, “Yeah, true. You better come with me on jobs. You’ll love it. Freeze your ass off. So, do we have it settled?”

You nodded. You both sat in silence for a while processing everything that just happened. Nearly a month on the mountain with Jensen had been amazing in so many ways. You swung your feet in the water and even though you wished you could stay, it was very important to get back to reality.

“So…” you began, “what do we do now?”

“We get off the mountain as soon as we can.”

“Okay,” you said, “but not tonight.”

You pulled your feet out of the water, got up and started back to the cabin. You looked back over your shoulder to see Jensen quickly catching up.

#jensen ackles rpf #wildwood #kazosa #one and done #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x female reader

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