To show some love and appreciation for the amazing writers on here, here is a list of all the incredible stories I have read this month. If you get a chance please give them a read!
Many of these fics and blogs are 18+ only, and NSFW please heed the author's fic warnings and requests regarding no minors. I am not responsible for your media consumption.
Reading Recs Masterlist
Supernatural
Dean Winchester
Mutual Engagement @zepskies
Authors Summary: Let’s take it back to Day 1. Here's how you got the job at HunterCorp as Dean Winchester’s Executive Assistant, how you kept it, and the day your professionalism with him finally broke.
Alone Time @rizlowwritessortof
Authors Summary: You plan a weekend at the motel in town, needing some time to get a handle on your feelings for a certain green-eyed hunter. But guess who shows up at your door?
Sam Winchester
Melodies In The Sadness @castielscaplan
Authors Summary: Sam sees you're upset after a break up. He tries to cheer you up.
Tracker
Russell Shaw
Midnight Rhythms @waynes-multiverse
Authors Summary: Russell's been coming to your clinic for months now – always with a charming smile, food in his hands, and a question on his lips. You've always successfully thwarted his advances and stuck stubbornly to your professionalism till one night, he finally makes you listen to your heart.
Guardian @rizlowwritessortof
Authors Summary: Reenie Green is a close friend, and when you end up in a dangerous situation through no fault of your own, she calls the Shaw brothers, Colter and Russell, for help. Russell has always worked under the self-imposed rule that you do the job, then walk away. But since he met you, he's having a hard time letting this one go.
Big Sky
Beau Arlen
Polaris @waynes-multiverse
Authors 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.
Summary: Sam sees you're upset after a break up. He tries to cheer you up. [wc 877] [ao3]
Warnings: a break up, sad reader, angst, hurt/comfort
Request: @samanddeansannoyingsis Can I get Sam Winchester with reader who listens to sad music until she makes herself sad and doesn't want to stop listening to the music despite Sam telling her that's why she's sad.
A/N: we're going to ignore the fact it's late af, please.
Sam had seen a lot of strange coping mechanisms in his life. This was… up there. You were curled sideways on the motel bed, headphones on, phone in your hand, staring at nothing in particular like you were in a very committed relationship with emotional devastation.
From the tiny leak of your earbuds, Sam could hear it. Slow piano. Sad vocals. The kind of song that sounded like apologizing to someone who was already gone. Again.
“Hey,” Sam said gently from the chair across the room. No response. You just adjusted your position like the bed itself had personally offended you. He tried again. “You’ve been on this playlist for, like… an hour.”
A beat.
Then, without looking at him, you fianlyl speak. “It’s a good playlist.”
Sam nodded slowly. “…yeah. I can hear that.” He stood up and walked over, sitting carefully on the edge of the bed.
You still didn’t take the headphones off. Which told him everything he needed to know.
“Okay,” he said, patient. “What’s going on?”
You shrugged. “Nothing.”
Sam gave you a look.
You sighed dramatically and turned your head slightly toward him, one ear still blasting emotional ruin directly into your nervous system. “I’m fine.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I am.”
“Sure.”
You went back to staring at the wall like it owed you money.
Sam leaned a little closer. “Is this about the music?”
Your eyes flicked to him briefly. “…no.”
The song in your ears immediately hit a particularly tragic chorus. Your face did not help your argument.
Sam sighed softly. “You know sad music makes you more sad, right?”
You narrowed your eyes slightly. “No it doesn’t.”
“Yes it does.”
“It’s just music.”
“Babe—”
You shot him a look.
Sam paused. “…sorry. Habit.”
He tried a different angle. “Can you at least take the headphones off for a minute?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
You hesitated. Then, very seriously, “Because I need it.”
Sam blinked. “Need it for what?”
You looked away again. “…to process.”
Sam nodded slowly, like he was trying not to smile. “Process what?”
A pause. “…everything.”
There it was. Honest. Messy. Very you.
Sam shifted a little closer, resting his forearms on his knees. “Okay,” he said gently. “But… you realize the playlist is kind of… steering that, right?”
You frowned. “No it’s not.”
“It literally is.”
“It’s helping.”
“It’s making you sadder.”
You paused. “…I know.”
Sam softened immediately. Because that was the thing about you—stubborn, yes, but not unaware. Just… stuck. He reached out carefully and tapped your headphones lightly. “Can I?” he asked.
You hesitated. Then, reluctantly, you pulled one ear off. Just one. Progress. The sudden quiet made the room feel bigger. Weirder. Less protected.
Sam spoke softly. “I’m not saying you can’t feel stuff,” he said. “You always can.”
You glanced at him.
“But you don’t have to… amplify it.”
You made a small face. “It’s not amplification.”
Sam raised a brow.
The faint sound leaking from your remaining earbud immediately swelled into another heartbreak ballad like it was proving his point.
He huffed a quiet laugh. “That song sounds like it’s actively trying to ruin your day.”
“It understands me.”
“Yeah,” Sam said. “That’s the problem.”
You tugged the other headphone down a little more. “…it’s just easier than thinking,” you admitted.
That landed differently.
He didn’t tease you this time. Didn’t argue. Just nodded. “Yeah,” he said softly. “I get that.” A beat. Then he added, gentler, “But staying in it doesn’t mean you’re processing it. It just means you’re… stuck in it with a soundtrack.”
You looked at him for a long moment. Then down at your phone. The playlist was still going. Still trying very hard to emotionally ruin you on schedule.
“…so what, I just stop?” you asked.
Sam shook his head. “No,” he said. “You swap it out.”
You frowned. “For what?”
Sam thought for a second. Then nudged your shoulder lightly. “…something worse.”
You stared at him. “What does that even mean?”
He grinned slightly. “Angry music. Something you can yell at. Something that lets you get it out instead of sinking into it.”
That got a reluctant laugh out of you. “…you want me to rage instead of be sad?”
“Honestly?” Sam said. “Yes. You’re way more productive when you’re mad.”
“Wow.”
“I mean that in a loving way.”
You sighed, but it was lighter now. After a moment, you finally pulled the headphones off completely. The silence that followed didn’t feel as heavy. Just… real.
Sam watched you carefully. “You okay?” he asked.
You paused. Then shrugged. "…less sad.”
“That counts,” he said immediately.
You glanced at him again. “…you’re really bad at letting me be dramatic.”
Sam smiled. “Yeah,” he admitted. “I’ve been told. I just don’t like watching you sit in it alone.”
That one stuck.
You reached over and nudged his knee with yours. “…fine,” you muttered. “No more sad music spiral.”
Sam raised a brow. “Really?”
You hesitated. “…at least not alone.”
Sam’s expression softened. “Deal,” he said.
And when he handed you his phone a minute later with a much louder, much angrier playlist queued up, you didn’t stop him.
Because somehow, that felt a lot more like getting out of it than staying in it ever did.
Sam had seen a lot of strange coping mechanisms in his life. This was… up there. You were curled sideways on the motel bed, headphones on, phone in your hand, staring at nothing in particular like you were in a very committed relationship with emotional devastation.
Ahh... a coping mechanism I'm very familiar with.
Loved this and I really loved Sam in this. It sounded just like him ❤️
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+, smut, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, law enforcement themes (incl. serial killers, kidnappings, cartels etc.), marital themes (incl. divorce, cheating etc.), general emotional turmoil & an unhealthy amount of flashbacks
A/N: Inspired by this little Dirty Drabble I wrote about our favorite sheriff comes a series full of sexy heartbreak and a look into Beau Arlen’s past. Buckle up and get ready for another emotional ride 🤍
Main Masterlist || Beau Arlen Masterlist || Tag List
Written for @storytellers-contest-tjac . Beta-read by @zepskies - thank you so much, Alex! And thank you to my bestie, @jensensgotyoudean - for your advice and ever-present support! Love you, mah Liz! 💖 Quotes on the header and at the end of the fic are lyrics from Silver Springs by Fleetwood Mac. Dividers by @firefly-graphics.
Reenie Green is a close friend, and when you end up in a dangerous situation through no fault of your own, she calls the Shaw brothers, Colter and Russell, for help. Russell has always worked under the self-imposed rule that you do the job, then walk away. But since he met you, he's having a hard time letting this one go.
Russell helped himself to another beer, plopping down next to the small table in Colter’s trailer. He leaned back against the wall, stretching his long legs out on the bench seat with a sigh. Personally, he didn’t know how his brother spent so much time in this tin can, but to each his own.
Colter’s phone began to ring, and Russell craned his neck to peer over at the screen. Reenie. He grinned to himself and grabbed the phone, swiping to put her on speaker. “Reenie! How’s it going?”
“Russell? Why are you answering Colter’s phone?”
“Well, he happens to be in the shower at the moment, and I saw it was you, so – figured you’d want to say hi, anyway, right?”
Reenie could picture the cocky smirk on his face clearly, but she didn’t have time for their usual back and forth. “This is serious, Russell.”
He sat up straight, his demeanor immediately shifting. “Okay, got it. What do you need?”
“My client is in big trouble. Well, my friend – haven’t convinced her yet to be my client. Not the point.” She took a deep breath to calm herself before she went on. “The point is, she’s been kidnapped. Her brother called me a few minutes ago. He’s a computer whiz – a former hacker, actually – and some very bad people have been trying to recruit him. He’s been staying clear of them, but last night they took his sister, and they’re threatening to hurt her or kill her if he doesn’t do what they want him to do.”
“Does he know where they’re keeping her?”
“They’re holding her at his house. He’s afraid if he shows up there, they’ll force him into doing what they want and kill them both.”
Russell nodded, teeth worrying at his lower lip. “He’s probably not wrong. Can you send us the address?” Colter was out of the shower now, listening with a concerned frown as he stood there, towel around his waist.
“I will. Can you help?”
Colter looked at his brother, then nodded. “Yeah. Send us whatever info you’ve got. We’re on our way.”
Your eyes opened reluctantly, drifting closed again a few times before you managed to keep them open. Your head was pounding, your body ached, and – you were cold. Awareness slowly seeped in, and you managed to hold your head up, taking in your surroundings. Your pulse began to race as you realized you had no idea where you were.
You tried to move, but your arms were bound behind you, around the pole that you were propped against. It felt like a zip tie, and it dug painfully into your wrists as you tested it. The light was dim, but you could see that you were in a large, mostly empty room with a concrete floor. It was chilly against your legs, and you realized you were wearing the camisole and shorts that you had gone to bed in. No wonder you were cold.
The thought of shouting for help crossed your mind, but you quickly discarded it. The foggy memory of rough hands dragging you from your bed and covering your face with a rag told you the response wouldn’t be a friendly one. You could faintly hear male voices upstairs, and the sound of a TV. You bit your lips together, fighting panic and the tears that threatened. You needed to try to stay calm, be observant, and do what you had to do to make it through whatever was happening.
As your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you made out the shape of a bike against the far wall. Back in the corner was an old foosball table, a baseball bat leaning against it. It seemed familiar – and your eyes widened as you realized where you were – in your brother’s basement. You rested your head back against the pole and closed your eyes, a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. So Grant was in trouble, and you were obviously bait – or leverage.
You sat there for what seemed like forever, no indication of the hour, no windows to give a hint of what time of day it was. You had tried to work your hands free, but your wrists were rubbed raw and you had finally given up. No one had even bothered to come down and offer you water, or to take you to the bathroom. You had an awful feeling that they weren’t planning on keeping you alive.
A loud knock from the floor above startled you from the doze you had slipped into, and a loud, cheerful voice joined the other male voices you had heard previously. “Hey, is Grant around? Thought he might wanna join me and my brother to watch the game and have a few beers. Hi, I’m Russell, I was Grant’s roomie in college. I could tell you some stories.”
Your head hit the pole behind you with a dull thud, disappointment sinking the hope that it had been a rescuer knocking at the front door. A tear slipped down your cheek as you closed your eyes. Maybe Grant was already hurt, or dead. Maybe…
Your eyes flew open wide with panic as a large hand covered your mouth, and you began to struggle, terrified. “Shhhhh!” A whisper next to your ear made you freeze, your body trembling with fear. “I’m not gonna hurt you, okay? My name’s Colter. I’m here to help you. But you have to stay quiet. If they hear us…” You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest as his hand moved slowly away. “I’m gonna cut you loose.”
You felt the tension loosen on the zip tie around your wrists, and Colter moved around in front of you. “Do you think you can walk?” You nodded again, reaching for his hand as he pulled you to your feet, letting you stand for a moment to get your bearings. “We’re going up the back stairs and out the door. You get in the back seat of the pickup and lie down so no one can see you.” He gave your hand a squeeze. “Jesus, you’re freezing.” He stopped, taking off his jacket and helping you slip your arms into the sleeves. It was huge on you, but the warmth felt like heaven.
“Thank you,” you whispered hoarsely.
“Okay, here we go. Whatever happens, you go straight to that truck and get inside, right?” You nodded in reply, and he took hold of your hand again, leading you through the room with the help of a tiny flashlight. You recognized the short flight of steps up to the back door, and you followed him out, the grass cool on your bare feet as the two of you made your way to a large black truck. He opened the back door and helped you inside, and you laid down on the seat as he had directed, nervously waiting for what would come next. After all, as much as you appreciated the rescue, you didn’t know this man any better than the ones who had abducted you in the first place.
He climbed into the driver’s seat, sending a couple blasts of the horn into the otherwise still night, making you jump. “Russell, come on – we’re gonna miss kickoff!” he shouted out his window, then lowered his voice to speak to you again. “My brother is inside, he was our distraction. We’re friends of Reenie’s, she sent us to help you.” The mention of Reenie’s name sent a wave of relief through you, and you began to breathe a little easier.
A couple of minutes later, another man climbed into the pickup, turning his head to glance into the back seat as he closed his door. Colter spoke your name quietly. “This is my brother, Russell. We’re gonna take you to the motel, your brother’s there waiting for us.”
“Yes – okay – thank you,” you managed to say as the truck started up, and you headed down the road.
After a few minutes, Russell turned around to peer into the back seat. “You can sit up now if you want. We’re clear.” You raised yourself up slowly, wrapping the borrowed jacket tighter around you with a shiver. Russell looked at his brother, his voice a little impatient. “Turn up the heat, man – she’s freezing back there.” Then he turned his attention your way again, reaching across the back of his seat to hand you a bottle of water. “Here.” He flashed you a quick smile when you thanked him, and he watched as you drank, your eyes closing in relief as the cool liquid soothed your parched throat. “Better?”
You nodded, putting the lid back on the bottle. “Thank you. Thank you both.”
“Are you injured? Did they hurt you?” He asked softly, and you shook your head. His eyes never left you as he spoke, and you couldn’t help but notice how attractive he was, even in the dim light – dark hair, a neatly trimmed beard, beautiful eyes. “I know you’re scared, but I promise you’re gonna be okay. The police will meet us at the motel, and they said they’d contact your husband, let him know where you’ll be.”
His brows drew together at the expression on your face, the expression you were too tired and traumatized to disguise. “Everything okay?”
You took a shaky breath. “Yeah. Yes, I’m fine. It’s just – he’s going to be so angry.”
Russell studied your expression, taking a beat before he responded. “I’m sure he is, but you’re safe and I’m sure that’s the most important thing to him, right?”
You let your gaze slide away from his, staring out the window as you gave a vague nod in answer. Russell shot a perceptive glance over to his brother, silent communication between the two of them.
You had just dozed off in the back seat of the pickup when it pulled up in front of the motel. You yawned, letting Russell help you out of the truck. “Where are we?” you asked, still disoriented as he escorted you to the door with a gentle hand on your back, pulling keys from his pocket.
“My motel room. Your brother is inside.” He let you into the room, fairly large with a worn hide-a-bed couch on one wall, a king-size bed and the usual tiny table with two chairs next to a counter with a coffee maker and mini fridge.
As soon as you stepped inside, Grant jumped up from the couch and grabbed you in a hug. “Are you okay?” Grant was shaking as he held you, his voice breaking as he spoke. “This was because of me, I’m so sorry. They were trying to force me to hack into some company’s financials, I… I never thought they’d involve you. I’m so...” Russell draped a blanket around your shoulders as you moved back from your brother’s embrace, wiping tears from your cheeks as you interrupted.
“Not your fault, Grant.” You sat down next to your brother, pulling your legs up underneath you and pulling the blanket tighter around you as he put an arm around your shoulders. Russell left the two of you to talk quietly, heading over to make a pot of coffee.
A couple of hours later, you headed back to the couch after being questioned by the local police. You let your head drop back, your eyes squeezed shut as you wished for the ordeal to be over. Reliving everything for the police was bad enough, and Vince, your husband, hadn’t even gotten there yet. You were dreading that, already knowing what his mood would be when he arrived.
“You doing okay?” Russell’s voice made you open your eyes and sit up straight, inhaling and expelling a deep breath. He was hunkered down in front of you, his eyes watching you closely.
“Hanging in there. Just wish this was all over.”
He gave you a kind smile. “Yeah, I get that, you’ve had a rough day. Your husband should be here shortly, and once the cops talk to him, he can take you home.” Russell watched as you tried to control your expression. “Listen – none of my business, but I noticed you haven’t been too excited at the thought of your husband showing up. If you need help – just say the word. We can get you somewhere safe.”
You looked into his eyes, yours welling with tears that you managed to keep from spilling over. “Thank you, but I’m fine. Just really tired, and not looking forward to his temper when he hears about all this. I didn’t mean to make you think…”
Russell shook his head. “No problem, I get it. But if you ever do need help – call Reenie and let her know. She knows how to find me.” He put a warm hand over yours in your lap and gave it a squeeze, then rose to his feet and walked away. And the next moment, the hurricane that was your husband blew through the door.
“You!” Vince pointed an accusing finger at Grant, who was sitting at the table with an officer. “This is all your fault!” He stormed directly over towards his brother-in-law, who rose to his feet.
The police officer stood up as well, stepping forward with a hand out. “Sir! I’m gonna have to ask you to calm down and stop where you are.”
Vince glared at him defiantly. “This piece of shit got himself in a bind, and got my wife kidnapped. Lucky she wasn’t injured! Or killed! You stay the hell away from us from now on. Stay away from her, you understand me?” He turned on his heel and came towards where you now stood near the sofa, shoving a bag at you. “Here, get some clothes on. I’m taking you home.”
You took the bag and headed into the bathroom to change, your gaze never leaving the floor. Russell took a couple of long strides forward, his eyes narrowed in anger. “Hey – Vince, is it? You might want to take it easy on her. She’s been through hell in the last 24 hours.”
Vince turned to look at him, his jaw raised as he stared back at Russell with contempt. “And just who the fuck are you?”
“My brother and I are the ones who found her and got her away from her kidnappers,” Russell said quietly, crossing his arms across his chest.
Vince sighed. “Oh. I see. So how much?”
“How much? We weren’t working for you. Grant hired us to find his sister.”
Vince let out a derisive snort. “Yeah, like he has any money. What’s the bill, I’ll pay it.”
Russell sighed. “No thanks – we’re good.”
Your husband took a step closer, an insolent expression on his face. “Well, then, Mr. Weekend Merc, maybe you shouldn’t try to tell me how to take care of my wife.”
Russell’s eyes went cold, a humorless smirk curving his lips that would have sent a chill up the spine of any man with half a brain. Colter moved forward, putting a hand on his brother’s shoulder. After a second, Russell gave a barely perceptible nod, sucking his teeth as he turned and walked back towards the coffee pot. Colter looked impassively at Vince, then turned away and joined Russell.
A moment later, you walked back into the room, dressed and with Colter’s jacket folded over your arm. Vince grabbed your arm, growling, “Come on, let’s get the hell out of here.”
“Just a minute,” you said softly, pulling away.
“Time to go home,” he argued, and you looked at him, snapping a reply.
“Give me one minute!” He glared after you as you walked towards the Shaws, handing Colter his jacket. “Thank you.” Colter nodded with a smile, and you turned your attention to Russell. His expression softened as he looked back at you. “Thank you both.”
Russell looked steadily into your eyes. “Remember what I told you.” You bit at your lip with a nod, finally pulling your gaze from his as you turned to join your fuming husband at the door. He practically shoved you out, the door closing hard behind you.
Russell turned to look at Colter, his jaw working. “That guy is twelve kinds of wrong.”
Colter nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. But there’s nothing we can do unless she wants help, Russell. And you always tell me, when the job’s done, walk away.”
“Yeah. I know.” Russell grabbed the coffee and filled his cup. He could still see the look in her eyes – the attempt at courage failing to completely mask her apprehension. She was afraid, trying to pretend that everything was fine. And in spite of his usual self-imposed rules, he was going to have a hard time walking away from this one.
Russell sat next to his campfire, enjoying the warmth of the sun, a bottle of his home-brew in his hand. He stared into the fire, his inner voice reading him the riot act for still sticking around. It had been three weeks, and you hadn’t reached out to Reenie for help. Colter had given him a hard time as well, and he knew he had it coming, but he couldn’t seem to get you out of his mind. There was still the nagging feeling in his gut that you were in trouble, and that his particular set of skills might come in handy.
And then there were the dreams. The first time, he dreamed he was back in the motel room the night they’d rescued you. Only this time he was comforting you, sitting with his arms around you, and you were crying softly on his shoulder. After that, there had been another, starting the same way. Only this time it changed – his lips on yours, his hands roaming, your skin soft and warm under his touch. He woke up breathing hard, his heart pounding, his cock hard and throbbing, and he had jacked off imagining sinking deep inside you and making you come, hearing you cry out his name.
His phone rang, Reenie’s name flashing across the screen, and he shook his head to clear it before answering. She barely gave him time to say hello before she blurted out, “Russell – she just called. She overheard – never mind. She ran, she’s in trouble, you need to pick her up. South of you, mile marker 132 on Highway 39, she’s hiding in the trees. Go pick her up, I’ll meet you back at your campsite with some clothes and things.”
“On my way,” he responded, ending the call and stuffing the phone into his pocket. He tossed water over the fire, ditching his beer in the trash can on the way to the car, sending gravel spitting from the tires as he took off.
There had been nothing but trees for a couple of miles when he reached the spot Reenie had indicated, and he pulled over, stepping out of the car, eyes scanning the area. He called your name softly, watching. “It’s Russell Shaw. Reenie sent me.”
You peered carefully from behind a tree, then ran towards the car, looking over your shoulder as you reached it. “Get in,” Russell said, “we’ll talk later.” You nodded, climbing inside, and he looked around carefully for signs that you’d been followed before getting behind the wheel. He looked over at you, his brows drawn together in concern. “You okay? You’re not hurt?”
You glanced his way, clasping your hands nervously in your lap. “I’m okay.” He nodded, turning to make sure the way was clear and making a wide turn to head back to his campsite.
Russell pulled to a stop and got out of the car without a word, heading straight to his tent to break it down and pack up his belongings. By the time Reenie pulled in, he was loading everything into his trunk, still without saying a word, and you were wondering if you’d done the right thing calling for his help.
Reenie pulled a large suitcase out of the back seat of her BMW, pulling it behind her to Russell’s car. “Brought you some clothes and essentials to get you by. Russell, you keep her safe.”
Russell closed his trunk, coming around to take the suitcase and shove it into his back seat. “You know I will.” He climbed back behind the wheel and gave Reenie a nod. “I’ll be in touch.” You hugged her, whispering your thanks, and got in the passenger side, trying to stay calm in spite of not knowing what was coming next. Russell waited for Reenie to head down the drive, then followed behind, turning in the opposite direction on the highway. “Okay,” he said, glancing over your direction, “tell me what happened.”
Several miles and two small towns later, Russell reached for a remote and pulled into a small garage attached to a modest-looking ranch-style house, the door smoothly lowering behind you to hide you from the world.
You had told him about the phone call you had overheard, Vince on the phone with someone, you didn’t know who. “Yeah, the kidnapping should have worked, but I guess Grant’s more stubborn than I gave him credit for. Stop worrying, I found somebody else. We’ll have that money by the end of next week. No, she has no idea I was behind it, don’t worry about her. She believes what I tell her, and she does what she’s told. I already took care of those two fuck-ups, they won’t be talking to anybody.”
Russell had listened intently to everything you said, nodding quietly once in a while as you told your story. You had overheard that conversation and you knew you had to get away. You had sneaked back upstairs, put on your shoes and a jacket, grabbed the burner phone Reenie had given you for emergencies, and gone down the back staircase and out the back door. It was a couple of miles through the woods to get to the highway, and you ran until you were out of breath, then slowed to a hurried walk, determined to escape the man you thought you knew.
“He’s not the man I married, I know that. But I never thought he was…”
“An abusive murdering asshole?” You had shot Russell a sideways glance, and he had cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s true.” Tears stung your eyes as you looked down at your hands. “I feel like such an idiot. Reenie has been trying to convince me for months that I needed to leave him, but I just...”
“None of this is your fault. You know that, right?”
You hadn’t answered him, just stared out the window for the rest of the ride. Russell was quiet after that, his focus on the job ahead. And this was a job, he reminded himself – he needed to keep his head on straight. The last thing she needed right now was to get involved with someone like him, so whatever feelings were invading his subconscious, he needed to ignore them.
Russell led the way into the house, dropping your borrowed suitcase near the couch and doing a quick walk-through before coming back to the room. You looked at him, confused, and he let out a rather sheepish little chuckle. “Sorry, it’s a habit to make sure the house is clear. Which it is. So, get settled in – I’m heading out to get some supplies, but I’ll be right back.”
You nodded, and he headed back to the garage. You stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do. Your whole life had been turned upside down in the space of a few hours, and you had no idea what was coming next.
You finally took a deep breath and ventured into the next room. You explored the small house – a bedroom, bathroom, cute little kitchen with a breakfast nook, living room with a huge sofa, recliner on one end and chaise lounge on the other. There was a medium-sized flat-screen TV, a few DVDs on a shelf below.
You took the suitcase Reenie had brought into the bedroom and opened it – she had been very generous. It was bulging with clothes and lingerie, along with some toiletries, a few mystery/thriller novels, a deck of cards – everything you would need to get you by until you could get your own things. Whenever that would be. You felt a clutch of panic at the thought of your unknown future, closing your eyes to fight it back. You were safe for the moment, that’s all that mattered.
A little later, your phone pinged with a message from Russell that he was back with the groceries. You met him at the kitchen door, relieving him of one of the bags in his arms. He thanked you with a smile, and the two of you unpacked and put away the food he had purchased. “This is – a lot. I mean, how long do you think we’ll be here?”
He glanced your way, then went back to putting milk and eggs in the fridge. “Hard to say for sure. It depends on how long it takes the cops to finish getting the evidence they need to put Vince away.”
You stopped what you were doing and braced your hands on the counter, your eyes filling with tears as the weight of everything that was happening suddenly hit you like a blow to the chest. Russell closed the fridge and put a hand on your shoulder, speaking softly. “Hey.”
You looked up into his eyes, a tear overflowing and trailing down your cheek. “I can’t pay you. I – I don’t have anything. Everything belongs to him. I don’t know how I’ll pay for you for all of this,” you said, sweeping your hand, thinking of the house, the groceries, Russell’s time.
He gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Didn’t ask to be paid. I told you if you needed help to call. I’m just here to help.” He was really looking at you now, not the barely glancing, distant contact you’d had with him since he picked you up. The kind look in his eyes made you suddenly feel not so alone. “So are we good?”
You took a breath and blew it out slowly, finally nodding. “Yeah. We’re good. Thank you, Russell.”
His lips curved in a soft smile. “Good. So, I’m starved, and I got us one of those giant frozen pizzas with cheese in the crust – sound okay?” You nodded with a slightly watery smile and went back to unpacking the groceries as he turned on the oven.
You spent the rest of the evening mostly in companionable silence, eating pizza in front of the TV with a How I Met Your Mother marathon serving as background noise. Russell thumbed through the old magazines you had found in a drawer of the TV stand, and you started in on one of the books Reenie had included in the collection of treasures she had sent.
When you were yawning and reading the same paragraph over and over again, you finally gave in and headed for bed. You said a quiet goodnight and walked to the bedroom, closing the door behind you. You didn’t think you’d be able to sleep, but you dozed off almost as soon as your head hit the pillow.
You woke suddenly, a feeling of dread in the pit of your stomach. The room was pitch black, so you grabbed your phone, the screen lighting up the space, your heart lurching in your chest as you spotted a figure standing near the foot of the bed. You lit the flashlight on your phone and aimed it that direction, then screamed in terror. Vince was standing there, a sneer on his face, a gun in his hand.
“Hey, hey!!” The light went on and a hand grabbed your shoulder, shaking you. Russell’s voice was calling your name as you scooted yourself up as close to the headboard as you could, your feet scrambling to try and push you farther, your eyes wide with fear. “You’re okay, it was a nightmare.” You stared at him, shaking, whimpering and pointing.
“He was right there! He was going to kill me!”
“I promise you, there’s nobody here but you and me. You were having a nightmare. You’re safe, I promise you.” He reached out take hold of your hand. “There’s no way in hell he will ever get close to you. I won’t let him, trust me. You trust me, right?”
You nodded, trying to calm yourself, still trembling and your heart still trying to escape your chest. Russell sat there with you until your quaking subsided, and you looked up at him as he ducked his head to peer into your eyes. “You okay?”
You nodded again with a sigh of exhausted relief. “I’m sorry. It was so real.”
“Nothing to be sorry for.”
You looked at him again, feeling embarrassed as you spoke again. “I feel like a child, but I don’t think I can sleep in here. I don’t want to be alone.”
Russell smiled as he looked down at you. “I get it. Why don’t we grab your pillow and you can sleep on the sofa. I’m sleeping in the recliner, so I’ll be right there in case you get spooked. Sound okay?”
He helped you gather what you needed, and soon your bed was all set up on the couch. You settled yourself on your pillow, wrapping yourself in the blankets and yawning as your body finally calmed itself. “I usually leave the TV on with the sound real low, will that bother you?” he asked as he took his seat in the recliner again.
“No, it might actually help me sleep,” you said. “Thank you, Russell.”
“Any time.”
The next morning you woke to the smell of fresh coffee brewing and bacon frying. Apparently Russell was an early riser. You got up from the couch and gathered your bedding, heading for the bedroom to get dressed. A pair of leggings and a big sweater seemed cozy, and after hitting the bathroom and combing through your hair, you made a beeline for the kitchen and the coffee pot.
“Mornin’,” Russell greeted you as you filled a mug with the steaming brew, holding it to your nose appreciatively.
“Good morning. Thank you for making coffee. And breakfast, I guess – do you want some help?”
He shot a smile over his shoulder. “Got it covered here, but you could make some toast, if you want. Scrambled or fried?”
The two of you sat in the breakfast nook to eat, Russell scrolling on his phone and you back to your paperback mystery. When you were finished, you chased him out of the kitchen, refusing to let him help with the dishes. “You cooked, I’ll clean up.”
“I’m used to doing both, ya know,” he protested, but finally gave in and left you to it. You heard his phone ring as you finished up, and you were drying your hands as he walked back into the room.
“That was – uh – the FBI.”
Your eyes widened in surprise. “The FBI?”
“Yeah. Apparently they’ve been investigating Vince for a while now for shady investment practices. They want to send an agent to talk to you, about the phone call you overheard and anything else you might have seen or heard that might help their case. Are you okay with that?”
You bit at your lip, but nodded in agreement. “I guess so – I don’t know that I’ll be much help, but if it helps put him away…”
“Colter’s in the area, said he’d bring her here this afternoon. I don’t want you out in public if we can avoid it, not until he’s locked up.” You glanced at him nervously, and he put a calming hand on your shoulder. “I’m not trying to scare you – I just want you safe.”
“I know. Thanks.”
When the doorbell rang that afternoon, you watched nervously as Russell motioned you to stand back, then grabbed his gun from the end table and went to answer it. He peered through the peephole, then lowered his weapon and unlocked the door, opening it and stepping back to allow Colter and a woman in a dark pantsuit to enter. Colter spoke up to introduce you and Russell to the woman, who held out a hand to shake both of yours in turn.
“Thank you for agreeing to meet with me,” she said, aiming her comment at you.
Russell stepped forward. “Can I get a minute before you do your thing?” The agent nodded, following him into the next room. Even though he kept his voice low, you could hear him, insisting that she keep in mind that you were innocent and that you not be treated like a criminal just because you were married to one.
You glanced over at Colter, blushing a little. “He’s been very protective,” you said softly, and Colter smiled.
“Yeah – that’s no surprise. He’s been doing it since we were kids. He stood between our dad and me – or dad and our little sister, Dory – so many times. Dad had – well, he had some mental issues. Russ took the brunt of a lot of his crap.”
Russell came through the door just then, giving you a quick smile and nodding towards the kitchen. “She’s ready for you. If you need me…”
You gave him a grateful smile in return. “I’ll be fine. Thank you.” He moved to the side to let you walk by, watching until you took your seat across from the agent.
“How’s she doing?” Colter asked quietly as his brother turned to face him.
“She’s scared.” Russell gnawed at his lip a little, glancing over at Colter as he took a breath and exhaled with a short nod. “But she’ll be all right.”
A couple of hours later the interview was over, and you said your goodbyes to Colter and the agent shortly after. You dropped down on the sofa with a sigh of relief, and Russell sat down nearby.
“So – how’d it go?”
“She asked about the phone call I overheard, wanted word for word as well as I could remember. Then she asked about people I’d seen at Vince’s parties, anything I might have heard in passing about specific things that maybe didn’t mean anything to me but might help their case.” You took a deep breath. “She said when they arrest him, they’ll seize all of his assets. But she said they found one account that was started in my name before we were married that he hadn’t touched, and she said that will come to me. I remember right before we got married, I pulled my 401K from my job at the bank and had him invest it for me – he must have forgotten all about it. It’s been sitting there for the last 10 years, slowly growing. So maybe I’ll be able to repay you for all of this after all.”
He sighed sharply. “I told you, I didn’t ask to be paid. You’ll need that money to start over.” He lowered his head and looked at you from under raised brows. “I know it’s hard to believe, but I’m not hurtin’ for cash. So I don’t wanna hear another word about you paying me, okay?”
“Russell, I just…”
“I mean it. Vince gets put away and you get a clean start. That’s payment enough for me.” You looked up into those captivating green eyes, his expression dead serious.
“Okay, okay, subject dropped,” you answered, and he allowed himself to smile.
“Good. Goddamn, you’re stubborn.”
You laughed softly, rising to your feet. “You have no idea. Okay, I’m going to go take a shower – if that’s allowed?” you teased, laughing again as he blew out a disdainful breath.
“Smartass.”
The rest of that night was spent much as the first, eating in front of the TV, and Russell borrowed one of Reenie’s mystery thrillers to keep himself occupied. If he was being honest, he just wanted a distraction to keep his eyes from constantly wandering over to you as you read, occasionally trapping your lower lip between your teeth as you got engrossed in a passage. He started to read, but found his eyes drawn back again to the wisps of hair curling against the gentle slope of your neck. Luckily you were an avid reader and didn’t notice his staring, but he mentally shook himself. This was a job, he was there to protect you, and that was all. He forced his eyes to the pages in front of him, determined to keep focused there, even though he would occasionally make sarcastic comments about how unrealistic it was.
Yawning, you finally laid your book aside and laid down, saying a soft “Good night” to Russell as you settled in. You slept well that night, the sound of the TV in the background and the knowledge that Russell was close giving you the peace of mind you needed to rest.
The next day you were going a little stir-crazy, feeling cooped-up and bored. You aimlessly wandered around the house, looking through closets and cupboards, letting out a happy cheer when you found an abandoned crossword puzzle book in a drawer in the kitchen. You settled on the couch, your legs crossed underneath you, glad to have found a distraction. “Who played Angel Eyes in The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly?” you asked, a thoughtful frown on your face as you chewed at your pen.
“Lee Van Cleef,” he answered. “How do you not know that?”
“You’re the old movie buff. I only know the big ones – Casablanca, stuff like that.”
“So you don’t like westerns.”
You looked at him, an offended expression on your face. “I like westerns! I love John Wayne.” You filled in the answer and read another clue. “Clint Eastwood western?”
Russell let out a mock impatient sigh. “Obviously you need help.” He moved to plop down beside you, looking down at the page. “Where does it go? Ok, got it – A Fistful of Dollars.”
The two of you worked your way through the apparently western-themed puzzle together, Russell teasing you about your lack of knowledge on the subject and laughing when you excitedly shouted the answer to an actual clue involving John Wayne. You finished putting the last answer in place and grinned up at him, your smile slowly fading as you looked into his eyes. The air suddenly seemed charged around you, your gaze traveling down to his lips as his tongue swept over them. Before you had time to think, he pushed up from the sofa and stood. His abrupt movement away from you broke the spell, and you swallowed hard, your heart pounding.
“I’m gonna go grab us some take-out. Chicken sound good?” He asked, not looking back as he headed for the door. You agreed, taking a relieved breath as he closed the door behind him, leaving you alone.
You took a shaky breath as you put a hand to your face, your fingers cool against your flushed cheek. “What the hell was that?” you asked yourself out loud. Whatever it felt like, it couldn’t be, that was for sure, you told yourself sternly. Tossing the book on the end table, you determinedly marched to the kitchen to mix up some brownies. Chocolate. You just needed some chocolate.
After lunch, Russell spent most of the afternoon out in the garage, saying he needed to do some work on the car, and you were honestly a little relieved. The last thing you wanted was to embarrass yourself with the man who was protecting you. It was probably just a reaction to him saving you, a rescue crush. And it didn’t help that he was so aggressively good-looking. He was tall and lean, broad-shouldered, handsome as hell. That dark beard made his smile seem that much brighter, enough that it made it hard to breathe normally. And those mesmerizing green eyes – looking into them was just downright dangerous.
You spent the afternoon channel-surfing, did another puzzle and read your book for a while. Russell was in and out, keeping himself busy with something, you didn’t know what, but you were sure he was avoiding you. Towards evening you headed for the kitchen, thoughts of searching for what to make for dinner on your mind. The blinds on the patio door were open, and you could see Russell adding wood to the fire pit, the flames already started. You watched him for a moment, completely unaware of the fond smile on your face. He looked up as you stood there, motioning for you to come out and join him.
You went to the closet and grabbed your jacket. Surely there was enough space outside that it would be safe to be around him, you thought to yourself, then slipped out the patio door, sliding it closed behind you. “Missing the great outdoors?” you asked and he grinned.
“I do love a good campfire and some fresh air.” He reached into the cooler sitting beside him. “And a cold beer – want one?”
“Ooh, yes, please.” You breathed in, then searched for where the delicious aroma tickling your nose was coming from. “What smells so good?”
“Oh, I threw a couple of steaks on the grill, and some potatoes. Hope that sounds okay.”
“Sounds great – smells wonderful.”
His shoulders shook with a silent little laugh. “Reminds me of that time my brother and I tried to cook over the campfire when we were kids. Almost burned the damn forest down.” He launched into the story, and before you knew it, you were both talking and laughing, relaxed with each other again. Russell was a great storyteller, and the time passed pleasantly as you ate together.
When you finished eating, you set your plate beside you on the bench with a satisfied sigh. “That was delicious. Maybe you should be a chef when you retire from working security – or whatever it is that you do when you’re not being my guardian.”
He huffed out a laugh. “A chef - that was never on my list of things I wanted to do when I grew up. More like astronaut, firefighter, rock star, pitcher… the usual. Now – I’m still searching. I thought about opening a craft brewery, sell my beer and have barbecue, so I guess that’s close. But now? I don’t know. After working with Colter, I’m kind of thinking of going more that direction. Helping people. Who knows?” He took a swig from his beer and looked at you. “So what do you want to do when you get back to your life?”
A log cracked in the fire, and you watched thoughtfully as a spray of sparks floated upwards into the darkening sky. “I used to dream about opening a book store and gift shop, with a coffee counter in the front. A couple of tables, and a few little reading nooks tucked in here and there. That would be nice.” You glanced back at him, then looked off into the distance. “But what I really want – I just want to be able to go for a long walk without my paranoid husband sending security guys after me. I want to be able to eat a meal without someone criticizing me because I might gain weight. I want to be able to wear what I want when I want, and not hear a lecture about how I’m ‘representing’ him. I want to dance because I like the music, not because I’m bait for lecherous old men who might be potential clients.” You stopped your tirade, letting out a deep breath. “Sorry. I guess that’s been bottled up inside me for a while.”
Russell’s eyes were warm and supportive as he responded. “No need to apologize.”
You nodded, unable to continue looking at him, a little embarrassed. Russell watched you for a moment, then pulled his phone from his pocket. A fast country beat filled the air, and he set the phone down on the bench beside him, standing up and reaching out a hand. “Okay, let’s go – you wanna dance? Let’s dance.”
You looked up at him, unable to keep the shy smile from your face as you saw the grin on his. “You dance?”
He scoffed with a little laugh. “Do I dance? Get up here.”
You never would have guessed it, but the man could dance. Before long he was swinging you around the patio, twirling you out and back, both of you smiling and laughing together. You danced your way through that song and the next, but then the music shifted to a slow ballad, and you both came to a stop, looking hesitantly at each other. Russell’s eyebrow lifted, his expression asking without words, and you gave a little shrug. He smirked, shrugging in reply, and pulled you closer, taking your hand in his and holding it close to his chest as his other hand rested warm on your lower back. You draped your arm over his shoulder, your hand resting at the back of his neck as you swayed together to the music.
The song began to fade away, and you realized you were resting your head on his shoulder, your fingers fidgeting with the soft hair that fell over his collar, and your face grew warm with a blush as you both stopped moving. You took a step back, grateful that it was evening and he hopefully wouldn’t notice the color in your cheeks. “I – um – guess I should take these dishes inside,” you mumbled. You stepped away from him, gathering the dishes and turning to walk towards the patio door.
“Yeah, I gotta take care of this fire, I’ll be inside in a minute,” he answered, his voice sounding just as strained as yours was. Maybe he was just as affected as you were? You chased that thought away with denial as you stepped inside, turning to close the door behind you. He had been polite and kind to you from the beginning, but never more than that. You watched him for a moment as he stuffed his phone into his pocket, then grabbed the bucket of water he had set nearby to put the fire out, his back facing towards you the whole time, and you finally turned away.
You headed for the living room, then turned back, going to the fridge for a bottle of water, your mind reeling with conflicting thoughts. You were attracted to him, you had been from the first moment he looked into your eyes and asked if you needed help. But that was just the trauma, right? You had gone through hell and he was being kind to you, that’s all it was.
You were completely in your own head as you finally closed the door to the fridge and turned, rushing towards the living room, focused on your own thoughts. As you neared the doorway, you ran into a solid wall of man, the bottle of water in your hands flying to the floor and rolling away.
Russell grabbed your arms to steady you as you both spoke at the same time. “Shit, I’m sorry!” and “Are you okay?” and you wished you could just disappear from view.
He was close – so close. He smelled like wood smoke and cinnamon gum, beer and something masculine and warm that was just him and had your skin tingling. He looked down at you, his tongue darting out over his lips, his eyes steadily searching yours. He raised his hand, his fingers tracing the line of your jaw gently before he slipped them into your hair, and he leaned in slowly, giving you plenty of time to push him away – but you had no desire to do that. His well-trimmed beard brushed against your cheek, softer than you expected, but you didn’t have time to think about that because when his lips connected with yours, your brain ceased to function. You could focus on nothing but your heart pounding, your nerves buzzing, you could barely breathe. There was a throbbing between your thighs that made your knees weak, made you want him to throw you down and take you right there on the floor.
It all happened in a matter of seconds, and when he stopped suddenly, his hands dropping to his sides, your head was spinning at the sudden lack of his touch. His breathing was labored, his arms flexed as though they were fighting him to reach for you. He stared at the floor, taking a few breaths before he spoke, his voice husky and quiet. “This is – I shouldn’t have done that. It’s a bad idea.” He tilted his head, a rueful little smirk flitting over his lips. “Actually great idea for me. Very bad idea for you.”
You stared back at him, still stunned and silent. He stepped away, going to retrieve your bottle of water and bringing it back to you. You took it from him with a whispered “Thank you,” and he gave a short, quick nod before turning to walk away.
You heard the bathroom door close, and finally started breathing again. So he was feeling it, too. He had slammed the brakes pretty hard, but he had said it was a bad idea for you. Unanswered questions filled your head – was he really just holding back because he thought you’d get hurt? Or was there something in his past he was worried about you finding out? He seemed like a good man, but you had a feeling there was a history there that he couldn’t easily share. In spite of how you were feeling, you needed to try to get past it and get back to normal, or as normal as things could be for you at the moment. You glanced into the living room, making sure he was still out of sight, and headed quickly for the bedroom, closing the door. You’d just get ready for bed, try to put it out of your mind, and move on. It wasn’t going to be easy, since you could still feel his lips on yours, his fingers twining through your hair.
You changed into a t-shirt and shorts to sleep in, and after a few minutes battling with yourself, you finally grabbed your pillow and blanket and headed out to the couch. Russell was already settled in the recliner, searching for the classic movie channel he liked to leave on at night. You wrapped your blanket around you, snuggling down in your pillow. “Ready for lights out?” Russell asked softly, and you mumbled a “Yeah” in reply. He turned off the lamp next to him and left you both in the flickering light of the TV.
You laid there, staring at the glowing images on the screen, pretending to be trying to go to sleep. You were wide awake, unable to stop thinking about that kiss, craving more. It was infuriating, really, that Russell had just walked away like it was nothing and you were left wanting something he was apparently not willing to give, whatever his reasons.
You fought the urge to toss and turn, acutely aware of how close he was, probably watching whatever it was that was on the screen. But your imagination was merciless, showing you the possibilities, teasing you with images and thoughts of erotic touches, of his lips on your skin, of his calloused hands in places that ached for him.
He cleared his throat, shifting restlessly in his seat, and your resolve to act as if everything was fine crumbled. You threw back the blanket, your heart pounding as you crawled down the length of the sofa and straddled Russell’s lap. His eyes went wide, your fingers on his lips cutting off his startled “What…?”
You stared down at him, slowly removing your hand and resting it on his chest, your voice hushed as you spoke. “I don’t care if it’s a bad idea.” You could feel his heart rate rising beneath your hand, his eyes fluttering shut just before yours did as you leaned down into him, your lips landing on his in a soft kiss.
His hands drifted up to rest on your back, his cock steadily swelling underneath you. You moaned softly, grinding down into him, and he drew back, panting for air as he looked up at you. You kept your eyes on his, sliding back off his lap as he raised the recliner upright, and you took hold of his hand to lead him with you back to the couch. You spread the blanket out as Russell came up behind you, his hands moving to your hips as you straightened back up. “Told myself I wasn’t gonna do this,” he said softly as you leaned back into his chest. “You’re making me a liar.”
You couldn’t help smiling a little before you turned to face him. “You need to know – I don’t have any expectations. I know, when this is all over, that you’re going to leave, move on to your next job, and I’ll be going back and try to start my life over again. But I’m not asking…” For some reason your eyes began to sting with tears, and you blinked hard to chase them away. “I’m not asking for anything more than you want to give.”
Russell stared down at you for a second before his arms wrapped around you, the last shreds of his resistance evaporating as he pulled you close. His lips landed soft but decisive on yours, his tongue teasing at your lips, and you opened to him, a whimper in your throat as you slipped your arms around his neck.
After a moment or two, he parted from you one more time, one hand rising to drag a thumb across his mouth as he cleared his throat. “I – uh – don’t have a condom.”
You reached for his hand. “It’s okay. We’re good.”
“You sure? Because if you’d rather not...” The tip of his tongue peeked out, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth for a moment. “I’d be more than happy to take care of you some other way.” His thumb brushed over the top of your hand, his words invoking images in your mind that sent a flash of heat through your body.
You finally found your voice, although it was a little breathless and stammering. “I promise we’re good – but… Well, that sounds – umm – amazing, too.” His lips curved in a one-sided smirk as he stared into your eyes. He reached for the hem of your shirt, pulling it up over your head, then did the same with his before he pulled you back into his arms and kissed you again. You buried your fingers in his hair as you leaned into him, breasts crushed to his chest, your pulse racing.
He moved you backwards until your legs ran into the couch, then slid his hands down your sides to your hips, pushing your shorts down until they fell to the floor. You stepped out of them and let him lower you down to the sofa, stretching out with your head on your pillow. He put a knee down between your legs, sliding his palm up the outside of your thigh and guiding it up to his hip as he lowered himself down over you.
He kissed you, deep and hungry, rutting his still-clothed erection gently against your thigh, and the combination was driving you insane in the best possible way. He propped himself up on one elbow, his other hand beginning to roam, and he moaned in appreciation as he brushed a palm over your breast. He gave each one a little attention as he moved his lips across your jaw to your pulse point, then steadily moved down your body, his destination clear.
Your stomach muscles quivered as his lips traveled over your soft skin. Your entire body tensed, frozen in anticipation of what was about to happen. He splayed his fingers over your hips, his thumbs pulling gently at your mound to give him easier access to your swollen clit. He leaned in close to place soft, lingering kisses over your pussy before exploring you thoroughly with his tongue, finally dipping it inside you and then dragging it up and over your clit.
He teased you that way until you were rearing your head back into your pillow, one hand behind your head gripping the arm of the couch and the other clutching at his hair. Then he pulled your clit between his lips, his tongue brushing over it as he worked two fingers inside you, curling them to rub against your walls. When you gasped, he hummed his approval, stroking over that sweet spot he’d been searching for, your grip on his hair tightening as he gave your clit a hard suck.
He raised his eyes to look at you, your eyes half closed in bliss, your other hand now tugging and twisting at your nipples. “Jesus,” he swore, watching you for a moment longer before he nuzzled his face against you and sucked hard, pulsing his tongue with the movement of his fingers. Your back arched as you let out a cry, your cunt clutching at his fingers as you came undone, your hips bucking into his thrusts as you rode out your climax.
You watched him through half-lidded eyes as he slowly pulled his fingers free, making you shiver. He sucked them clean, then grabbed a corner of the blanket and scrubbed it over his face before moving up to nibble at your lips. “Told you I’d take care of you,” he teased, and he grinned as you blinked slowly and gave him a faint smile.
“Mmmm-hmmmm,” you agreed between his soft kisses.
“This doesn’t have to go any further if you don’t want it to,” he said quietly, and you opened your eyes to stare up at him.
“Don’t tell me you’re quitting on me.” The corner of his mouth quirked a little, those green eyes shining down at you even in the dim light.
“Only if you want me to,” he answered, pausing as he waited for your response.
“I don’t,” you said, pulling him down with a hand on the back of his neck to kiss him, a nip to his bottom lip making him grunt a little. “So stop teasing already.”
His chest vibrated against you as he chuckled, then raised up to his knees, shoving his clothes down to free himself. He slipped one arm beneath your knee, lifting it to open you up further for him as he settled back between your thighs. He took his time, pushing inside you slow and steady, giving you time, watching your face closely. Your breath was frozen in your lungs as you adjusted to his generous size, finally able to exhale when your bodies were flush and he stopped moving, bending to nuzzle his face into your neck. “Mmmm, you feel amazing,” he rumbled, his lips roaming over the soft skin there.
“God, so do you,” you managed before he began to move, melting your words into a moan. The slick drag of him inside you lit every nerve on fire, and you clutched your arms around his middle, digging your fingers into his back. He took his time, in and out slowly, barely inching out at first and building up until he was pulling almost all the way out before gliding smoothly back in to the limit. When you finally relaxed, adjusted to him, he began to ramp up his speed and drove into you faster, harder, until your nails were digging into his back and you wrapped your leg tight around him.
He shifted his hold on your other knee, tilting you back a little farther, your sweet spot now a bullseye with every stroke. He let out a low groan as your cunt began to clench around him, letting go completely and fucking into you hard, wanton sounds forced from you with every thrust. He let out a soft growl, a sound that sent you careening over the edge, your back arching up beneath him as you came with an unearthly howl of his name.
He joined you with a loud groan, cursing under his breath as he fucked you through your orgasm and his, finally collapsing on top of your quivering body. You breathed helpless little whimpers into his shoulder, your arms going limp as he slipped his arm out from under your knee and hugged your thigh to his side. It was some time before either of you moved, spent and contented to stay right where you were.
You had actually started dozing off when Russell moved, and you shivered as he slipped free from you and stood up. He tossed his sweats over his shoulder, shuffling his way to the bathroom, and you let out a sleepy sigh and sat up, reaching down to the floor for a shirt. It happened to be his, but you didn’t mind. When he came back, you stood up to head to the bathroom, but he put his arms around you and kissed you softly, pausing your trip for a few welcome minutes.
You cleaned up and went back out into the living room, smiling as you saw him spreading a clean blanket on the couch. You grabbed your shorts from the floor and slipped them on as you waited, and he turned to look at you with a faint smile as he finished. “Want me to go back to the recliner?” he asked quietly, and you shook your head.
“No. Stay with me – I mean, if you want.”
His smile broadened, and he plopped down, his back to the back of the couch. “C’mere, you.”
You laid down beside him, and he pulled the blanket from the back of the couch to cover you both before he slipped one arm underneath your neck, the other around your waist to hold you close as he curled himself around you. Warm and happy, you fell asleep in his arms, the most peaceful you’d felt in years.
You woke up the next morning, reluctant to let yourself drift into full consciousness. But the tempting aroma of brewing coffee finally prompted your eyes to open, breathing deep as the sleepy daze cleared from your brain. Russell was humming a little off-key as he worked on whatever breakfast he was concocting that morning, and you smiled to yourself.
You stretched, feeling the ache of muscles you hadn’t used in a while, but it was a good feeling. However, before you went to the kitchen to join Russell, you definitely wanted to take a shower. You threw the blanket off and headed for the bathroom. The mirror was still a little foggy, so Russell had obviously already been in there. Happily, you found a scrunchie in Reenie’s bag of toiletries, and you put your hair up before climbing into a hot shower.
You dried off, refreshed and fully awake, wrapping a towel around yourself so you could make your way to the bedroom and get dressed. You stepped out into the hallway, a cloud of vanilla and jasmine steam billowing out behind you. Russell’s voice calling your name stopped you in your tracks, and he stepped through the kitchen doorway into the living room, still talking.
“I made breakfast, sausage and stuff, if you’re…” he stopped in mid-sentence, his mouth open as he stared at you. “Hungry,” he finished, then snapped his mouth shut, his lips pursing and brows bunching in a contemplative expression before he dropped the spatula he was holding to the floor. “Yeah, it can wait.”
Before you could react, he had you pinned between the hallway wall and his body, his lips crashing down on yours in a ravenous kiss. You blinked up at him, stunned, as he raised his head, his eyes burning into yours. “I told you this was a bad idea,” he rasped, closing his eyes for a beat before he went on. “You are playing hell with my impulse control.”
You kept your eyes on his as you reached for the snap on his jeans, popping it loose before pulling his zipper down. “Losing control once in a while isn’t such a bad thing,” you said, watching his upper lip twitch as you shoved his clothing out of the way and wrapped your hand around his hard cock. He grabbed a handful of your towel and tugged hard, pulling it free where you had it tucked in between your breasts. He tossed it to the side and scooped you up, his hands under your thighs, lifting you to his waist. You gasped as his hot length was trapped between his stomach and your already leaking pussy, your arms wrapped around his neck as he rutted against you, coating himself in your juices. Then he lifted you a little, holding you with one arm while he positioned himself at your entrance.
“You ready?” he rumbled, his eyes on your face as he waited.
You nodded, clinging tight to his neck as he lowered your body, impaling you fully, a breathless, silent moment before he began to move. Then his fingers dug into your hips as he fucked into you, forcing sounds from you with every powerful thrust as your bodies slammed together. His forehead rested on your shoulder as he focused everything on driving you both over the edge, hard and fast.
He came first, and you followed close behind, resting your cheek on the top of his head as you both panted like you had run a marathon. He finally straightened up, then bent his head to kiss you, slow and deep, before lifting you up and lowering you to the floor. You still clung to him, your legs a little shaky, for a long moment, then gave him a coy smile. “Now I need another shower,” you said, and he grinned.
“Me, too – so how about we go clean up, and then we can eat. Don’t know about you, but I’m starved.”
“Sorry you went to all that work, and now it’s probably all cold.” You reached up to stroke his cheek with your fingertips, and you smiled as he leaned into your touch.
“Nope. I stuck it all in the oven to stay warm.”
“Smart man!”
“I’ve been known to have an occasional flash of brilliance. Until you come walking out dressed in nothing but a little towel, and all the blood leaves my brain,” he teased, and you laughed as he herded you into the bathroom for yet another shower.
The next couple of days were amazing. The freedom of being able to be yourself without a filter, without judgment or disapproval – it was like you had been set free from years of confinement. The common sense part of your brain knew that this was all temporary, that it would be gone in the blink of an eye when the time came, but you chose to ignore that nagging voice and live for the day.
Russell had lightened up considerably since you had first met him, too. Maybe it was good for him to have a little time away from gunfire and commando tactics. You talked, and laughed, watched movies together, cooked and ate, drank beer by the fire outside, and even danced again.
And you had sex that you knew you’d never equal with anyone else. He stopped you in the middle of cooking dinner once, plopping you up on the counter top and stripping your pants off so he could go down on one knee and make you his appetizer.
He pulled you over onto his lap during a movie, taking off your shirt and bra and leaning you back against his chest, teasing and tugging at your nipples. He whispered in your ear in that sinful voice, sweet and dirty, until you were a whining mess, begging him to fuck you.
He kissed you awake in the early morning, the two of you making out like teenagers, the sex slow and lazy and perfect.
But late that evening, his phone rang, and you felt your stomach drop. It was over.
He hung up and turned towards you, teeth denting his lower lip before he met your eyes. “They just arrested Vince. He’s being charged with murder and your kidnapping, along with all the financial shit. They found the bodies of the two that grabbed you buried in the woods north of your brother’s house. He’s never getting out.” He sighed, watching your face. “You’re free. You can finally live your own life.”
You dropped down onto the sofa, nodding, your voice barely audible. “Yeah. I guess so.”
He sat down beside you, reaching for your hand, which was trembling a little. “You okay?”
You blew out a breath, still afraid to look at him again, your emotions too close to the surface. “I will be.”
“We’re supposed to meet Reenie and that FBI agent at the house tomorrow at nine. Your brother’s coming, too. They’ll help you get your stuff together before the FBI seizes Vince’s property.”
You nodded, then sighed, raising your head to look up at him. “Okay. Back to reality.”
He pulled his hand away, putting it to his chest in mock offense. “Like I’m not real?” he scoffed, and you smiled in spite of yourself.
“Russell, you’re the realest thing that’s happened to me in the last few years, trust me.”
He grinned, standing up. “Want a beer before we crash for the night?”
“Yeah. I could use one.”
You watched him walk to the kitchen, an ache blooming in your chest. He was right. It had been a bad idea. But it was too late, and this was going to hurt like hell.
Russell came back with beer for the two of you, and you did your best to act like everything was fine as you talked and laughed half-heartedly at the sitcom on the TV. It was already late, and you wished you could just start the day over again. You took the empty bottles and carried them to the trash in the kitchen, stopping to stare out the patio door for a moment.
You felt Russell’s presence behind you before he spoke. “Should have had a fire tonight, huh? Didn’t know…”
“That we wouldn’t have another night.” You sighed, and he put a hand on your shoulder.
“Do you want me to sleep in the recliner tonight? I mean, making a clean break might…”
“Make it easier?” You looked up at him. “Or maybe we should just enjoy the one night we have left.”
His eyes were shining, soft in the dim light as he looked down at you. “Not gonna lie, I was hoping you’d say that.” His arms surrounded you, pulling you close as he bent to kiss you, your hands clenching fistfuls of his t-shirt as you leaned into him.
At least you’d have one more memory to take with you.
You woke early the next morning, reluctant to open your eyes and face the day. Russell, of course, was already awake and had coffee going, so you forced yourself to get up, grab your clothes, and take a shower. Every task was an effort of will – all you really wanted to do was roll up in your blankets and refuse to move.
You stood beneath the hot spray, eyes closed as you washed your body, remembering every moment of the night before. You had taken things slow, exploring each other as if you were sharing secrets no one else would ever know. You had memorized every tattoo, every scar on Russell’s body, reveled in the sensation of the muscles in his back rolling and straining beneath your fingertips as he fucked into you, riding the waves of pleasure he invoked with his touch. He had sent jolts of white hot fire through your veins as he marked you, sharp teeth and soothing tongue, on your breasts, the soft flesh of your lower belly, and the one he made on your inner thigh right next to your pussy had almost made you come. You hung up your towel and ran your fingers over the bruises as you stood in front of the mirror, wishing you could make them stay forever.
When you walked into the kitchen, Russell mumbled a “Mornin’” from the breakfast nook, and you answered him softly. He was quiet, scrolling on his phone, not chatty as he had been the last few days. He was distancing himself, you could tell, and it felt like the first day you had been here all over again.
You drank your coffee and stood to go and pack. “Don’t bother with the blankets or anything,” he said, “Colter and I are coming back later to clean out the house.”
“Okay. Thanks,” you answered, leaving the room, suddenly needing to be as far away from him as possible. This didn’t seem to be bothering him one bit.
By the time you got packed, it was time to hit the road. Russell took the suitcase from you and opened the door, and you started out. “Oh, wait,” you said, turning back and going to the end table next to the sofa. You opened the drawer and grabbed the crossword puzzle book. You didn’t look at him as you headed back to the door – he didn’t need to know you wanted it because working that puzzle was the first time there had been sparks between you. He probably wouldn’t understand, anyway.
You climbed into the passenger seat, he got behind the wheel, and you left the house behind, watching out your window as you passed it by. You had barely spoken to or looked at each other, and the silence in the car was oppressive. Several miles went by that way until you couldn’t keep your hurt contained any longer.
“I should have listened to you. You were right. It was a fucking bad idea.” You took a shaky breath. “It must be nice.”
“What?”
There was a bitter edge to your words as you answered him. “The way you’re able to shut off your feelings. It’s so easy for you, like flipping a fucking switch.”
Your resentment hung thick in the air, and after a few seconds, you assumed he wasn’t going to respond. Then Russell spoke softly, his voice taut. “What makes you think it’s easy?”
There was a note of hurt in his words, and you wished you could just take everything you’d said back, but it was too late. None of this was his fault. You had pushed the issue even after he had tried to take a step back, and you had no right to attack him for it. But you couldn’t find the right thing to say, so you just finished the ride to town in yet more silence.
When you pulled up in front of your former home, Reenie, your brother, and the FBI agent who had interviewed you were standing near the front steps talking. “I’ll grab your bag,” Russell said, and you said a quiet “Thank you” as you got out of the car.
Grant met you halfway, hugging you with a smile. Russell brought your bag over, and Grant took it from him. “Thanks, I’ll put this in the trunk.”
Reenie’s observant eyes shifted from Russell to you and back again, Russell’s gaze sliding away from hers to the ground near his feet. Colter was leaning on his truck, parked out on the street, and lifted a hand in greeting. “Well, I guess I should get going. Colter will bring me back to pick up my car after we finish up at the house.” He looked at you, but you barely glanced his direction. “Take care of yourself,” he said quietly, and you nodded in reply. He bit at his lip, then gave a little nod and turned to walk away.
You finally raised your eyes, watching him until he was halfway out to the street, your heart finally forcing you to call out to him. “Russell! Wait.”
He stopped, turning slowly as you rushed out to meet him. “Russell – I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said those things, I didn’t mean any of it.”
“Don’t worry about it. I get it.”
You shook your head, your eyes stinging with tears. “No, you didn’t deserve any of it. In fact, I need to thank you.” He started to shake his head, and you grabbed his hand. “No, listen. I need to thank you. Not just for the rescue. Russell, you saved me. You made me feel again after years of being numb. You made me feel like myself again. I needed someone, and you were there for me. I’ll never forget it.”
He looked into your eyes, his jaw ticking as he stared at you for a moment. Then he cradled your face in both hands, bending to kiss you, his lips clinging to yours for a long, bittersweet moment before he let you go, brushing a tear from your cheek before he dropped his hands to his sides.
“I’m gonna miss you,” you said in a wavering voice, watching his face as he held his emotions in check.
A brief, sad little smile flitted over his lips, and he dipped his head in acknowledgment. “Me too, sweetheart.” He reached out to give your hand one more squeeze before he turned and walked away.
You watched as he and Colter got into the truck, raised a hand to wave as they did the same, then drove away. You finally turned and walked back to the house, walking straight into your brother’s arms. You shed a few tears on his shoulder, then raised your head with a heavy sigh. “Okay. Let’s get this over with.”
A few miles down the road, Colter glanced over at his brother, who was staring silently out the window, dragging his fingers absently through his beard. “Wanna talk about it?”
Several moments passed before Russell took a deep breath, exhaling hard before he spoke, his voice subdued. “Did you ever meet somebody who makes you wish like hell you could be what they deserve?”
Colter cleared his throat as he looked steadily at the road. “Yeah.”
Colter never mentioned you when he and Russell called each other or got together. He figured he probably came closer to understanding his brother than just about anyone, and he knew Russell wouldn’t – or couldn’t – talk about it anyway.
Yeah, Colter understood Russell, as well as anyone probably did – except maybe Reenie Green. Russell stayed in touch with her, like he always had, the two of them exchanging banter and joking insults. But when the conversation slowed, when that moment of silence sat heavy between them, Reenie would speak softly. “She’s safe, Russell. She’s happy.” No details, which was good, because Russell didn’t want details. He probably couldn’t handle details. And then they’d end the conversation, like they always did, until the next time.
He still dreamed about you. He could still hear your voice, your laugh. He still woke up some nights feeling the softness of your skin on his fingertips, the scent of your hair and the taste of your lips lingering. And he still told himself your life was good, was better without his past, his baggage weighing you down.
You deserved a fresh start, a new life. He could handle being haunted by your memory. He was used to being haunted by his past.
Time cast a spell on you but you won't forget me
I know I could have loved you but you would not let me
“Well, he happens to be in the shower at the moment, and I saw it was you, so – figured you’d want to say hi, anyway, right?”
Oh Russell 😂
Of course he answered Colter's phone when he saw it was Reenie.
Colter was out of the shower now, listening with a concerned frown as he stood there, towel around his waist.
👀👀
Love the dynamic of the rescue. Russell up front causing a distraction and Colter going in stealthly to get her out!
Oh... her reaction to her husband coming 🚩
I'm not gonna lie I kinda hoped Russ was going to hit him, the way he was talking to all of them.
Wait... the husband was behind it all. Now I really wish Russell had punched him.
Also I love how Russ hung around the area.
Ooo that's some delicious tension growing between the two of them, and when they give in...
“No, listen. I need to thank you. Not just for the rescue. Russell, you saved me. You made me feel again after years of being numb. You made me feel like myself again. I needed someone, and you were there for me. I’ll never forget it.”
Several moments passed before Russell took a deep breath, exhaling hard before he spoke, his voice subdued. “Did you ever meet somebody who makes you wish like hell you could be what they deserve?”
You plan a weekend at the motel in town, needing some time to get a handle on your feelings for a certain green-eyed hunter. But guess who shows up at your door?
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader
Word Count: 2329
Warnings: None, just some angsty fluff
Dividers by @firefly-graphics
You’re sitting on the bed, watching the end of The Proposal, painting your toenails a lovely shade of burgundy. Mulberry Wine. Or Black Cherry Kiss. Or some kind of purple-ish color with a fruity name, it doesn’t really matter – you are actually painting your nails. You had treated yourself to an almost hour-long bubble bath, with candles you brought with you and soft, soothing music. You are pampering yourself, and it feels indulgent and glorious.
You stop for a moment, looking around at your motel room with a smile. Complete peace, total privacy, no bickering brothers in the background or complaining about your choice of movie. It was heaven. Well, almost. If you keep telling yourself that, you might start to believe it.
You clench your jaw and stare doggedly at the TV, determined to focus on the movie and the quiet and the luxury and definitely not the black hole of hopeless longing your mind tends to gravitate towards every time you don’t keep yourself occupied. You told Sam and Dean you just needed some alone time to do girly things, read and watch chick flicks, and just get out of the bunker for a couple of days. Sam had completely understood. Dean had said he understood - with his green eyes fixed on you, searching, reaching into your soul. At least, that’s what it felt like. You haven’t been able to look him in the eye for more than a few seconds for weeks now.
You just finish the last toe when a soft knock sounds at your door. You look up, confused, then sigh and hobble awkwardly over to peer out the peephole, trying not to mess up your freshly painted nails. You freeze for a second when you see who’s standing there.
Dean.
The very reason you had come up with this brilliant getaway in the first place. What the hell is he doing here? You take a breath, blowing it out slowly and trying to control your body’s reactions to his proximity before opening the door.
“Dean?” You look at him, your eyebrows raised in question.
“Yeah, hi. I know, I’m not supposed to be here.”
Your expression shifts to concern. “Are you okay? Did something…”
He was shaking his head, looking down at the ground, scuffing at the concrete with his boot. “Nooo, no, world’s not blowing up or anything.” He looks up at you again, clearly out of his comfort zone. “Look, I didn’t plan to…” He stops and starts over. “I just came into town to have a few beers, and… I really didn’t mean to bust up your whole,” his hands gesture aimlessly, “girl-time, whatever.”
You recover yourself enough to take a step back and even manage a weak smile. “Come in, tell me what’s going on.”
Bottom lip in the grip of his teeth, he shuffles his way in, and you close the door behind him. You duck-walk your way over to the bed, and plop down, looking up as he smothers a laugh. “What? I just painted my toes, they’re not dry yet,” you protest, unable not to smile.
“Sorry, it was just cute. Couldn’t help it.”
“Well, make yourself useful and grab us a beer, there’s some in the mini-fridge.” He raises his eyebrows in approval and grabs two long necks, opening one and handing it to you. “Thanks. So maybe you should sit down and tell me what’s going on?”
He pulls a chair out and turns it to face you, then sits and takes a long pull from his bottle. He holds it up afterwards, nodding, “Thanks,” setting it on the table and then slowly exhaling before looking at you once again. “Just be honest with me. Did I do something? Did I piss you off? Or say something that hurt you?”
You stare at him in surprise. “Dean, no! Of course not. I told you and Sam, I just needed a little time alone. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
He picks up his beer again and takes a swallow, then leans forward, arms on his knees, picking at the label as he goes on, stumbling a little as he searches for words. “It just feels like – not just today when you left, but all the time lately… We used to be so easy around each other, you know, and it seems like you’re not anymore. Comfortable, I mean. With me. Like you’re kind of trying to keep your distance or something, I don’t know. And maybe I’m just being stupid, but it felt like this whole time-to-yourself thing… like it was because of me.”
You’re beginning to feel trapped, and you’re doing everything you can to pretend things are normal – drinking your beer, pulling the foam spacers from between your toes, looking everywhere but at those candid moss-green eyes that are focused intently on you. You tuck one leg beneath you and glance his way, beginning to follow Dean’s example and destroy the label on your bottle.
He speaks again, and the quiet urgency in his voice sends a twinge of guilt through you. “Talk to me.”
You take a shaky breath and answer him softly. “Some things I just can’t talk to you about, Dean.” Your eyes are glued to the floor, and you close your eyes as he rises from his chair and comes to sit next to you on the edge of the mattress.
“You can talk to me about anything, you know that.”
There’s a hard lump forming in your throat, and you swallow hard, trying to make it disappear. “Maybe I’ll just go lock myself in the bathroom until you go away,” you try to joke, but it falls flat.
“Like I can’t pick a lock?” You steal a sidelong glance at him, just in time to see the little smirk that curves his lips for a moment.
You attempt a smile, but it’s weak and short-lived, your eyes filling with tears. “Damn it, Dean. You can’t just let me crawl into a hole and hide in peace, can you?”
“Nope.” He pops the ‘p,’ and he raises his hand to tuck your hair behind your ear. “C’mon, Nug, tell me what’s goin’ on.”
You close your eyes, shaking your head with a little smile at his nickname for you (Nugget because you’re smaller than him and Sam, like 90% of the population of the world) and blink some of those tears away before you look at him. He can see you were about to cry, he never misses anything, and his brows furrow a little, concern in his eyes. “Damn it, I can’t look at you,” you say, turning away a little, hugging your arms around yourself as if that could protect you. If you tell him how you feel, things will never be the same. Permanently never the same. He’ll never think of you the same way, treat you the same way. But he’s right, things haven’t been the same anyway. You have been avoiding him. You haven’t been comfortable around him. Because you’re in love with the jerk and he doesn’t have a clue.
“Okay, I’m gonna talk, but you have to listen and just – listen. Okay?”
He’s silent for a moment, then answers you softly. “Okay.” There’s hesitation there, and a little apprehension, like he’s not going to like what you have to say. He has no idea.
“So, I guess I have been kind of avoiding you a little. Okay, a lot. I can’t relax around you because I’m too busy tryingn to hide how my heart starts beating faster, and I can’t breathe like a normal person, and my brain goes all numb and I’m afraid I’ll make an ass of myself. My stupid body has a mind of its own when I’m around you.” There are tears in your voice as you continue, fighting to stay in control, but the dam has burst and words come pouring out of you in a torrent. “I tried really hard not to, but I’ve got feelings for you, Dean. Major, earth-moving kind of feelings that I can barely keep under control, and all I wanted was a couple of days away from you to try and get a handle on what’s happening with me. Because I never – never – want to mess up the relationship we have. And now you had to go and make me tell you and it’ll be awkward and awful and I’ll never be able to just be with you like we always used to. I miss cuddling up to you while we watch a movie, or having you lay with your head on my lap, or having you rub my shoulders or play with my hair. I can’t do any of that any more because it just makes me want more, makes me want everything, and that can’t happen so I’m just miserable and I was scared to let you see the effect you have on me, so I just run and hide and cringe away when you come near me.”
You finally take a breath after the endless rant, and swallow a sob that’s fighting to escape your throat. “So now you know, and you can go home and figure out how you can disappear on a hunting trip for like, the next year or so to avoid dealing with me.” You’re literally shaking now, your teeth clamped together so hard they ache to try and hold back tears. “So go, Dean! You made me tell you, now go away!”
Your nails are digging into your palms as you sit there, every part of you tense and rigid, waiting for him to leave so you can lose control in private. Instead, he just sits there, and you finally hear him take a deep breath, blowing it out slowly before he speaks. “Did you ever think that maybe you should just talk to me about it? That maybe I was feeling the same way?”
You turn your head, staring at him with tear-filled eyes, in shock at his words. He’s staring at the floor, his palm rubbing up and down his thigh, something he always does when he’s nervous. He finally raises his eyes, and the naked vulnerability there makes your heart lurch in your chest.
“I have feelings for you, too, but I – I just kept hoping you’d find somebody. Somebody who could give you a regular life - a normal life, and a normal family, somebody who’s not so twisted up and damaged that they can’t treat you like you deserve.”
“What makes you think I want normal?” Your voice is a little louder than you intended, and you take a beat to calm yourself, continuing in a more gentle tone. “If I wanted normal, I could have left a long time ago. I want you. I want you and I’ll take everything that goes along with that.” You feel a tear escape and run down your cheek, and you swipe it away impatiently. “Dean – if you’re not here to tell me I can have that, then I just need you to leave.”
The muscle in his jaw is twitching, his teeth clenched as he stares down at the floor again. “I wish I was strong enough to tell you what I should. But I’m not.” He looks into your eyes again, and his expression quickens your pulse, makes time seem to stop for a moment. His hand comes up to sweep your hair back, his thumb tracing over your cheekbone, and his gaze lingers on your parted lips before he leans in. He brushes his mouth across yours, sharing your breath, then seals his lips over yours in a kiss so filled with the longing you both feel that it makes your chest ache.
When you finally part, he looks at you, watching you, his hand still on your face. You lean into his touch, your eyes finally fluttering open as you meet his. “For the record, you have always treated me better than anyone in my life ever has. What you’ve been through has made you the most caring man I have ever known. I could never – never – find anyone better.”
His eyes are glistening, and he blinks hard a couple of times, gnawing at his lip a little before he speaks, his hand dropping down to take hold of yours. “So – if we’re gonna do this, maybe we should take it kinda slow, do you think?” His thumb is brushing over your hand, and you give his fingers a gentle squeeze as you nod.
“Yeah, I think so. We need to get used to us this way. And I think we’re worth the wait.” He smiles, a touch of something akin to shyness in his eyes as he glances down for a moment.
“So I guess I should leave then. Let you finish your little girly getaway.”
“Or…” You giggle as he looks up hopefully. “Or you could stay, we could order some pizza and you could suffer through a chick flick with me.”
He scoffs, then softens it with a smile. “I happen to love chick flicks. Well, some of ‘em.”
A little while later, you settle in with your backs propped up by pillows, legs stretched out on the bed with pizza and beer in hand, the opening credits of Overboard on the screen.
“I love Kurt Russell,” you say, your mouth full of pizza, and Dean smirks at you.
“Yeah? Well, I love Goldie Hawn,” he fires back, bumping you with his shoulder. You laugh, and then you’re both quiet as the movie gets started. Once the pizza is gone, he puts an arm around you and you settle onto his shoulder with a contented sigh. He leans closer and says softly, “Sorry I ruined your alone time.”
You look up at him, your heart shining in your eyes. “You didn’t ruin anything. Being alone with you is way better.”
Summary: Russell's been coming to your clinic for months now – always with a charming smile, food in his hands, and a question on his lips. You've always successfully thwarted his advances and stuck stubbornly to your professionalism till one night, he finally makes you listen to your heart.
Warnings: 18+ due to language and smut (oral f, fingering, cardiophilia 🤍), fluff
Word Count: 1.8k
Posted on Patreon June 7, 2026
A/N: Written for one of my sweetest readers and probably the first one who ever commented on a story of mine five years ago. You're one of the biggest reasons I'm still here, and I know tons of other writers in this fandom feel the same way about you!!! Cheers to you! You fully have my heart! @deans-spinster-witch 🤍🤍🤍
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You’re already half in love with the rich and deep timbre of his voice – not that you’d ever admit that to him (or anyone else for that matter). Call it professionalism or even self-preservation because every time Russell Shaw strolls into your VA clinic, you feel like you’re slowly losing your grip on sanity.
And it’s not just the voice, either. No, it’s that damn shit-eating smile that would make even nuns sin.
The former soldier has been coming into the clinic for a few months now for sleep therapy sessions – always with a grin and always with a flirtatious glimmer in his mesmerizingly green eyes. You’ve never taken his flirting seriously and always giggled off his advances with heat in your cheeks. But the past few weeks, he’s upped his ante and started bringing you experimental takeout food, asking you out more directly. You’ve always said no, though. And not even that – you usually don’t even take him seriously when he says stuff like that at all.
Why?
Because a guy as handsome and charming as Russell surely couldn’t be interested in someone as simple as you. You’re just a nurse who’s used to eating vending machine trail mix for dinner, drinking awful hospital coffee, and smelling like antiseptic. It’s not exactly what most people would call sexy or desirable.
Tonight, it’s four minutes past eleven o’clock, which means Russell is fashionably late again. Probably because he stopped somewhere to bribe you with more food he either got from a gas station, a questionable food truck, or an obscure friend’s kitchen.
Last week, it was candied jalapeños and a thermos of coffee so strong it could power a freight train. The week before, he brought a peach hand pie from a Mennonite market and something called ‘midnight curry burritos.’
Tonight? You’re bracing yourself.
“Evenin’, Nightingale,” he drawls, leaning against the doorframe with a plate in hand, a smile on his face, and a soft glint in his eyes that never quite leaves.
“Russell,” you sigh – one part exasperation, two parts affection. “You’re late.”
“I was delayed by destiny.” He lifts the plate with a wink that would make your knees buckle if you weren’t sitting. “Beignets. Still warm.”
You raise an eyebrow. “Bribing me with fried dough and powdered sugar?”
He grins broadly. “Tell me it doesn’t help.”
Damn it. It does. You hate how it does.
Still, you give him a flat look, trying not to show the little flicker in your chest that always sparks the moment he walks in.
He saunters closer and sets the plate on the counter in front of you. “I’m just tryin’ to spoil you a little.”
“Russell.”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t flirt with me.”
He pretends to look wounded, which makes you want to roll your eyes. “I don’t flirt – I court.”
“You’ve asked me out eight times,” you point out and lead him straight to the examination room.
“Nine,” he corrects with a smirk as he follows and closes the door behind him. It’s routine by now. “I asked you out on that sticky note I left in the breakroom, too. Remember that one?”
“Right,” you snort, shaking your head. "You drew a stick figure of yourself holding a flower.”
“With a heart. Don’t forget the heart.”
You roll your eyes for real this time, picking up the clipboard to start his check-in. “You’re lucky I don’t report you for harassment.”
“You’re lucky I don’t report you for theft,” he counters.
Your brows quirk. “I’m sorry – what?”
“You’ve been stealing my breath since day one,” he replies cleverly. Then his irresistible smile kicks in again, which is way too charming for his own good.
You let out a long, deep sigh.
“I know that one was bad,” he quips. “But I promise I’ve got better material. Just say yes to dinner and you’ll hear it all.”
You turn away before he can see the color rising in your cheeks. “Shirt off.”
“Now we’re talking,” he mutters with a grin, tugging the black fabric up and over his head.
And just like that, you’re confronted with the ridiculous reality that Russell Shaw is unfairly built. Broad chest, warm golden skin dusted with freckles, scars like constellations across the canvas that is him. You try not to stare and ogle him like he’s God’s greatest gift to mankind, but you’ve got a stethoscope in your hand and barely any willpower left.
You place the bell against his sternum and inhale.
Professional. Stay professional.
Truly, that’s been your mantra for months now. Surely, a guy like him only flirts because he can. It’s like second nature to him. But the beat beneath your fingertips is already quick.
lub-dub lub-dub lub-dub
His heart gallops like it’s trying to outrun enemy fire. And God help you – it’s a fucking beautiful sound. It’s raw and real, like something primal is trying to claw out of his chest.
“You always listen longer than you need to,” he says suddenly, his voice softer than before.
You freeze imperceptibly for a half a second. Shit. Did he really notice that?
“I’ve noticed,” he adds casually, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly.
“I–I’m just checking for arrhythmia–”
“No, you’re not.”
Well, damn. Now your own heart is beating like it’s trying to outrun enemy fire. Then, he lifts his large hand and gently curls his fingers over your wrist.
And fuck, before you can process it, he leans forward and presses his lips to yours.
A kiss. Slow and damn deliberate. It’s not demanding. It’s not rushed. It’s the kind of kiss that cradles you in softness, somehow still crumbles walls, and rearranges fucking stars into new constellations unknown yet to mankind.
Your heart jumps in your chest so hard the stethoscope nearly flies out of your hand.
He pulls back just enough to smile a little, watching your face closely as he guides your hand back to his chest – right over his pounding heart.
thump-THUMP thump-THUMP thump-THUMP
“See what you’re doing to me?” he murmurs.
And it hits you – he’s not flirting anymore. He’s showing you. This isn’t a game to him. His heart tells the truth.
You close your eyes, your breath stuttering.
Then his fingers slip around the stethoscope, guiding it from his chest to yours. He slips the earpieces into his own and leans in closer, lips brushing your ear.
“Now let me hear you.”
And he does. He listens – carefully and reverently.
And God, your heart is racing wildly and unapologetically, thundering against your ribs like it’s begging to be finally felt.
“Yeah,” he whispers. “That’s the sound I want. God, listen to you. That all for me?”
You whimper – literally. Man, you’re going to die of embarrassment.
But before you can squirm away into the deepest, darkest hole in the floor, he leans in again, kissing down your neck now, murmuring between kisses, “You sit here every night listening to me. You think I wouldn’t notice how you breathe differently? How your cheeks get hot? Your hands always linger right here.” He presses his palm flat to your chest, right over the cool bell. “Like you never want to stop.”
Your thighs squeeze together instinctively before his eyes drop, gaze darkening.
Then, in a smooth, almost graceful motion, he lifts you, spins you, and sets you down on the edge of the exam table. You gasp, your scrubs shifting slightly, body adjusting to the new angle.
He kneels between your thighs, right on the linoleum, forest green eyes solely locked on you like you’re the only damn thing that matters in this world. “Still think I’m not serious?”
You open your mouth, but no fucking sound comes out.
Because his hands? His hands are already on your hips, slow and steady, drawing your scrubs and underwear down with one fluid movement. He doesn’t break eye contact. Not once. And every inch of skin he reveals is worshipped.
“You’re so goddamn beautiful,” he says. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
You can barely breathe as his lips brush your knee, then the inside of your thigh. He’s still listening to your heartbeats like music in his ears.
Kiss.
Thump.
Another kiss. Higher. Slower. Warmer.
Thump-THUMP.
“Heart’s racing,” he says, grinning like the devil. “You like me down here, huh?”
You choke on a laugh that melts into a moan as his mouth finally meets the ache between your thighs. He starts slow, agonizingly so, tongue gentle and reverent all at once, each stroke on your clit a new promise.
Honestly, you might be experiencing a heart attack at this point. Luckily, you’re already in a hospital.
Then he speaks again, breath hot against your core. “You know what I’m gonna do?” he murmurs wickedly, two fingers sliding inside your wet pussy without resistance while he still listens. “I’m gonna make you come to the sound of your own heartbeat. I want you to listen to yourself. To what I’m doing to you.”
And just like that, he swaps the stethoscope again, fits the earpieces back into your ears, and places the bell over your chest.
Your heartbeat explodes. It’s fucking deafening.
thump-THUMP thump-THUMP thump-THUMP
Every lick. Every breath. Every teasing pass of his tongue or flick of his fingers – your body, your heart responds like a symphony composed just for him.
He hums against you, the vibration making your thighs tremble like Mount Vesuvius before it took down Pompeii.
“Let go for me,” he says, deep voice velvet-thick. “Let me feel it.”
And Jesus fucking Christ, you don’t need to be told twice. When you come and fall apart, it’s with his name on your lips and your own heart roaring in your ears like a drum of holy thunder.
THUMP–THUMP–THUMP–
He licks you clean, takes every drop of you like it’s the best thing he ever tasted – damn the experimental food he’s brought you for weeks on end.
Afterward, he eases you down gently, kissing his way up your shaking body slowly and goddamn thoroughly. He presses his lips to your collarbone, your throat, your cheek, and then finally to your mouth again.
This time, you kiss him back like you damn well mean it – because you fucking do. God, you do. Word by word. Nerve by nerve.
“You gonna say yes to dinner this time?” he quips, grinning against your lips.
You exhale a breathless laugh. “I think I’d be an idiot not to.”
And Russell? He grins widely, proudly, and smugly in the way only he can.
“Told you. You gotta listen to your heart,” he says with a wink. And because he’s the worst, he adds, “Next time, we’re doing this at my place. With two stethoscopes.”
And your heart skips another beat.
Thump.
Hope you guys enjoyed this heartfelt little one-shot 😉
We're returning to our regular witchy programming next Friday with another interlude of Glitch 🔮 to see what our boys have been up to! Here's a reminder of the schedule for the next few weeks:
Truly, that’s been your mantra for months now. Surely, a guy like him only flirts because he can. It’s like second nature to him. But the beat beneath your fingertips is already quick.
Months?! Girl is stronger than me. I would have folded so quickly!!
lub-dub lub-dub lub-dub
His heart gallops like it’s trying to outrun enemy fire. And God help you – it’s a fucking beautiful sound. It’s raw and real, like something primal is trying to claw out of his chest.
Love this description 😍 and LOVED this fic!!
And because he’s the worst, he adds, “Next time, we’re doing this at my place. With two stethoscopes.”
Beau is there for you after a bad day at work. (Beau Arlen x Reader, Big Sky)
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I'll See You by @winchestergirl2
Working a case with Colter leads the Shaw brothers to a shadow organisation. An organisation that wants Russell to handle one last job for them. With no choice but to do what they want, Russell has to make a call to you. (Russell Shaw x Reader, Tracker)
⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼📚⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼
Not Only For Duty by @zepskies
Your marriage to the Third Marshal of the Mark has been arranged in the hopes of renewing political ties between Rohan and Gondor. When Éomer is injured while on patrol, you both begin to learn important lessons in patience, and Valar forbid, communication. (Éomer x Reader, Lord of the Rings)
⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼📚⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼
Call Out My Name by @spn-bee
To save her friend, runaway Alpha Alex Donovan needs a hunter. She gets Dean Winchester, an Omega hiding his true nature. When a mission exposes his secret, they're thrown into a war with her old life and an obsessive ex. Trapped between instinct and training, their only hope is each other. (Omega!Dean x AlphaFemale!OC, Supernatural)
Summary: Beau is there for you after a bad day at work.
Word Count: 487
A/N: Was in need of a bit of Beau comfort after a particularly rubbish day at work, and thought I'd share in case anyone else was too.
Tags/Warnings: Slight angst, frustration/sadness, mentions of being treated like rubbish by the public while at work. Comfort, Beau being a sweetheart.
Dividers by @firefly-graphics
Beau was sitting outside his airstream, tending to the fire pit, as you pulled up. You saw him bathed in its amber glow, shadows dancing across his face.
He lifted his gaze at the sound of your car. Seeing you get out of the vehicle he stood, a smile on his face and started to head over to you.
“Hey,” he greets his bowlegs carrying him to you in a few strides.
You walk straight up to him, wrapping your arms around his waist and burying your face in his chest without a word. You just need him to hold you.
Wrapping his arms tightly around you, a small frown passes across his face. It's not like you not to speak.
“Everything ok?” He checks.
You simply shake your head no.
“You wanna talk about it?” He murmurs into your hair.
“In a minute. I just wanna stay like this for a bit longer.” You say relishing in the warmth and safety of his strong arms and firm chest.
He presses a kiss to the top of your head before gently resting his cheek there, happy to stay like that for as long as you need.
“People suck,” you eventually mumble into his chest.
Lifting his head he angles himself to look at you. “They can, yeah. You ready to tell me what happened?”
Sighing you pull away from him and nod. Placing his hand on your lower back he guides you over to the steps of his decking. Gesturing for you to take a seat in the wooden deck chair, while he perches on the little table next to it, facing the fire.
“It's just… my entire day I've had customers and members treating me like crap. It's like every little inconvenience is my fault. As if I’ve personally gone out of my way to inconvenience them. I don't make the rules, I just have to follow them. Why am I getting all the grief? They talk to me like I'm beneath them, and look at me like I'm something disgusting they scraped off their shoes. And I certainly don't get paid enough to deal with all of this,” you sigh. “It's just so frustrating. I used to love my job but now…”
Beau squeezes your hand, “Sounds like a rough day.”
“Working with the public sucks,” you grumble.
He purses his lips in thought for a beat before agreeing, “yeah it can.”
“At least you can threaten to arrest them when they act like that.”
“You want me to go arrest them for you?” Beau half jokes, because if he could he would.
“Yes,” you tell him, collapsing into him.
He chuckles, wrapping his arms around you again.
You allow yourself to relax in his embrace.
“Thank you,” you whisper. “For being here, for this.”
Beau hums in agreement, and pulls you into his side a little more. “Any damn day darlin’. Any damn day.”
A/N: Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed it! Would love to hear what you thought.
Some days I really wish Beau could wrap me up in his arms and make me forget about those interactions.
The "People suck/ Working with the public sucks," comments, I don't think this applies to everyone. Just those that like to be rude to receptionists, retail workers etc.
Summary: Beau is there for you after a bad day at work.
Word Count: 487
A/N: Was in need of a bit of Beau comfort after a particularly rubbish day at work, and thought I'd share in case anyone else was too.
Tags/Warnings: Slight angst, frustration/sadness, mentions of being treated like rubbish by the public while at work. Comfort, Beau being a sweetheart.
Dividers by @firefly-graphics
Beau was sitting outside his airstream, tending to the fire pit, as you pulled up. You saw him bathed in its amber glow, shadows dancing across his face.
He lifted his gaze at the sound of your car. Seeing you get out of the vehicle he stood, a smile on his face and started to head over to you.
“Hey,” he greets his bowlegs carrying him to you in a few strides.
You walk straight up to him, wrapping your arms around his waist and burying your face in his chest without a word. You just need him to hold you.
Wrapping his arms tightly around you, a small frown passes across his face. It's not like you not to speak.
“Everything ok?” He checks.
You simply shake your head no.
“You wanna talk about it?” He murmurs into your hair.
“In a minute. I just wanna stay like this for a bit longer.” You say relishing in the warmth and safety of his strong arms and firm chest.
He presses a kiss to the top of your head before gently resting his cheek there, happy to stay like that for as long as you need.
“People suck,” you eventually mumble into his chest.
Lifting his head he angles himself to look at you. “They can, yeah. You ready to tell me what happened?”
Sighing you pull away from him and nod. Placing his hand on your lower back he guides you over to the steps of his decking. Gesturing for you to take a seat in the wooden deck chair, while he perches on the little table next to it, facing the fire.
“It's just… my entire day I've had customers and members treating me like crap. It's like every little inconvenience is my fault. As if I’ve personally gone out of my way to inconvenience them. I don't make the rules, I just have to follow them. Why am I getting all the grief? They talk to me like I'm beneath them, and look at me like I'm something disgusting they scraped off their shoes. And I certainly don't get paid enough to deal with all of this,” you sigh. “It's just so frustrating. I used to love my job but now…”
Beau squeezes your hand, “Sounds like a rough day.”
“Working with the public sucks,” you grumble.
He purses his lips in thought for a beat before agreeing, “yeah it can.”
“At least you can threaten to arrest them when they act like that.”
“You want me to go arrest them for you?” Beau half jokes, because if he could he would.
“Yes,” you tell him, collapsing into him.
He chuckles, wrapping his arms around you again.
You allow yourself to relax in his embrace.
“Thank you,” you whisper. “For being here, for this.”
Beau hums in agreement, and pulls you into his side a little more. “Any damn day darlin’. Any damn day.”
A/N: Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed it! Would love to hear what you thought.
Some days I really wish Beau could wrap me up in his arms and make me forget about those interactions.
The "People suck/ Working with the public sucks," comments, I don't think this applies to everyone. Just those that like to be rude to receptionists, retail workers etc.
Summary: Beau is there for you after a bad day at work.
Word Count: 487
A/N: Was in need of a bit of Beau comfort after a particularly rubbish day at work, and thought I'd share in case anyone else was too.
Tags/Warnings: Slight angst, frustration/sadness, mentions of being treated like rubbish by the public while at work. Comfort, Beau being a sweetheart.
Dividers by @firefly-graphics
Beau was sitting outside his airstream, tending to the fire pit, as you pulled up. You saw him bathed in its amber glow, shadows dancing across his face.
He lifted his gaze at the sound of your car. Seeing you get out of the vehicle he stood, a smile on his face and started to head over to you.
“Hey,” he greets his bowlegs carrying him to you in a few strides.
You walk straight up to him, wrapping your arms around his waist and burying your face in his chest without a word. You just need him to hold you.
Wrapping his arms tightly around you, a small frown passes across his face. It's not like you not to speak.
“Everything ok?” He checks.
You simply shake your head no.
“You wanna talk about it?” He murmurs into your hair.
“In a minute. I just wanna stay like this for a bit longer.” You say relishing in the warmth and safety of his strong arms and firm chest.
He presses a kiss to the top of your head before gently resting his cheek there, happy to stay like that for as long as you need.
“People suck,” you eventually mumble into his chest.
Lifting his head he angles himself to look at you. “They can, yeah. You ready to tell me what happened?”
Sighing you pull away from him and nod. Placing his hand on your lower back he guides you over to the steps of his decking. Gesturing for you to take a seat in the wooden deck chair, while he perches on the little table next to it, facing the fire.
“It's just… my entire day I've had customers and members treating me like crap. It's like every little inconvenience is my fault. As if I’ve personally gone out of my way to inconvenience them. I don't make the rules, I just have to follow them. Why am I getting all the grief? They talk to me like I'm beneath them, and look at me like I'm something disgusting they scraped off their shoes. And I certainly don't get paid enough to deal with all of this,” you sigh. “It's just so frustrating. I used to love my job but now…”
Beau squeezes your hand, “Sounds like a rough day.”
“Working with the public sucks,” you grumble.
He purses his lips in thought for a beat before agreeing, “yeah it can.”
“At least you can threaten to arrest them when they act like that.”
“You want me to go arrest them for you?” Beau half jokes, because if he could he would.
“Yes,” you tell him, collapsing into him.
He chuckles, wrapping his arms around you again.
You allow yourself to relax in his embrace.
“Thank you,” you whisper. “For being here, for this.”
Beau hums in agreement, and pulls you into his side a little more. “Any damn day darlin’. Any damn day.”
A/N: Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed it! Would love to hear what you thought.
Some days I really wish Beau could wrap me up in his arms and make me forget about those interactions.
The "People suck/ Working with the public sucks," comments, I don't think this applies to everyone. Just those that like to be rude to receptionists, retail workers etc.
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