#meg can tell when she's stepping on toes so instead of teasing she gave the reins back to rei haha

[aashiyancha]

I digress for a moment from the Capitol Arc to give you this comic because there will be reference to it in the near future

If you're new around here and haven't read the rest of my rf5 comics first of all, hi :D

Secondly, here's a link to the masterpost so you can read the rest in order if interested

[smol-and-grumpy]

Cross My Heart - CH.05

Pairing: Bodyguard!Dean x Reader; Chuck Shurley x Reader

Summary: After opening up a letter, the life as she knows it, changes forever. Her husband hires Dean Winchester to protect her but is Dean really who he said he was? And is her husband really worried about her safety?

Warnings: Angst, teasing, tension

WC: 2298

SERIES MASTERLIST

Y/N gets woken up in the middle of the night by weird noses. It sounds like someone is scratching against the bedroom wall on the outside. She doesn’t know what it is, and doesn��t dare look. It could be anything really. Maybe a gust of wind carried a branch here, maybe there are wild animals outside. She thinks about how it could be anything but she doesn’t let her mind wander and assume the worst. 

Should she wake Dean up for it? She hates to wake him up if it’s really nothing, though.

She decides to wait a little bit longer, maybe it’ll go away. But she hears the clock ticking while the noise stays.

“Dean,” She whispers and looks to the open door.

To her surprise, Dean’s already standing in the doorway, his gun cocked and hair disheveled. He’s wearing some pj pants and a white t-shirt. 

“Get out of the bed and come stand behind me!” He hisses as he creeps along the wall towards the window. 

She frowns a little but does what she’s told and gets out of bed, tip toes her way over to where Dean’s standing.

His eyes widen when he sees that she only wears a set of comfortable Calvin Klein underwear, and he rolls his eyes at that, “Jesus, what are you wearing for bed?”

“What’s wrong with that? It’s hot here, alright?” She comes to stand behind him now. 

“Always wear something, Y/N. You never know when you need to up and leave.” Dean hisses through gritted teeth as he looks out of the window from the side, keeping himself from being seen.

“Well, excuse me but I never had to up and leave before in my life!” 

Dean ignores her, instead he peeks out and after a long moment, he starts to chuckle.

“What?” She asks him.

“Come see,” He says, and stands back a little, making room for her to push past him in order to be able to steal a look herself. 

It’s a mother bear and her cub, probably searching for food. Her eyes widen as she takes it in and watches them. She’s never seen bears from up close before. Not in the wild. She watches until they walk back towards the thick of the forest where they came out from, probably unsatisfied because they didn’t find anything here.

“We’re safe.” Dean exhales, he’s probably relieved himself, “You can go back to sleep.”

She climbs back to bed, while Dean watches her, making sure to stick her ass out, because she likes to rile him up. She goes back to bed without protest either. Mainly because she doesn’t want to be a pain in his ass. Dean already has his hands full with taking care of her and she at least can cut him some slack. 

While she tries to make herself comfortable in bed, Dean rummages in the closet and tosses her a shirt. It hits her square in her face and he laughs before he walks away while telling her to fucking wear it. 

She’s holding up the shirt, sees that it’s not hers because it’s too big, so it must be one of his. She pulls it over her head and brings it to her face to smell at it.

“Don’t worry, it’s a fresh shirt.” Dean calls out from the living room.

How does he fucking knows?

She smirks and lays back down, taking in his scent one more time and closes her eyes. 

 ***

 The next two days were pretty awkward. 

But maybe it was just her mind playing tricks on her. 

There were lots of looking at each other when the other one was not looking. Because how else could she explain the burning sensation she felt on her skin? The same thing she always felt when he looked at her with hungry eyes. She mostly felt it on her back when she had it turned to him and every time she looked back at him, he had his head turned downwards or had it tilt the other way.

It seemed to her that Dean avoided her more either. When he would be in a room and she would walk in to grab something, he would storm out of whatever room he was in and honestly, it was weird and fucking awkward because there aren’t many rooms in this cabin.

Dean would also cringe every time their skin would brush against each other by accident. 

Which is really, really not how she wants someone to react to her touches.

 *

 She’s in bed reading when Dean walks in on the afternoon of their third day in hiding.

“Your friend,” He says and hands her his phone.

Y/N takes the phone out of his hand and sees that Dean has already put Meg on speaker phone.

He sits down at the foot of the bed, listening in on the conversation and she doesn’t like that at all but apparently that’s the rule.

“Hey,” She says, her eyes are on Dean but he looks away.

“Oh my god, the guy who picked up, is that your bodyguard?”

“Yes?” She answers.

“Fuck, Y/N, he sounds sexy as fuck. His voice is so deep, so gravelly, it makes my skin tingle. I bet he makes other parts of you tingle, too, isn’t he?”

She turns red, “Meg,” It’s supposed to be a warning to her friend without saying too much. She hopes Meg gets it.

“No, seriously, I bet he’s fucking sexy, isn’t he? Probably could lift you up one armed and I bet he can fuck you as deep as his voice is.”

Apparently, Meg doesn’t get it.

Y/N watches Dean and see’s that he tries to suppress a smirk. His face settles for a frown instead.

“Meg!” She shouts, trying to stop her friend.

“Seriously, Y/N, you gotta live. Can’t be that Chuck that sleazy weasel gets to have all the fun and you don’t!”

“Is there a reason for your call?” She asks Meg with annoyance in her voice and that does the trick because it seems like Meg gets what Y/N was trying to say.

“Ugh, he’s listening isn’t he?”

She huffs out a tired chuckle, “Yeah.”

“Hi, Mr. Bodyguard, I was just joking,”

Dean turns his head to the phone, “Hi,” He says, and then a little lower, as if he wants to tease the shit out of Meg, “Meg, is it?”

There’s a squeal on the other end and Dean raises an eyebrow at Y/N to which she just shrugs.

“Like Y/N said, is there a reason you called, Meg?” Dean asks.

Meg whimpers, “Oh my god,”

There’s a long pause.

“Meg, did you just have an orgasm or something?” Y/N’s giggling.

“I’m close, can’t lie. Mr. Bodyguard, have you ever thought about working for a phone sex line? Becau—”

“—Meg!” She cuts her friend off. 

“Alright, listen, you two, I went on facebook today and TMZ posted an article about Y/N’s kidnapping.”

“They what about what?” Dean’s voice cuts in, and it’s loud, it makes her flinch.

“Yeah,” Meg says, “You can look for yourself. I thought you weren’t kidnapped? But Chuck gave an exclusive interview, and even a reward is out for your safe return.”

“What the fuck!” She looks at Dean and he stands up, he’s agitated but he keeps his composure.

“Okay, thanks, Meg. She’s not kidnapped. But please keep that to yourself until we talk to Chuck. Can you do that?”

“Of course, Mr. Bodyguard.”

“We need to go. Bye Meg, miss you.” She says quickly because Dean’s already walking out into the living room and starts up his laptop.

She follows and slams his phone on the table where he’s sitting, “Who the fuck are you?”

Dean looks up from the laptop, there’s a pained expression on his face. “Your bodyguard.”

“Why should I believe you?” She shouts and starts to pace around the room.

“Your husband knows where we are! Why should I kidnap you and even let you talk to your friend?”

“But you don’t let me go anywhere!” She lets out a frustrating groan that comes out from the depths of her throat.

“Because I have to fucking keep you safe!” Dean stands up and pushes his chair back with a screech.

Y/N’s eyes find Dean’s gun on the table and she takes it, aiming it at Dean and he looks at her in bewilderment.

“Y/N, put that down,” His voice is firm, as if he puts his foot down by only speaking to her. It sounds final, like it’s his way or no way.

She’s crying, even though she doesn’t want to, “No. Who are you, Dean? Why me? If you know us, you’d know that Chuck doesn’t give a fuck about me. He probably would kill me himself if someone would ask him for ransom money for my safe return.”

Her hands are shaking, her grip on the gun is tight, the white of her knuckles showing.

Dean purses his lips and then everything happens so fast. 

One moment she has the gun aimed at him and the next she finds herself pinned against the wall, his hand on her wrist and there’s nothing that she could do other than letting him take the gun from her hand. He’s so close, his face a mere inch from hers, his breath mingles with hers and the look on his face is a mixture between anger and pain.

“Sweetheart, next time you aim a gun at someone, make sure the safety’s off,” Dean reaches back, tucks his gun into his pants, but she’s still pinned there. 

Dean's eyes are on her, his breathing picks up when he brushes the tears away from her cheeks. He leaves his thumb on her bottom lip, drags it down, making her open her mouth. 

The next thing she knows he’s kissing her. And instead of it being rough like the kiss they shared before, this one is much gentler. He presses his body to her, his hands kneading at the flesh of her hips while he maps out her mouth with his tongue. And she wants more, wants everything he’s able to give her.

Before it can grow heavier, Dean breaks the kiss and steps back. His teeth gnawing at his bottom lip before he looks downwards, “Shit, I shouldn’t. ‘M sorry.”

She places her fingers to her lips, feels them hot and wet. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. I—” Dean lets out a breath, “—I don’t know what came over me.” He rubs at his forehead, “You gotta believe me, Y/N. I’m not a kidnapper.” Dean walks back to the table and grabs his phone, thumbs over his screen to dial a number.

She walks closer, sees that he dials Chuck.

Chuck doesn’t pick up.

That’s typical. He probably is screwing some hoes.

Dean hangs up, and takes his phone, thumbs over something and then he hands it to her.

It’s text messages between him and Chuck.

 D: Everything’s alright, sir.

D: We stay put.

D: Nothing happened.

 Dean text’s Chuck up to six times on a daily basis since they’re here and Chuck always only sends him one text each day with the word, “Okay.”

“You know, I have no idea about Chuck’s plans nor the police’s plans,” Dean’s head is low when he comes to stand in front of her, “My only job is to keep you safe.”

“Okay,” 

“I thought you were joking at first when you said that your husband doesn’t care about you. Couldn’t wrap my mind around the fact how someone could not at least care a little bit about the person they’re married to but then I saw it with my own eyes. The lack of empathy he shows you is mind blowing.” Dean let out a tired chuckle.

She swallows.

“He sent you away with me. We are glued together for three days and he doesn’t fucking care.” His voice drops just a little lower, “You deserve better.”

“He never did,” She mumbles because it’s true. All her fucking husband has to say is okay? O-fucking-kay?

Dean reaches out a hand, places it on the back of her neck, pulls her a little closer and lowers himself and all she sees is the green of his eyes, “I need you to trust me, okay? I’m not a kidnapper. I have nothing to do with it. All I’m doing is keeping you safe and it would be good if you would trust me on this.”

She nods. He’s so close. It makes her want to surge forward, makes her want to kiss him—

— but she doesn’t.

“Good,” He says, “Let’s see what that website says, okay?” 

Dean walks back over and sits down and she follows, comes to stand next to him. He looks up at her then, “What’s the website called again?”

Instead of answering, she types it in for him, her upper arm brushes against his scruff after she takes her arm back, it leaves behind a longing inside of her.

There’s a picture of Chuck on the front page, next to it is a picture of her in a dramatic bubble. 

 CHUCK SHURLEY PLEADS TO KIDNAPPER: PLEASE DON’T HARM MY WIFE.

 She snorts when she sees the headline.

Dean reads the article aloud, “Apparently he received an email telling him to pay $5 million for your safe return. He has seven days and if not they’d kill you.”

“This is bullshit,” She huffs out a breath, “What is Chuck playing?”

“I don’t know, but I don’t like this at all.” Dean closes his laptop and leans back in his chair, his fingers drumming away on the closed laptop.

CH.06