Summary: When you get arrested, your path crosses with the path of the Winchester-Walker twins.
Samuel and Cordell couldn't be more different. That made everything way more interesting than you expected it to be.
Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader; Cordell Walker x Reader
Warnings: Tension. Slowburn. Smut. Alternative Universe - Twins. Angst. Comfort.
Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3
Chapter 4 on Patreon (4th of February 2025 on Tumblr/AO3)
Chapter 5 on Patreon (11th of February 2025 on Tumblr/AO3)
Chapter 6 on Patreon (18th of February 2025 on Tumblr/AO3)
Chapter 7 on Patreon (25th of February 2025 on Tumblr/AO3)
Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 - March of 2025 Tumblr/AO3.
Chapter 12 / Chapter 13 / Chapter 14 / Chapter 15 / Chapter 16 - April of 2025 on Tumblr/AO3
Chapter 17 / Chapter 18 / Chapter 19 / Chapter 20 - May of 2025 on Tumblr/AO3
Chapter 21 / Chapter 22 / Chapter 23 / Chapter 24 - June of 2025 on Tumblr/AO3
TAGLIST IS OPN AND +18. DM ME TO BE ADDED TO IT AND TAGGED ON NEW CHAPTERS.
Unopened At Your Feet by @thoughtslikeaminefield - This is the story of how I broke my own heart.
Lifting the Veil by @thoughtslikeaminefield - You’ve been missing something of paramount importance - until now. (Winchester Character x Reader)
The Demon and Me by @winchesterwild78 (Demon!Dean x Reader)
The Honorable Choice by @zepskies - June 1872. Captain Dean Winchester of the U.S. Cavalry is tasked with one job: break a wild mustang. He just didn’t expect the woman who infiltrates his camp, intent on freeing her tribe’s horse. (Dean x Female!OC)
Outlander by @zepskies - Dean Winchester has been stripped of his military rank, but he’s living happier with his new wife, trying to adjust to a new life in her tribe. What will it take for her people to accept him, especially when the battle for her heart might not be completely won? (Dean x Female!OC, sequel to The Honorable Choice)
Rightfully deceived by @jessjad - When a marriage promise forces Y/N to step up for her younger sister, she gets something she always wanted. But when the truth comes out, her new husband Dean is not so happy about the mix-up. Will she loose it all? Or will she be surprised in the end?
It's Halloween by @winchestergirl2 - Charlie and Y/N try to convince Sam, Dean, and Cas to go to a Halloween party.
Heaven by @winchesterwild78 - Dean has died and he meets you, his wife on the bridge. When Sammy comes, you give them their time.
Sneaking Away by @caplanbuckybarnes - Dean catches you just before you leave the bunker for good.
Between The City & The Stars by @zepskies - In the fall of 1945, Dean is having a difficult time assimilating back into civilian life after the War. He’s visiting his brother Sam in New York City, where he’s beginning to build up his law firm. At two minutes to closing time, you interrupt their evening to solicit a solicitor. Your request? You need help in order to divorce your husband.
The Stars Told Me About You by @stargazedwinchester - Dean confesses his feelings for you.
What If? by @jessjad - Dean and Y/N are living the life they always wanted. They love eachother very much and want to start a family. Everything fits just perfectly. What could go wrong?
Snow Globe by @jessjad - A visit from Dean and Sam in the week around christmas is a nice surprise, but will it bring more than just presents?
In Another Life by @lamentationsofalonelypotato - When Dean wakes up in another life with you, he begins to question your friendship and realizes that he has loved you all along. But how can he change that?
Cute and Fluffy by @luci-in-trenchcoats - The reader drops off a new patient for Dr. Winchester…
safe in your arms by @cherrygirlfriend - reader wakes up from a nightmare and dean comforts her
Tennessee Whiskey & Strawberry Wine by @chevroletdean - It’s been months since you broke up with Dean and he’s never been able to fully move on. It’s when you run into him again that you realize… maybe, just maybe, neither have you.
Come Inside by @luci-in-trenchcoats - Dean’s in a mood…
All I Want by @katehuntington - Sam and Dean come across an object that could be the solution to Michael. The Pearl of Baozhu grants the beholder’s deepest desire. Once Dean focuses on his wish, the archangel remains caged in his mind however. Instead his former girlfriend Y/N shows up, who was killed in 2010 in Detroit, by no other than the Devil himself.
Unresolved by @nightxcreature - Reader finds Demon Dean on a hunt, but maybe she shouldn’t have.
Rising Up by @waynes-multiverse - On a hunt, Dean’s girlfriend gets him into trouble in an underground fight club.
‘Twas the Night… by @zepskies - Dean listens, sometimes when you least expect it. This year, Christmas begins to become something new for both of you.
I’m Not Sick by @lost-between-letters - someone’s got the flu and is not happy about it (hint: it’s Dean). Naturally, Y/N has to convince him to take care of himself.
Baby Spoon by @deanwanddamons - A Dean x reader mini series. Y/N is pregnant and Dean is the father.
Roadhouse Rendezvous by @nightxcreature - Reader and Dean have a little fun in the Roadhouse Bathroom.
Headcanon: Gettin’ Down and Dirty with Dean by @waynes-multiverse - Request: I was hoping you could write some smutty head canons about dean
Willing To Break by @godmadeaterribleerror - With the Mark of Cain getting out of hand, you and Sam convince Dean to try something different. A spell that won’t fix the Mark, but will change it. Make Dean crave good things, things he likes, instead of death and blood. It doesn’t exactly go according to plan.
Can’t Be You by @caplanbuckybarnes - you discover Dean isn’t human any longer. (Demon!Dean)
need by @scoopsahoy
Forgive Me Father by @smol-and-grumpy - There are a lot of sins to be committed and you try to make it right by confessing but never had you thought that being bad felt so good. (Demon!Dean) [AO3]
Snowglobe by @kazsrm67 - You find a beautiful snowglobe at a thrift shop after a hunt with your husband and brother-in-law. Once you take it home things around the bunker change drastically.
Untitled Prompt by @supernaturalfreewill
daemonium armor by @justwhisperingfantasies
slowly kissing down the body by @chevroletdean
The Great Invasion by @pamwritessometimes - In a world turned upside down, where monsters are the ones who hunt and hunters are the prey, Y/N must choose: follow the new rules to stay alive or join a rogue band of hunters determined to reclaim power and change the game for good.
Dancing Doll by @flamencodiva - Dancing Flamenco has always been a part of Y/N. But she never thought it would put her in the crosshairs of someone dangerous. How did her life end up with twists and turns? And can a green-eyed mechanic really help her? Or will she just put him in harm’s way?
Because of You by @spn-bee - Dean Winchester, a 30-year-old hunter, rolled in to a college town to unwind. Reima M. Park-Gibbs, a 22-year-old college student was the lucky or unlucky encounter. They both got what they wanted, along with unexpected consequences. Dean will now have to protect her and his unborn child while convincing her she belongs to and with him.
Mechanic and Mistletoe by @deanwanddamons - Y/N, an ER nurse is driving home to her Mom on Christmas Eve. Her car breaks down on the side of the road. She calls Winchester Singer Autos and Bobby sends Dean to help her. Will she make it to her Mom in time for Christmas? And will she get back home in time for her shift on Boxing Day?
Prompt 6 by @sweetcocopowder - You finally bring yourself to summon a crossroads demon to strike a deal. But you quickly find out that this crossroads demon does things a lil differently to seal a deal. (Crossroads Demon!Dean x Male!Reader)
Be My Baby by @foxyjwls007 - Prompt Song: Be My Baby
Round and Round We Rendezvous by @talltalesandbedtimestories - You’re on a Girls Trip to Vegas and meet a certain hunter at the buffet.
How To Train Your Demon by @thesilmarillionblog - Dean is consumed by darkness, and your body is consumed by his. He wants you to realize that his new self is superior and demands that you enjoy his demon form. (Demon!Dean)
Hello Nurse by @kittenofdoomage - Someone’s gotta go undercover as a nurse, and for once, it’s not the reader drawing the short straw
Hey Buddy by @luci-in-trenchcoats - Request: Dean x reader, where reader ran off not knowing she was pregnant, and Sam brings her back with their 2 year old. Dean should be mad, but really he’s just glad she’s back
Let It Snow by @wayward-dreamer - As snow begins to fall, Dean and Y/N some much needed cuddling time in the perfect ambience they’ve created for themselves.
Hurt So Good by @nightxcreature - After the reader makes a comment about missing Dean’s leather jacket and the old days, he takes matters into his own hands and takes her on the hunt of her life.
Fated by @nightxcreature - reader is struggling with a decision about her life and who is in control of it.
Ambitious by @chevroletdean
Lighthouse by @nescaveckwriter - Line: Tree, Clock, Rope
Midnight Espresso by @zepskies - You’ve never taken Dean’s flirting seriously…until he asks you for an impromptu Spanish lesson. (Dean Winchester x Plus Size Latina!Reader)
Before You Go by @lamentationsofalonelypotato - You thought you had it all figured out, but when a certain green-eyed stranger keeps showing up in your life and turns it upside down you wonder if it’s best to push him away or if you should let him in. Reader is a grad student in medical school that doesn’t know anything about the supernatural world. This is just a collection of one-shots that all take place in the same world.
Looking for other Dean pairings? Or more pairings and/or characters from the show? You can find them here!
Being Touched should have been a blessing—a mark of honor in your lineage, celebrated by your pack since childhood. But to you, it's always made you feel like an outsider, never really fitting in anywhere. Yeah, you had your best friend Jess, but for you, something always felt like it was missing. The land your pack runs on during the full moons brings you a sense of peace you don't fully understand, at first.
Paring: Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader/You
As always each chapter will have warnings.
Note: Pack dynamics, Typical A/B/O dynamics with a twist, full moon shifting, Set in modern times, lots of angst, lots of longing, SMUT - probably. Each chapter will have its own warnings.
A/N: It's my first attempt with an A/B/O fic, be gentle please. I hope you like it. Not sure how many chapters this will be yet.
When you turn sixteen, and your soulmate's name doesn’t appear anywhere on your body that you can find, you figure you had to be the only person on the planet who didn’t have one. Most of the town shuns you, so you stick close to family. Your Aunt Ellen raised you after your parents died in a car crash when you were two, but what happens when the Winchesters return to town and buried secrets begin to come to light?
Pairing: Mechanic Dean Winchester x OC Reader/You
Word Count: 5972
Warnings: Dean being Dean, Fluff, Angst, Premonition, A look inside the PP&P, tense situations, Intimate moments - nothing too detailed, lots implied.
A/N: This is my non-Supernatural fic I'm attempting. Please let me know what you think, as I always love hearing from my readers.
With no premonition to implicate the leak, Missouri had to go through official channels, coordinating with the local police department. Charlie had made copies of all the evidence while also setting up the transport for Walker. He would be going to a different lock-up than Cole. The further away from each other the two were, the better. Both women knew it was going to be a long day, but if all went how they planned, it was going to be worth it. Henrickson and his team kept an eye on the leak, discretely, of course.
The same team that managed Cole’s transfer dealt with Walker’s. Another airlift, as it was the easiest to ensure that there wouldn’t be any incidents. Missouri would have chosen to stay and watch with her own eyes as he was loaded onto the helicopter, but she had other matters to attend to.
The police station was a hub of organized chaos, the kind that only those familiar with the system could decipher. Phones rang incessantly, officers bustled from desk to desk, and voices overlapped in a constant hum of activity. To an outsider, it might seem like pandemonium, but Missouri recognized the rhythm of a well-oiled machine.
Federal intervention had been an option, and it still might end up going that route, but right now, that was far too slow. The feds would demand their own investigation, layers of bureaucracy that Missouri couldn’t wait for. This needed to be handled immediately, and if the locals were quick and efficient, that was good enough for her—for now.
Missouri approached the front desk, her calm demeanor cutting through the station’s noise. “Detective Ramos,” she said, her voice carrying just enough authority to grab the officer’s attention.
The officer nodded and picked up the phone. Within moments, a stocky man with salt-and-pepper hair appeared, his expression unreadable. “Missouri,” he greeted. “I don’t typically see you in our neck of the woods.”
Missouri couldn’t waste time with pleasantries today. “Can we speak in your office?” Her tone was tight, the folder thick with evidence held carefully in her hands.
Ramos raised an eyebrow but didn’t question her urgency. He motioned for her to follow him, the two heading to his office. The noise of the station faded as the door to his office closed, leaving the two in tense quiet.
Missouri took a seat in front of his desk while he took his behind it. “Alright. What’s going on that you need my help?” he asked, only a hint of curiosity making it into his question.
She handed him the file. “I need you to make an arrest. If we could handle this internally, we would, but there are no premonitions surrounding this issue. I need it done as quickly and discretely as possible.” she explained.
He gave her a concerned look before he began flipping through the pages of the file. Typically, an investigation would be launched, then they’d get a search warrant, then they’d go arrest him while they did further investigating. Page after page of detailed information, phone records, payments made to Gordon Walker, five innocent girls that had their lives stolen from them, and so much more. Missouri had brought him more evidence than he usually saw after weeks of work.
“Where is he now?” Ramos asked, still thumbing through the papers and having a hard time believing anyone would deliberately do something so cruel to anyone, even given his own profession.
“He’s in his office on the third floor,” Missouri replied. “I’m not sure if he’ll try to run. Please take precautionary measures. The Collection Team is on standby if you need more men.”
Ramos leaned back in his chair, debating his options as he glanced toward the glass walls of his office. The station was bustling with officers, most of them good at their jobs, but Missouri was right—this needed discretion. An arrest like this, mishandled, could compromise everything.
He let out a slow breath, tapping his fingers on the desk as he weighed his options. “Alright,” he said finally, his voice measured. “I’ll handle it. Keep your team ready, though.”
Missouri nodded, relief flickering across her face. “Thank you, Detective.”
As Ramos stood and watched the officers outside his office, Missouri headed out. This was only the beginning. By the end of the day, the truth would emerge, and the PP&P would be under new management.
—---------------------------------
Hours later, you were wrapped up on the couch with Dean, tangled in each other with very little clothing between you. The bunker felt like a haven, its walls keeping the chaos of the outside world at bay. A movie you’d both seen a dozen times played in the background, but it might as well have been static. The steady rhythm of Dean’s heartbeat beneath your cheek and the soft circles he traced on your arm lulled you into a rare state of calm.
It had been hours since you’d spoken to Missouri, partially curious about what was going on with the things you saw in your premonition, but you pushed it away, focusing on Dean. Being close to him had a way of drowning out the things that wanted to consume you.
Dean kept feeling how your emotions fluctuated from completely relaxed to slightly tense and then back to relaxed. He knew your mind kept wandering, but it wasn’t the spiral it had been. Still, it was progress, enough to allow him to relax and his mind to wander. At the moment, he was daydreaming a little about how things would be when the two of you could leave the bunker and have a normal life.
In his daydream, you had insisted he move in with you within the week. The two of you were like teenagers, laughing while he chased you around the house with either the threat of tickling you or tackling you against a surface just so he could hear those delightful sounds again.
During work at the garage, he’d steal moments with you, kisses away from the prying eyes of the others. Bobby would yell at him to focus on the job and not on you, which would just make you giggle. The boys would give him a hard time, but he wouldn’t care. He had you.
Then, he’d find the perfect ring after saving up, finding you something simple but that said everything he couldn’t, and he’d plan the whole night—dinner, dancing, then when dessert was brought to the table, he’d get down on one knee and ask you to marry him. You’d have tears in your eyes, but you’d say yes before he’d slip that ring on your finger.
“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” you asked suddenly, shifting just enough so you could look up at him, furrowing your brows a bit at how distant he felt.
He took a deep breath, holding you just a little closer as he met your gaze, a content smile finding his lips. “Just daydreaming,” he chuckled quietly, not quite sure how you hadn’t been able to see what had gone through his head, but thankful nonetheless.
“About what?” you persisted, now curious.
All he could do was smile down at you, getting lost in your eyes and the curiosity that swam in them. “You’ll find out,” he whispered, leaving a tender kiss on your forehead.
When you pouted, he couldn’t stifle his laughter. “God, you’re adorable,” his words played through your mind, no longer in that whispered tone but in the way he would have said them if he had spoken them, making you blush. “Tease,” you quipped back playfully, enjoying the lightheartedness of the moment.
“Maybe,” he teased back, pulling you closer, his arms a sanctuary you didn’t want to leave, grateful that today, you didn’t have to.
You hummed, closing your eyes as a content sigh escaped your lips. Home, the only way you could describe the feeling of being in his embrace. It felt like it had been so much longer than a week and a half since that day at Crowley’s when you’d let Dean in, allowed yourself to connect with him, and accepted him as your soulmate.
It was something you couldn’t put into words and wondered if you’d ever be able to. You glanced over at the movie playing in the background, a soft smile curving your lips as you basked in the warmth of his body behind yours. Thoughts of after leaving the bunker crept into your mind, questions swirling in the quiet space between you.
Would he go back to his parents? Would he come over and hang out all the time? Would he sleep over sometimes? Would he want to be affectionate in front of other people? Would things change at the garage since you were technically his boss, under Bobby and John, of course?
They were questions you didn’t share through the bond, not quite ready to broach those topics. Your fear was nothing like it had been before, and for that, you were grateful. Now, it was more of a nagging worry, teasing the edges of your mind.
“You’re in your head again,” Dean murmured, his lips brushing against your hair as he tightened his hold on you in a small, grounding hug. A reminder that he was there, and your worry began slipping away again.
You started to apologize, “Sor—,” but caught yourself. The memory of his last teasing threat, to kiss you silly if you said it again, made you reconsider. Instead, you let a mischievous grin play at your lips. “It happens. I’ll work on that,” you replied with a soft sigh.
His quiet chuckle rumbled behind you. “I know,” he murmured, knowing that when you were ready, you’d talk to him or just share what had been going through your head.
For now, though, the two of you were content in each other’s arms as the movie played in the background. The outside world didn’t need to exist for either of you. It was these moments you’d both treasure—how it all began before it grew into something no one could take from either of you.
—-------------------------
By two o’clock, Ramos and his team pulled into the parking lot of the PP&P. It had taken some finagling, but he’d managed to get things sped through the tedious lines of red tape for a case like this one. This had to be done by the books, no mistakes, no cutting corners or he knew that the leak could get out on a technicality.
Missouri watched from Charlie’s office as the police cars pulled up and the officers stepped out, making their way inside. “You think he’ll cause a scene?” Charlie asked from her side, watching the officers as well.
“Hard to say,” she sighed. “I never thought he’d betray the oath of the PP&P.”
Charlie looked up at her, a frown on her lips, before going back to her desk and pulling up the surveillance feeds. That girl could hack into anything. “Walker tried to fight the guards when they took him out on the landing pad,” Charlie began filling Missouri in on the events she missed while she’d been at the police station.
Missouri turned, eyebrow raised, “Did he?”
“Yup. Kept going on and on about being wrongly accused and that he’d get a lawyer,” Charlie chuckled.
An amused smile found Missouri’s lips before she joined Charlie behind her desk, looking down at her laptop. On the screen, Ramos and his team moved through the building with quiet efficiency. No one stopped them—everything had been planned too well. Different members of the Collection Team had been stationed discreetly throughout the building in key locations, as that just in case. Even with the tension of what was about to happen, Missouri was relieved.
Ramos and his officers stopped just outside the director’s office. The golden letters on the door confirmed they were in the right place. He took a slow, steadying breath before pushing the door open. The man behind the desk startled at the intrusion, not expecting anyone, eyes wide with surprise.
“Chuck Shirley, you’re under arrest for violating your oath as director of the PP&P,” Ramos said, his voice firm as the other three officers moved with practiced precision, closing in to restrain him.
Chuck’s shock melted into fury as he sprang to his feet. “What the hell are you talking about? This is bullshit! I haven’t done anything!” he shouted, his voice rising in indignation.
One officer calmly read him his rights while Chuck continued to flail, his denials quickly turning to threats. “This is a mistake! You’ll regret this!” he bellowed, his voice carrying down the hall.
But his struggles didn’t deter the officers. Ramos kept his expression neutral, his focus unshakable as the team efficiently secured the director and then began leading him through the building. The walk to the parking lot felt longer than it was, with every step drawing more eyes.
The office staff, save for the Collection Team, wore varying expressions of shock and confusion. Whispers followed the group, a ripple of uncertainty spreading as the police paraded Chuck past his colleagues. Missouri had kept everything quiet, only telling those that needed to know. Charlie leaned back in her chair, shaking her head in amusement at how Chuck was behaving.
“Who would have thought he’d act like such a child?” Charlie mused, smirking at Chuck’s flailing tantrum on the screen.
Missouri had to admit that it wasn’t an expected behavior from the man who had been in charge of such an important facility, but she didn’t respond to Charlie. His behavior now was jarring, but it wasn’t what unsettled her. Something else tugged at the edge of her mind, a feeling she couldn’t ignore. This just felt bigger, and Missouri knew that only one woman had the answers she needed. Whatever it was was over, she knew that much now that Chuck was in police custody. She just needed to understand why so much had to happen before this point.
Within the hour, the entire staff had gathered in the largest conference room. The atmosphere buzzed with curiosity and tension as the weight of Chuck’s arrest lingered. Henrickson had explained to everyone what had happened, leaving out things none of them needed to know. He’d have a private conversation with the new director, once she was sworn in.
Charlie stood in front of who would be the new director in only a matter of minutes, a woman who had proven herself time and time again for the company, the empaths, the innocents, and her coworkers. Kelly Kline was one of the sweetest women with a fiery streak and a heart of gold. Her expression was a mix of resolve and humility.
This wasn’t how she imagined herself getting promoted, but she wasn’t about to turn down the chance to help more people from this new position. This was her chance to enact real change, and she intended to honor it. She gave Charlie her full attention as Charlie led the oath, pausing after each line for Kelly to repeat the words.
Missouri watched from the back of the room, her arms crossed. Her mind was still focused on her thoughts, her suspicions, and getting to the bottom of it all. With the evidence against Chuck, she knew the feds would be called in, and within a week, Chuck would be in a federal prison without the possibility of getting out.
As the oath concluded, the room erupted in polite applause. Kelly smiled warmly, a glimmer of determination shining through. But Missouri didn’t clap. She slipped quietly out of the room, her phone already in hand, making her way down and out to her car. This was a phone call that needed to be done in private or in person, and Missouri couldn’t wait the time it would take to reach the woman’s house.
The moment she closed the door of her car, she dialed the familiar number. It only rang once before the woman answered. “I know you want answers. Give me a chance to explain,” the woman asked, exhaustion of a different kind lacing her words.
“I’m listening,” Missouri replied pointedly, leaning back a little in her seat.
Pamela had known the call would come. She’d seen it too many times, dabbling in the threads that had a tendency to shift themselves often. “I know what you’re thinking. That everything could have been avoided if I’d said something sooner and given you Chuck’s name,” Pamela began, the typical playfulness of her voice gone.
“It had to be Y/N’s premonition to bring Walker in. I wanted to save all of them. I wanted to stop all of it,” she sighed, leaning forward and taking a sip of her whiskey to settle her nerves. She’d lived with the knowledge for years and hadn’t been able to act on any of it. “If Walker wasn’t Collected and transferred before Chuck’s arrest, Dean would have died, and Y/N would be married to Cole. I couldn’t let that happen. Not after everything she had been through, not with the warnings of what that future held.”
Missouri began understanding; even if it didn’t make it any easier, she understood her friend's reluctance to speak a word of the things she’d seen. “Is it over? Or is there something you don’t want to say?” she asked tenderly.
Pamela chuckled lightly, her gaze far off, watching something play out for a moment. “It’s over. Chuck will be in federal prison. Kelly is the perfect person for the director position. She’s going to bring many needed changes to the PP&P. Y/N and Dean will get the happiness they deserve that had been taken from them.”
For a moment, Missouri mulled over Pamela’s words. “So, why did you tell them to stay in the bunker for three days after Dean’s birthday?” she asked quizzically, a hint of slight amusement in her tone.
“I figured they could use the alone time,” Pamela replied, her playfulness back in full force. “Just make sure you call her, let them know that it’s over so those two can actually relax.”
Missouri laughed softly at Pamela’s words. “I’ll make sure to let her know. Take care of yourself, and keep in touch.”
They said their goodbyes, and Missouri finally exhaled a deep breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. It was over. Well, this thing was over. There would always be other things. That was how life worked. But for Dean and Y/N? They could finally have peace—no more looking over their shoulders, no more wondering when the next storm would hit. A relaxed smile tugged at Missouri’s lips as the tension slowly bled from her body.
—-----------------------
The soft buzz of your phone on the coffee table pulled your attention from Dean. His lips were on yours, his kisses lingering, sweet and unrelenting. Every time you tried to pull back, he followed, stealing another kiss, enjoying the playfulness of the moment.
“It might be important,” you murmured against his lips, the words losing their conviction as he coaxed another giggle from you.
“Mmm… whoever it is, you can call ‘em back,” he muttered, his voice low and warm as his hands slid along your sides, finding the spots that made you melt.
Your resolve wavered as his fingers traced over your skin, but something in the back of your mind whispered that this call mattered. “Dean,” you tried again, weaker this time. “I need to answer it.”
His lips left yours only to find the curve of your neck, his breath hot against your skin. He didn’t need to say anything, being able to feel just how much he was distracting you through the bond. You gave him a playful warning glare, but it didn’t deter him one bit.
You reached for your phone, your hands fumbling as you tried to focus. “Hello?” you managed, trying not to get caught up in the way his lips felt along your neck or his hands on your sides.
“Hi, sugar,” Missouri greeted warmly, her voice carrying that familiar motherly tone. “I have good news.”
You giggled due to Dean’s hand nearing your hip, sliding slightly over your stomach. He wasn’t making it easy for you to pay attention, and he was enjoying every second of it. “Yeah,” you barely got out, using your free hand to try to stop his before he moved it any lower. All that did was make him smirk against your skin.
Missouri had a fairly good idea what the two of you were up to, and she didn’t intend to stay on the phone longer than she needed to. “It’s over. You and Dean are safe but heed Pamela’s warning. You’ll get some paperwork in the next few days. It was thanks to your premonition that all this was able to happen. You did good,” she told you proudly. “You did real good.”
The weight of her words hit you like a tidal wave, sending emotions through your body that you weren’t used to feeling—hope, relief, anticipation? You weren’t sure.
“Really?” you asked in disbelief.
Dean immediately tuned in, watching you closely, his hands stilled their movements. Your emotions surged through the bond—relief, anticipation, and a hope that was brighter than he’d ever felt from you before. His heartbeat quickened, syncing with yours as he tried to make sense of it.
Missouri chuckled softly on the other end, “Yes, it’s over. We’ll be in touch.” And with that, she hung up the phone.
The line went dead, but you sat frozen, her words repeating in your mind. It was over. You were safe. The two of you were safe. The longer those words repeated in your mind, the larger your smile grew. Dean was trying not to be impatient, but it wasn’t like you were sharing your thoughts.
Dean’s hand brushed against your arm, his voice careful but steady. “Sweetheart?” he asked, trying not to let his own emotions get ahead of him.
Tears welled in your eyes, spilling over as you placed the phone on the table and turned to meet his gaze. Those green eyes you loved so much were full of concern, but they softened the moment you spoke. “We’re safe,” you whispered, emotion thick in your throat. “It’s over.”
For a moment, Dean just stared at you, his breath catching as relief began to take hold. Then, without a word, he pulled you into his arms, holding you tenderly as your tears came freely. They were the best kind of tears with the best kinds of emotions. Even without the bond between the two of you, they were radiating off you in waves. You knew he was murmuring something, but you were lost in your thoughts and, for the first time, not being afraid.
Dean just held you close, rubbing your back tenderly as he spoke softly. He hated seeing you cry, but these tears were different, and he understood that. It didn’t make seeing you cry any easier, though. The tension that always lingered in his body began dissipating as those words truly sunk in.
It was over.
The future he had daydreamed of with you was possible now. Your overwhelming fears were gone, and hope had blossomed in its place. As his happiness washed over you, you let out a shaky breath, trying to get your sobs to slow down. He gently lifted your head, brushing his thumb along your cheeks to wipe away the tears. You swore you weren’t going to cry more, seeing the love in his eyes as they scanned your features.
For a split second, he almost said it—almost asked the question that had been on his mind for over a week now. But he knew it would only overwhelm you. So, he decided he’d stick to his plan and work out the details another time. When a smile began toying with his lips, your expression softened. For the first time in your life, you saw a future that didn’t involve being alone or living in fear.
I’ve got you, his thought brought a smile to you as his lips ghosted over yours. Then, he tenderly pulled you against him again. Breathe.
You took slow, deep breaths, allowing his emotions to calm your racing heart and ease the last of the tension from your body. It was over. The thought repeated in your mind as you let out another breath, melting into Dean’s embrace. The truth of it wrapped around you like a blanket, and for the first time in your life, you let yourself believe it.
When he felt you completely relax, he smiled. Plenty of thoughts played through his mind, wanting to share with you his joy and his hope for the future. But right now, in this moment, he was just going to hold you. It was what you needed from him and he would give it freely. No words needed to be spoken. The movie that was playing, completely forgotten.
The two of you spent the rest of the movie in each other’s arms. The evening was nothing but tenderness, peace, and love between the two of you. Dean wanted to get playful with you, hear your laughter, and see your eyes sparkle with every giggle. However, he knew that wasn’t what you needed tonight. You needed something deeper, something tender, something shared only between lovers. You needed what only he could give—a reaffirmation of those unfamiliar feelings that were blossoming inside you.
—--------------------------
The next morning, the room was dark but peaceful. You stirred, the weight of Dean’s arm draped protectively across your waist, his chest warm against your back, and his steady breath fanning over your hair brought a sleepy smile to your lips. There was no urgency to move away from him. It was over.
Not wanting to disturb his slumber, you rested your arm over his, absentmindedly letting your fingers dance over the back of his hand before lacing with his. The slow rhythm of his breathing kept you nestled against him. I’ll never get tired of waking up like this. A quiet sigh of contentment slipped past your lips.
“Morning, beautiful,” he murmured, his voice gravely from sleep as he pulled you just that much closer.
“Morning,” you replied, your voice just as soft.
Dean nuzzled his nose against the crook of your neck, finding that sweet spot and leaving a tender kiss. “You sleep okay?”
A quiet hum slipped past your lips as his woke your body in an entirely different way. “Best sleep I’ve had in a long time.”
You felt him smile against your skin, “Good. You deserve it.”
Just as he was about to let his hand wander along your naked body, the faint rumble of your stomach broke the silence. Dean chuckled, propping himself up on his elbow. “Guess that’s my cue to feed you.”
You rolled onto your back, meeting his amused gaze as your hand came to rest on his chest. Even in the dark, you could imagine the smirk playing at his lips. “Or,” you teased, letting your fingers trail lower, “you could stay in bed with me.”
Dean bit his bottom lip, a quiet groan slipping out. He knew he’d never get tired of the feeling of your hands on his skin or your body against his. Just as you reached his hip, he gently grabbed your wrist, effectively stopping you from going further.
“Breakfast first,” he told you, letting out a shaky breath, making you giggle.
He raised an eyebrow, “Oh, you think it’s funny, do you?” he asked in that tone that already had you giggling again, mischievous, teasing, playful.
Dean pinned your arm over your head as he moved so that he was half lying over you, using his other hand to take the wrist he’d been holding. With that hand now free, he teased slowly down your ribs, leaving a trail of fire behind. Then, without warning, he began tickling you.
“Dean!” you gasped between fits of laughter, squirming helplessly beneath him.
The sound of your laughter filled the room, bright and unrestrained. It was music to his ears, and if it weren’t for needing to let you breathe, he might have tickled you longer. Dean kissed your cheek before flicking on the bedside lamp, smiling like a little kid as he climbed out of bed.
All you could attempt to do was catch your breath while giving him a playful glare. He laughed at how adorable you were while he slipped on his boxers. “I’ve got you all to myself for today and tomorrow,” he said, his voice low and suggestive. “Come on, I’ll get coffee going. Then, I’m making you breakfast.”
There was almost a skip in his step as he headed to the kitchen, his mind playing out all the things he wanted to do with you over the course of two days. It wasn’t like either of you were going to anywhere, and no one was going to come visit. That alone allowed his mind to wander while he started coffee, then breakfast.
You laughed softly as he disappeared out of the bedroom, wondering how you’d gotten so lucky to have him as your soulmate. Reluctantly, you got out of bed and pulled on one of his flannels, the soft fabric and his familiar scent wrapping around you like a hug. It was an odd sensation, not having to worry about anything. The peace from the night before still lingered, and you found yourself smiling as you joined him.
In the kitchen, Dean was already bustling around, wearing an apron he had found months ago in one of the drawers. You couldn’t help but chuckle softly at the sight of him, spatula in hand as he flipped the pancakes with exaggerated flair. Seeing and feeling how truly happy he was brought that warmth to your chest, a feeling you’d never tire of.
As you poured yourself a cup of coffee and sat down at the table to watch him, like you usually did, you let yourself daydream of what life would be like after the two of you could leave the bunker. A smile toyed with your lips, your gaze on Dean while you sipped your coffee. Life was never always perfect, and you weren’t expecting that. It was these sorts of moments that you knew would get both of you through whatever new challenges life tossed in your path.
Dean set a plate of pancakes in front of you, his own already piled high, gave you a quick peck on the cheek, and slid into the seat across from you. For a moment, you marveled at him, like you were really seeing him for the first time. It wasn’t the first time you’d felt it, and you knew you’d never let that go.
“Eat up, Sweetheart. You’re gonna need your energy today,” he told you, waggling his eyebrows with that mischievous glint in his eyes again.
“Oh, and why’s that?” you mused, feigning ignorance before taking a bite of breakfast.
He chuckled, the sound rumbling from deep in his chest as his smile reached both his eyes. “Oh, we’re gonna christen every surface in the bunker,” he replied, his voice dropping several octaves, sending that tantalizing shiver through your body.
Part of you was a little nervous at the thought of that, several different places in the bunker flashing through your mind. However, even with your slight nervousness, the tenderness that came through the bond, soothed it all away. I promise I’ll go slow.
His words brought a small, appreciative smile to your lips even if the butterflies were back, dancing a jig in your stomach. The things he’d taught you on his birthday barely scratched the surface of the things he wanted to do with you, but he’d be patient, taking things at your pace.
Dean kept to his statement. It started when you were halfway through the dishes. He’d been practicing the same bubble technique you had and was getting rather good at it, being able to surprise you. Something he hadn’t even mentioned was how he loved seeing you in his shirt. If it hadn’t been for the two of you needing to eat, he would have bent you over the table the moment he’d seen you in his flannel.
There were just as many tender moments between as there were intimate ones. You’d never be able to look at the bunker the same again with the memories made in those two days. Dean kept track of how many condoms were left, wanting to make sure they lasted till the two of you could leave. Sometimes, he’d just tease you, endlessly, edging you for what felt like hours before he’d finally give in and give you the release you desperately needed.
With the leftover roast, neither of you needed to worry about cooking dinners, but he took advantage of every single time you washed dishes. It helped you see the bunker in an entirely different light. At first, it had been a requirement to be down there. God, that felt like so long ago now. It was a place to have to hide from Cole during a time when fear was all you knew.
Now, it was a place you could remember where you learned how to love, trust, and hope. A place where Dean had gone from being your friend and your rock to being a part of you. It held so many wonderful memories. Memories you never wanted to forget.
That second night, the night before you two could finally leave, your mind was full as he held you close. All those questions still wandered through your mind as the slight worry trickled through the bond. Dean pulled you a little closer, nuzzling his nose into your hair.
“What’s wrong?” he asked sleepily, still worn out from the day but in the best way.
At first, you didn’t answer, not quite sure how to explain it. “Stuff,” you mumbled.
Dean furrowed his brow, “Wanna talk about it?” he asked softly.
Technically, yes, you did want to talk about it, while at the same time, no, you didn’t want to. You didn’t want him to worry like you were. That was about when you realized you never felt worry coming from him over the last couple of days.
“Are you worried about how things will be different tomorrow?” you finally asked in an almost whisper, breaking the silence between you.
“No,” he answered without hesitation, and you could tell he was smiling again. “I’ve got you, and no matter what comes up, I know we’ll figure it out. As long as you’re smiling and happy, I’ll be happy too.”
So many things went through your mind with the speed of a freight train. It was everything you wanted to ask of him but weren’t sure how he’d feel about any of it. “I don’t wanna sleep alone,” was all you could manage to get out.
Dean gave you a loving squeeze and a tender kiss on your neck. “Then you won’t. Truth is, I don’t want to sleep alone either,” he replied softly, feeling your worry melt away.
Over the last several months, one thing he’d learned was that you had a hard time asking for the things you truly wanted. You hadn’t been sharing as many of your thoughts and he had a feeling why, but he wouldn’t push. This little thing had been your way of trying to tell him you wanted him close you, that you wanted him to move in. You just couldn’t bring yourself to say those words.
“Thank you,” you whispered, letting yourself finally relax to drift off to sleep.
Pairing: MOC!Dean Winchester x Reader (you - no descriptions of body type or ethnicity).
Challenge: @justagirlinafandomworld Flash Fiction 4 Prompt: It's All Coming Back To Me Now by Celine Dion.
Notes: Follow on from my other entries, but don’t need to have read those. But in case you want to (all 100 words or less):
Part 1 - Love From Nothing
Part 2 - Last Thursday
Part 3 - Something Stupid
Part 4 - Every Breath
Beta: none
Graphics: dividers @firefly-graphics // pics found on google.
Master Lists: Main // Dean Winchester
“…goodbye.”
The wind made you shiver as he said it and you don’t feel like you ever got warm again. The slam of Baby’s door banished you from his life and you did the same to the memories.
Now Dean is back. His kiss threatened to buckle your legs, whispering apologies into your skin, hollow lies of forever.
He touches you in a way no law allows and the nights of endless pleasure come rushing back.
“I love you, Y/N,” Dean said.
“I love you, too.”
It’s too hard to resist and the hurt you once felt is gone with the wind.
Summary: Sam questions why he’s so in love, sort of.
Warnings: fluff.
W/C: 99
Rating: T (teen+)
Pairing: Sam Winchester x fem!Reader (she/her)
Challenge: @justagirlinafandomworld Flash Fiction 4 Prompt: I Put A Spell On You by Annie Lennox
Beta: none
Graphics: dividers @firefly-graphics
Master Lists: Main //
From across the library, Sam drank her in. Lip caught between her teeth, concentration creasing her brow, wayward strands of hair sticking out, overly worn sweatpants sitting on her fuller hips - the elasticity long ago faded, t-shirt so washed out he’s not sure what color it ever was, and a hole in her sock.
Beautiful.
“Can I ask you something?” he said when she came back to the table.
She smiled, “Shoot.”
“Have you put a spell on me?” he pulled her into his lap, kissing her, “cause no one should love someone as much as I love you.”
A/N I: Still working on reigning myself in, keeping each part reader-friendly length, and have no clue how many parts this will end up being.
A/N II: a few notes about designations in A/O sub-genders for this story.
Alphas-Dominant (head of the pack/family) Subordinate (obey Dominant) Breeders (rare & highly coveted by the government. Can challenge Dominant for pack/family leadership)
Omegas -Domestic (mostly wiped out by plague, few natural born left) Feral (government-supplied breeders sold commonly called O's) House O’s (3rd generation+ Feral/Dominant breed. Used as servants/sex workers) Pack (rare & highly coveted by the government)
*Divider by @firefly-graphics
*No Beta-all mistakes are mine
**Apologies for taking so long getting this part out-had an accident at work and will have limited used of right hand for a bit.
Series Masterlist
Part XI
Dr. Stevenson slid surgical scissors under the ties, quickly sniping, explaining the original posture collars were redesigned for auto-erotic asphyxiation. It fades out as Dean feels like he's having needles pulling out from under the skin of his neck when she drops. "I was expecting that. Let's get the O back on the table."
The doctor continues talking as they slowly remove it, "And this is why they're outlawed," stepping back allows Dean to see the deep purple bruises with black depressions stripping the unconscious O's neck.
****
The doctor gently scrubbed her neck with a fine-pore sponge and commented, "You felt it, didn't you? " The question took Dean off guard and touched his neck, "How'd you?"
"I noticed the claim mark while I was removing the collar. Finding an O you're biologically compatible with isn't easy these days, and even more so for the owner to claim them if they are." Dean doesn't respond. "'Course, it's none of my business. I'm seeing a lot of soft tissue abrasion but no skin necropsy. That's good. Bruise cream will speed up healing." The doctor shined a light into her mouth. "Has she attempted to speak?" Dean admitted he had not heard anything outside coughing.
"I am concerned about this inflammation in her throat." They pick up a swab. "I'm going to have some labs run. Make sure it isn't from an STI since O clinics are only obligated to run standard STD testing for appearances." Slipping the swap into a sterile tube notices the Alpha's confusion.
"Several years into Hibbing, there was unrest brewing about selling people, so the government mandated all O's must have their hymens intact before the first purchase and made propaganda reels still shown in schools to program the populous in believing they're not mistreated." The doctor moves to a cupboard, pulling out a sterile pack.
"Truth is, these O's are versed in various sexual acts by the time they're teens. Going by the physical, I'd say she's been repeatedly throat fucked with that collar on; undoubtedly, it's also done some damage to her vocal cords. But if you're willing, you can do things to help." They gauge Dean before continuing.
"Give her nothing too hot or cold, only room temperature. Tea with honey, soft foods only need to swallow, nothing chewy, and protein supplement specifically for O's. If lucky, she'll recover enough to be understandable but be prepared for the worst, that she'll never speak again." They began preparing a site near the original implant. "I'd normally like to wait on the suppressant; it'll slow down healing. But with her current physical condition, going into heat would be detrimental."
They continued talking, oblivious Dean's vibrating with anger in muscle memory: unable to stop the strangers hovering over his Omega because being tased several times had temporarily left his legs unusable; furiousgrowls bounced around the room when he smelled her blood. Needing a distraction before his instincts swallow him, Dean turns his attention elsewhere and eyes the collar.
Running his fingers over it, he feels the visual bumps and discovers slim, horizontal boning embedded in the leather and hears the doctor comment, "They're constriction rings, function similar to cock rings without the pleasurable effects."
Dean's habitual guilty-as-hell caught in his throat. He failed again to see what was right before him. He shouldn't have kept blindly believing his dad's continued quoting of that damn pamphlet, that him treating it like any other person confused its lower intelligence.
Sam's snide comment that only dick Alphas believed in that antiquated bullshit led to the latest round of Dean physically getting between them before punches got thrown. His wonders what level of dick his brother now considers him is interrupted by the phone's ringtone.
"Hey Bobby, no, still at the clinic. What? Sam's registering shouldn't be an issue; his paperwork is all there." Dean listened to the Betas ranting. "Alright, I'll head over there and deal with it." Then came a list of errands the Beta needed him to run made Dean pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. Just what he needed; more things slapped on his overflowing plate when he felt the O coming around, ending the call to focus on her. "Hi, sweetheart. Have a good nap?"
She turned towards his voice, spotting the IV pole, and glanced down at the tubing protruding from her wrist. She peered at him and blinked three times, the signal for question. "You have something going on in your throat and need some antibiotics and fluids. Listen, I gotta run out for a while and deal with something at Sam's school. Will you be okay?"
That's when it smacked Dean; something had shifted between them. If he allows himself to be honest with himself, it scares him. Refocusing on the O, he's unnerved by her concerned expression, too similar to Sam's, and feels relief when she blinks once for yes since he's unsure how to react to her becoming more in tune with his internal feelings.
Grabbing the three-quarter-drank bottle of rotgut, Bobby doesn't bother with the glass; he feels it burn his throat as he polishes it off. Banging the bottle down, he stares at the wording on the paperwork and understands why John was so cagey about his questioning about Frank. The sonuvabitch knowingly mated his children; that practice hasn't been done since before the Omega plague. And knowing the temperament of the man, it wasn't to get Dean out of dire straits because he is John’s son, but for the older Alphas' continued vendetta.
The Beta's mind whirled with questions, but one kept popping to the forefront- who or what made her appear out of nowhere, and why now?
The longer he broods, the more he's convinced it has links to Mary Winchester. Picking up the cordless phone, he dials a familiar number. "Hey Bobby," a female voice warmly says. "Guess you're not calling to find out who to bet on in Sunday's playoffs."
"We both know the Vikings are going to the Superbowl," there's an amused laugh on the line, "Keep telling yourself that. So what can I help you with?"
"I'm not sure where to start with this one," Bobby admits and hears cards shuffling through the receiver. "It'd be best to go back to the beginning. And keep the drinks down to a minimum." He glances at the new bottle he had sat on the desk just before calling, "How'd you...?"
"I'm the best damn psychic in the state," Pamela reminds him, "So start talking, or I will reverse the charges for this call." Bobby makes a vexed noise at his fellow Betas' cheekiness.
"In 1986, I met a man with two small boys looking for answers."
A/N: I don't have chapter 35 for Soulmates done, so I wanted to give you guys something. I hope you like this one.
Your life was normal. Some would even go as far as calling it boring. The small one-bedroom trailer on the outskirts of town was nothing special either, but it was home. Five years ago, your husband had left, due to the problems between the two of you. So, you had taken it upon yourself to fix things up, make this place more yours than the ours it had been. It took you a couple of years, but you healed and, in that time, grieved the loss of your marriage and husband. Even though he was on the fence about working things out, you had to find a way to keep going, so that meant believing things were over, even though you stuck to your vows.
Dean Winchester x OCF Reader/You
Word Count: 10,669
Warnings: Fluff, Angst (a little), Your World Getting Flipped Upside Down. Pretty sure that's all.
-----------------------------------------
It was near autumn, the leaves already changing colors with the season. The oranges, yellows, and reds painted a beautiful landscape behind your home. The greens that mixed into it all made you smile on the mornings you’d sip your coffee from the couch, enjoying the quiet. Sometimes, you’d spend the day working on your home. Others would be spent working outside.
Then, there were days like today when the storms moved through. The sky was already dark with clouds. It still looked like early morning even though it was almost ten. Today, you’d relax with your favorite show, hot coffee, and in your pajamas. The weather channel had advised everyone to stay indoors if they could, as the storm would be a bad one by noon.
What you weren’t expecting was the power to go out only a half hour later as thunder cracked so loudly you had your covering your ears. Cautiously, you went to the window to look outside. It hadn’t even started raining yet. So far, just a lot of noise and a light show that danced along the dark clouds outside.
Grabbing your phone, you checked the weather. They were still calling for hail and heavy rain, possibly flooding. With a groan, you tossed your phone on the couch after turning it off. You would have found something on your phone to do but didn’t want to kill the battery just in case the power didn’t come back on.
So, you began perusing the bookshelf in your living room, reading over the familiar titles of books you’d read several times already. Nothing really sparked your interest as a frown found your lips.
“Great. Now I’m bored out of my mind,” you grumbled as you went to the kitchen for another cup of coffee.
You looked out the kitchen window, bringing the cup to your lips as lightning stuck near the forest, barely missing a tree as an almost deafening crack of thunder shook the walls. “Jesus,” you breathed as the hairs on your body stood on end.
The ground had sparked where it had hit, but there was still a faint glow of something you couldn’t quite make out from this distance. You barely got your cup set down on the counter, your hands on the edge of the sink, trying to get as close to the window as you could when another crack of thunder startled you.
Holding your chest as you attempted to catch your breath, you glanced out the window with a frown. “Stupid thunder,” you grumbled under your breath.
Thinking quickly, you threw on your shoes, then slung your jacket over your shoulders, and out the back door you went. The wind had looked like it was blowing hard, but being in it, you had to hold your coat closed as it whipped your hair about, tangling it in knots. Shoulda put it up first. That didn’t deter you, but seeing how far away the glow was, you debated going back inside to wait out the storm.
Nah, I’ll be fine. Your curiosity won over reasoning, quickly. It was your downfall, your curiosity. With a new sense of determination after glancing up at the looming storm, you pressed on, your boots crunching over the brush below your feet.
You swore the sky got a shade darker as you approached the glowing thing. Which to you looked like nothing more than a slightly thick golden thread. It had a golden glow to it, which illuminated the nearby area, but it didn’t really glow that brightly.
“Weird,” you mumbled under your breath as you walked around it, trying to figure out what the hell it was.
You grabbed a nearby branch off the ground with the intent of poking it, much like one would poke something to figure it out. However, it was like the end of the stick disappeared into it. Puzzled, you walked so that you could also see the back of it, and sure as shit, the part you poked it with, disappeared.
“What the fuck?” you breathed, tilting your head.
Now, any normal person probably would have chosen to use an object like a phone or a video recorder to see what was inside this thing. Not you. Nope. You decided to stick your head through it.
The sounds of the storm faded away completely. On the other side of this strange golden thread thing was a beautiful old-style library. Your eyes widened as you looked through the large archway that led to another area, where you noticed a table and a staircase leading to a second floor. Well, that was what it looked like anyway.
Even in the silence of this strange place, you were able to pick up faint sounds of electricity and air through a ventilation system. You debated just going all the way through until you felt cold, wet drops making it through your pajama pants. Shit, the storm. And with that, you pulled your head out of the, well, whatever the hell it was.
The cold rain pelted your face the moment you straightened up. There was no time to think with as bad as the storm had gotten, running quickly back to your home as the wind and rain berated your body. Once you were inside, you shed your jacket, which was nearly soaked, then your shoes. “That was stupid,” you muttered on your way to your room for a dry pair of clothes and to brush out your sopping wet, tangled hair.
For the rest of the day, the storm raged on while you watched out the window in your living room. The power came back on around noon, but you didn’t go back to your show. Instead, you went to your laptop, trying to search out anything that would be remotely close to what you had found. The golden thread and the place inside it.
There were a few times you wondered about what could pass through the thread. The stick you had held went through just fine. Your head had gone through fine as well. But when you had felt the water on your legs, you hadn’t noticed any of that on the floor on the other side of the thread. There wasn’t even a breeze or harsh wind like what had been pelting your back.
The cracks of thunder, the thudding of hail, or how the wind seemed to shake the walls while the rain pounded on your roof didn’t distract you from your task. Website after website you searched while drinking coffee. That was more for the warmth than the caffeine.
“Nothing,” you mutter, sometime after nightfall, closing your laptop.
You leaned back in your chair, feeling utterly defeated. Looking things up online and finding precisely what you were looking for had been a talent of yours for years. But this thing, whatever it was, was something the internet apparently had no knowledge of.
After doing some cleanup and then setting up the coffee pot for the following day, you turned off lights as you made your way to your room for the night. You looked out the window one last time at the glowing thread. “I’ll figure it out tomorrow,” and with that, you headed to bed, hoping the sleep would help with a fresh start in the morning.
—-------------------------
The storm had passed, leaving quite a mess of branches and leaves all over the place. Doing yardwork wasn’t an issue for you. You liked being outside, but today, you were distracted by other things. It was only after seven, and you were already dressed, on your second cup of coffee, and packing a bag.
The yard can wait.
It was a repetitive thought as you double-checked the items as you added them to your bag. Most of it was clothes, a few simple toiletries, and then a few items you didn’t want to accidentally leave behind. Having no clue what the thread led to or how long it might take you to get back home, you wanted to be prepared for anything.
Your laptop and charging cord were the last items you put into your bag before zipping it closed. With your phone in one pocket and your wallet in the other, you slipped on your favorite flannel, then your jacket. There were several smaller items in your jacket pockets that you thought might be handy, like a small flashlight, a lighter, a pocket knife, a lock-picking kit you’d had for years and were quite adept at using, and some snacks.
For a few moments, you stood there in your living room, glancing around at your home. Well, if I never come back, it’s not like there’s anyone who would miss me. You did decide to write out a quick note, just in case someone did come looking for you and you hadn’t made it home again, for whatever reason.
With a smile on your face, determination coursing through you, and anxiety trying to tighten around your chest, you slung your bag over your shoulder and headed outside. One way or another, I’m gonna figure out what the hell that is and what the place on the other side is.
The storm had left quite a mess, but your focus was on the golden thread near the forest. Birds were doing their morning thing, as were the bugs, all of them flitting about as you continued walking. There were still clouds in the sky, but these were puffier, the light of morning dancing off of them beautifully as they slowly rolled across the sky. At least there won’t be rain today.
Your heart sped up the closer you got to the thread while your mind wandered to all the different possibilities. There were no windows. Perhaps it’s something underground, like a basement. Whoever it belongs to loves books. Someone wealthy, perhaps? It looked expensive, well-built. You absentmindedly adjusted the strap of your bag, the weight shifting on your shoulder as you approached the odd golden thread.
For a moment, you hesitated, glancing briefly back over at your home, the life you could potentially be leaving behind if this weird thread thing decided to lock you in that place on the other side. But, when you truly took the time to think about it, you weren’t leaving anything or anyone important behind.
Your job barely paid the bills and got you through each month. You had a husband who seemed happier now that the two of you were apart. Then there was your family, whom you hadn’t spoken to in more years than you could count. You didn’t have any children, and your home itself was falling apart.
“Fuck it,” you muttered as you stepped through the golden thread and into that weird, underground, windowless building.
The building, whatever it was, was temperature controlled, that much you could tell. The golden thread didn’t disappear, which helped the worry dissipate, at least for that. Now was the task of figuring out what this place was.
You spent a good hour attempting to explore this place, and you had barely managed to scratch the surface with as big as it was. There were all sorts of different rooms, all labeled. That staircase had led to another floor, sort of. It was the entrance, which you didn’t bother with for now. You didn’t want to accidentally get locked outside and away from the only thing that could get you home.
It had everything from a gun range to an infirmary and everything in between. The theme, you noticed, was from the forties or fifties. All that was down a maze of hallways off what you had deemed the map table room. It looked like an electronic version of the game Risk, which you found slightly amusing.
Down the other side had been rooms, lots of them. What piqued your curiosity was that two of those rooms looked to be in current use. You looked at the things you felt comfortable looking at. The first one you had found looked well decorated, lived in, loved. There were weapons hanging on the walls, a few pictures on the desk of a mother and her son, then a family photo of four. There were so many little things you wanted to look through but didn’t want to intrude on someone’s privacy like that.
The other room didn’t look quite so lived it. It was more… barren compared to the first. There were things in there, just far less. Most of the other rooms looked unused. There were a few you questioned that could be used for guests with how they looked, but you didn’t want to make assumptions at the moment.
With a sigh, you set your bag on the floor next to one of the chairs in the library, then went over to the bookshelves. There has to be something here. You wanted answers, needed answers. What is that golden thread? What is this place? Why did it show up in my backyard? That and more kept playing on repeat in your head as you scanned the titles, looking for anything that might give you a clue.
—-------------------
The table in front of you was covered in books, another open directly before you, but none of them had the answers you had been seeking. The stuff in them reminded you of folklore or history, even of things in monster movies. You glanced down at your phone, then groaned. It had been four hours, and you weren’t any closer to solving this bizarre mystery.
Halfway through cleaning up, the sound of male voices pulled you from your task. You weren’t entirely sure which emotion was going to win out -curiosity or caution- as you stared at the opening of the library. Quickly glancing over at your bag, the mess on the table, then the golden thread, you made a quick decision.
You grabbed your bag, slung it over your shoulder, and stood near the golden thread. This way, if whoever it was that was heading in your direction was dangerous, you could attempt to make a quick getaway to your home. Or, at least, hide in the forest.
“I’m telling you, that spell didn’t work,” a frustrated deep male voice stated.
“And I’m telling you did. We just have to figure out where that portal opened up,” another male voice stated, not quite as deep.
“I’ll make some calls,” a slightly older male voice sighed just as the three made their way into what you had called the map table room. The moment they turned in your direction, they froze, for a split second before the shorter of the three pulled a gun and aimed it at you.
“Who the hell are you?” he demanded.
You put your hands up quickly, not wanting to chance a bullet following you through the thread and hitting you if you tried to run. They all eyed you cautiously, just as you did them. “I’m Y/N. I came through that thread thing. It showed up in my backyard,” you explained, praying he wouldn’t shoot you.
Sam smacked his brother on the front of his shoulder, “Found the portal,” he practically chuckled. “Bet she’s the one we were looking for.”
“How the hell is she gonna help?” Dean stated, not lowering his gun, not wanting to believe.
Bobby just sighed, setting his hand over Dean’s gun. “Put it away. She’s harmless, and you’re just scaring her. Why don’t we try to get to the bottom of this before you make it worse, for her.”
For a moment, all you could do was stare at them, puzzled and curious. It didn’t help that the one in the middle, the shorter of the three, was fairly attractive. When he put his gun away, you lowered your hands. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude. I just wanted to find out what that thread was and what this place was.” You explained but had stayed near the thread.
“Have a seat, kid. We’ll explain what we know,” Bobby told you, taking a seat at one of the library tables, followed by the other two.
You sat near the thread. It was more of a ‘just in case’ for you. Plus, it made you feel a little safer. Although, you weren’t sure it really would have made a difference. The two younger ones looked like they could probably catch you if you attempted to make a run for it. They introduced themselves, then began explaining things.
“That thing you keep calling a thread is called a portal. It leads to a different dimension, yours,” Bobby explained, making you tilt your head slightly.
Sam leaned forward, resting his arms on the table as he clasped his hands together. “We needed help with the current problem we’re facing. There was a spell that would help us locate said help. At first, we thought it would show us a location on a map, but after doing some more research, we learned that if what we sought wasn’t in our dimension, it would open a portal to the world where said help was.”
Dean was just leaning back in his seat, sipping a glass of whiskey, watching you. It was hard to read his expression, but it was clear to you that his mind was working things out. The upside, you were hot, and he was having a hard time focusing on how you could possibly be the help they needed. Well, the help he needed.
“So, what kind of help do you need, and with what?” you asked, trying not to sound as curious as you were. This was far more interesting than your life in your world. That thought alone, your world, almost made you chuckle. It felt like you were in an episode of the Twilight Zone.
The three of them looked at each other, and you quickly took note of their silent conversation. Interesting, you thought to yourself, just watching them. Sam opened his mouth to say something, then closed it, clearly unsure as to how to tell you. Bobby just got what you called his thinking face. Then there was Dean, who was staring at you intently.
His jaw was slightly clenched, his hand around his glass as it sat on the table. He looked relaxed, but there was tension in his shoulders, concern hidden in his gaze. “What do you know about the supernatural?” he asked, his tone tight.
“In your world, nothing. In mine, ghosts have been caught on film. Some say that angels are real, but I’ve never seen one. They say the same thing about demons, but I’ve never seen one of those, either. I’m a skeptic. I won’t say something doesn’t exist. However, I can’t say it does unless I have some sort of proof,” you explained, choosing to be honest with them since they didn’t seem like they meant you any harm.
If it hadn’t been for the books you’d read earlier, you might have thought the whole monster thing was crazy. They spent a good hour giving you the rundown on the supernatural in their world, and you swore you really were in some episode of the Twilight Zone. They were clearly serious about it all, and you had no reason not to believe them.
Then, you furrowed your brow, confused. “So, what is in my world that will help you with whatever it is you need help with?”
Again, there was silence, and again, the three of them shared a silent conversation. It was mildly frustration that they wouldn’t just tell you what they needed. That was when a man appeared behind the three, out of the blue, wearing a light brown trench coat.
“So, did the portal work?” he asked, hopeful.
Dean rolled his eyes, “Yeah, Cas. The portal worked.” He sighed, gesturing to you near the end of the table.
Cas looked over at you. At first, he had a completely neutral expression, then a smile slowly spread to his lips as his entire expression brightened. “Wonderful. I’ll get the binding rings,” he stated happily before Dean grabbed his arm to stop him.
“We never got to that part,” he grumbled.
You deadpanned and crossed your arms. “Will one of you tell me what you need from my world and why?” Your tone was demanding, but at least it came out as you intended, even if you didn’t understand what this Cas person was.
Without skipping a beat, Cas answered you. “You’re here to save Dean’s life. His soul is in danger of being taken to Hell due to a curse put on him by a witch. Crowley can’t even stop it. The only way to save him was to find his soulmate and then use the binding rings to break the curse. He only has a couple of days left before the curse completes itself.”
The information had you stunned, and for a few moments, all you could do was blink blankly at the four of them. You weren’t sure how long the silence had stretched before you walked over, snagged the bottle of whiskey, took a decent swig, and then returned to your chair. Dean just raised an eyebrow, finding you a little more interesting than he initially had.
“Okay. Care to explain that to me in a way I’d understand it a little better? Like, what’s a soulmate? How could that even be since I’m from a different world? What all is entailed with the binding ring thing you mentioned?” you asked, rattling off the questions that were off the top of your head.
Dean watched you sip his bottle of whiskey, finding it interesting how you hadn’t even flinched from the burn of the initial drink. He also couldn’t help the slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. You were interesting, and that was putting it mildly. Perhaps being bound to you might not be so bad after all.
Before Cas could say a word, Bobby leaned forward, “Soulmates are common here. Everyone has one. They just don’t always find each other, for various reasons. We have a feeling that the witch who cursed Dean knew that his soulmate wasn’t in our world. That’s why he got the curse instead of Sam.”
“Occasionally, soulmates are in different worlds. It’s rare, but it happens. It just depends on what the soul has chosen for its current existence,” Cas added, still smiling happily at you.
“In your world, do you have anything like Twin Flames or something like a deep connection to someone? Kind of like, that person feels like your other half? You two just, get along really well, like you’re meant for each other?” Sam asked, hopeful that might help.
“Yeah, there are things like that in my world,” you replied, choosing not to think about your husband, who you thought you had that with, but it had clearly been one-sided. Then, the three of them just sort of stared at you, like they were expecting you to say something else. “What?” you asked, not sure what they wanted.
Cas furrowed his brow, slowly walking closer to you while the other three just stared. “Do I have something on my face?” you asked, utterly puzzled.
What you were unaware of was that the portal behind you was slowly closing, and as it did so, your form of this world was taking over. You weren’t changing much. “How interesting…” Cas murmured the closer he got as your eyes followed his movements. “I thought your kind was extinct.”
“My what?” you asked, trying not to get frustrated or worried.
Catching movement out of the corner of your eye, you looked over at Sam, who was pointing toward your head. You reached up, but slowed your movements to nearly freezing when you felt them. They were soft, furry, and there was one on either side of your head. They even twitched when your fingers bruised the sensitive hairs near the edge.
“I have cat ears?!” you exclaimed, your gaze going up, wanting to see them, even though you knew you couldn’t.
“And a tail,” Cas added, intrigued.
Your head snapped around, looking behind you. And sure enough, swaying slightly as the tip flicked in annoyance was a slightly fluffy cat tail in a shade of fur that matched your hair color. Dean couldn’t stop the smirk that found his lips. He had a thing for anime, and your appearance was nearly a dream come true.
As you stood up, turning a bit more so you could see your tail better, you realized you were far more flexible than you had ever been in your life. That was about the time you noticed that the portal was gone. With a sigh, you plopped back down in your seat.
“Will one of you please just give it to me straight,” you sighed, your gaze on the space of table before you. Then, you took another long swig of the whiskey.
Cas was now standing next to you, completely curious and intrigued by you. “You’re a Touched. From the looks of it, of Bastet. I don’t know what abilities you possess, but I know the base of it is that you are like a cat.” As he explained, he walked to the other side of you, still staring at you like you were the most fascinating thing in the world.
“Will that affect the binding spell?” Sam asked, now worried a bit that his brother might still be in danger.
“No. No. She is definitely his soulmate. So, the binding spell won’t be affected at all by what she is.” he answered as you took another drink of whiskey.
“So, I’m basically a cat person,” you mumbled as your eyes fell to the wedding ring on your finger as the gold glinted briefly in the light. Should have left that behind, too.
Bobby had stayed quiet, watching you, trying to gauge what was going through your head. “Cas, Sam, let’s leave these two alone for a bit. Dean still has a couple days. She has the right to say no,” he told them as he stood, gave you a friendly nod just as you looked up, and headed toward the kitchen.
Sam gave his brother a reassuring smile, as well as a squeeze of his shoulder, before following Bobby. Cas just poofed and was gone. You just grabbed the bottle of whiskey and took another drink while Dean watched you, unable to look over at him. If you were being honest with yourself, you weren’t sure what to feel, let alone think. To top it off, you were some sort of cat person now in a world that wasn’t yours, and as far as you knew, you couldn’t go home.
Dean caught the glint of light off your ring when you took another drink, his brows furrowing as he leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. Without saying a word, he got up, closed the distance between the two of you, and grabbed your wrist. It wasn’t hard or anything. It just surprised the hell out of you.
“You’re married?” he asked, far gruffer than he had wanted to. All of a sudden, this whole thing felt wrong. He wasn’t about to take you from someone who loved you. His soulmate was taken, and that almost made him feel sick.
You yanked your wrist from his grip, taking another drink of the whiskey. “Doesn’t matter, since I can’t go back anyway,” you grumbled, more at his behavior than his question.
He sighed and sat next to you, taking the whiskey bottle which pulled your attention. That was when you saw his expression soften as you frowned, your ears drooping. “I’m sorry,” he began, far gentler than he had been. “I didn’t mean to take you from your home, from…” he sighed, gesturing to your ring. “I’m not worth leaving that.”
That was when you realized what he was getting at and couldn’t stop the laughter that bubbled up from deep in your chest. Dean just looked at you, having no clue what you found so funny. It did take you almost a minute to catch your breath, your ears no longer droopy in any way. You were still chuckling as you slipped the ring off your finger.
“This? The man that gave it to me doesn’t love me or want me. He left me five years ago but refused to send the divorce papers, choosing to string me along for a while and then not talk to me for weeks or months on end,” you explained, feeling an odd sense of peace wash over you now that the ring was off your finger.
“I… I had no idea…” he trailed off, letting his gaze fall to the bottle in his hand as it rested on the table.
“You could of just asked,” you replied, a little softer this time. He looked like he was struggling with a lot, and you didn’t want to pry. “I don’t have anything to go back to. No friends. No family that mattered. A home that was falling apart and a dead-end job that barely got me through each month,” you chuckled a little at the end, looking up at him while setting the ring on the table.
There were so many things he wanted to ask you, but every time he allowed himself to look into your eyes, all he managed to do was get lost in them. He wanted to hold you close, tell you that he’d never treat you like that, but he couldn’t bring himself to make words. What could he tell you that might make any of this easier? “You can say no,” he practically whispered. “And, I’d find a way to send you back, if you wanted that.”
It was your turn to furrow your brow, wondering if he had even been listening. “I have nothing worth going back to.” Then you looked away from him, wondering if perhaps it was you and your current appearance. “I’d understand, if you didn’t want me either,” you mumbled, taking the whiskey bottle from him and taking another drink.
Dean frowned as he looked at you. “That’s not what I said,” he grumbled, “...and drinking won’t help.” He added, taking the bottle from you, again. He let out a frustrated sigh, but it wasn’t at you. “Look. I’ve never had a real relationship. I tried once, a long time ago, but it didn’t work out. Being a hunter… Well, it makes that sort of thing… complicated.”
You looked up at him, meeting his emerald-green eyes while your ears and tail twitched in curiosity. “Fair,” you began, then thought for a moment, wondering if you could get him to talk to you on a deeper sort of level. “What does this whole binding spell entail, and what will it do? Why don’t we get the complicated things out of the way first? If your friend says we’re soulmates, then maybe we can figure this out, and maybe, just maybe… we’ll both find something with each other that we thought we never would.” You knew it was a long shot. You barely knew anything about this man, and he knew even less about you.
He didn’t even realize that a smile was toying with his lips. You were sweet while also to the point, and you seemed to be a caring person. He just wasn’t sure he could give you what he felt you deserved. And so far, you seemed like the kind of person that deserved that fairy tale sort of love.
“The binding spell would bind your soul to this dimension and our souls together the rest of the way. The way Cas explained it was that because you’re from a different dimension, we won’t feel what soulmates feel when they meet each other. It’ll be way diluted,” he explained, trying to keep it simple while being direct. Dean wasn’t about to admit how he was loving the way your ears twitched as you listened.
“It’s really simple. We put the herbs the spell calls for, then a couple drops of our blood in a bowl. Cas holds the rings over the bowl, tosses in a match, recites the spell, then we put the rings on each other. It’s kinda like marriage but not completely,” Dean chuckled, hoping the whole thing wouldn’t completely scare you off. Hell, he had almost dismissed even looking for you when they found this solution.
Well, I guess it could be worse, you thought to yourself as he spoke, not even realizing how easy it seemed to be able to relax around him. You took a few moments to think it over while also taking in his features. He seemed like a decent person. He wasn’t pushing you to do this against your will, and it was clear he had people who cared about him.
Then there were his looks. Typically, you didn’t go for looks, as they could be deceiving. He was more than handsome, and those green eyes of his held an intensity that captivated you. Dean had the kind of attractiveness that reminded you of a movie star or model. Typically, someone you figured wouldn’t look twice at you.
“You’d really be okay, stuck with me?” you asked, this time being a little more serious.
Dean’s expression instantly softened, although he also couldn’t believe you’d ask that sort of thing. “I could list all sorts of reasons I’m okay being stuck with you, and I only met you a couple hours ago,” he smirked.
Charming and a flirt, and he clearly knows it. “Like?” you asked, trying to think past the thoughts his smirk made play out in your mind.
He tilted his head, but only slightly. Plenty of things ran through his head, most of them starting with your ears and tail, but he pushed those aside. “To start, you don’t freak out easily. You traveled through a portal, having no clue where it would take you, and there was a high chance you would never get home. That takes guts, determination, and confidence in your ability to survive in a strange place,” he began, being completely serious with you now.
“Then there’s the fact that you didn’t just run back through the portal when three guys show up and start talking to you about soulmates and all that. You also didn’t freak out when Cas just appeared and disappeared,” he chuckled, as he had found your ability to keep calm and process information both admirable and attractive.
Dean smiled a little, watching your ears twitch with interest while your tail swayed lazily behind you. “You’re curious. I like that. So far, you’re sweet too. You want all the details so you can make an informed decision. That tells me you’re intelligent and think logically. That’s attractive to me,” he winked, and you were having a hard time not blushing. Not even your husband had said things like this to you. Well, at least not in a while.
“Just the fact that you’re considering helping a complete stranger in this regard is a quality that’s rare in people,” he continued as a soft, almost gentle smile teased his lips. “You care about others. There’s a gentleness in your eyes that I don’t often see, and I’ve met a lot of people over the years. You’re beautiful, both inside and out.”
That was when you felt the warmth in your cheeks as the blush depended. If he was trying to sweep you off your feet with only words, he was doing a damn good job of it. You caught movement out of the corner of your eye. His hand had twitched like he wanted to do something, and he caught how your eyes had darted to the movement and then back to his eyes.
“Then, there’s the ears and tail,” he added with a teasing tone and a smirk to match. “Those are every anime lover’s dream right there.”
You ducked your head a little, blushing deeply at that point, and you knew that if you went through with this spell, life with him was going to be very interesting.
“You’re cute when you blush,” he whispered, and you hadn’t even noticed that he had leaned a little closer to you.
It was his scent that made your breath hitch. Now that you had gained the senses of a cat, you could smell things that you couldn’t before. Since he had moved closer to you, you’d been trying to ignore it the best you could. However, when he had leaned even closer, it was like it had surrounded you.
You took a shaky breath, attempting to steady your nerves again. “And you’re a flirt,” you teased back, finally meeting his gaze. Then, you had to try not to get lost in his eyes.
Dean chuckled, “There’s another one. You’re playful. I like that too.”
You deadpanned playfully, unable to keep a completely straight face. He was getting to you, and he knew it. “But in all seriousness,” he began, finally reaching up and cupping your cheek. “...in the little time I’ve been around you, I like you, and not just your physical beauty. I like who you are.”
This man is seriously going to be the death of me. The way he gently rubbed his thumb on your cheek, the tenderness in his eyes, and how your heart skipped a beat while the butterflies danced in your stomach made you feel like a teenager again. Your husband hadn’t brought those feelings out in you in a long time.
You let out a shaky breath, attempting to think, but before you could manage to get a word out, he pulled back, giving you some space. Briefly, you wondered if perhaps he felt more of a pull toward you than you did with him. “Why don’t we get to know each other better?” he suggested, taking a sip of his whiskey, relaxing into his chair.
The two of you spent the next several hours in the library, lost in a world that was just the two of you. You told him about your life back in your dimension, some of your favorite foods, music, your boring job, and how much you loved baking but hadn’t done it very much since it was just you. Dean was quite interested in the fact that you could bake, but he tried not to interrupt you, no matter how many questions went through his head. He did make a mental note of the things the two of you had in common.
He shared with you his life on the road, the monsters he’d had to face and take down, how many times he had died and come back, and his Baby, which you thought was a person until he explained it was his car. Dean even promised to take you for a drive, several if you’d let him. The way you listened kept his eyes on you. You had genuine interest in who he was, beyond the hunter he had been.
“So, did you two want to have dinner with us, or should I just get a couple candles?” Sam teased as he made his way up the couple of steps into the library.
You jumped a little and blushed while Dean just chuckled, taking one more look at you before his brother. “What’s dinner? Please tell me it isn’t more rabbit food,” Dean groaned teasingly. He’d never admit that there were times he didn’t mind eating something healthy.
Sam just gave him a bitch face, and you burst into laughter. I think I’m gonna like it here, you thought to yourself. “Well, everyone knows cats are carnivores. So, no rabbit food for me,” you stated in a matter-of-factly tone, getting in on the playfulness. Sam’s expression never changed.
“Great. Now I have to put up with two of you,” he grumbled, almost glaring at Dean when the two of you erupted in laughter. Sam wouldn’t admit it, but he truly hoped you would say yes and stay there. He hadn’t seen his brother this relaxed in a while.
After managing to catch your breath, you finally looked back up at Sam. “I’m okay with rabbit, I mean, healthy food. Just don’t make me only eat healthy food, please,” you told him, a little softer as a smile began toying with his lips.
“Oh, she is so a keeper,” Sam chuckled. “Dinner’ll be ready in about ten minutes,” he added before heading back into the kitchen, still chuckling slightly.
When you looked back at Dean, all those teenager feelings washed over you. I’m a grown-ass woman. I shouldn’t be feeling like a damned teenager. It was how he was looking at you. It wasn’t quite desire, but it wasn’t quite longing. It wasn’t quite anything specific, and that was the frustrating part. It really was a little bit of everything all rolled into one.
Whether Dean would admit it or not, he knew it was over for him. You had his heart. That both terrified and puzzled him. Well, sort of. He figured he was destined to be alone. Over the years, he had met a lot of people and not once had he come across his soulmate. So, he figured he just didn’t have one. Plus, being a hunter, he wasn’t exactly guaranteed a long life.
The moment his eyes had landed on you in the library, he felt like he couldn’t breathe, but also like, for the first time in his life, he could truly take a deep breath. It wasn’t your physical beauty, although, to him, you had looked like an angel. He hadn’t been able to find words, so he had stayed quiet. Then, when the two of you did start talking, he found his mind wandering to things he had given up years ago.
Then you got mouthy in a playful way with his brother, like you had been friends for years, and those three little words nearly slipped out when you looked at him again. God, I am in so much trouble, he thought to himself, swallowing hard and taking a shaky breath. “He still didn’t tell us what dinner was,” Dean chuckled, trying to find the confidence he typically had tons of around women, but around you, it seemed to falter.
You chuckled with him. “Then I’m gonna guess it’s rabbit food for dinner.”
Dean glanced toward the kitchen, then back at you as a mischievous smile teased his lips. “Come on,” he said quickly, taking your hand in his as he stood, already moving toward the archway of the library.
Your lips parted as you let him lead you somewhere, but you weren’t looking where. Your eyes were on him. He looked how you felt, like a giddy teenager and it made you smile. Dean led you down a hallway, then another, through a door, and down a spiral staircase. His hand was warm around yours, and you didn’t want to let go, but when you saw his Baby, you did.
He watched as you took in the car, gently running your hand over her hood. “She’s beautiful,” you whispered, a soft smile toying with your lips as you made your way to the passenger side where Dean was.
With his heart hammering in his chest, he opened the door for you, closed it once you were seated comfortably, and jogged over to the driver’s side. Sam’s gonna kill me. He had that boyish grin on his lips as he started the engine, glancing at you just in time to see you smile, your hand resting on the dash. I hope she decides to stay.
He took a deep breath before pulling out of the garage as AC/DC Thunderstruck played in the background. You rested your arm on the open window, then looked over at Dean, smiling at his antics. “So, where are we going?” you asked, enjoying his spontaneity.
“For real food,” he smirked, pressing down on the gas as he got to the road, the purr of the engine easing the tension in his shoulders.
You watched him as he drove, totally forgetting about your ears at the moment and how other people might react to them. Dean looked relaxed behind the wheel, like he belonged there. Or perhaps it was a place where he could just be himself. No one around to put on a front for. It wasn’t until the wind from the open window kept hitting the sensitive hairs near your ear, making it twitch, that you remembered them.
“Umm… what about my ears and my tail?” you asked, frowning a little that he’d probably just take you back to the bunker now.
He glanced over at you, then back at the road while he considered that. “Well, I’ve got a bandana we could cover your ears with. It’s in the glove box. I can hit the drive-through, and we can eat somewhere else. I’ve got the perfect spot,” he answered as his smile only grew.
Upon opening the glove box, you found the bandana and a slew of other things. It looked slightly new, but it had clearly been used for wiping greasy hands on. Dean pulled over and put the Impala in park, then shifted so he was slightly facing you. Without giving you a chance, he playfully plucked the bandana out of your hands, then draped it over your head as you met his gaze.
He gently tied it under your chin, carefully flattening your ears, not wanting to hurt you. “I’m okay,” you told him, watching his expression as he watched your ears beneath the bandana.
After he adjusted it a little, he leaned back and looked at you, a smile finding his lips again, “Perfect.”
Dean got the two of you back on the road while you shifted so that your tail was against the door instead of on the other side of you. This way, if someone looked in his window, they wouldn’t see your tail. It was a comfortable day, but your gaze was on Dean as he drove, the small town shops passing by unnoticed by you.
Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad, being bound to him. So, that was what you thought about, how life might be, with him. Dean, on the other hand, was thinking about you in ways he’d given up so long ago. Could he dare to dream again?
After Dean ordered the two of you burgers and fries, he drove to a little clearing in the forest near the bunker and parked. There was a skip in his step as he went over and opened your door, holding his hand out and helping you out.
“Wait right here,” he told you, feeling giddy and nervous simultaneously, mostly because you could still say no.
His excitement was infectious, bringing a playful chuckle out of you as you watched him. Dean grabbed a blanket out of the trunk of the Impala, then the food before setting it up like a sunset picnic in the woods. You couldn’t see the horizon to watch the sun set, but the sky above the clearing changed with beautiful shades of oranges, reds, and yellows the further down the sun got.
By the time the stars came out, you and Dean had finished eating, sitting across from each other and talking about whatever topic came up. That was about when Dean realized you were still wearing the bandana over your ears. He slid closer to you, less than a foot away, as he carefully undid the tie under your chin. Slowly, he slipped the bandana off your ears, watching in the moonlight as they straightened out, twitching slightly with the sounds of the forest around the two of you.
You had nearly gotten lost in his eyes with as close as he’d gotten. There were so many emotions swimming in those emerald orbs that it took your breath away. When he didn’t pull away immediately, your lips parted slightly while your tail flopped lazily behind you.
If it wasn’t for Dean’s phone going off, again, he probably would have kissed you. You saw what you thought might be frustration as he tended to his phone.
“I’m fine. She’s fine. God, we’re not even that far away,” he grumbled, sitting up a little straighter with the phone to his ear.
A quiet giggle slipped out as you watched him. It was intriguing to you that you could also hear the person on the other end of the line.
“What are you two doing? And don’t say sex, Dean,” Cas stated bluntly, to which Dean groaned.
“I took her out for real food, alright? We’ll be back in a bit,” Dean sighed, not wanting to get into it over the phone. He knew Cas knew about how he was with women, but you were different. You weren’t just some hookup to take his mind off his everyday life.
“Has she said yes yet?” Cas asked, sounding hopeful.
Another sigh left Dean’s lips, “No. I’m not gonna push her either,” he answered sternly.
His friends really care about him, you thought to yourself, just watching him as he spoke on the phone. The two went back and forth for a bit longer before he hung up the phone, slumping forward a little with his phone in his hand in his lap. He hadn’t even noticed that you had scooted a little closer.
“You’d rather let this curse kill you than feel like you forced me into this, wouldn’t you?” you asked quietly, the softness of your voice nearly pulling his gaze to yours.
For several long moments, he was quiet, not quite sure how to say what was going through his head. “My life, it’s not easy. I could die on any case I go on, and that isn’t fair to you. If you go through with the binding process, and I end up dying, the pain you’ll feel will be worse because we’re soulmates,” he explained quietly. Dean never was one who was good with words, but he was trying.
You tilted your head a bit and watched him again. “Then my answer is yes,” you told him softly.
His head snapped up, staring at you as the emotions flooded his system, unable to latch onto any single one. “Why?” was about the only word he could manage to get out.
A small smile found your lips. “You’re a good man with a good heart,” you replied softly, and the tenderness in your eyes nearly took his breath away.
It took everything in him not to just kiss you, but a smirk slowly found his lips. “You’re amazing,” he breathed out, trying to catch his breath and keep his body in check.
You giggled as a light blush made its way to your cheeks. “And you’re adorable.” He had to hold himself back, but you didn’t miss the tiny movement he restrained. You absentmindedly licked your lips, the movement catching his eyes for a brief second.
Dean took a shaky breath, forcing his mind to focus on anything other than you: your lips, the way your ears twitched, the sparkle in your eyes, and how close you had gotten. “We should, uh… head back,” he muttered, feeling like a teenager again.
An almost disappointed feeling settled into your stomach. “Alright,” you replied, not sure what had happened or why he was pulling away. To you, it seemed like an amazing moment for a first kiss, but you weren’t going to push for it.
The two of you cleaned up in an awkward silence, which followed you on the drive back to the bunker. Both of you lost in your own thoughts of how the evening had gone. He was pulling into the bunker’s garage before you knew it. Again, he opened your door for you, and as the two of you walked into the room with the map table, your hand brushed against his.
Before either of you could even process how it had felt, Sam and Cas were standing there. You could practically feel the worry that seemed to be coming off them in waves. “Um, is there a room or place I can sleep tonight?” you asked, trying to find a topic that wasn’t about the binding spell, even though you’d said yes.
Sam glanced at Dean, another one of those silent conversations that you mentally told yourself you’d figure out. “Yeah, I’ll show you,” Sam replied, gesturing toward the hallway behind you.
As you walked away with Sam, Cas looked back at Dean. “Well?” he asked, both curious and slightly impatient.
“Well, what?” Dean played stupid, trying to sort through what being around you did to him. He wasn’t used to having to control himself this much or having all those emotions at the surface. Typically, he kept them buried, dealing with them alone.
Cas rolled his eyes. “Dean, this is serious.”
Dean couldn’t help it nor control the smile that began taking over his lips again at just the thought of you. “She said yes,” he finally admitted, and there was hope in his eyes again and a giddiness in his tone.
Cas’s smile went to his eyes. “I’ll get everything ready.”
—---------------
“So, how’d it go?” Sam asked, finding the silence a little awkward as he walked you down the hallway toward the rooms.
“It went really good. Dean seems like a good guy,” you replied, still mulling over how different he was from in the library to when the two of you were having dinner together.
He glanced down at you, finding the height different kind of adorable. “He is. He just doesn’t always know how to let people in. So, if he tries to push you away or seems distant, it’s because of that,” Sam explained gently.
A small smile tugged at your lips as his hesitance earlier finally made sense. “Thanks. That helps. So, should I give him space or try to comfort him when he does that?” you asked, looking up at him as both of you stopped in the hallway.
For a moment he looked down at you as he processed what your words meant. “You said yes, didn’t you?” he asked, unable to hide his joy, for multiple reasons.
You giggled, “Yeah. How could I say no? I mean, he seems genuine. Plus, he’s hot,” you replied, adding the last part not only to lighten the mood but because it was true.
Sam laughed playfully, “Then you’ll probably be sharing Dean’s room.”
That made you blush and look away. You hadn’t considered that part yet, mainly because you weren’t sure what would happen after the binding spell. Not completely, anyway. “Oh,” you replied sheepishly.
He chuckled a bit more before he put his arm over your shoulders, leading you back out to the war room. “Come on. He’s probably out there smiling like an idiot while Cas is setting things up.”
The blush in your cheeks only deepened, but inside, you felt giddy, like a teenager about to talk to her crush. “He likes you, you know. You’re not just some random girl to him. I could tell when I asked you two about dinner. Then, when he took off like he did with you,” he laughed quietly. “I’ve never seen him this smitten before.”
His words warmed your heart in a way you couldn’t express. “Honestly, I’m a little smitten with him too,” you admitted shyly.
That brought a relieved smile to his lips. This could have gone so differently had things gone bad. Not only was he not going to lose his brother, but in a way, he was gaining a sister, you.
—----------------------
Sam hadn’t been wrong. Dean was leaning against the library table where Cas was attempting to focus on the spell while talking to Dean. Dean, however, had his arms crossed with a goofy smile adorning his face, lost in his thoughts.
“Dean, this would go faster if you would help,” Cas told him, slightly frustrated as he placed another amount of another herb into the bowl.
“Sorry. Just thinking about getting to kiss her,” he replied dreamily.
Cas rolled his eyes, “That’s at the end.”
The smile on Dean’s face only got bigger, “I know,” he sighed just as dreamily.
“What’s this about a kiss?” you asked, your tone a little teasing as you and Sam entered the library, instantly pulling Dean from his daydream.
He straightened up, clearing his throat and trying to compose himself. “Um, we have to uh… kiss, after Cas does the spell,” Dean answered, trying desperately not to sound nervous or too eager.
Sam went to help Cas, barely keeping his amusement in check at his brother’s behavior while you went over and stood in front of Dean. You didn’t miss how he took a shaky breath when your eyes met his. For a brief moment, you wondered if, to him, it was like he was marrying you, but you didn’t want to ask.
“Are you nervous about kissing me?” you asked, raising an eyebrow, but your tone was playful, drawing a larger smile from him.
“No,” he replied, trying to sound confident as the butterflies danced to a rave in his stomach. Dean was having a hard time not giving in to the feelings of pulling you into his arms just to be that much closer to you. He wasn’t entirely sure how much stronger it would get after Cas did the spell.
You smiled up at him, “Good. I’d hate for my soulmate to be nervous of something like that.”
The playfulness of your tone had Dean biting his bottom lip, instantly drawing your attention to the movement. You absentmindedly licked your own, and you swore you heard a faint groan slip from Dean.
“Are you two just gonna stare at each other, or are you ready?” Sam asked, trying not to let his amusement get the better of him.
When you turned away, Dean let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “What do I need to do?” you asked, tilting your head, just a bit.
Cas directed you to stand near the bowl of herbs, Dean next to you. Each of you held out your left hand near the bowl. “I have to make a cut on your hand when it’s time,” Cas explained gently.
“Dean told me earlier. It’s okay,” you replied with a reassuring smile.
Dean was in utter awe of you. In less than a day, your entire world had quite literally changed, and now, you were about to open up a connection to someone you had just met. Yeah, the two of you had talked and gotten to know each other a little, and he’d told you the things he liked about you, but there were no words that he could find that truly conveyed his admiration of you.
You were watching Cas, listening to the Latin words as he spoke them, wishing you could understand what the words meant. Dean, though, was watching you, completely lost in everything that was you. The only thing that pulled him from his thoughts was the blade across his palm, a hiss leaving his lips.
“You could have warned me,” he grumbled, making Sam chuckle.
“I did. You weren’t paying attention,” Cas stated plainly before cutting your hand.
Both of you tilted your hands, balling them into fists as your blood dripped down into the bowl. Sam wrapped your hand in a bandana, then Dean’s, as Cas continued with the spell. You watched as Cas lit a match, picked up the binding rings, and tossed the match into the bowl.
As the smoke danced through the air, Cas moved the binding rings through the smoke, saying a few more words in Latin before he turned to the two of you. He then handed one ring to each of you. So far, you didn’t feel any different when you took one of the rings from Cas.
It looked like a simple ring made of some sort of metal. You just weren’t entirely sure what, but you didn’t have long to contemplate its material as Dean held his right hand out to you. He had said it was only like marriage. With a small, soft smile, you slipped the ring on his ring finger, noticing how he let out a shaky breath.
Then, he took your right hand in his, trying to prepare himself for what was to come as he slid the ring on your ring finger. His hands only trembled slightly, but he held yours as his eyes slowly lifted to your face. Your ears were twitching as your tail swayed almost happily behind you. He barely heard the last few lines of the spell as Cas spoke them before there was silence, and you tilted your head.
“Dean?” Cas asked, a little confused as to why he hadn’t kissed you yet. “I’m done with the spell.”
Sam chuckled as you smiled a little, but Dean couldn’t seem to bring himself to move. So, you decided to take matters into your own hands. You reached up and cupped his cheek, then stood on your tiptoes since he was a bit taller than you. For a moment, you searched his expression for anything that might show hesitation. When you found none, you placed your lips on his and closed your eyes.
It was enough to pull Dean into the moment, one of his hands moving to your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair as he moved his lips against yours. That was when you felt it move through you, a warmth that was different than anything you’d felt before. Neither of you even noticed that Cas and Sam were already cleaning up, too lost in the moment with each other.
Your body instinctively moved to be closer to him, and he didn’t shy away. You were his now, and he was going to spend every day showing you just how much you meant to him. When he did finally pull away, he rested his forehead against yours, trying to catch his breath.
As your eyes met his, a smile found your lips, but it began tugging into a playful smirk. “So, since I saved your life, looks like you owe me one,” you teased playfully, a small chuckle slipping out.
Dean had completely forgotten about having been cursed, so the look of surprise that found his expression was genuine, but Sam chuckled in the background. “Yup, she’ll fit in just fine,” Sam teased his brother, making him roll his eyes.
Then, Dean’s lips curled into a smirk, mischief dancing in his eyes. “You’ll only get to hold that over my head for so long,” he replied in a low, gruff teasing that sent a tantalizing shiver down your spine.
“We’ll see,” you quipped but squealed in surprise when he picked you up bridal style, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck to hold on. A deep laugh erupted from him as he began carrying you toward the hallway.
“I like your smartmouth, too. Let’s see what else it’s capable of,” he told you in a teasing whisper.
Your heart sped up as your breathing hitched, but you licked your lips as all sorts of thoughts began playing through your mind. As you watched him while he carried you to his room, a smile found your lips, and you realized quickly that you would never leave him. That somehow, the two of you would be able to get through anything life in this world threw at the two of you. It brought a sense of peace to you that you’d never had before, and you relaxed against his chest, letting out a content sigh.
No matter how hard things get, I’m not going anywhere.
-----------------------------------------
Touched Master List
Main Master List
Permanent Tag List: @roseblue373 @flamencodiva @reignsboy19 @stillhere197 @foxyjwls007
I hope you guys enjoy reading these as much as I had writing them and rereading them. Most are a work in progress, and I'll post them when I can.
Whenever I write, I always picture Maria Winter as the character in the story, even if it is Y/N or the reader. She's been with me through many stories that I've written over the past 30 years. I love that I get to share her with all of you.
I'm one who enjoys the reader to be something different than human. Somehow, writing those always brings a lot of unexpected things to the story. I haven't yet written where the reader or OC is human. There's always something hidden below the surface.
I think if I do any AUs, I will try out having the reader be human but with something utterly unique to the AU that's like 1 in a billion.
Many thanks to all my readers. Your comments, reblogs, hearts, and follows are what keep me writing and sharing them here. I love hearing from all of you.
-----------------------------------------
One Shots Master List
Well, it finally happened. lol
-----------------------------------------
Series Master List
-----------------------------------------
Touched Master List
OC Female Creature
This includes one-shots and series.
A/N: I have several for here, they just aren't ready to be posted yet.
-----------------------------------------
A/N: Sometimes, I have to remind myself that I haven't even been on this platform a year yet as I set up this particular master list. I love all my readers and the other authors I've found on here. If any of you would like to see what my first Master List was like, here's a link.
Permanent Tag List: @roseblue373 @flamencodiva @reignsboy19 @stillhere197 @foxyjwls007
When you turn sixteen, and your soulmate's name doesn’t appear anywhere on your body that you can find, you figure you had to be the only person on the planet who didn’t have one. Most of the town shuns you, so you stick close to family. Your Aunt Ellen raised you after your parents died in a car crash when you were two, but what happens when the Winchesters return to town and buried secrets begin to come to light?
Pairing: Mechanic Dean Winchester x OC Reader/You
Word Count: 7399
Warnings: Dean being Dean, Fluff (near the end), Angst, Premonition, A look inside the PP&P, tense situations.
A/N: This is my non-Supernatural fic I'm attempting. Please let me know what you think, as I always love hearing from my readers.
Of course it wasn’t over. The thought played on a relentless loop in your mind. Cole being in custody wouldn’t be enough. Deep down, you had known that, even if you hadn’t wanted to admit it. After the premonition had ended and you’d woken up, there was no going back to sleep. You tried—focusing on the steady rhythm of Dean’s breathing beside you, the warmth of his presence—but it was no use.
An hour later, you’d slipped out of bed and made your way to the kitchen, careful not to disturb him. Using the bubble technique, you shielded your thoughts, unwilling to mar the memory of his birthday with the weight of your vision. It was still early, very early, not even four yet. You wanted him to keep those dreams—of laughter, of you—for just a little longer.
Now, seated at the kitchen table with a mug of coffee in hand, you stared at the pad of paper in front of you. Your handwriting scrawled across the page, disjointed notes capturing fragments of the vision. Occasionally, you reread what you’d written, trying to pinpoint what had been important.
What are the damned constants?
You sighed in frustration, the tip of your pen tracing absentminded doodles in the margins. At the top of your list was the license plate number and the state—clear as day in your memory. Next came the details about the man whose face hovered at the edge of recognition. Then Cole. And lastly, the truck.
You exhaled sharply, pushing away from the table and refilling your mug. The caffeine wasn’t helping much, but the ritual of it gave your restless hands something to do. As you sipped, the faintest flicker of hope stirred—a memory. Missouri. Her number was still in your phone.
The idea ignited urgency. You flicked on the living room lamp and scanned the coffee table, sifting through yesterday’s clutter and the books from Crowley that had been left forgotten, until your phone came into view. Relief bloomed as you snatched it up and returned to the kitchen, the warm mug cradled in your other hand.
As you opened the call app, her number was there, sitting at the top. Then, you glanced at the time and frowned. It was just after five. Is it too early to call? Just as you thought that, your phone rang in your hands. An amused yet quiet chuckle slipped out, seeing Missouri’s number on the caller ID.
Before you could say anything, she was speaking, “What’s the matter, sugar?” She was concerned, having been pulled from her coffee by an image of you.
“I had another premonition last night. It’s about Cole,” you began, keeping your voice down so you didn’t wake Dean. You really didn’t want him to worry.
On the other end of the line, Missouri sat up a little straighter in her chair, worry prickling along the back of her neck. “What did you see?”
You recounted the premonition to her, your words deliberate as you relayed the vivid and muted details, the stark clarity of the license plate, and the figure in the courtroom. Missouri listened intently, the scratch of her pen barely audible as she jotted down notes. It was hard to know exactly what the consistent was without reviewing the premonition herself, but she had enough of an idea.
“You said that man was in the courtroom as well?” she asked, her voice steady but sharp with focus.
“Yes,” you confirmed. “He was sitting three rows back, near the door on the Vaught’s side of the courtroom,” that hope only growing instead of the fear you would have typically felt.
For a few moments, Missouri was silent as she made more notes. Then her voice came through, calm but resolute, “I’ll take care of this.”
“Thank you. I just didn’t know who else could help,” you told her, the tension and frustration slowly leaving your muscles.
“You did the right thing,” she said softly. There was something soothing in her tone, the same quiet strength that you had felt when you met her in person. “We’ll get this handled.”
The call ended, and the morning no longer felt like the weight of it would crush you. The knot that had been in your stomach slowly unwound itself as you relaxed into your chair. Setting your phone down and sipping your coffee, you let the quiet calm of the bunker seep into you. Carefully, you let the bubble around you dissipate the more you relaxed. The last thing you wanted was for Dean to wake up to the tension that had coursed through you earlier.
—----------------------
Missouri studied her notes, her pen tapping idly against the pad as she sipped her coffee. The pieces of the puzzle were there, scattered across the page, but they didn’t quite fit together yet. She knew of Pamela’s warning to you about staying in the bunker past Dean’s birthday. But Pamela was vague on things when there were multiple outcomes, multiple possibilities of how things might play out.
She knew Pamela had her reasons, of course. Premonitions were delicate things, especially when multiple outcomes were in play. Too much information could tip the scales, turning a benign situation into a disaster—or worse. Missouri had seen it happen before. That was the tricky part about being an empath. The constants were always there, but it was the subtle differences, the tiny threads in the weave of fate, that determined everything. Pamela tended to work in those threads, weaving her warning sparingly, leaving room for flexibility.
It was still too early to deal with the PP&P—bureaucracy wasn’t known for its punctuality. Instead, Missouri opened her laptop, her fingers moving with practiced precision as she began digging into the license plate number you’d given her. Her work with the agency came with certain privileges, and access to databases most people didn’t even know existed was one of them.
Her search yielded results in seconds. Missouri’s sharp eyes scanned the screen, taking in the details: registered to a red, Chevrolet El Camino, linked to a name that set off warning bells in her mind. She paused, a frown deepening the lines on her face.
“What did you see, Pamela?” she whispered as the possibilities began teasing her thoughts.
The phone on the table beside her laptop buzzed, pulling her from her thoughts. She reached for it, already sensing who was on the other end.
“Pamela,” she greeted smoothly, her voice calm but tinged with curiosity. “I was just thinking about you.”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” Pamela quipped, though her tone lacked its usual playfulness. There was a weight in her voice, a weariness Missouri picked up on immediately.
“What’s got you calling this early, sugar?” Missouri asked, leaning back in her chair, her fingers laced around her coffee mug.
Pamela sighed, the sound crackling softly through the line. “You know why.”
“I have my suspicions,” Missouri replied, her tone measured. She decided to prod gently; Pamela wasn’t one to be rushed. “You’ve been awfully cryptic with those two. Something you want to tell me outright, or are we dancing around it today?”
“Missouri…” Pamela hesitated, and that alone spoke volumes. She wasn’t usually one to waver. “It’s complicated.”
“It always is,” Missouri said, her voice softening just enough to coax her friend. “But you called me, which means it’s time to uncomplicate it.”
Pamela exhaled sharply, as though the words she was about to speak had been sitting heavy on her chest. “The warning I gave them? About staying in the bunker? I had to be sure which path things would take. You know that.”
Missouri’s grip tightened on her mug, “Go on.”
Pamela’s voice dropped, tinged with a rare seriousness. “You remember Gordon Walker?”
Missouri didn’t answer right away, her eyes reading the same name on the page pulled up on her laptop. “I remember him,” she said finally, her voice low and thoughtful. “You think he’s involved?” It was a prodding question, she knew that, but she needed Pamela to share what she’d seen.
“I know he is,” Pamela said, the weariness giving way to urgency. “I thought it might happen before Cole’s arrest. Or when he was being transferred to prison. I had even seen Gordon helping him the night he planned on killing Dean after he’d been released.”
Pamela sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose with her free hand. These were the difficulties with so many different possibilities, never knowing which one would happen. “I had to be sure before I called. He’s how Cole escapes. And if that happens, Dean will die.”
For several long moments, neither woman spoke. Missouri knew Pamela had to be sure before she acted on any premonition she had. “I’ll take care of it. Do you happen to know Gordon’s current location?”
Pamela didn’t hesitate this time. “The motel off route 27, the same one along the PP&P’s planned transfer route. Room 15,” she replied, already having seen several different outcomes of giving this information to Missouri.
Missouri’s lips pressed into a thin line as she grabbed her notepad, scribbling down the details. “Thanks for the information, sugar. This’ll be handled quickly.”
She ended the call, her eyes drifting back to the laptop screen. The pieces of the puzzle slowly falling into place, but the picture they formed was messy and dangerous. “So much for this going smoothly,” she sighed on her way to get another cup of coffee.
By seven, Missouri was pulling into the parking lot of the PP&P’s main office building. This wasn’t the kind of thing you could handle over the phone or email—too many moving parts, too much room for error. Some things demanded a personal touch.
The January air bit at her skin as she stepped out of her car, her breath misting in the cold. She pulled her coat tighter around her as she crossed the lot, reaching the front doors just as the receptionist turned the key in the lock. Missouri offered a polite nod as she stepped inside, warmth and fluorescent light chasing away the frost.
The building was deliberately unassuming—a plain brick structure designed to blend into the sprawl of business’ along the main road. Inside, it was the same: neutral walls, standard-issue carpeting, and the faint hum of office equipment. It was functional, not flashy, just like the people who worked here. Well, all except one.
Missouri exchanged brief greetings as she made her way up to the second floor. Her heels clicked against the tiles, the sound echoing faintly in the quiet morning. She stopped in front of a door with a small plaque reading C. Bradbury, knocking twice before pushing it open.
Charlie was already there, as Missouri knew she would. She was perched behind her desk, her bright red hair framing her face as it fell in waves halfway down her back, fingers flying across her keyboard. A half-empty energy drink sat beside her monitor, a testament to her reputation as one of the agency’s best—and busiest.
“Missouri!” Charlie greeted brightly, looking up with a grin that was equal parts genuine and mischievous. “You’re here early. Let me guess: something’s on fire, and you need me to put it out?”
Missouri raised an eyebrow, stepping inside and closing the door behind her. “Something like that, sugar,” she replied, setting her notepad on Charlie’s desk. “I’ve got a report that needs filling, and it can’t wait.”
Charlie’s grin faded slightly as she saw the tension in Missouri’s expression. She picked up the notepad, scanning the notes with quick, practiced eyes. “Gordon Walker,” she murmured, her tone shifting to something more serious. “This guy’s a real piece of work. And you want a transport reroute for Cole, too?”
Missouri nodded, crossing her arms. “That’s right. Gordon’s planning to help Cole escape. If he pulls it off, Dean Winchester dies.”
Charlie had helped with several things involving the Y/L/N and Winchester files over the years. To her, the whole thing was a complete mess, but protocols had to be followed. The short of it meant that she couldn’t do anything without one of the empaths on the payroll to see something so it could be stopped.
She set the notepad down, her fingers already moving back to her keyboard. “All right, give me a sec. I’ll start the paperwork for Walker’s collection and run the reroute program with the new intel about a guaranteed escape.” The girl had an automated program for just about anything.
Missouri offered a faint smile. “I need to go put in the report of Y/N’s premonition. I’ll stop back in before I head out,” she stated as she headed toward the office door. “Thanks, Charlie,” she added softly before leaving the office.
But Charlie was already focused on the laptop in front of her, eyes moving nearly as fast as her fingers flew across the keyboard again. Charlie was one of Missouri’s favorites at the office—brilliant, resourceful, and just the right amount of reckless.
As she approached the records office, Missouri’s thoughts lingered on Charlie. The girl was a firecracker—too smart for her own good sometimes—but Missouri appreciated that kind of ingenuity. Charlie had found her way into the agency by hacking her way into their system, and instead of pressing charges, they’d offered her a job. That same boldness was why Missouri trusted her to get things done right, no matter how messy the situation was.
The records clerk glanced up as Missouri entered, a manila folder tucked under her arm. “Morning, Missouri. Got something for me?”
“Morning, Hannah,” Missouri greeted with a polite smile, sliding the notepad across the counter. “Need this filed under urgent—Y/N’s first clear premonition. It’s been confirmed by Pamela.”
Hannah raised an eyebrow, but didn’t ask questions. She knew better than to dig into empath business. Instead, she set the current file aside. There was only one file under your name, since you’d come into your empathic abilities so late in your life. Hannah sat in front of her computer, pulling up the necessary report, then began entering the information Missouri had provided of your premonition.
“First real premonition and already flagged urgent,” Hannah murmured, mostly to herself, as she began entering the details Missouri provided.
“You’re on top of things as always,” she said after a moment, her tone half-admiring, half-teasing.
Missouri chuckled lightly. “Somebody has to be. Y/N has been through more than anyone should have to go through. She deserves to live a happy life and not have to look over her shoulder every day.”
It was cases like yours as to why Missouri had joined the PP&P. There weren’t many, but to Missouri, even one was too many. No one should have that sort of power over anyone’s life, to twist it into fear and uncertainty.
Hannah paused as she realized what the information entailed, glazing up at Missouri. “The Cole thing still isn’t over? Wasn’t he scheduled for transport today?” she asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.
“Not yet. If all goes well on Charlie’s end, it should be over in a few days. She’s also working on Cole’s transport,” Missouri sighed but now understood why Pamela had told you and Dean to stay in the bunker for the three days following Dean’s birthday. It almost made her chuckle.
Hannah went back to entering the information into the form. There were a few different options to choose before sending it. This one, it got the highest priority mark possible—Life Threatening. That one wasn’t used lightly. The consequence for misusing it was instant termination. “All right. I forwarded a copy to the Collection Unit, Charlie, you, and the man in charge,” Hannah explained, looking back up at Missouri. “The Collection Unit should be in the briefing room in ten.”
“Thanks, Hannah,” Missouri replied, smiling slightly to herself.
Missouri stepped into the hallway, her thoughts on how things might end up going. Pamela hadn’t given her much to go on, but they’d make a plan for several different outcomes. What gnawed at her, though, was the question of how Walker had gotten ahold of the transfer details in the first place.
Five minutes before the scheduled time, Missouri stepped into the briefing room. The space was utilitarian, like the rest of the building—white walls, a long table surrounded by mismatched chairs, and a projector mounted to the veiling. A faint hum from the overhead lights filled the quiet as she set her notepad on the table and claimed a seat near the head.
The Collection Unit trickled in, one by one. Missouri didn’t need her abilities to sense the varying degrees of skepticism and readiness each member carried. A few nodded in her direction as they entered; others glanced at her with guarded curiosity. It wasn’t every day a report came down with a Life Threatening tag attached.
By the time Charlie slipped in with her ever-present energy drink in hand, the room was full. She gave Missouria a quick thumbs-up as she sank into a chair near the laptop plugged into the projector.
“All right, let’s get started,” said Victor Henriksen, the unit’s lead, as he entered last, a manila folder tucked under his arm. His no-nonsense demeanor fit the tone of the room. He didn’t bother sitting, instead standing at the head of the table and flipping open the folder. “We’ve got an urgent situation flagged for immediate action. Missouri, since this report originated from you, you’re up.”
Missouri stood, her notepad in hand, and glanced around the room. “Earlier this morning, I filed a report based on a verified promotion from Y/N Y/L/N. The vision detailed an imminent escape involving Cole Vaught during his scheduled transport. If successful, this escape will lead to the death of Dean Winchester.”
A low murmur rippled through the room. Henriksen’s expression didn’t change, though his sharp gaze swept across the team.
“Cole Vaught?” One of the younger agents, Tyler, leaned forward. “Isn’t he already cuffed and scheduled for transport today?”
“That’s correct,” Missouri replied evenly. “But Gordon Walker—yes, that Walker—is planning to intervene. He has the exact transport details and intends to help Cole escape.”
Charlie tapped a few keys on her laptop, and a projection lit up the far wall. A map appeared, showing the planned route and key points marked in red. “I reran the logistics with the updated intel,” she said, her voice taking on a professional tone. “This is the current route. Walker’s interference is most likely at these two choke points—one near the river crossing and the other at the fuel stop here.” She pointed to the red marks on the map. “Both are low visibility areas with easy access to secondary roads.”
“What’s the source of the intel?” Henriksen asked, his tone sharp but not accusatory.
“Y/N’s premonition, confirmed by Pamela Barnes,” Missouri said, meeting his gaze. “And we both know Pamela doesn’t confirm anything unless she’s absolutely sure.”
Henricksen nodded, his skepticism tempered by respect for Pamela’s track record. “Fair enough. What’s the plan?”
Missouri straightened, that nagging feeling still in the back of her thoughts, which she wasn’t ignoring. “Knowing the transport has been compromised, emergency measures have been taken. Your team’s job is to collect Walker at the motel he’s staying in.”
Charlie clicked a few more keys on her laptop, the projection changing to a map of the motel and surrounding area, key points marked in red. “He chose a good location to stay in. This motel has windows in the bathrooms, allowing for a quick escape,” she began explaining, pointing out the spots on the map as she went.
“Walker has carefully alluded being pinned to any premonitions. This one, he can’t get out of and, so far, has no knowledge of. It’s a stealth mission. He can’t see any of you coming, or he’ll bolt before you get close,” she continued.
Charlie explained the specifics while Missouri quietly observed each person of the Collection Unit. To her dismay and relief, there was nothing that would lead to a leak coming from any of them. The room began to buzz with movement as the agents moved with purpose, Henrickson leading the way. They cleared out of the room quickly with a strict plan in place.
“You think they’ll get him this time?” Charlie asked, not sure if she should be hopeful that things would work out.
Missour moved to stand next to her, her gaze shifting around the room for a moment before landing on Charlie. “Who has had access to the files regarding Cole?” she asked, her tone hushed and laced with concern.
Charlie looked up at her, slightly puzzled. “Just the ones that always do for cases like this. Why?”
Missouri sighed, knowing this would take more digging than a simple question. “I need you to trace who looked at files and then made phone calls from their personal numbers. Cross-reference it with the four other cases similar to Y/N’s. The missing soulmate name cases.”
Chalie’s face not only lit up, but realization finally dawned on her. “You think there’s a leak.”
“Keep it to yourself for now,” Missouri warned, her voice firm but quiet. “Just, find out for me,” Missouri told her, then headed out of the room. There was nothing more she could do now until she heard back from Charlie.
Missouri stood near the observation window on the third floor, arms crossed as she watched the activity on the landing pad below. The late morning sun glinted off the sleek, dark helicopter waiting on the concrete, its rotors turning lazily in anticipation of liftoff. Around it, agents moved with precision, securing the area and checking every last detail of the transport plan.
It had been less than an hour since the report had been filed with Hannah. Due to the urgency of the case, Cole was being moved in the only way that guaranteed he couldn’t escape while the Collection Unit was moving into place to collect Walker.
The heavy metal doors to the sub-levels creaked open, drawing her gaze. Missouri’s jaw tightened as she caught sight of him—Cole Vaught, hands and feet shackled, flanked by two heavily armed agents. His orange jumpsuit made him stand out like a beacon against the dull grays of the landing pad.
Even in the distance, Missouri could feel the simmering hatred rolling off him, a storm held in check only by the restraints and the grim determination of the men escorting him. He was dangerous, no doubt about that. Not just because of what he was capable of physically, but because of the devastation he would cause if he were free. Dean Winchester’s name was on the top of that list, thanks to Cole’s obsession with you and your empathic lineage.
Missouri pressed her lips into a thin line, her thoughts turning inward. Thanks to Pamela confirming what you’d seen in your premonition, she didn’t need the approval of the Director for this type of transport, even with such short notice. Even with the guarantee that no one could interfere with this type of transport, Missouri couldn’t shake that uneasy weight that settled in her chest.
Walker had to have inside help. There was no other way he could’ve gotten the original transport details so easily. The obvious conclusion pointed to a leak in their ranks, but identifying the culprit wasn’t going to be easy, even if only a handful of people had been involved with the logistics.
Her gaze shifted back to Cole as the agents brought him closer to the helicopter. He moved with a cocky swagger, despite the chains, his head covered by a black cloth so he couldn’t even take in his surroundings. She knew he was smirking under the hood, could feel it radiating off him. It was the kind of expression that made her want to slap it off his face. He still seemed to think he was getting out of this, and that struck a nerve.
Missouri’s thoughts drifted to you and Dean. The two of you had been through so much already, and this wasn’t a burden either of you should have to bear. You’d had your parents ripped away from you by a family that only wanted you for your empathic lineage and your ability to have premonitions of things to come. Then there was Dean. A good man led astray by a vile woman who the Vaughts had paid to keep him as far away from you as possible until it was too late.
Luckily, that had been stopped, thanks to a judge Missouri had spoken with, nudging things alone in the background. A small smile found her lips as she thought back to that day, months ago now, before your case had ever been presented. The judge never would have even looked at it, had it not been for Missouri’s call.
A tap on the window pulled her from her thoughts. Charlie stood there, holding a tablet. It wasn’t a company-issued device, and Missouri couldn’t help but smile at Charlie’s resourcefulness. Missouri motioned for her to come closer, both women now watching as Cole was loaded onto the chopper. Neither woman spoke as the agents secured Cole in place, and then three of them joined the other three inside. Just as the helicopter began lifting into the air, Charlie turned to Missouri.
“Think this’ll work?” she asked, still not sure how things would turn out.
“It should,” Missouri replied before looking at the red-head. “Any luck?”
Charlie held the tablet so Missouri could see what had come up based on the key phrases she had put into her program to search the company’s entire database. “Nothing out of the ordinary on this one. Just the usual people involved with the cases you asked about.”
Missouri nodded, appreciating Charlie’s determination. “What about the other thing?”
Charlie hesitated, then pulled up the other search she’d done. Only one name appeared. Missouri’s stomach dropped, as it was the one name she had been worried about but hadn’t let her thoughts drift completely in that direction. Neither woman spoke. The gravity of the name meant this needed to be handled very carefully.
For a few moments, they just watched the helicopter as it ascended higher into the air. Missouri knew Charlie would keep this quiet until they could formulate a plan. They had to find out how to prove the information had been leaked.
“I’ll find you when my ghost program finishes retrieving what we need,” Charlie told her. Then, she headed back to her office, knowing it could take a few hours to get exactly what they needed.
—--------------------
The sub-level holding area was a stark contrast to the bustling activity above. Cold concrete walls absorbed sound, muffling every step and voice into an oppressive silence. It wasn’t designed for comfort, only control.
Gordon Walker was brought in with two agents flanking him, their grips firm on his arms. He moved willingly, almost casually, his head held high as though he were a guest rather than a detainee. The cuffs on his wrists and the chains at his ankles clinked with every step, but he carried himself as though they didn’t matter.
“Well, well,” Walker drawled, his voice echoing faintly in the quiet space. “Sub-level accommodations, huh? Didn’t know I rated the VIP treatment.”
Neither agent responded, their expressions impassive as they led him to the intake area. A third agent stood waiting by a metal table, a clipboard in hand. Walke’s sharp eyes took in the layout, his smirk widening.
“Not much of a decorator, are you?” he remarked, nodding toward the bare walls. “Bet this place really gets the ladies swooning.”
“Keep moving,” one of the agents barked, shoving him forward.
Walker stumbled slightly but recovered with an exaggerated grin. “Easy there, hero. You’re gonna bruise my delicate ego.”
The intake procedure was swift and methodical. The agents removed his handcuffs and instructed him to strip. Walker complied without hesitation, though not without commentary.
“Usually, I get dinner first,” he quipped as he tossed his shirt onto the table.
One of the agents, a woman with a no-nonsense demeanor, didn’t so much as flinch. “Save it,” she said flatly, handing him the orange jumpsuit.
“Ah, prison chic,” Walker said, holding it up as though appraising a fine suit. “Really brings out my eyes, don’t you think?”
The agent ignored him, stepping back as he changed. Another agent ran a handheld scanner over his body, checking for hidden weapons or devices.
“You know,” Walker began, his tone conversational, “all this effort for little ol’ me. Almost makes me feel special. But let me save you some time—this isn’t gonna stick.”
“Quiet,” the male agent said, his patience clearly wearing thin.
Walker didn’t stop. “No, really. You think slapping me in a cell changes anything? The game’s already in play, sweetheart. And spoiler alert—you’re losing.”
The woman agent stepped closer, her gaze cold and steady. “You talk too much, Walker.”
He grinned, leaning in just slightly. “Oh, I haven’t even started, darling.”
The cell door clanged open, cutting off whatever comeback he’d planned. Without ceremony, they led him inside, securing the door behind him with a sharp metal clang. Walked turned to face them, his smirk still firmly in place.
“Home sweet home,” he said, spreading his arms as he surveyed the tiny, windowless room. “You know, I’ve seen closets with more personality.”
The agents left without another word, the heavy door sealing shut behind them. Walker’s smirk lingered as he lowered himself onto the hard cot, his back against the wall and his arms stretched across his knees.
He wasn’t worried. Not yet. This was just another move on the board, and Gordon Walker always played the long game.
—------------------------
Missouri had been watching from the observation room, her eyes fixed on the screens that covered the walls. Each monitor displayed a different angle, capturing every detail of Walker’s processing. She’d turned on the audio, listening to every word that spilled from his mouth. Walker really believed he was getting out of this, like he was untouchable, and his confidence grated on her.
With a sigh and a flicker of hope, Missouri headed outside, where one of the Collection Team had parked Walker’s car. Henricksen stood nearby, flanked by three other agents. Missouri knew this was going to be difficult, as Walker had used several different techniques over the years to get out of premonitions that had been about him.
“Ladies first,” Henrickson stated, gesturing to the car.
Missouri pursed her lips, steadying herself for any visions that would come from interacting with Walker’s belongings. She approached the car with measured steps, her heels clicking softly against the pavement. Letting out a breath, she reached for the driver’s side door handle. The moment her fingers touched the cool metal of the handle, a jolt of sensation shot through her. Flashes of chaotic images flooded her mind.
A dimly lit motel room. Walker pacing with his phone pressed to his ear, his voice love and conspiratorial. Papers spread across the bed, maps with routes circled in red. An array of tools placed neatly on the edge of the bed.
Missouri tightened her grip on the door, her knuckles whitening as she forced herself to sift through the barrage of impressions. Getting visions like this wasn’t always easy, but she’d honed the skill over the years.
A man’s voice, calm and authoritative, echoed faintly in her head. “You know the plan. Keep it clean.”
Walker’s smirk, his confidence unshaken, even as he replied, “When have I ever let you down?”
Missouri’s eyes snapped open, and she released the handle, taking a step back. She pressed a hand to her temple, grounding herself as the aftershocks of the vision faded. Henricksen was beside her in an instant, his brow furrowed.
“What did you see?” he asked, his tone low but urgent.
She shook her head, her expression grim. “He’s been planning this since the court hearing. He’s got a contact—a professional, someone who knows how to play the system. I couldn’t get a clear look at his face, but Walker trusts him.”
Henricksen’s jaw tightened. “Did you get anything useful? A name? A location?”
Missouri frowned. “Nothing that you didn’t confiscate already. Walker was confident, cocky even when they took him through processing. There has to be something else. Something he’s hiding.”
One of the agents, a tall man with a no-nonsense air, spoke up. “If Walker’s that sure of himself, there’s gotta be more to this. Maybe there’s something in the car. He loves this thing. Walker said all sorts of choice words when I grabbed the keys to bring it here.”
Henricksen nodded. “Search it. Every inch of it.”
Missouri stepped back as the agents moved in, opening doors and popping the trunk, searching with methodical precision. She crossed her arms, her gaze fixed on the car as they worked. Her mind was elsewhere, replaying the vision in hopes of pinpointing more details.
This wasn’t the first time Walker had been implicated in things, and Missouri didn’t believe in coincidences anymore. The other four cases, similar to yours. Sadly, even with the premonitions coming from reputable empaths, he’d been released. They had never been able to find anything that directly tied him to the things that were yet to happen back then.
Her thoughts were interrupted when one of the agents let out a sharp whistle. “Got something!”
Henricksen and Missouri moved closer as the agent held up a small, nondescript flash drive. It had been tucked in a secret compartment near the driver’s seat in the center console. If it weren’t for the thoroughness of the agent, the seamless hiding place wouldn’t have been found.
“Think you can get anything from this?” Henricksen asked, taking the thumb drive and handing it over to Missouri.
Missouri held it carefully, her fingers brushing the smooth surface. The faintest whisper of an impression tickled at the edges of her mind, but it was murky, incomplete. “Not here,” she finally said, choosing to keep information to herself at the moment. “You might be collecting someone else today. So, keep your team ready. I doubt there is more in the car, but be thorough, just in case.”
Henricksen nodded. “Understood”
With a final glance at the car, Missouri turned, the flash drive clutched tightly in her hand as she headed back toward the building. There was no telling what secrets it had, but she knew one thing for certain: Gordon Walker wasn’t just playing a game. He was playing to win, and he wasn’t alone.
—-----------
Charlie had been sitting at her desk, taking care of regular day-to-day tasks as her ghost program ran on her personal tablet. She tended to get away with a lot more than others due to how smart she was. Most times, she thought better on her feet, in the moment when a plan was needed immediately.
The name that had come up in her second search was lit up in her mind like a flashing neon sign. She wasn’t one to get involved in the close-to-home stuff. She preferred the safety of her desk, the predictability of her routines. But this?
Her nerves were on edge, and the slightest sound or knock on her door made her jump. Every now and then, her eyes would glance over at her tablet, watching as it would snag up another piece of evidence, then continue on its search. There were well over twenty documents it had found. If it had only found one, it would have been enough.
A sharp knock on her door made her flinch. She relaxed only slightly when Missouri entered, her presence steadying. “Found anything yet?” she asked, closing the door behind her.
Charlie nodded toward the tablet, her expression grim. “Plenty. And if half of what’s on here is legit, we’re in deep trouble.”
Missouri joined Charlie behind her desk, discretely handing her the flash drive. “This was hiding in Walker’s car. It hasn’t been added to the official inventory yet. I need you to find out what’s on it.” she explained, glancing briefly at the cameras that watched the room. Cameras that were supposed to be there to keep everyone honest, but the leak had found a way around them.
Charlie's brows arched. She hadn’t gotten to break into something in a long while. It was almost like a game to her, and part of her missed it. She snatched it from Missouri’s fingers, then plugged it into her tablet. No point in altering anyone in the company as to what she was up to.
Missouri watched in silence as Charlie began another automated program to hack into the flash drive. Her fingers danced across the keypad on the screen, entering commands into her program as it began going through different types of encryption breakers. Missouri didn’t understand the language of computers, not like Charlie did.
In less than a minute, Charlie was smiling happily when the main directory for the flash drive popped up on her tablet. “Bingo,” she uttered, clicking on one of the folders.
“What do we have here?” Missouri asked, leaning a little closer.
Charlie didn’t answer immediately. Her eyes scanned the different file names, but they were only marked with a few letters followed by a set of numbers. They didn’t make much sense, at least not yet. Charlie clicked one of them open, quickly reading the information outlined. She plopped back against the back of her chair. “You wanted proof,” she practically chuckled, shaking her head slightly.
Missouri read over the document, her jaw clenching slightly. “What else is on there?” She needed to know just how far back it went.
“Give me a minute,” Charlie replied, leaning forward, then clicking open other folders and other documents. “Emails, financial records, meeting logs. It’s all here. I’ve got the phone records from my ghost program. Looks like it goes back over thirty years” She leaned a little closer, then clicked on another folder marked with an innocuous label: Operations.
Charlie’s eyes went wide as she explored the folder, far too quickly for Missouri to keep up. “It looks like Walker is the face of whatever this shell company is,” her voice slightly trailing off. Records had to be kept somewhere, so keeping them on a flash drive made sense. Missouri didn’t even need to ask before Charlie was already working on the next step: tracing everything to its source.
“Keep this quiet. I need to talk to Henricksen. Is there anyone from the PP&P on the payroll?” Missouri asked, keeping her voice hushed. She needed to know who she could trust.
It only took Charlie a minute for a simple search such as that. “No. Just the one,” she answered without looking away from her tablet.
Missouri gave Charlie’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “You know what to do.”
This was a delicate matter, but it had to be handled quickly, before Walker slipped through their fingers, again.
—-------------------
Dean stirred awake sometime after eight, and even with your side of the bed empty, a grin still lingered on his lips. Yesterday had been one for the books, and he was still savoring every moment of it. He stretched lazily, his muscles flexing before he let out a contented sigh, sinking back into the mattress for just a beat longer.
There was almost a skip to his step when he got out of bed, doing his regular morning routine before he slipped on a pair of boxers and went looking for you. For the first time in a long time, life felt good, like this was exactly where he was supposed to be.
The living room caught his attention first—cleaner than the night before—but it wasn’t enough to stop him as he continued into the kitchen. You were sitting at the table, your back to him, but there was a slight tension to you that he couldn’t quite place.
“Mornin’, Sweetheart,” he murmured, stepping close to press a kiss to your cheek, his hand resting gently on your opposite shoulder.
You nearly jumped, not realizing you’d been lost in your thoughts. Dean would have found it adorable if he’d been using the bubble technique so he could surprise you. “Alright,” he said, dragging a chair beside you so he could face you directly. “What’s wrong?”.
Your eyes met his as his worry began radiating through the connection. “Get some coffee, and I’ll tell you,” you sighed, knowing that he needed to know.
He frowned, but the softness in your eyes soothed him in a way he’d never get tired of. It wasn’t how you’d wanted to start the morning with him, but perhaps it could still be relaxing after you explained things.
An hour later, the coffee was gone, and Dean sat on the couch, his arm draped protectively around you. His mind churned, piecing together what you’d told him. Pamela’s warning made more sense than it had the day she had given it a week ago. Since Missouri hadn’t called you back with any sort of update, you could only tell Dean about your premonition and the call from her.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked gently, his eyes searching yours, worried you were keeping your emotions to yourself to shield him for some reason. When your gaze fell from his, he instantly knew.
Dean tugged you closer, wrapping you in his arms, his closeness grounding you like it always did. “Please don’t hide in that bubble. I know you don’t want me to worry, but when you pull back like that, I worry,” he said softly, a plea he hoped you’d understand.
What he couldn’t put into words were the emotions connected to them, and you felt them all as they made their way through the bond. Placing your hand over his heart, you took a shaky breath. “I just hate it when you worry,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper.
He sighed but found it a little endearing how you wanted to shield him from anything unpleasant. “You can’t keep me from worrying. I’m gonna do that regardless. The part that you can do is be there for me, like you have been. Like you are now, and my worry goes away, mostly,” he explained, chuckling a little at the end. Both of you were worrywarts, and you both knew it.
Pamela’s whispered words to him that day drifted through his mind again, “She’s gonna be okay. Both of you are. Just do what I said, and things will turn out like you’ve been hoping for.” He’d been trying to reassure you that things would be okay, but it was getting harder not to doubt that. Dean quickly shook the thought from his head, refusing to let anything take away his hope.
“What do you say to having cake for breakfast like a couple of teenagers who snuck into the kitchen while their parents were sleeping?” Dean asked playfully, wanting to lighten the mood and make you smile again.
You looked up at him, unable to keep from smiling, and a giggle slipped out when you caught the playful glint in his eyes. “Do I get my own piece this time?” you asked, being just as playful, grateful for the way he could just pull you out of things that threatened to consume you.
When that damned smirk found his lips, you already knew the answer to your question. “Nope. My cake. I get to do with it what I want,” he quipped before leaning a little closer. “If you’d let me, I’d eat it off of you and not use a plate,” the heat in his voice sent a thrill through your body and desire through the connection.
He chuckled at the way you responded, kissed you on the forehead, and then went to the kitchen to retrieve a slice of cake. One way or another, he was going to thoroughly enjoy these three days with you before the two of you could leave the safety of the bunker. Sure, there was still crap going on, but neither of you could actively do anything about it, and he was bound and determined to keep you smiling.
-----------------------------------------
Chapter 35 - Will be up as soon as I have it written. Thanks for being patient everyone.
Story Master List
Main Master List
Tag List: @deans-spinster-witch @jamerlynn @jackles010378 @bruhidkjustwannaread @onthehuntforshinies
Series Summary: When Beau Arlen moved to Montana, he left behind a past he wasn’t proud of. But when a series of murders requires the FBI’s help, Sheriff Arlen‘s ghosts come back to haunt him one by one. With a wrong turn waiting at every crossroads, it’s hard to make the right choices and find his way back home – back to you.
Pairing: Beau Arlen x FBI Agent!Reader
Warnings: 18+, angst, heartbreak, everyone being all over the place, one very tough conversation...
Word Count: 6.0k
A/N: Ooof, what a week! The whole fam came down with Covid and I was barely holding the fort down 😮💨 But in the midst of all the stress and chaos, all your kind comments brought me so much joy! I really appreciate you guys 🥹🤍
Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist || Tag List
Chapter 10: It Matters
Pick me. Don’t go.
Those words had pervaded Beau’s mind and tormented his heart all night. It had been a mistake to utter them. He should’ve never said them in the first place. They forced you into a corner, and he had never wanted to do that to you. He didn’t know if it was the alcohol in his bloodstream or the sheer love in his heart that drove him to say them, but he hated himself for his blatant selfishness.
How could he do that? What else were you supposed to say to him? Of course, you’d stay, even when Beau knew it was wrong.
You were still peacefully asleep next to him, unaware of the train wreck of thoughts that circled his mind in an endless loop. The smell of you lingered in the air and pulled him closer to you. Every fiber of his being wanted to make you his again, love you the way his muddled head had convinced him only he could. But he abstained, and it was the hardest thing he ever had to do. Leaving you always was.
“Hey, morning.” You stretched with a soft smile and glanced behind you at Beau. He lay awake next to you, forest green eyes opened wide and staring at the ceiling. Internally, you sighed at his brooding. You rolled onto your stomach and began kissing a path from his throat down to his chest, your fingers trailing his taut skin.
“Y/N, stop. Please, darlin’…”
With a deep sigh, you crossed your arms on top of his chest and rested your chin on them, looking up at him. His fingers brushed tenderly through your hair, but he still didn’t look at you.
“Talk to me. What’s going on in that pretty and rumbling head of yours?” you prompted softly and pecked his chest, just above his wildly beating heart.
“I can’t do this. We can’t do this…”
You lifted your head and found his eyes, forcing him to look at you. “You want me to go?”
His features hardened as he fought for an answer. After a moment, he shook his head. “No.”
But his actions contradicted his words. He rose from the bed and dragged a palm over his face and through his hair. His feet found solid ground, but his body remained anchored to the bed as if he was torn between leaving and staying with you.
“I shouldn’t have said those things last night. It wasn’t fair to you…” His head fell into his hands. “I don’t wanna force you to make a decision. I’m the wrong choice.”
You straightened behind him and stroked his back. “You’re not the wrong choice,” you insisted. “And if you don’t wanna make a decision for me, then maybe you shouldn’t push me away either.”
“I had no right to say those things to you, Y/N. I was drunk and emotional… I shoulda never let things get this far last night. I was being selfish,” he stated, and you could feel him pull away from you, like he’d done so many times before. It was an all too familiar pattern. “But I have my head on straight now,” he declared, the irony lost on him, but the determined and harsh tone of his voice shattered your heart. No one did it better than him. He made breaking your heart an art.
“Beau…”
“No!” he silenced you sharply. Your hand dropped from his shoulder. His face softened as he looked back at you. “You should be with him, Y/N. You’re just confused right now. I know once you’ve had some time to think about it, you’re gonna regret it, so I’m backing down, okay? Just take me outta the equation.”
Anger flared up inside of you and surged through your body. “Don’t ever fucking tell me how I feel,” you snapped. “You wanna be a coward again? Fine, consider yourself out. I’m leaving.”
March 2021
Beau’s head was a thundering earthquake as he left his motel room. The desert sun was stinging and blistering hot as he walked no more than two blocks down the street to the little plaza of food trucks. And plaza was a nice word for it, really. It was just a rundown parking lot, but the food was delicious nonetheless. God knows, with his punishing hangover, he craved something greasy and unhealthy.
Unfortunately, the fourteen tequilas had ironically not been enough to cause a total blackout – or maybe his body had just ejected them too soon. Either way, he remembered every embarrassing and shameful bit and piece of last night’s events. How he had pathetically sulked, how he had puked his goddam guts out in front of you, how you had still taken care of him and stood by his side, how he had audaciously hit on you – multiple times – and how you had angrily shot him down.
All of these glorious moments were saved on his hard drive, able to torment him for eternity.
It was already late morning, close to noon, but the whole team was gathered on a picnic table. Some were enjoying breakfast after a nightly stake-out, some were taking their lunch break or enjoying their day off. You sat between Cody and Jordan with an extraordinarily big cup of joe, both guys seemingly bringing their A-game in the flirting department. Beau rolled his eyes underneath his dark sunglasses and took a seat across from you. Judging by the sheer size of your coffee, he assumed you didn’t have the best night’s sleep either.
“Hey, mornin’,” Beau greeted the group with a tired nod. He noticed you shift in your seat and avoided looking at him like it was a challenge. It was safe to assume you were mad at him.
“Hey, Arlen.” Amused, Cody grinned at him with all his teeth. “Back so soon? Thought you were supposed to be gone the whole week. What, wife kick you out? You look like shit.”
One clumsy joke already hit bullseye, going straight to his sore point.
Beau only chuckled politely. “Nah, Carla just had a work thing, so…” he lied. He wasn’t ready to get into his whole divorce drama with all of the guys just now – not on so little sleep and such a major hangover. “Guess I chatted a little too much with Don Julio last night.”
The guys laughed and started to remember their own recent drinking escapades. But not you. You let out a small scoff and shook your head, jumping up from your seat.
“I’m gonna get a refill. You guys need anything?” They guys shook their heads at your question, and you sauntered back over to the coffee truck.
“I’m gonna grab somethin’ to eat, too. Excuse me.” Beau cleared his throat and got up as well, the group continuing to chat, unbothered.
He walked straight up to you, and if he had thought earlier he had only imagined your anger, he was damn sure now. You didn’t even try to hide it. Carla was the passive-aggressive type, but he remembered Randy had once referred to you as “sharp and direct like a knife,” which was definitely the case here. As soon as Beau approached you, you exhaled an exasperated sigh and rolled your eyes back.
“Look, can we talk?”
“I think you’ve done enough of that last night, gaucho,” you retorted, annoyed.
Beau pursed his lips. Alright, second try. “I get that you’re mad. You have every right to be. I just wanna apologize for the way I behaved.”
“Oh, I’m fine. I’m not mad,” you remarked wryly, shaking your head. You then belligerently met his gaze. “Refresh my memory, though. What exactly did you do again?”
Beau let out a deep exhale, frowning slightly. “You really gonna make me spell it out?”
“Yup.” Coolly, you took a sip of your coffee.
Beau sighed once more, scratching the back of his neck. “I’m sorry I was an ass last night.”
“And?”
“And… I’m sorry I hit on you,” he admitted ruefully.
You grinned victoriously but not any less furious. “There it is.” Grabbing your giant cup, you waltzed back over to the table, Beau quickly catching up with you before you had reached your destination and were within earshot again.
“Y/N, c’mon! I thought you’d forgive me once I said it,” he argued.
You snorted a scoff. “I never said that. ‘Sides, that apology was kinda half-assed.”
“Alright, what d’you want me to say, huh?” he prompted with an impatient huff.
“Hmm, I would’ve preferred, ‘I’m sorry I tried to use you as my rebound and fuck you last night after my wife left me, even though you’re the only friend I have,’” you fired sassily, watching his frown deepen. “How does that sound? Sound about right to you?”
“I did not try and use you as my rebound,” he shot back.
Your brow arched. “No? What was that then last night?”
“That was…” Beau couldn’t think of an answer, because he didn’t quite know himself what kind of devil had possessed him that night. But he did know even his drunken alter ego wouldn’t use you as a sheer rebound. However, he couldn’t very well say that now, could he? “I-I don’t know. Maybe you’re right.”
“Yeah, thought so…” With a disappointed scoff, you pushed past him and walked back to the group.
Since bolting out of Beau’s trailer in nothing more than an old tee and some mere sweatpants, with a pile full of random laundry in your hands, you hadn’t even inhaled your caffeine intake this morning yet. And God, you needed it, especially after getting dressed with miss-matched clothes in the backseat of your car in the parking lot of a Walmart. You knew this wasn’t rock bottom, but you were eerily sailing close to it.
You could’ve driven straight to the hospital and gotten your coffee there, but a part of you wanted to avoid Randy for as long as you could. That same part also felt incredibly guilty and like the worst person in the world for even thinking that.
Was it crazy you didn’t want to see Randy? You had missed, cried, and grieved this man for years, praying he’d come back to you. Now he had, your prayers answered, and all you could do was hide.
But no matter how hard you tried to force yourself to feel the same way, it wasn’t right anymore. The flutter in your heart was gone. The urge to touch and kiss him had disappeared. Holding his hand felt weird. Your conversations didn’t flow like they used to. He was once your best friend, but now he felt like a stranger.
Or maybe you were the strange one.
And maybe Beau was right, and all you needed was more time to get used to everything again. Start from scratch. Go on first dates and get to know one another again until strange would become familiar. Maybe you even owed it to Randy to try and give it a shot.
The thing was, though, you didn’t want to even try. Twenty-four hours ago, you’d been happy with your life exactly the way it was – as terrible as that made you sound.
But didn’t it matter how you felt?
Your search for coffee, distraction, and escapism led you to the Blue Fox Diner once again. And as it was a habit with small towns, you immediately ran into some familiar faces. This time, you met Carla and Emily there. The former was in a much better mood, even gifting you a smile.
“Morning, ladies. Seems like the need for coffee keeps us united, huh?” you quipped, but only Emily giggled a little.
Carla’s brow furrowed slightly, on the other hand. This time out of concern instead of anger. “Hey, uh… How-, uhm, how are you holding up?”
Realization instantly dawned on you – escapism was nothing but a sham. “Beau told you?”
“Yeah, but he just sent a quick text, saying Randy was alive and at the hospital. I guess I should be happy his communication skills are getting slightly better,” Carla joked wryly, earning her a small glare from her daughter. “But, uhm, I’ve tried calling him multiple times since then. He isn’t answering. Is everything alright? How’s he doing?”
“Uh, yeah, everything’s… well, not fine, but Beau’s… I honestly don’t know. He’s hanging in there? I-… He’s just taking it hard, I guess,” you replied in a stammer. You didn’t know what else to say. The whole thing was as messy as your answer.
“Yeah, okay.” Carla nodded, sighing. “I can’t believe Randy’s back and actually alive… I’m glad Beau has you, though. Watch out for him? And yourself?”
“Sure, yeah.” You swallowed harshly and forced a polite smile to your lips. How could you look out for him, though, if he kept pushing you away? If anyone knew what that was like, it was ironically Carla. “Hey, uh, can I ask you a legal question?”
“Sure. It’s about Randy, isn’t it?” Carla gave you a knowing smile. She’d always been the best lawyer you’d ever known for reasons exactly like this one. She could anticipate someone’s intentions from miles away.
“Yes, uhm… if your spouse comes back from the dead, are you still married?” Judging by Carla’s amused smile, she had somehow expected a weird question like that as well.
“Yeah, are you?” Emily repeated your question with a curiously inquiring look at her mother and a scrunched nose.
Carla chuckled a little. “No, once someone is declared dead, may that be true or not, a marriage cannot be reinstated,” she explained and then paused for a moment, pursing her lips. “However, you can always contest it in front of a judge. In rare circumstances like this, I’m sure there can be something done about it… if that’s what you want. Is it… what you want?”
Your mouth opened but couldn’t produce an answer. Was it what you wanted?
“Right. None of my business,” Carla said and raised her hands in surrender before she placed one gently on your shoulder. “Call if you need something. Anytime, okay?”
You nodded with an appreciative smile. “Thanks.”
“Come on, Em. Let’s go.” Carla gestured for her daughter to follow her outside, but the teenager stayed next to you.
“Can I talk to Aunt Y/N for a minute alone?”
Carla shot you a look, asking if it was okay. You gave a nod in return, telling her it was fine.
“Alright, but be quick. I don’t want you to be late for school,” Carla reminded her and strolled ahead to the car.
“What’s up, trailblazer?” You grinned at Emily and tried to keep it light, although you could tell by the look on her face that she was planning on the opposite.
“Don’t leave Dad,” she told you, her brown eyes pleading. She was giving you the full puppy dog look, and all you could think about was how much she resembled her father like this. “He’s finally happy and like the dad I used to know again. He was better when we moved here, but I could tell that he was missing you. And those last few weeks, he was smiling all the time and not just ‘cause of a bad joke he was proud of. Like, legit smiling. For real. It was kinda creepy. But he was happy. Really, really, really happy. Please don’t take that away from him.”
“Em…” You exhaled a deep sigh. What were you supposed to say to that? You were flattered she thought you had so much to do with her father’s wellbeing? “I-… I don’t wanna hurt your dad ‘cause I do love him. But there’s also Uncle Randy to think about. He’s your dad’s best friend, you know? Neither of us want to hurt him. And your dad’s–…” An ass sometimes. “–difficult. It’s complicated, okay? There’s a lot to think about.”
Emily nodded thoughtfully, but she seemed to understand. “I get it. I just don’t want him to be sad again and lose himself like he did back then.”
You squeezed her shoulder and looked at her deeply. “I promise you it’s never gonna be like last time again. Your dad knows that now, too.”
“I hope so…”
As Emily left the diner, you finally got back to your coffee. Apparently, it was an Arlen family trait to confront you with some heavy-hitters before your first drop of caffeine.
“Heard your husband is back from the dead. Is that true?”
A voice drew your attention to a man behind the counter with chin-length hair and a beard. “Donno, right?” The man nodded, and you replied, “Yeah, he is.”
“Is he a zombie?”
You pursed your lips and took a sip from your cup, wishing it contained whiskey at this point. “I don’t think so, no.”
“If he is, you need to smash his brain. Only way to kill ‘em,” Donno informed you helpfully.
“Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind,” you replied warily. If Beau hadn’t already filled you in on all things Donno, you would’ve thought the guy was insane. Well, maybe he still was.
“You’re welcome. I’m good at smashing brains. Just call if you need my help.” Donno gave you an oddly crooked smile. “Aren’t you dating the sheriff? Is that true?”
“Also true.”
Fucking small towns…
“Want to hear my vote?”
You exhaled a small sigh and sent him a tight-lipped smile. “Sure. Why not?” Might as well, right? Maybe you should make use of the gossipy small town charm altogether and start a Helena-wide poll.
“Sheriff Arlen once throat-punched me. He’s very strong. Good build. Like a warrior,” Donno noted. “He could probably kill a zombie. I’d pick him.”
“Well… I’ll take that into consideration. Thank you.”
“Again, you’re welcome.”
March 2021
Still hungover, Beau almost dozed off during the daily briefing in the meeting room of the task force’s headquarters in Mexico – all DEA owned. You sat next to him in your usual seat of the glass box but hadn’t spoken a word to him since this morning at the coffee cart, mindlessly drawing doodles on the edge of your notepad. Obviously, you were still fuming, and Beau didn’t know whether he should try to suffocate the flames or if the fire would eventually burn out on its own.
“Alright, next on the agenda,” Cody said and clapped his palms together as he stood in front of the whiteboard. He was a longtime DEA agent and their task force leader, couple years younger than Beau and probably what most would classify as Hemsworth good-looking. “We need to get everything ready before sending Y/N in with our contact in the cartel. She’s been preparing for the last few months, and if everything goes according to plan, which I hope it will, we can start the mission by the end of next week. Jordan’s also going in with her.”
Beau’s brow furrowed in confusion, his head whipping back and forth between you and their leader. “Whoa, send her in where?”
“Oh, uh, sorry. Forgot you’ve missed last week’s meeting, Arlen,” Cody said with a subtle jab. The others frowned upon him leaving sometimes, none of them having families back in Texas – or at least none that they cared about. “Y/N agreed to go in as a buyer, gather intel.”
Beau’s eyes widened and looked at you, but you still stubbornly averted your gaze. “I’m sorry, what?! Why her? Can’t someone else go in?”
That was the first time you looked at him then. Well, glared.
Cody scoffed disapprovingly. “We need a woman for this one, and if you haven’t noticed, she’s the only one, unless you suddenly grew a vagina, Arlen.”
“He definitely hasn’t,” you muttered in sing-song under your breath, referring to last night’s events. But Beau still heard you, sending you a narrowed glare.
“Our cartel target only makes deals with female buyers. Word on the street is, he likes to get a little… handsy sometimes,” Cody continued.
“Well, that’s comforting to know,” Beau huffed, green eyes then landing on you. “Why did you never tell me you were planning on going undercover?”
There was a moment of awkward silence spreading around the table, everyone’s curious eyes landing on you and Beau. You didn’t respond, however. You clearly had your reasons why you’d left that part out, considering the scene he was making right now.
Cody’s eyes squinted at your partner, his brow scrunching. “You got a problem with that, Arlen? ‘Cause you startin’ to piss me off,” he snapped. For the record, that was the exact moment Cody landed on Beau’s punch list. “Maybe you should have a little more faith in your colleagues, dipshit. Y/N’s got the most experience as a UC in narcotics out of all of us. There’s no doubt in my mind she can pull this off.”
The wink Cody sent you and the smile you gave in return almost set Beau off like an atom bomb, but he contained the explosion and only imploded. He gave a tight-lipped nod in understanding and averted his eyes to the yellow legal pad in front of him, strangling the pen in his grasp instead.
As the meeting ended and everyone filtered out of the glass box, Cody called him back, though. “Arlen, a word.”
You glanced at Beau, your eyes briefly meeting before you left the room as well and strolled back to your desk. You knew he was in for a lecture, having overstepped a line earlier, which wasn’t uncommon for him. But you couldn’t always come to his rescue and offer your own head on a silver platter in return.
“Yeah?” Beau wasn’t even a smidge apologetic in his demeanor. In fact, he was pretty much the opposite and stood his ground with his chin held high as he faced off with Cody.
“I don’t appreciate your little protests during our meetings,” Cody bit. “Look, I don’t care who you fuck in your free time, but keep your personal bullshit to yourself. It’s got no place on this team. You understand?”
Beau let out a humorless chuckle, hands balling into fists by his side. “I’m not sleeping with her.”
“Who the fuck are you tryin’ to fool, huh? Everyone knows you’re hanging out in her room every night. It’s a small motel,” Cody provoked with a mocking smirk.
“I’m her friend. I’m looking out for her,” Beau snarled through gritted teeth.
“Oh, unlike me? Are you insinuating I put my agents in danger? ‘Cause then we have an entirely different problem,” Cody barked, the muscles in his neck and arms tensing. “Maybe it’s best I partner up with her for a couple of weeks till you’ve cooled off enough, Arlen.”
Beau scoffed, laughing darkly. It was the last straw before he decided to throw his inhibitions out the window. “Oh, I’m sure you’d love that, wouldn’t you?”
Cody took a step closer and huffed, their faces only mere inches apart from one another. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I think you know.”
One corner of Cody’s lip twitched in amusement. “Let’s make one thing clear here. The only reason you’re down here is ‘cause Y/N vouched for you. If it were solely up to me, I would’ve never let your sorry, drunk ass come down here in the first place. My patience with you is slowly running out. One more strike and I’m sending you back home to the wifey, and you can kiss your side piece goodbye. Got it?” he threatened as the two men glowered at each other. “Now, get the fuck out of my office. You’re off duty for the next few days till you’ve got your head screwed back on straight.”
Clenching his jaw, Beau spun towards the door and furiously kicked a trash can on his way out.
Peeking his head inside Randy’s hospital room, Beau found you sitting by your husband’s bedside. He figured you had spent your day here and had given you till the late afternoon to catch up before he decided to check in on his old partner, too.
The two of you were chatting with smiles on your faces, although yours looked a bit sadder and more subdued than Randy’s. As both of you noticed Beau, the conversation halted. Randy sent him a smile, while your brow creased into the familiar angry pattern. If looks could kill, you were surely aiming your daggers at his heart.
“Hey.” Beau smiled hesitantly at you two and remained close to the door in case he needed to flee quickly. It was always good to have an exit strategy in mind.
“Hey, man.” Randy gave him a nod, his mood a little more dampened than the night before. “They’re letting me out today. No major injuries or head traumas, just a couple of bruises. I can go home later this evening.”
“That’s great. Glad you’re okay.” Beau forced a smile, guilt settling in his stomach that he couldn’t be happier for Randy. His best friend was alive and well. It should’ve been cause for celebration, and yet, he wanted to get stupidly drunk for a different reason.
Randy then looked at you, his brow slightly creasing. “Uh, babe, where’s home, by the way? Did you move to Montana, too?”
You giggled lightly. “Uh, no, I have an apartment in Texas.”
His brow furrowed a little more. “Apartment?”
“Oh, uh, yeah, I kinda sold the house,” you told him. “It’s just… after you were, uhm… gone, I couldn’t really stay there anymore. I’m sorry. But, uhm, you can stay at my place.”
For a little while, you thought but refrained from saying that part. What were you supposed to do? Kick him out after you sold his home? Instead, you made a mental note to ask Carla about the proceeds of the house as well. You still had enough left in your saving’s account that easily covered his share. And suddenly, it dawned on you that this began to feel like a divorce.
“Oh.” Randy was quiet for a moment before he sent you a small smile and squeezed your hand. “It’s alright. We can start over, okay?”
Randy was sweet and had tried to take everything you’ve told him so far in stride, but you could tell he began struggling a bit with all the changes. When you came by this morning, he seemed less relaxed and more anxious than the night before.
“I guess, yeah.” You compelled a smile onto your face. You hated lying to him. You hated to pretend the two of you were just going to sail off into the sunset together. But you didn’t want to crush his heart. He’d always been good to you, making you wonder what was wrong with you for not wanting him back. But one look at the green-eyed sheriff by the door answered that question for you. “I-, uhm, I’ll check with the nurse about your discharge and get a coffee refill. I’ll be back soon, okay?”
“Yeah, sure, sweetheart.” Randy gave you a nod and watched you leave, brushing past Beau on your way out.
Beau shared a brief look with you, checking if you were okay, and then rested his palms on the rail of the bed’s footboard. He tried to seem as natural as possible in a situation like this. “So, how are ya holdin’ up?”
“Uh, good, I guess,” Randy replied with a little sigh, his hazel eyes still transfixed on the door where you had walked through.
“Now, that doesn’t sound like the Randy I know,” Beau noted half-jokingly, although he knew what was on his friend’s mind. The same thing that was on his – you.
“Yeah, guess we’re all a little different now, huh?” Randy mumbled pensively. “She seems… distant.”
“Uhm, just give her time, okay? Was a lot on her, too,” Beau said, but he wasn’t sure time was the answer. He could see you struggling as soon as he had strolled into the room, trying your hardest to uphold a crumbling façade.
He started to slowly regret this morning’s decision. One day without you already felt like hell. How was he supposed to survive the rest of his life?
“You two have gotten close, huh?”
Randy’s question was a lightning bolt to Beau’s chest, jolting him awake. He swallowed subtly, thinking about his answer. “Uh, yeah, a little… We’ve spent some time together when we worked on that task force in Mexico.”
“Well, I’m glad she had you. Thanks for taking care of her,” Randy said, smiling, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
“Uh, yeah, sure.” Adding ‘You would’ve done the same thing’ didn’t seem right in this instance, however.
“You-, uh, you know if she’s seeing anyone?”
The question whipped the air from Beau’s lungs and stole the ground beneath his boots. If Randy was aiming to give him a coronary this afternoon, he was succeeding. “I-, uhm, I’m not sure. Not that I know of, but I don’t think it’s anything you need to worry about.”
That was a good answer, right? And it was sort of the truth. Even if it was killing everything inside of him, he’d stick to the words he’d said to you this morning – he was bowing out of the race. In fact, he considered himself never even been in the race in the first place. Randy didn't have competition. End of discussion.
But Randy didn’t seem to think so, apparently. He scoffed a humorless chuckle and licked his lips. “You two are good liars. I’ll give you that.”
Beau’s green eyes widened. He could guess where this was going, but he knew for certain you hadn’t told Randy. That whole thing screamed psychotic witch, and he only knew one person who fit that ammo – currently locked up in a holding cell at the station.
“Randy, I don’t know what you think, but–”
Randy’s laugh of disbelief interrupted his sorry excuse of a deflection, however. “You really wanna tell me there’s nothing going on between you two? Really? That’s how you wanna play this? I think you owe me a little more than that.”
Beau nodded and rubbed his mouth with his palm. “Yeah, you’re right. I do owe you more than that.”
“So, it’s true?”
Beau swallowed down the thick lump in his throat and met his former partner’s eyes. “Yes. How did you find out?”
“That crazy psycho lady told me,” Randy said and confirmed Beau’s theory, the tears brimming in his brown eyes as he spoke. “I didn’t wanna believe it at first, because, well, it’s you and… her. So then, she showed me a video. Was pretty convincing... But me being a fucking idiot, I still didn't quite buy it, you know? Well, till I saw you two yesterday. Couldn't have been more obvious...”
Beau squeezed his eyes shut for a moment as the words sank in, but then his brow furrowed, something heavy falling into his gut. “What-, uh, what video?”
“I guess if I had to describe it, I’d say it showed you fucking my wife on a desk,” Randy said bluntly and almost hysterically laughed at the outlandishness of it all. “I’d check my office for cameras if I were you, by the way.”
Beau was shocked into silence, muscles frozen in place. He would’ve told Randy eventually, when things had settled enough and the two of you had decided together it was time. But he should’ve known Diane wouldn’t go down quietly and just float to prison. She took pleasure out of torture.
“Speechless, wow.” Randy whistled in mock. He was seething, clearly having held onto his anger for a while now. “How long till you moved in on her, huh? Was my empty casket even in the ground yet?”
“Look, it wasn’t like that,” Beau defended the unwarranted accusation, feeling his own anger start to simmer as well. Even if Randy was angry, he should know better than that. Their friendship had meant something once, and Beau would’ve never betrayed it like that if Randy had been alive and still around.
“So, in your office, that was a one time slip-up?” Randy lifted a brow, and for a moment, Beau could see a sliver of hope in his brown eyes. If it had just been a one-time thing in the heat of the moment, something that could be forgotten and discarded once it turned cold, he would’ve been able to forgive both of you.
But Beau couldn’t lie to him any longer. “No,” he stated earnestly. “We’ve been datin’ on and off for about two years now. First time ‘round, we’ve been together for a little over twelve months before we broke things off. We didn’t see each other for almost a year when I moved here, but we’ve, uhm, recently rekindled things, as people might say. But we waited more than a year after your funeral. There was nothin’ rushed about it, alright?”
Randy scoffed bitterly. “Wow, a whole year, huh? Glad I have a friend like you.”
“Randy–” Beau sighed deeply and ran a palm over his face.
“What, huh? You’re gonna tell me you’re fucking sorry?”
Thoughtfully, Beau pursed his lips for a heartbeat but then shook his head. “No,” he stated firmly, Randy’s brow raising in surprise. “Look, I am sorry that I hurt you, but I’m not sorry for what happened between me and Y/N. I love her.”
Randy's gaze drifted out the window as he ground his jaw. It was tensely silent for a moment. “Does she love you?”
Hesitantly and unsurely, Beau still nodded. “I think so, yeah.” At his response, Randy scoffed in incredulity. “But look, like I said, you got nothin’ to worry about. I already told Y/N I’m out. I’m backing down, alright? She’s all yours, man.”
“She’s always been mine,” Randy gritted. “And thanks for your fucking charity. What a hero! But I don’t need it, you got it? I want her to make the decision. I don’t want her to fucking pick me by default ‘cause y’all feel sorry for me.”
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Randy,” Beau warned cautiously.
“What, why? You actually think she’s gonna pick you over me?” Randy snorted a mocking chuckle. “I’m her husband. You’re the fucking rebound. You’re the guy that just happened to be there when she was fucking sad and then took advantage of her.”
“I’m cuttin’ you a lot of slack here, but you better take that back,” Beau snarled with flaring nostrils.
“Or what? You gonna punch me? Leave me to die again? Fuck my wife?” Randy challenged. “News flash – you’ve already done your worst… It’s true, though. You’re the fucking second choice. She’s never gonna pick you!”
“She already did!” Beau yelled explosively and bit his tongue immediately after, watching Randy’s face fall.
“What’s going on here?”
The men’s eyes fell on you as you appeared in the room and blinked at them in confusion. You had overheard parts of their conversation since both of them shouted so loudly it echoed all the way back to the nurses’ station.
“He knows,” Beau informed you quietly and shared a sideways look with you. “Diane told him.”
“Uh…” You stumped, your mouth falling open. Another part of you, though, scolded you for not anticipating this. This had been Diane’s real ace, hadn’t it? Bringing Randy back from the dead was just a small part of it.
“You need to make a choice, Y/N,” Randy demanded, his features stern. In all the years you'd known him and been married to him, you'd never seen him this upset.
“Randy, just leave her alone. Now’s not the time,” Beau argued firmly.
“Yes, now’s the time,” Randy insisted, his brow knitting into even more furious creases. “What are you now, her white knight?”
“Would you shut the fuck up already?”
“Would you shut the fuck up? I’m tryna talk to my wife here!”
“You’re not her fucking husband anymore!”
“Well, you’re not her fucking boyfriend!” Randy yelled snappily and then looked at you again. “Who’s it gonna be, huh? Me or him?”
“For fuck’s sake, Randy! Stop pressuring her and give her a fucking moment!”
“Oh, I forgot! You know her so well now!”
“A blind person can see she’s struggling, you self-centered ass!”
“I’m self-centered? What about you, you–”
“No one! I pick no one!” you shouted between their bickering, the two men finally falling silent. You looked at Randy with tears stinging your eyes. You could barely see the heartbreak and anger on his face through your blurred vision. “Are you fucking happy now?” Disappointedly, you gave a shrug of your shoulders and bolted out of the room.
“Are you happy? ‘Cause I damn well hope you are. Got your fucking decision, man,” Beau retorted.
“Fuck you.”
Beau only shook his head in response and scoffed, leaving the room in search of you.
It mattered how you felt.
Chapter 11: You With Me
Did that conversation go as you'd expected? I think even Carla is secretly voting for Beau 😂
Next week, Diane's back with more shenanigans... 👀
Join the TAG LIST here! 🌌
Wanna sponsor my caffeine addiction? ☕️
First, I just want to say I hope you and the family are feeling better. Covid is no fun (legit wiped me out a few months ago), so hope you are all doing ok now!
“I can’t do this. We can’t do this…”
Oh no, Beau, don't do this. Don't push her away. Let her make up her own mind of who she wants to be with!
Oh, she doesn't want to go see Randy!
The thing was, though, you didn’t want to even try.
Sounds like Beau really came to the wrong conclusion in all his overthinking.
Running into Carla again before coffee, she seems to be making a bit of a habit of that. At least it was a relatively friendly meeting.
That conversation with Emily...
“Don’t leave Dad,” she told you, her brown eyes pleading. She was giving you the full puppy dog look, and all you could think about was how much she resembled her father like this. “He’s finally happy and like the dad I used to know again.
That tugs on the heart strings.
Donno...
"Is he a zombie?"
“If he is, you need to smash his brain. Only way to kill ‘em,” Donno informed you helpfully.
“You’re welcome. I’m good at smashing brains. Just call if you need my help.” Donno gave you an oddly crooked smile. “Aren’t you dating the sheriff? Is that true?”
"Want to hear my vote?"
“Sheriff Arlen once throat-punched me. He’s very strong. Good build. Like a warrior,” Donno noted. “He could probably kill a zombie. I’d pick him.”
“Again, you’re welcome.”
😂😂 Donno. I read this hearing him saying that! So, in character, I love how you captured him!
Uh-oh Randy knows!
"That crazy psycho lady told me,"
Of course she did!!
Well, that discussion between Beau and Randy went about as well as expected.
Randy's really pushing hard for an answer, isn't he?! At least this time, Beau could she how much she was struggling with the situation.
I'm not surprised she said she picked neither of them after how Beau acted this morning, and Randy acted just then.
Beau only shook his head in response and scoffed, leaving the room in search of you.
Much better now, thank you! We've escaped Covid for four years now, but guess now it got us too. The exhaustion was wild, though 😮💨 I had more energy after childbirth. Wild 😂
Anyways, let's jump into this craziness 🤪👇
Oh no, Beau, don't do this. Don't push her away. Let her make up her own mind of who she wants to be with!
Sounds like Beau really came to the wrong conclusion in all his overthinking.
Yep, he was definitely wrong 🙈 And honestly, I think he knew it too. Subconsciously, Beau kind of ignored her feelings a little because he wanted to do the right thing so badly, not hurt his best friend etc. Plus, all the guilt and responsibility he carried for Randy's "death" played a role as well. I do believe Beau wouldn't have hesitated a second and fought for her if her husband had been any other guy on the planet 😂
But yeah, I felt like a part of him would've wanted to save his friendship with Randy too 🤷♀️
Carla was downright nice and welcoming for her standards lmao But ooof, the convo with Emily was hard to write, but I always felt like she'd fight for her dad and would want him to be happy ❤️🩹
😂😂 Donno. I read this hearing him saying that! So, in character, I love how you captured him!
Absolutely my favorite to write in this whole chapter! I wish I could've used him more because all his lines on the show were always gloriously hilarious 😂
Well, that discussion between Beau and Randy went about as well as expected.
Ikr? The fact they know each other so well probably doesn't help either lol
Randy's really pushing hard for an answer, isn't he?! At least this time, Beau could she how much she was struggling with the situation.
I'm not surprised she said she picked neither of them after how Beau acted this morning, and Randy acted just then.
Randy definitely had some kind of a breakdown, but I still can't blame him in the least. It's one thing to hear about your best friend and (ex)wife(widow) and actually seeing all the gory details of it (thanks Diane!) 😅
And yes, luckily, Beau realized his good intentions went too far and he can't force her to feel a certain way...
In my head, she still picked Beau (because we already know her true feelings when she went after him the night before), but she didn't say it in the moment as not to hurt Randy more. She'd probably want him to be calmer for that conversation, knowing he'd need a little time to sit with it. Hurt people hurt people ❤️🩹
Blurb: When the residents of this Earth found out that they were but a draft in God's numerous stories, they decided to make noise in hopes that their creator would return. Nothing can be louder than the begs of the powerless, the cackles of the ruthless, or the unending destruction left in the wake of the most merciless wars any universe can ever see—here the bloodshed never ends. So, tell me how can two young soulmates, then, find love's shade of red under all this crimson gore?
Summary: Dean and Y/N. Oil and water. Dean pretty much hated you from the beginning. You were snobbish and bookish. He was no better in your book, but when you get hurt you see a different side to the salty hunter. Maybe he isn't so bad after all...
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader, Dean x Reader, Dean x You
Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Reader
Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, fluff
Word Count: 3660
One Shot
Author’s Notes: It's been a rough week guys, so here is a fluffy, sexy little one shot to make you feel better. It made me feel better.... but then, Dean always does.
Dean Winchester, the cure for what ails you!
Masterlist
Sam was sitting at the kitchen table, his morning smoothie in one hand and his morning paper in the other. Sam loved a routine. The life of a hunter was pure chaos most of the time it was easy to become unbalanced, physically and mentally. The youngest Winchester discovered a long time ago that if he kept to a personal routine that he could ground himself in it. It provided a solid foundation to build his life on and to Sam Winchester, that was vital.
Since finding the bunker, it became much easier to establish a daily routine. Dean called it nesting and although he didn’t get up with his brother to go running, he too had his routine. Shuffle half asleep through the bunker until he reached the galley. Grumble as he filled his favorite Scooby Doo coffee mug with strong, black coffee. Furrow his brow and scowl at anyone who dared talk to him before he drained his second cup. Rinse, repeat.
Right on schedule, the eldest brother entered the kitchen looking like a bear woken early from hibernation. He grunted a hello as he passed, heading right for the caffeine. Dean leaned against the counter and closed his eyes as he took sip after sip of black gold.
After a few minutes, he looked over at Sam who had that amused smirk on his face. “What?”
Sam turned back to his paper, feigning disinterest, “Nothing. Rough night?”
“My night was fine; my morning was crap.”
Sam knew exactly what his brother was grumpy about but decided to poke at him a bit. Just for his own brotherly amusement, “Oh?”
Dean glared at his brother, “Don’t give me that, I know you heard it.”
“Heard what?”
“Damn it, Sammy… The damned Hallelujah chorus coming from the showers!”
“It wasn’t Hallelujah. It was Respect.”
“It was five in the fucking morning! If Aretha Franklin doesn’t come back from the dead and kill her, I will!”
Sam sighed. This was just the latest on Dean’s long list of infractions committed by their houseguest. Dean and Y/N. Oil and water. Opposites in practically every way, which is exactly why they needed her to part of their team. They needed a fresh perspective, and you provided one that was both educated and creative. You weren’t a hunter, but you had a smattering of relatives in the life. You grew up knowing what was really out there and you took it upon yourself to stay informed. You didn’t go looking for trouble, but it seemed to find you anyway.
“Dean, just talk to her, like a reasonable adult. She’s really not so bad once you get to know her.”
Dean was already on his second cup of coffee, “I already know plenty. She’s a stuck-up, tone deaf, know-it-all who uses all the hot water. The sooner we finish this case, the sooner we can send her happy little ass on her way.”
Sam didn’t reply. He knew his brother and this “protests too much” act, was just that. An Act. Dean had it bad for their new roommate and didn’t even know it. Poor bastard.
Dean glanced around the room, “Speaking of her highness, where is she?”
“Walking the dog.”
“Hmm, the dog can stay. I like the dog.”
The loud slam of the heavy, bunker door echoed through the halls along with muffled voices. One they recognized as yours, the other was agitated, and male.
They exchanged a what the hell look and immediately took off towards the commotion.
“What is this place? It does not look like a temple.”
“It’s not a temple, exactly. It’s a temple of knowledge, sort of. A home base,” you explained for what seemed like the hundredth time. Your patience was growing thin. Your clothes were torn and muddy and you ached everywhere. This morning really wasn’t going your way.
“It does seem secure,” the man allowed.
“It is,” you assured him. “It’s very secure. Completely safe, so you can just put me down…”
From the entry way came the voice of the most irritating man you’d ever met, Dean Winchester. “Wow, nice skirt.”
The huge, muscular man who held you in his arms immediately went on the defense. In an astonishingly swift move, he shifted you from his two arms and tossed you over his shoulder with one hand while he drew a broadsword from his belt with the other. “Stay back or I will cut you where you stand!”
Both brothers drew their guns and you found yourself in the middle of a damned stand off!
“Drop it, Tiny!” Dean barked, keeping his weapon trained on the giant that was standing in the war room. Seriously, the guy must be almost eight foot tall. He was big enough to be Andre the Giant’s brother and was dressed like an extra from the movie 300.
With you hanging over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, Dean could only see your backside and legs. Not a bad view, he had to admit.
Nice ass, for a prissy snob.
“Put down the girl,” Sam commanded. “We don’t want to hurt you.”
The intruder laughed then; a full-on belly laugh that shook his whole mighty frame. “Hurt me? You are weaklings, obviously suited to temple work. You know nothing of combat.”
Dean’s mouth quirked and he cocked his gun, “You’d be surprised.”
You were growing more exasperated by the second. The blood was properly rushing to your head now, making you dizzy and giving you a headache. Plus, you’d really just had it with the machismo showdown. “Just stop it, all of you! These are my friends, the ones I mentioned earlier. The warriors I told you about.”
The man looked skeptical, “These are warriors?”
“Yes, they are. These are the good guys. So please, just put me down.”
He made no move to accommodate you, “Friends, perhaps but they are no warriors. You would do well to entrust your safety to me, lady. I am the one true champion.”
You’d finally had it. You smacked his back sharply and let out a stream of rapid, scalding Latin.
The Winchesters knew plenty of the dead language, but even they didn’t quite catch what you said. Whatever it was, it proved effective. The stranger sheathed his sword, pulled you from his shoulder and sat you slowly down in a chair.
Red faced, you shoved the mess of hair out of your eyes. You sat a little straighter and tried to remain dignified. “Sam and Dean Winchester, this is… Hercules.”
They both holstered their weapons. Sam spoke first, instantly fascinated. “No kidding, really?”
Dean seemed more concerned with you. He scowled down at you, his eyes darting from injury to injury. You had tears up and down the sleeves of your shirt that showed scratches still bleeding. Your right cheek and temple were scraped up and you were holding you left ankle off the ground at an odd angle.
“What happened, are you alright?”
His tone was gruff and impatient, and he frown was intense. You knew he didn’t like you any more than you liked him, but was a little sympathy too much to ask? You already felt like you got your ass kicked, you didn’t need to be scolded on top of it.
“She is injured and should be attended to at once,” said Hercules, his voice ringing with authority.
“I’m fine, I just fell.”
“I found her trapped at the bottom of a crude pit in the forest. Once I rescued her, I brought her to this fortress as she requested.” Hercules looked around the bunker in wonder, “She said this was a place of safety.”
“It is,” Sam said.
Dean knelt down in front of you, prodding around leg and ankle, earning a hiss of pain from you. You tried to push him away but were unsuccessful. You were tired now that the adrenaline was fading. All you wanted was a hot bath and a bed.
“There are about a dozen holes out by the south bend of the river. Not very wide, but like seven feet deep, the riverbank looks like a Whack-A-Mole game,” you explained. “He just popped up out of nowhere and scared the crap out of me! I fell down one of the holes and twisted my ankle.”
“You never should have been wandering the woods unescorted.” The massive hero folded his arms over his chest and gave each brother a firm dressing down, “Where I come from, no warrior would allow their lady to face the dangers of the world with nothing but a useless hound to defend her!”
Macey, your clueless black Labrador, suddenly looked up from her station at the base of the stairs and thumped her tail.
“Y/N, why didn’t you call us?” asked Sam.
“I lost my phone when I fell down that stupid hole.”
Dean had heard enough. With a grunt of annoyance, he scooped you up and strode off towards the infirmary, “Come on, let’s get you patched up.”
Left with little choice, you reluctantly wrapped your arms around Dean’s neck. You felt frustrated and foolish. You were supposed to be here helping them, adding insight, and providing expertise. Now you looked like an incompetent klutz who had to be rescued all the time. Plus, this was the third phone you’d lost. Add irresponsible to the list of faults.
“I perfectly capable of patching myself up.”
“Yeah, how you going to do that? That ankle is either sprained or broken. Either way, you aren’t going anywhere without help.” Dean gently set you down on one of the beds. He fixed you with a firm look, “Why don’t you just accept it without a bunch of static for once?”
He had a point, but you didn’t have to like it. That strong independent streak in you ran deep and had been reinforced by years of working alone. It had gotten you through every uncertain situation in your life. A small part of you felt that accepting help, even for something simple meant losing your hard-won strength. Of course, the throbbing pain in your ankle didn’t seem so small at the moment.
Dean returned with an arm full of supplies. The mattress dipped under his weight as he sat beside you. When he reached for your right foot, you instantly yanked it back. His eyes snapped up to meet yours and he softened. He may not like you, but he still didn’t like seeing you in pain.
Someone doesn’t like going to the doctor.
“Y/N, you alright?”
You nodded rapidly, “Yes, of course. Sorry. Reflex.”
“We’ve got to take that boot off. See if its broken.” At your nod, he gingerly grasped your leg, “Try not to kick me, okay?”
“No promises,” you breathed, trying to keep your voice steady while Dean worked to loosen the laces of your hiking boot.
When he went to slowly tug at the heel, you yelped and yanked your foot back again. Obviously, he needed a different approach. “You know, maybe it’s not your ankle that’s bothering you.”
You blinked in confusion, “What? What do you mean?”
“It’s me. I make you nervous.”
Your denial was swift and expected. “No you don’t!”
He cocked an eyebrow at you, “You’re not nervous?”
“No. Of course not. Even if I were, it wouldn’t be due to you. Hercules himself is sitting in the library, another mystery dropped in our laps needing to be solved. If I’m feeling anxious, its only because I’m eager to get back to work.”
Dean shrugged, “I thought maybe you were worried I was going to kiss you again. Or maybe you were worried I wouldn’t”
Your mind instantly snapped back to that hazy day in the kitchen, Dean’s lips on yours as his hands tangled in your hair. His hard body pressing up against you as he backed you up against the wall. Every part of him that touched you burned hot; his fingers, his lips, his tongue, his breath as it mingled with yours. He ignited a fire within you that day, and it had been smoldering ever since.
You swallowed unconsciously and met his gaze. A mistake. Your cheeks heated at the intent you saw reflected there. “Don’t be ridiculous. I haven’t given it a second thought.”
The corner of his mouth quirked, “Really? You didn’t like it then?”
Dean’s hand was back on your leg, resting there. You could feel the warmth of his touch through your pant leg and your heart sped up. “I didn’t say that.”
He grinned then, slowly. Dangerous and sexy. He leaned a bit closer to her as his hand slid up behind your knee, the contact unexpectedly intimate.
You took an unsteady breath, “I know you’re just trying to distract me.”
His eyes dropped to your mouth, “Is that a fact?’
“Yes, you do it all the time! Strutting around the bunker like your God’s gift to flannel, making bacon 24/7, and you talk through every episode of Doctor Who!”
“God’s gift, huh?”
“Ugh!” You pushed at his shoulder in frustration, “You are so annoying! Arrogant and rude and I don’t like you at all!”
The fire in your normally calm eyes was fascinating.
Man, she is fun to rile up! Such an easy mark too. Odd, given how perceptive you were in pretty much all other areas.
“Yeah, I’m getting that.” In one swift move, he pulled the heel of your boot, popped it off and slid your foot out.
You dug your fingers into Dean’s arms and let out a stream of colorful curse words. “Christ almighty!”
Dean chuckled until he saw your face blanche, “You alright?”
“No! Why don’t you just chop off my foot, you sadist!” You screwed your eyes shut against the wave of pain. Now that your boot wasn’t keeping pressure, it was hurting far worse. “Fuck, I’m seeing stars.”
You could feel him get up and when you opened your eyes again, he was already returning from across the room. He held out three small white pills and a glass of water. You swallowed them quickly and downed the entire glass. You watched him as he cut away your sock and expose your injury.
“Pretty shade of purple,” Dean whistled as he ran his fingers over the already turning colors and swelling around your ankle bone. Ever so gently, he probed, searching for a break. “Alright, go ahead and move it for me.”
Trying to ignore the pain, Y/N concentrated on Dean’s face. There was kindness there, under the swagger and grit. The man chopped the heads off monsters, battled demons and fought evil every day of the week. By rights, his touch should be rough, hardened by the hunter’s life. Instead, he was the opposite. Studying his chiseled features, it became clear that Dean Winchester’s true appeal was in how deeply he cared.
“Good girl,” he praised when you wiggled your toes, “Any numbness, pins and needles?”
You shook your head when he glanced up at you, “No.”
“Good. Nothing broken. Looks like you’ve got yourself a nasty sprain.” Dean made quick work of wrapping her ankle. “How’s that feel?”
“Better.”
He smiled as he settled an ice pack on top of the wrap and moved on to the scratches up and down your arms. “Huh, yeah. Gotta love those little pills, they kick in quick.”
You tilted your head, “Those pills… Ibuprofen?”
Dean dabbed disinfectant along the cuts, “No. I don’t remember what they are. Had a few left over from when Sam broke his elbow. Guess it’s your lucky day.”
Y/N grabbed his hand, “Wait, so they weren’t just run of the mill, over the counter pain killers?”
He chuckled, “Nope, way better, believe me.”
“Oh, hells bells,” you groaned. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“What? What’s wrong? Are you allergic?”
“I’m a lightweight Dean, I don’t even drink! Those pills will have me knocked out in an hour!”
Dean shrugged and continued his work, “Ah well, there are worse things.”
You could already feel your body relaxing, though you tried to resist. Fighting it would be useless in the end; it was just the way your body processed drugs of any kind. Naptime, it was so frustrating. “What about Hercules?”
“Don’t worry about your boyfriend, I’m sure Sam already has it halfway figured out by now.” Dean dabbed the cotton ball over the thin scratch angling across your brow. Your glassy eyes met his and he had to smile. “You really are a lightweight, aren’t you?”
You frowned at him, “Why do you think I never drink with you guys?”
“I just figured you were stuck up.”
“Oh.”
Dean could tell by the way your expression fell that he’d hurt your feelings. He could chop the heads off monsters all day long and not feel an ounce of remorse, but he couldn’t stand the thought of hurting you. Words had the power to cut deeper than any machete or silver blade.
“Sorry,” he cleared his throat and rummaged through the bandage box. “It’s just you don’t really spend any time with us unless its working. Figured that was intentional.”
“Why would I force social interactions on someone who doesn’t like me?” You returned; your words blunt. “That would be stupid and counterproductive.”
“Fair point,” he grunted as he gently placed a clean, white bandage over the biggest cut. “I don’t not like you though. I like you.”
At this point, you were really having trouble concentrating. Even the tiny muscles of your eyelids were turning to mush. It was all you could do to keep your concentration, but Dean had been an ass to you since day one. You weren’t about to let this opportunity to find out why pass you by.
“Then why are you such a dick to me?”
“I’m not a dick! Not all the time.”
It struck you then, God you were thick! Your jaw dropped, “Wait! Is that why you’re a dick? Because you like me?!”
Flustered, he got up and packed away the first aid supplies. “Those little pills really are messing with your head.”
“I’m right! This is like the grumpy hunter’s equivalent of pulling my pigtails on the playground!” You grinned widely because you solved the puzzle, “You’re flirting with me!”
He returned to the side of the bed and looked down at you with an unreadable look on his face. In a lightning-fast move, he swooped down and lifted you into his arms. Your face was now inches from his, his bottle-green eyes bored into yours with such intensity that your stomach fluttered.
“When I flirt with you, you’ll know it.”
This time your gaze flickered down to his lips. God, I hope he kisses me again!
“I like you too,” you admitted, your words slurring slightly. “I guess I just like dicks.”
Dean burst into laughter and your eyes widened when you realized what you’d just said.
“Damn it! Not like that! I mean… I do like them… but…just,” You sputtered, frustrated that you ruined the mood. “Shut up!”
Dean continued to chuckle as he carried you down the hall to your room. You grew heavier as you relaxed in his grasp, and you rested your head against his shoulder with a sigh. Those happy, little pills nearly had you asleep in his arms. Not that he minded, you fit surprisingly well there. And you smelled amazing. It was that expensive perfume you wore, light and clean. It made his mouth water.
“I’m making your coffee Irish tomorrow; you are one funny drunk.”
You only hummed in response. He nudged the door to your room open with his hip and laid you down on your neatly made bed. He took one of your throw pillows and propped up your wrapped ankle before removing the boot from your other foot.
Your eyes fluttered back open when he took the spare quilt from your chair and tucked it around you. Your smile was soft as you grasped his hand and tugged him down to sit beside you on the bed.
“You got everything you need, Sweetheart?”
You nodded while your thumb traced patterns across his knuckles. “Thank you, Dean. For taking care of me.”
He leaned down and kissed your forehead. A delightful combination of warm, soft lips and prickly stubble. “Get some sleep, Y/N. You’ll feel better when you wake up.”
Just as he was about to pull away, you angled your head up and caught his lips in a kiss. He was surprised but quickly smiled into it. Different than the kiss you shared in the kitchen; this one wasn’t hurried. It was gentle and exploratory, like a flower slowly opening up to the light of the sun. Dean had never received a kiss so tender. You kissed him like you meant it in your heart. It made him feel, special. Cherished.
When you finally drew back and let your head fall back against the pillow, you saw the look of pure astonishment on his face. You smiled, your eyes half-mast. “I feel better now.”
He brushed the hair back from your face, letting his fingers run through the silky strands. You were already drifting off; he shook his head. “Are you even going to remember this tomorrow?”
“Dunno,” you murmured, finally letting sleep take you. “But you will.”
Dean sat there for several minutes, considering your words as your breathing evened out and became slow and deep. He did like you, far more than he should. You weren’t his type at all. You were prim and proper. You valued intelligent conversation and musty library books. You drank chamomile tea and wore fancy clothes. If anything, you were more Sam’s type. Classy. Ladylike. In that moment, the salty hunter realized two things. One, he wondered just how ladylike you were going to be lying naked beneath him. And two, he was in trouble. Big, big trouble.
I'd been thinking about doing something like this for a very long time. I haven't seen an appreciation/friendship post on here in a VERY long time. So, I'm doing a quick shout-out to my favorite blogs on here <3 love you all.
don't forget to tag your faves <3 keep the chain going!
