#so Michael lied the best he could 💜

[chloesimaginationthings]

An important FNAF question, why is Michael purple?

[lila-lou]

✨Taking her in - Pt. 15✨

Summary: After Dean Winchester saves your life, he brings you into the safety of the bunker. As you grow older and stronger, Dean refuses to let you join the hunts, his overprotective behavior intensifying. But beneath his fierce protectiveness lies something darker—conflicted feelings he can’t face. As your 18th birthday approaches, Dean struggles to keep control, torn between his duty to protect you and emotions he’s buried for too long.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: HUGE Age Gap, Immoral, Language, Angst, Fluff, Dean being hurt-badly

Word Count: 7917

A/N: English isn’t my first language, please be lenient. 💜

Four days later, the door slammed open as Sam and Cas half-carried, half-dragged Dean into the motel room, his boots dragging along the carpet. The sight of him made your stomach twist. His face was pale, his body drenched in blood that stained his shirt and jeans, and his movements were sluggish at best. Yet, somehow, Dean was still holding on, still conscious, though it was clear he was barely hanging on.

Sam wasted no time, easing Dean onto the bed with Cas’s help. Dean grunted as his back hit the mattress, his jaw clenched tightly against the pain. Sam’s voice was sharp and urgent as he barked, “Get me the emergency kit. Now!”.

You didn’t hesitate. Your hands moved on autopilot, grabbing the kit from its usual spot in Dean´s bag and rushing it over to Sam. Dean’s breathing was shallow and uneven, his face twisted in discomfort as Sam yanked up his shirt to reveal the extent of the damage.

The wound was gruesome, a deep gash that ran from his stomach up toward his chest, jagged and bleeding profusely. His broken arm hung limply at his side, and his entire torso was bruised and battered. It was a miracle he was still alive, let alone conscious. Sam swore under his breath as he examined the wound, grabbing supplies from the kit.

Dean, of course, couldn’t just let the seriousness of the situation sink in. Even as blood dripped down his sides and his whole body screamed in pain, he managed to tilt his head toward you, his swollen eyes searching for yours. “You good?”, he asked, his voice hoarse but laced with concern. “They didn’t get you, right?”.

Tears pricked at your eyes, both from relief that he was alive and from frustration at his stubborn selflessness. “Dean, you’re the one bleeding out on the bed, and you’re worried about me?”, you snapped, though your voice cracked with emotion. You couldn’t help it—you were scared. You’d never seen him like this, so close to the edge.

Dean tried to grin, but it came out as more of a grimace. “Yeah, well… I gotta know”.

Sam shot him a sharp look, pressing gauze against the wound to slow the bleeding. “Dean, shut up and stay still”, Sam ordered, his tone firm but edged with worry. “You’re lucky to be alive. Stop wasting your energy on questions”.

Cas hovered nearby, his face stoic but his eyes heavy with regret. Ever since the thing with Michael, Dean couldn’t be healed with angelic powers, and you could see the guilt weighing on Cas like a boulder. “If I could heal you, I would”, Cas muttered quietly, his hands clenched into fists.

Dean waved him off weakly. “S’not your fault, Cas”, he mumbled, his voice slurring slightly from the blood loss. His eyes flicked back to you, his expression softening despite the pain. “You okay?”, he asked again, his voice quieter this time, but no less insistent.

Your heart clenched at the sight of Dean, bloodied and broken, yet still stubbornly focused on you. His insistence on knowing you were safe made your chest ache in a way that was almost unbearable. You swallowed the lump in your throat and moved closer, kneeling at the edge of the bed so you were at eye level with him.

“I’m fine, Dean”, you said firmly, your voice steady despite the tears threatening to spill. “You don’t need to worry about me right now. Let us take care of you”.

Dean blinked slowly, his eyelids heavy, but his gaze stayed locked on yours. “Always worry… ‘bout you”, he murmured, his words slurred slightly as he struggled to stay conscious.

Sam’s hands moved quickly, pressing layers of gauze against the wound to stem the bleeding. The sharp hiss of pain that escaped Dean’s lips made your stomach churn, but Sam didn’t stop.

Sam worked with the precision of someone who’d been in this situation too many times before, his hands moving swiftly to clean and stitch the gaping wound on Dean’s stomach. The room was tense, the air heavy with worry and unspoken words as you stayed by Dean’s side, gripping his hand tightly. His blood still seeped onto the bed despite Sam’s efforts, staining the sheets a deep crimson.

“This is going to hurt like hell”, Sam muttered grimly, glancing at Dean. He already had the suture kit in hand, the needle glinting under the harsh motel room light. “Dean, you need to stay still, or it’s going to get worse”.

Dean, ever the stubborn one, let out a weak, gravelly chuckle. “Yeah, no kidding”, he rasped, his lips twitching into a faint smirk despite the blood smeared across his face. “Not my first rodeo, Sammy. Just… get it over with”.

Sam sighed, shaking his head but not arguing. “Alright”, he said, his voice resigned but determined. “Here we go”.

The first puncture of the needle into Dean’s torn flesh made him flinch, his entire body tensing under the pain. He let out a sharp grunt, his jaw clenching so tightly you could see the strain in his neck. You tightened your grip on his hand, your free hand brushing against his damp hair in an attempt to comfort him.

“Breathe, Dean”, you said softly, your voice steady despite the ache in your chest. “You’ve got this”.

“Easy… for you to say”, Dean gritted out, his voice strained but still laced with his trademark sarcasm. His eyes fluttered shut for a moment, his breathing shallow as Sam worked carefully to stitch the wound.

The process was excruciatingly slow. Each tug of the needle and thread through Dean’s skin made him flinch or let out a low groan of pain, though he tried his damnedest to keep still. His knuckles were white where he gripped your hand, his strength ebbing and flowing as he fought to stay conscious. You could see the sweat beading on his forehead, mixing with the blood that streaked his face.

“Almost there”, Sam muttered, his hands steady as he tied off another stitch. His voice was calm, but you could hear the urgency beneath it. He was pushing himself to work faster.

Dean let out a low, guttural sound as the needle pierced his flesh again, his body jerking slightly despite his efforts to remain still. “Son of a bitch”, he hissed through gritted teeth, his voice hoarse. “You tryin’ to kill me, Sammy?”.

“Not funny, Dean”, Sam shot back, his tone sharp with worry. “You’re lucky you’re even alive right now. Just hold still, okay?”.

Dean let out a weak laugh, though it turned into a groan as Sam continued stitching. “If this is what alive feels like… might rethink my options”.

Sam ignored Dean’s attempt at humor, though you caught the faintest twitch of a smirk on his face as he focused on tying off another stitch. The room felt stifling, every groan or wince from Dean making your heart ache. His usual bravado, even in this state, was so him, but it only made the moment more painful to witness. He was in agony, and he was still trying to lighten the mood.

“Dean”, you said softly, leaning closer, your free hand gently brushing through his damp hair. “You don’t get to ‘rethink your options’. You’re stuck with us, so just keep holding on, alright?”.

Dean’s green eyes flicked toward you, dull but filled with the faintest glimmer of warmth. “Bossy”, he rasped, his lips twitching into a weak smile. “Kinda like it”.

Sam rolled his eyes as he finished another stitch, pulling the thread taut. “Can you two save the flirting for when you’re not bleeding out?”, he muttered, his voice tinged with frustration but also relief that Dean was still conscious enough to crack jokes.

“Who’s flirting?”, Dean shot back, his voice weaker now but still defiant. He gritted his teeth as Sam pushed gauze against the wound to clean away the excess blood. “I’m just—ahh, son of a—”.

“Hold still”, Sam snapped, his hands steady but his face tight with concern. “I’m almost done, but if you keep squirming, you’re gonna rip these stitches out before I even finish”.

Dean let out a heavy, pained breath, his head lolling slightly toward you. “You hear that? Sammy’s always been the gentle one”, he joked weakly, though his face contorted with another wave of pain as Sam moved to tie off the final stitch.

“You’re lucky I am gentle”, Sam muttered. “Otherwise, I’d leave you to patch yourself up”.

The tension in the room lessened just a fraction as Sam pulled back, finally finished. The deep gash was now closed, a neat row of stitches lining Dean’s torso. But the sight of it still made your stomach twist—it was a brutal reminder of how close he had come to losing his life.

“Alright”, Sam said, his voice calm but firm. “That should hold. Now, you need to stay still, Dean. No sudden movements, no heroics. You’ve already lost too much blood”.

Dean let out a tired huff, his head sinking further into the pillow. “Yeah, yeah. You’re like a broken record”, he muttered, though his voice was softer now, his strength clearly fading.

Sam reached for the bottle of antiseptic, his expression tightening as he unscrewed the cap. “Ready?", he asked, his voice low and serious, “We can’t leave it untreated. Infection isn’t an option.”

Dean opened one eye, glaring at Sam with as much annoyance as his battered state would allow. “You already stitched me up, Sammy. How much worse can it get?”.

Sam didn’t answer, his silence making it clear the answer was a lot worse. Instead, he grabbed a clean cloth, pouring the clear liquid onto it until it was soaked. The sharp smell of antiseptic filled the air, making you wince in anticipation. Dean didn’t flinch, but you could see his jaw tightening, his hand clenching weakly at the bedsheet.

Sam leaned in, pausing for a brief moment to give Dean a warning look. “Ready?”.

Dean let out a breathy, exasperated chuckle. “Just do it”.

The moment the antiseptic-soaked cloth made contact with the gash, Dean’s entire body tensed like a coiled spring. A guttural growl of pain tore from his throat, his hand gripping the sheet so tightly you thought it might tear. His face contorted in agony, every muscle in his body straining against the pain. Despite himself, he let out a string of curses under his breath, his voice ragged.

As the searing pain overwhelmed him, Dean’s body tensed one last time before his head lolled to the side, his grip on the sheets slackening. His labored breaths evened out slightly as he slipped into unconsciousness, his face finally relaxing from the pain.

You froze for a moment, panic bubbling up in your chest. “Sam!”, you called sharply, your voice tinged with fear.

Sam sighed, his hand already moving to check Dean’s pulse at his neck. “He’s fine”, he said quickly, his tone reassuring but tired. “He passed out from the pain. Honestly, it’s probably for the best”. He gave a faint, humorless chuckle as he pulled back, shaking his head. “Now I can finally finish patching him up without him squirming or complaining”.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, nodding as you settled back into your spot beside the bed. “Guess that’s a silver lining”, you muttered, though the sight of Dean unconscious still left you uneasy.

Sam moved swiftly, grabbing the materials he needed to set Dean’s broken arm. The break was clean, but it would still take time to heal—and knowing Dean, time and rest were luxuries he rarely allowed himself. Sam unwrapped the temporary splint he’d fashioned earlier in the field, wincing slightly as he saw the swelling and bruising around the break.

“He really did a number on himself this time”, Sam muttered under his breath, his brow furrowed in concentration as he worked.

You watched as Sam mixed the plaster, his movements methodical and practiced. He’d done this more times than either of you could count, but the gravity of the situation never seemed to lessen. Sam carefully wrapped Dean’s arm in fresh bandages, his hands steady as he secured the splint in place before beginning to apply the plaster.

“He’s lucky it’s just a clean break. Could’ve been a lot worse”.

You nodded, your eyes flicking between Dean’s still form and Sam’s hands as he shaped the plaster, ensuring it set evenly. “Yeah, well, ‘lucky’ isn’t the word I’d use”, you muttered, your voice laced with frustration and worry.

Sam glanced at you as he worked, his brow furrowed in concentration as he smoothed the plaster over Dean’s arm. His voice was quiet, almost as if he were speaking more to himself than to you. “You know why this happened, right?”.

You frowned, looking between Sam and Dean’s unconscious form. “Because Dean can’t go two seconds without throwing himself into danger?”.

Sam let out a dry, humorless chuckle, shaking his head. “It’s more than that. He thought you were in danger”. He kept his eyes on his work as he continued. “That’s why he wasn’t paying attention to his own safety. He saw you struggling with that demon and just… reacted”.

Your chest tightened at Sam’s words, guilt washing over you like a tidal wave. “I had it under control”, you whispered, though the tremor in your voice betrayed your confidence. “I didn’t need him to…”.

Sam finally looked up, his gaze softening as he saw the emotions flickering across your face. “You know Dean”, he said, his tone gentler now. “He wasn’t going to take that chance. It doesn’t matter if you had it under control. If he even thinks you’re in danger, he’s going to put himself between you and whatever’s coming”.

You swallowed hard, glancing at Dean. His face was pale, his breaths shallow but steady. The sight of him so broken, so vulnerable, was a stark contrast to the man who always seemed invincible to you. “It doesn’t make it okay”, you muttered, your voice cracking. “He almost died, Sam”.

Sam nodded solemnly, his lips pressing into a thin line. “I know”, he said softly. “But that’s who he is. He doesn’t think about himself when it comes to the people he cares about. You, me, Cas, Jack—we’re all he’s got, and he’ll do anything to keep us safe. Even if it costs him”.

Your eyes burned with unshed tears as you looked at Dean, your hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair from his forehead. “It’s not fair”, you murmured, your voice barely audible. “He shouldn’t have to keep doing this—sacrificing himself for everyone else”.

Sam sighed, his hands stilling as he finished wrapping the cast around Dean’s arm. “No, he shouldn’t”, he agreed quietly. “But try telling him that. He’s been this way his whole life—it’s not something you can just turn off”.

You nodded, your fingers lightly tracing the edge of Dean’s bruised face.

Sam wiped his hands on a towel and reached into the first-aid kit for a fresh, damp cloth. He handed it to you, his lips quirking into a small, knowing smirk. “Here”, he said softly, nodding toward Dean. “I think the cleaning part’s more your department”.

You took the cloth, feeling the warmth of Sam’s subtle teasing cutting through the heaviness in the room. “Thanks”, you murmured, glancing at Dean’s battered face and knowing Sam was right. Sam stood, stretching his back as he packed up the remaining supplies.

“If anything feels off, call me”, Sam added, his tone serious again. He gave you a reassuring pat on the shoulder before heading toward the door. “I’m gonna check on Cas and Jack. We’ll get the Impala ready to roll as soon as Dean wakes up”.

“Alright”, you said, your voice soft but grateful. You watched as Sam exited the room, leaving you alone with Dean. The door clicked shut behind him, and for a moment, the only sound in the room was the steady, shallow rhythm of Dean’s breathing.

You turned back to him, your heart aching as you took in his injuries up close. His face was pale, bruised, and smeared with dried blood, and you could see the tension still lingering in his features even as he rested. You dipped the cloth into the basin of water Sam had left, wringing it out before carefully pressing it against the dried blood on Dean’s forehead.

“I swear, Dean”, you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “You scare the hell out of me when you do this”.

You worked slowly, gently wiping away the blood and grime that clung to his skin. Every bruise and cut felt like a testament to how much he gave, how much he sacrificed for the people he cared about. The thought of him throwing himself into danger for your sake was both humbling and infuriating. You wanted to protect him just as much as he protected you, but Dean never seemed to let anyone do that for him.

As you finished cleaning Dean’s face, your heart ached at the sheer number of cuts and bruises scattered across his skin. You dipped the cloth back into the water, wringing it out before moving lower to clean his chest and arms. His torso was a mess—dark bruises marred his ribs, and patches of dried blood stuck stubbornly to his skin.

You worked carefully, your touch gentle as you wiped away the blood and grime. Dean remained still, his breathing steady but shallow, and you couldn’t help but notice how vulnerable he looked like this. Dean Winchester, the man who always seemed larger than life, reduced to a battered heap by his own stubbornness and selflessness.

As you moved to his stomach and the deep gash Sam had stitched, you swallowed hard, the sight of the angry red wound making your chest tighten. The bandages around his torso were soaked with blood in places, but they were doing their job, and for that, you were grateful. You worked around them as delicately as possible, not wanting to disturb Sam’s handiwork.

Finally, your attention shifted lower to his blood-soaked jeans. The fabric was dark and stiff with dried blood, and you knew it would have to come off to properly clean him up. You hesitated for a moment, biting your lip, before reaching for his belt. Your fingers worked to unbuckle it, but the leather was stubborn, and you struggled for a moment before finally getting it undone. The zipper was just as uncooperative, but you managed to tug it down carefully without jostling him too much.

Sliding his jeans down was no easy task. The fabric clung to his legs, and you had to work slowly to avoid causing him any unnecessary pain.

As you reached the waistband of Dean’s boxers, your hands stilled, a deep flush rising to your cheeks. You weren’t sure how far you should go—this wasn’t something you’d ever done before, not like this. The intimate act of undressing him, especially in such a vulnerable state, felt different. Necessary, yes, but undeniably personal.

As your hands hovered at the waistband of Dean’s boxers, he stirred, his body shifting slightly under your touch. His eyelids fluttered open just a crack, and a faint, teasing smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, despite the exhaustion etched into his features.

“Well, sweetheart”, he rasped, his voice hoarse but still carrying that unmistakable Dean Winchester charm, “didn’t know you were this eager to get me out of my clothes”.

You froze, the blush on your cheeks deepening as your mouth opened to respond. But before you could form a single word, Dean’s expression shifted slightly, the smirk fading as something flickered behind his eyes—pride, discomfort, and something else you couldn’t quite place.

Then, with a low grunt of effort, Dean pushed himself upright, his movements slow and deliberate. “That’s enough”, he muttered, his voice gruff, his tone leaving little room for argument. The sudden motion caused more blood to seep through the bandage on his torso, the dark red staining the already battered fabric.

“Dean!”, you exclaimed, alarmed, reaching out to steady him. “You’re going to rip the stitches! Lay back down”.

He ignored you, his jaw set as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. “I’m fine”, he said tersely, though the wince on his face betrayed the words. “You’ve done enough. I’ll handle the rest”.

You frowned, your worry mounting as you watched him try to shake off your care. “Dean, stop. You’re not in any shape to—”.

“Just… stop”, he interrupted, his voice low but firm, his eyes avoiding yours. His hands fumbled at his sides as he tried to stand, his stubbornness overriding all logic. You could see the tension in his posture, the way his pride was battling against his vulnerability.

You stepped closer, your hands hovering near him in case he lost his balance. “Dean, you’re being ridiculous. You’re hurt, and you need to let someone take care of you”.

Somehow, through sheer stubbornness, Dean managed to pull himself together enough to get dressed. His movements were shaky and clumsy, but his pride wouldn’t let him sit still any longer. His shirt, hastily thrown on, was already beginning to soak through with fresh blood, and his jeans hung loosely on his hips, the zipper still undone and his boots untied.

“Dean, stop this”, you pleaded, stepping in front of him as he stumbled toward the door. “You’re not in any condition to move on your own”.

He shot you a hard look, though the exhaustion in his eyes dulled the usual sharpness of his expression. “I’ve gotta… gotta check on the car”, he muttered, his voice weak but determined. “Can’t sit here doing nothing”.

You reached out, grabbing his arm in a desperate attempt to stop him, but he shook you off with more strength than you expected. “Dean!”, you called after him, frustration and fear mingling in your voice. “You’re going to kill yourself!”.

He ignored you, his steps unsteady but dogged as he opened the motel door and stepped outside. The cold air hit him immediately, and for a moment, he seemed to steady himself, his hand bracing against the doorframe. But it didn’t last long. As he took another step, his body swayed dangerously, and his knees buckled beneath him.

“Dean!”, you shouted, rushing forward, but you weren’t fast enough.

Sam, who had just been walking up from the Impala, saw the scene unfold. His eyes went wide with alarm, and within seconds, he was at Dean’s side, catching him before he could hit the ground. The anger on Sam’s face was evident, his jaw clenched tight as he heaved Dean back up to his feet with a strength born of pure frustration.

“Are you kidding me, Dean?”, Sam growled, his voice low but laced with fury. His eyes flicked to the fresh blood soaking through Dean’s shirt, his anger deepening. “You’re bleeding all over the damn place, and you think it’s a good idea to wander around like this? What the hell is wrong with you?”.

Dean groaned, his head lolling slightly as he tried—and failed—to straighten himself up. “I’m fine”, he muttered weakly, his voice slurring. “Just needed some air”.

“Air?”, Sam snapped, his grip tightening around Dean’s arm as he practically dragged him toward the Impala. “You need a hospital, Dean, not a walk in the parking lot!”.

You followed close behind, your heart pounding as you watched Sam wrestle Dean into the backseat of the Impala. Dean protested weakly, but Sam silenced him with a sharp glare, his patience clearly worn thin.

“Sit down, shut up, and don’t move”, Sam ordered, his tone brooking no argument. He grabbed a fresh towel from the trunk, pressing it firmly against Dean’s torso to try to stem the bleeding again. “You’ve already done enough damage for one day”.

Dean let out a weak chuckle, though it quickly turned into a groan of pain. “Always… so bossy”, he mumbled, his eyes half-lidded as he slumped against the seat.

Sam shot you a look as he climbed into the driver’s seat, his face a mix of anger and concern. “You’re riding with him”, he said firmly. “Make sure he doesn’t try anything stupid”.

You nodded, quickly sliding into the backseat, after getting your and Dean´s stuff inside, next to Dean. As the Impala roared to life, you reached out to steady him, your hand resting gently on his arm. He looked at you through heavy-lidded eyes, his lips twitching into a faint, tired smile.

“Sorry, sweetheart”, he murmured, his voice barely audible. “Didn’t mean to scare you”.

You squeezed his arm gently, your heart aching at the sight of him so weak. “You’re impossible, you know that?”, you said softly, though your voice was filled with more relief than frustration. “But you’re going to be okay. We’ll make sure of it”.

Dean’s eyes fluttered shut, his head resting against the window as the Impala sped off into the night.

A few hours later, the bunker was eerily quiet. The tension from earlier had simmered down, but the weight of the close call still lingered in the air. Sam, Cas, and Jack had taken turns keeping watch outside Dean’s room to make sure he didn’t try anything stupid again. It wasn’t just precaution—it was necessary when it came to Dean’s bullheaded stubbornness.

Inside the room, the atmosphere was different. Dean lay completely still, knocked out from the pain meds you’d practically forced him to take. His breaths were deep and steady, his body finally given a chance to rest after the relentless beating it had endured.

You were tucked at his side, your head resting gently on his shoulder. One of your hands lightly brushed over the fresh bandage on his torso, where a tiny blotch of blood had seeped through. You frowned slightly, your fingers ghosting over the edge of the gauze, careful not to disturb it. Even asleep, Dean looked tense, as if his body couldn’t fully relax even with the meds dulling the pain.

Biting your lip, you shifted closer, your arm draping over his chest carefully. The heat of his skin beneath yours was grounding, a reminder that he was here, alive, and slowly recovering. The fear from earlier still lingered in the back of your mind, but the steady rise and fall of his chest was enough to soothe it—at least for now.

Dean stirred slightly in his sleep, his head tilting toward you. A low, unintelligible murmur escaped his lips, and you couldn’t help but smile faintly. It was rare to see him this vulnerable, this unguarded, and despite the circumstances, it felt like a privilege to be here with him like this.

Your fingers brushed over his bandaged torso again, trailing lightly as if your touch could somehow will him to heal faster. You leaned in closer, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder, your lips lingering for a moment. “You scared the hell out of me today”, you whispered, your voice barely audible in the quiet room. “But I’m not going anywhere, Dean. So you’d better stick around, too”.

Dean didn’t respond, still lost in the haze of painkillers and exhaustion, but his body relaxed just a fraction more against yours. You stayed like that, cuddled up beside him, your hand resting gently over his heart.

The next morning, the tension that had weighed heavily in the room the previous night seemed to have eased just slightly. Dean remained still, his body finally allowed the time it needed to recover. You sat on the edge of the bed, your knees tucked beneath you, watching him stir for the first time since the pain meds had knocked him out. His face, still bruised but more rested, twitched as he began to wake.

Sam stood at Dean’s side, meticulously checking the bandages wrapped around his torso. The bleeding had stopped, thank God, and his stitches were still intact. Sam gently pulled up the edge of the bandage, peering at the wound to make sure it was clean and hadn’t reopened. You winced slightly at the sight but couldn’t bring yourself to look away. Every moment felt like progress now, a step closer to Dean being himself again.

Dean let out a low groan as he stirred further, his head shifting against the pillow. His green eyes cracked open, blinking groggily at the light. His gaze landed on you first, and for a brief moment, his expression softened. “Hey”, he rasped, his voice hoarse from sleep.

“Hey yourself”, you replied softly, a small smile tugging at your lips. Relief flooded through you at hearing his voice, even if it was rough and tired.

Sam gave Dean a look as he finished checking the bandage, his hand pressing lightly against Dean’s shoulder to keep him still. “Stay down, Dean”, Sam warned, already seeing the stubborn glint in his brother’s eyes. “You’re not getting up yet”.

Predictably, Dean tried to sit up anyway, his jaw set in defiance. The movement was slow and strained, his muscles protesting loudly, but he managed to lift himself just a fraction before Sam firmly pressed him back down with one hand. “Dean, don’t”, Sam said sharply, his voice leaving no room for argument.

Dean let out a growl of frustration, his teeth gritting as he glared at Sam. “I’m fine, Sam”, he muttered, though the weakness in his voice betrayed the claim. “I don’t need a damn babysitter”.

“You’re not fine”, Sam shot back, his tone exasperated but edged with concern. “You almost bled out yesterday, and you’re still healing. You’re not moving until I say so”.

Dean grumbled under his breath, his irritation clear, but he didn’t fight Sam’s hand anymore. Instead, he turned his gaze back to you, his expression softening again as he took in your worried look. His voice, though hoarse, carried the familiar edge of determination. “You’re not hurt, right?”, he asked again, his tone soft but insistent.

Before you could respond, Dean winced, his breath hitching as Sam adjusted the position of his broken arm to ensure it stayed in the sling. “Damn it, Sam”, Dean muttered through gritted teeth, his irritation bubbling up even as he struggled to stay still. “Little warning next time?”.

Sam rolled his eyes, unimpressed by Dean’s grumbling. “Yeah, I’ll get right on that”, he said dryly. “Just stay still, Dean. You’re lucky it’s a clean break. If you screw this up, you’ll be stuck in that sling even longer”.

Dean groaned before he tilted his head slightly, his expression softening as he waited for your answer. “You good?”, he asked again, his voice quieter this time, almost as if he didn’t trust his own strength to ask the question properly.

You reached out, placing your hand gently on his uninjured shoulder, offering him a small, reassuring smile. “I’m fine, Dean”, you said softly, your voice steady despite the lingering tension in the room. “You made sure of that, didn’t you?”.

Dean’s lips twitched into the faintest hint of a smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Good”, he murmured, his voice heavy with relief. “I just… I needed to hear it”.

Sam glanced between the two of you, his expression flickering with something unreadable before he stepped back, giving you both a moment. “I’ll go check on breakfast”, Sam muttered, grabbing the used gauze and other supplies before heading for the door. “Try not to do anything stupid while I’m gone, Dean”.

Dean let out a low chuckle, though it was weak and short-lived. “Define stupid”, he called after Sam, earning only a muttered “Don’t push it” in return.

Once the door clicked shut, the silence in the room felt heavy but not uncomfortable. You shifted closer, brushing your fingers lightly over the edge of his bandages, careful not to cause him any pain. “You need to stop worrying about me, Dean”, you said gently, your voice almost a whisper. “You’re the one who almost died”.

Dean’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment before he opened them again, meeting your gaze. “It’s what I do”, he said simply, his voice tinged with exhaustion. “I can’t turn it off”.

You leaned in closer, your hand resting over his heart. “Then let me take care of you for a change”, you whispered, your voice full of quiet determination. “You don’t have to do this alone, Dean. Not anymore”.

Dean didn’t reply, but the way his hand moved to rest over yours, his fingers brushing yours lightly, told you everything he couldn’t say. For now, that was enough.

Two days later, the tension in the bunker had eased slightly as Dean slowly regained his strength. He was finally able to walk again without collapsing with every step, but it was clear he was still struggling. His movements were slow and deliberate, though he tried to mask the discomfort with his usual stoic determination. He hated feeling weak, and you could see it in the tight set of his jaw and the way his hand frequently rested over the wound on his chest and stomach, as if trying to hold himself together.

You and Sam were in the kitchen, working together to prepare breakfast. The smell of eggs and bacon filled the air, and the clatter of pans and utensils provided a comforting rhythm. Dean’s heavy footsteps echoed down the hall, a little uneven but steady enough to reach the kitchen doorway.

He paused there for a moment, leaning slightly against the frame as he surveyed the scene. His face was still swollen and bruised, a deep cut running from his forehead down to his brow and a split lip adding to the battle scars. He looked tired, but his gaze lingered on you, his expression softening as he watched you move around the kitchen.

What bothered him the most, though, wasn’t the pain or the slow recovery—it was the distance. You hadn’t kissed him since the accident, and it gnawed at him. He told himself it was understandable—you were worried about his injuries, focused on helping him heal—but it still left him feeling unsettled. Still, he wasn’t about to bring it up while Sam was around.

As if on cue, Sam grabbed a few empty bottles from the counter and muttered, “I’ll go grab some drinks from the garage. Be back in a minute”. He shot you both a small smile before disappearing down the hall.

The second Sam was out of earshot, Dean straightened slightly, though you could see the effort it cost him. He walked toward you, his broken arm awkwardly tucked against his side, his good hand resting on the counter for support.

“Hey”, he said, his voice rough but warm. His green eyes flicked to yours, searching for a reaction. “Need a hand?”.

You glanced over at him, your brows furrowing slightly. “Dean, you should be resting”, you said, the concern in your voice impossible to hide.

Dean smirked faintly, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Resting’s boring”, he quipped, his tone teasing. He stepped closer, his gaze locking on yours. “Besides, I think there’s something I’ve been missing”.

You raised an eyebrow, pausing your movements. “What’s that?”.

Dean hesitated for a moment, his usual bravado tempered by the vulnerability he couldn’t quite hide. “You”, he said simply, his voice low. “Haven’t had a proper kiss in days”.

Your breath hitched slightly, your heart fluttering at his words. His expression softened further, a small, hopeful smile playing on his bruised lips as he waited for your response.

You stood there, frozen for a moment, as Dean’s words hung in the air. The way he looked at you, with that small, hopeful smile on his battered face, made your chest tighten. He was bruised, broken, and still healing, yet his focus wasn’t on himself—it was on you.

“You’ve been keeping track, huh?”, you teased softly, though your voice wavered slightly. You turned to face him fully, setting down the spatula you’d been holding.

Dean’s smirk widened just a fraction, the gesture tugging at his split lip, but he didn’t seem to care. “Hard not to”, he muttered, his green eyes locking on yours. “Kinda gets to a guy”.

You bit your lip, glancing at his hand, which still rested on the counter for support, and then at the arm awkwardly tucked against him. “Dean, you’re still recovering”, you said gently, your voice tinged with both affection and concern. “I didn’t want to—”.

“Didn’t want to what?”, Dean interrupted, his tone soft but insistent. “Didn’t want to hurt me? Sweetheart, you’ve patched me up more times than I can count. A kiss isn’t gonna kill me”.

You let out a quiet laugh, shaking your head at him. He always had a way of making things seem so simple, even when they weren’t. But this wasn’t complicated—not really. You had missed him, too, and now that you were looking into his eyes, you couldn’t resist any longer.

Carefully, you stepped closer, your hands reaching out to rest lightly on his good arm and his chest, avoiding the bandages. His warmth radiated through you, grounding you as you tilted your head up toward him. Dean’s gaze softened, and he leaned down slowly, his movements deliberate to avoid causing himself more pain.

Your lips met in a kiss that was gentle but filled with all the emotion you hadn’t been able to express in words. Dean’s hand slipped from the counter to rest lightly at your waist, his grip weak but firm enough to pull you closer. The kiss was tender, slower than usual, but it felt perfect.

When you pulled back, your forehead rested against his, your breaths mingling in the quiet moment. “Happy now?”, you murmured, a teasing smile tugging at your lips.

Dean let out a soft chuckle, his good hand brushing lightly against your side. “Getting there”, he replied, his voice low and warm. “Might need a few more of those, just to be sure”.

You laughed softly, your hand coming up to gently brush a strand of hair away from his forehead, careful of the cut. “We’ll see”, you teased, though your smile gave away your willingness.

Before either of you could say anything more, you heard the faint sound of Sam’s boots approaching from down the hall. Dean sighed, rolling his eyes as he straightened slightly, his smirk returning. “Perfect timing, as always”, he muttered under his breath.

You stepped back, your cheeks still flushed as you turned your attention back to the stove. Dean leaned against the counter, trying to look nonchalant, though the small, satisfied smile on his face was impossible to miss. When Sam entered the kitchen, drinks in hand, he gave you both a curious glance but didn’t comment, much to your relief.

Dean adjusted his stance subtly, as if trying to mask the discomfort he was clearly feeling.

“How you feelin’?”, Sam asked, his tone casual but with an undercurrent of concern. He turned to help you with the food, setting plates on the counter while glancing back at Dean.

Dean shrugged, wincing slightly at the movement, though he quickly tried to cover it with a smirk. “Like I just walked away from a fight with a Mack truck”, he replied, his voice laced with dry humor. “But, you know, still handsome as ever”.

You rolled your eyes with a small smile as you flipped the pancakes. “Still milking the charm, huh?”.

Dean’s smirk widened just a fraction, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Sam, however, wasn’t letting him off the hook that easily. He set down the utensils he was holding and crossed his arms, giving Dean his signature big-brother stare.

“Dean, seriously”, Sam said, his voice dropping into that stern tone that always managed to cut through Dean’s deflection. “You shouldn’t even be standing, let alone wandering around the bunker like you’re fine”.

Dean huffed, straightening up slightly, though his hand instinctively went to his chest, resting just above the bandages. “I’m not ‘wandering’, Sammy”, he shot back, his voice tinged with irritation. “I’m walking to the kitchen. Big difference”.

Sam raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “Your shirt’s already pulling blood through, and you’re favoring your side like it’s about to fall off. Sitting down wouldn’t kill you”.

Dean grumbled under his breath, his pride refusing to let him admit that Sam was probably right. Before he could retort, you cut in, your voice firm but gentle. “Dean, maybe you should listen to him. Breakfast is almost ready, and you can sit at the table while we finish”.

Dean’s gaze flicked to you, his irritation softening as he caught the concern in your eyes. “Fine”, he muttered begrudgingly, pushing off the counter and making his way—slowly—to the table. His movements were stiff and deliberate, and you could tell he was in pain despite his best efforts to hide it.

Sam sighed as he watched Dean sit down, the tension easing from his shoulders slightly. “Stubborn as hell”, he muttered, shaking his head before turning back to help you.

You smiled softly, glancing over at Dean as he settled into his seat, his hand resting lightly on the edge of the table. Despite his protests, you could see the relief on his face as he finally allowed himself to rest. It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless.

After breakfast, you and Dean made your way to the small room where the TV was set up. Dean insisted the couch would be fine for him, brushing off any suggestion that he should head back to bed. You could see the determination in his eyes, but it was tempered by the clear discomfort in his movements. His hand stayed pressed to his chest over the bandaged wound, and the crimson stain on his shirt—a new one, his tenth in just two days—was all the proof you needed that he wasn’t as fine as he claimed to be.

“You know”, you started as you grabbed the remote and sat down beside him, “I think at this point, we should just skip the shirts altogether. It’d save me from constantly doing your bloody laundry”.

Dean smirked faintly, his head leaning back against the couch. “What can I say? Red’s my color”.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at your lips. “Seriously, though, Dean. You’ve bled through more shirts in two days than most people do in a lifetime. Maybe that’s a sign to, oh, I don’t know, stay in bed?”.

Dean waved you off, clearly not interested in entertaining the idea. “The couch is bed enough”, he said, adjusting his position with a slight wince. “I’m not gonna spend the whole day lying around. I’ll go stir-crazy”.

You gave him a skeptical look, but you didn’t push. You knew how much Dean hated feeling weak, and while you wanted him to rest, you also knew that sometimes, it was better to let him have these small victories.

“Fine”, you said, leaning back against the couch. “But if you pass out again, I’m dragging you back to bed whether you like it or not”.

Dean chuckled softly, though the sound was tinged with fatigue. “Noted, sweetheart”, he said, reaching for the remote. “Now, what are we watching?”.

As he flipped through the channels, you couldn’t help but glance at him out of the corner of your eye. His face was still bruised and swollen, the cut above his brow stitched neatly but still angry and red. Despite his stubbornness, he looked exhausted, and the sight made your heart ache.

“You okay?”, you asked gently, your voice cutting through the sound of the TV.

Dean paused, his thumb hovering over the remote’s buttons. He turned to look at you, his green eyes softening slightly. “Yeah”, he said after a moment, his voice quieter now. “I’m okay”. He shifted slightly on the couch, a faint grimace crossing his face as he tried to get comfortable. He let out a low grumble, his hand still pressed lightly to his chest as he glanced at you. “Now, c’mere”, he muttered, his voice soft but insistent.

You blinked at him, tilting your head in slight confusion. “Dean, you’re supposed to be resting—”.

“Yeah, yeah”, he cut you off, waving his good hand weakly before letting it drop to the couch. “I’m resting. Just… get over here”. He slowly and awkwardly lifted his uninjured arm, the movement clearly a struggle but one he was determined to push through.

A small smile crept onto your lips as you saw the stubborn look in his eyes. “Dean, you’re the most stubborn man I’ve ever met”, you said softly, but you moved closer anyway, sliding toward him on the couch.

“And you love it”, he teased, his voice rough but warm.

You rolled your eyes playfully but didn’t argue. Carefully, you nestled yourself beside him, mindful of his injuries as you rested your head gently on his shoulder. His arm came around you slowly, his hand settling on your waist with a surprising gentleness. The warmth of his touch was comforting, grounding, even as you could feel the tension in his muscles from the effort.

“There”, he muttered, his voice quieter now. “That’s better”.

You glanced up at him, your head still resting against his shoulder. His green eyes were half-lidded, exhaustion clear in his expression, but there was a soft smile on his bruised lips. “You’re impossible, you know that?”, you murmured, your tone fond.

“Yeah”, he replied, his voice barely above a whisper as his head leaned back against the couch.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰 

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Part 16

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Taglist: @blackcherrywhiskey @baby19sthings @suckitands33 @spnfamily-j2 @lyarr24 @deans-baby-momma @reignsboy19 @kawaii-arfid-memes @mekkencspony @lovziy @artemys-ackles @fitxgrld @libby99hb @lovelyvirtualperson @a-lil-pr1ncess @nancymcl @the-last-ry @spndeanwinchesterlvr @hobby27 @themarebarroww @kr804573 @impala67rollingthroughtown @deans-queen @deadlymistletoe @selfdestructionandrhum @utyblyn @winchesterwild78 @jackles010378 @chirazsstuff @foxyjwls007 @smoothdogsgirl @woooonau @whimsyfinny @freyabear @laaadygisbooornex3 @quietgirll75 @perpetualabsurdity @ladykitana90 @fullbelieverheart @chainsawsangel @zaratahir @rebecca-hvnstn @maackiimoo @mayafatimakhan @ladysparkles78 @lachelledavies-winchester @kamisobsessed @kr804573 @c1gs-coffee @fyegyall @lilbloggs @emily-winchester @star-yawnznn @noell666 @averagedenjienjoyer0290 @impala67rollingthroughtown

[zepskies]

Oooh we sure are getting into the thick of it now! 😅

So happy to say goodbye to Michael! I can’t believe he really thought he could justify his actions and she’d take him back, the fact that he just stood there while the reader was covered in glass proves he really didn’t think anything through. 🤦‍♀️ Let’s not even get into how he tried to blame the woman he cheated on the reader with like it was her fault that he made mistakes and lied about them. 🙄

Michael personified the most toxic of audacity in a man. He "really thought." And he was too shocked at what had happened to her when she fell to even kick his ass into gear and help, despite being a firefighter. 🙄

However, luckily we got to see some protective Beau. He really is a sweetheart, I can practically hear the voice every time he calls her darlin’! 🥰 Seeing him be angry at Michael (rightfully so) but still being gentle with the reader was adorable. He really is a teddy bear around those he loves, but isn’t afraid to go directly into protective mode for them. 💕

Beau is the sweetest! It may take him a while to get on the right page with his feelings, but you said it right: he's a mush when it comes to the people he loves, but def a protective grizzly bear when he needs to be lol. 💗🐻

I’m so glad Beau finally found someone he can open up to, even if that whole scene made me cry a little (and by a little I mean a lot.) 😭 I’m happy he’s not only found someone who he can talk to but also that he’s in a place where he feels like he can open up to at least one person. Beau really does have a big heart and cares a lot about the people around him, it made me happy seeing the reader comfort him the way he deserves. 🥰

Awww while I'm so sorry I made you cry, I'm also not sorry? 😂 In the way that I'm so glad you were able to connect to that part of the scene. 💕 This is one of my favorite chapters for that exact reason: he's found someone he feels safe enough to open up to. And she understands the gravity of it all for him, does her best to be there for him.

One thing I especially love is that you didn’t make the reader super jealous of Carla, she likes Beau and all but she understands the situation with Carla joining Emily in staying with him for the time being, and she’s willing to be patient with him. I think he deserves that kind of understanding in his life. 💜

Yeah I don't like creating or reading petty jealousy between women. I never like to go that route unless it makes sense for the characters' personalities. The reader understands full well that Carla and Emily are potentially in danger, and Beau's trying to protect them the best he can. But also a great point that Beau needs that kind of understanding in his life, especially at this moment. 💜💜

And don’t even get me started on that kiss! It was so sweet while having just the right amount of spice. 🥵 Theres just something about this cowboy mixed with some cute spice.. I can’t even articulate it. (Honestly there’s just something about this adorable cowboy in general)

Hahaa I'm so glad you enjoyed a little spice at the end there.~ 🌶️

This sunshine cowboy has an edge for sure, and that will definitely be explored in the near future. 😘 (I get what you mean. It's like, he's soft, but he could also break your back -- in the best of ways lmao.)

ZEP!! If you’re doing what I think you’re doing with that sneak peek of part seven… oh boy, we’re really getting into it. 😧 I can’t wait to see what you’ve cooked up but I’m so nervous for that!!

Lmaoooo I can neither confirm nor deny... 😉😉

Thank you so much for this amazing review of Part 6!! I can't wait to bring you the next chapter in a couple of days. 💕

Take Me Home - Part 6

Pairing: Beau Arlen x F. Reader 

Summary: You are another lost soul at Sunny Day Excursions. You’re aiming to settle in Helena, Montana, where Beau Arlen is the new sheriff in town. But you’ve both got a past you’re running from. 

AN: Get ready for a rollercoaster of emotions…

Word Count: 4.6K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, tinge of spice~

❤️ Series Masterlist

“Michael?! What are you doing here?” you asked. 

He stood there with determination set across his face.

“We really need to talk.”

“We already did! Just leave me the hell alone,” you said. If your day hadn’t been long already, you knew it was about to be even longer. 

Because just as you began to close the door, Michael slapped a hand on the center of it and pushed his way into your apartment.

You gasped and had to back up a couple of steps. “What are you doing?”

“Just hear me out, and then I’ll leave,” Michael said, staring down into your eyes. “That’s all I want.”

He pushed the door closed behind him, but it swung open, just a crack. In his heated state, he hadn’t even noticed. Neither did you. You stepped back further into the center of the living room and crossed your arms with an angry frown. 

“I don’t care!” you snapped. Your patience quota for the day had run out a long time ago. “I just want to be done. Don’t you get that?”

“I know,” he said, rubbing at his eyes. He looked tired as hell; like he hadn’t been sleeping well for weeks. Now in the light of day and not a dusky bar, you could see the darkness under his eyes and the stubble on his cheeks, though he was usually clean-shaven. 

“I know and I’m sorry. I hurt you badly, and I never even told you why,” he said.

You tilted your head in contemplation. Because he was right. For all these months, you’d been so incensed at the bare facts of what he’d done, you’d never looked too deeply into the why.

The one time you’d asked him (while throwing his clothes and possessions out of your shared apartment at the time), he’d never given you a good answer.

“Okay, fine. Why did you do it then?” you asked. “Why did you betray me in the worst way possible, and still try to marry me?”

Michael sighed, his shoulders sinking. “The truth?”

That sparked your anger once more.

“No, keep lying to me like you’ve done from the very start!” you retorted.

“It wasn’t from the start!” he barked back. “It was around six months in, when we were dating. You and I had argued about something stupid. Kate came over to talk it out with me…just to talk. I swear to God. But we were drinking and…”

You let out a sigh, casting your gaze upwards. You really didn’t think you wanted to hear this after all. Michael earned your attention back though, when he took a step forward into your orbit.

“She got pregnant,” he admitted.

Your mouth fell open as your breath left your lungs. Your hands went to your temples in disbelief, and you made a sound of pure shock and distress.

“But she lost the baby early on,” he said. “She was devastated. I was too, but…I tried to help her through it. And it became this, this thing that wouldn’t let go of me. She wouldn’t let me go.”

You shook your head as furious tears welled up in your eyes. This was just too ridiculous and upsetting to compute. You didn’t even recognize the man that was standing in front of you anymore.

How could he blame Kate for what they’d done to you, and for clinging to him after losing her baby? How could he keep that from you, even when he asked you to marry him?

And how could he tell you all of this now and expect you to forgive him?

You didn’t have the words, but you held out a hand against him when he tried to take another step toward you.

“I know I fucked up. I fucked everything up. But you don’t have to come all the way here to run away,” he said. “Your parents miss you. Our friends…they all love you. And most of them rightly don’t want anything to do with me.”

He looked down then, with shame coloring his features. 

Through your tears and the struggle of collecting yourself, you studied him closely with your arms crossed.

You’d known Michael for several years. Even considering the months you two had been apart, you knew he was the same—stubborn and hot-headed and full of audacity as ever. But…he also seemed genuinely remorseful. And desperate.

“If you give me one more chance, I promise I won’t mess it up again. I’ll be the man you deserve,” he said, taking your hand and uncrossing your arms in the process. “Believe it or not, I took a week off without pay, just to be here and get a chance to say this to you: I love you. I love you. And I know now that it’s meant to be you.”

You hesitated, and even made the mistake of looking up into his eyes. They were a crisp dark blue, and yet, not the warm green you’d come to crave. You shook your head.  

“I get it, Michael. I really do…but I can’t do this anymore,” you said. “It’s too damn much.”

You began to slip your hand out of his, but he held you a fraction tighter. He frowned. 

“Are you seeing someone? Is it that guy from the other night? That cop?” Michael asked. 

“Stop it,” you warned in anger. Beau was part of the reason your heart held pain, but it wasn’t the main reason you wanted to be done with Michael Hadley.

You tried to twist your wrist out of his grip. He wouldn’t let you, instead, trying to bring you closer. 

“That’s not an answer,” he said in frustration. “Please, we can start over—”

“Let go!” you demanded. You yanked your hand out of his, and the rest came on instinct. 

Your slap was loud against his cheek, and it made your hand sting too. You also pushed him hard in the chest. Michael was forced to step back while holding his reddening face. He looked back at you in disbelief. 

You were breathing hard, shocked even at yourself. You’d never done that before in your life, but then again, never had you felt the panic of a man holding you against your will. 

Michael’s brows furrowed. He called to you in a pleading tone, and he reached for your arm to placate you.

You quickly stepped back again on reflex. Your heel tripped on the tile floor and you gasped as you felt yourself careening back…onto the glass coffee table behind you.

After putting his investigation of Avery to bed for the night, Beau felt drained on all counts.

He punctuated the end of his day by calling to check up on Frank Davis, the local firehouse chief, and the father of one of the firefighters who was killed a few months back. Brett, one of the other victims, had carried the guilt of his best friend’s death to his grave. 

Inevitably, that case brought up old memories for Beau. It also reminded him of you, and the situation with your firefighter ex-boyfriend. ‘Scuse me, ex-fiancé.

He also felt bad about how things ended with you in his office. He knew he wasn’t being fair to you. 

As his daughter reminded him the other night, if he’d just been a bit more “open” and honest, maybe he could’ve saved his marriage.

Now with Michael likely trailing you, he didn’t want you to feel like you couldn’t come to him, or even call him for that matter.

He seemed to be a bit of a hothead too, Beau thought. While he climbed into his truck and peeled out of the station, he debated stopping by to see you. Carla and Emily wouldn’t be getting over to his place for a couple of hours. That did give him some time. 

And when it came down to it, was he a man, or was he a coward?

He knew it wouldn’t sit right with him if he didn’t try to make this right, in whatever small way.

So with that decision made in his mind, he drove over to your apartment complex. When he parked in one of the guest spots, he noticed another one occupied by a rental car, a gray sedan.

A small tingling of unease buzzed in the back of his mind. Beau approached your building, went inside, and started up the stairs. When he began to hear raised voices, a man and a woman who sounded too much like you, that gut feeling became a red hot alarm making his chest tighten.

He took the stairs nearly two at a time to get up to the second floor, where he saw that the door to your apartment unit was cracked open. He could hear glass shattering from inside.

He sprinted down the hall, and with a hand on his gun at his belt, he swung the door open.

The first thing he saw was Michael’s tall frame standing over you, frozen in shock. You were lying on your side amidst a shattered coffee table, fallen through the wooden frame. There was glass everywhere and underneath you, with magazines and pictures and other knickknacks strewn across the floor.

“What the hell’s going on here?!” Beau barked out.

Michael had turned at the sound of the door banging open. He met the sheriff with wide eyes. Beau’s expression set with a grim, angry frown. Though he willed himself to hold his temper in check, he immediately stepped forward and grabbed Michael’s shoulder, pushing him back and creating space between him and you.

“Step back,” the sheriff snapped.

“Beau,” you uttered in disbelief. You had tears in your eyes at the sight of him.

“Hey, darlin’,” said Beau. His voice was still rough, but more gentle for you. He knelt down at your side and carefully wrapped an arm around your waist to help lift you off the glass.

“You okay?” he asked you.

“Y-Yeah.” Though you raised one of your hands from the ground and blanched at the sight of a sizable piece of glass embedded in your palm. Beau’s lips flattened into a line.

He paused for a moment, turning his head back towards Michael.

“Stay exactly where you are,” he ordered, in a tone that boded no argument.

And Michael offered none. He stood there with furrowed brows. He even looked on at you in worry and frustration, knowing he couldn’t help you. He could only watch the sheriff make slow movements to help you out of the glass.

“Okay, slow for me,” Beau said. He spoke to you in low, calming tones whenever you made a sound of pain. He hooked an arm under your knees and lifted you out of the coffee table’s remains.

“Easy, I gotcha,” he murmured, helping you sit on the couch. You folded your legs off to the side, so you weren’t continuing to step in the glass on bare feet. Besides your right palm, your arm and right thigh had a few bleeding cuts of various degrees.  

After making a short glance at a still concerned Michael, Beau turned to you.

“Did he push you?” he asked.

“No, I didn’t fucking push her!” Michael said. 

“He didn’t,” you confirmed. “But he did shove his way into my apartment.”

Beau’s jaw tightened. He looked back at Michael, and his gaze demanded an answer. 

“I just—I just wanted to talk! Obviously I didn’t mean for this. Goddamn it,” Michael said, wiping a frustrated hand over his face. “Are you okay?”

You sighed. Beau set a hand on your shoulder. 

“Do you want to press charges for trespassing?” Beau asked you.

“Oh, come on!” Michael exclaimed. Beau pointed at him with a hard stare.

“You pipe the hell down,” he said tersely. “And don’t you move a damn inch. Because if you do, so help me, it’ll just about make my day.”

He flashed the other man a look at the handcuffs (and the gun) on his belt.

Beau then returned his attention to you. You were attempting to pick the glass out of your hand. He stilled your movements with a gentle hand on your wrist. 

“Hey, hey, wait on that for me, okay?” he asked. You looked up at him tiredly. 

“It’s okay. Just let him go,” you said. You shifted your gaze to Michael. “Go back to Chicago, for real this time. I’m not going anywhere.”

Michael’s face became disheartened, but his eyes fell to your injured hand. Blood was streaming all the way down your forearm and dripping on the tile floor, along with the other smears of blood amongst glass. 

He knew what he’d done. It made him even more sick with himself.

He turned to leave.

You watched him go, and you could no longer hold in your quiet tears. It wasn’t for him leaving. You just couldn’t believe it had all come to this. 

Beau lightly squeezed your shoulder. 

“Hey, I’ll be right back, okay?” he said. “Do me a favor and don’t move.”

“Okay,” you said, in an uncharacteristically small voice.

Beau tried to give you a reassuring smile. He gave into the desire to sweep a stray lock of hair away from your eyes, allowing him to brush your cheek with his fingers. You gave him a small smile back, despite your watery eyes.

Beau nodded and got up from the couch. He made swift strides out of the apartment, making sure to close the door behind him. He then hastened down the hall and the stairs to catch up with Michael in the parking lot. Beau was hot on his trail to the rental car.

“Hey!” he called out.

Michael paused in his gait. He turned to face the sheriff, sporting a look of frustration.

“What?” he shot back.

“You better take her warning for the gift it is,” Beau said. He closed the distance between him and Michael, but resisted the urge to grab the other man and hurl him against the car.

“It’s time for you to go home,” Beau said. “I don’t want to see you in town. I don’t want to hear that you’re following her around or blowing up her phone. Do you hear me?”

Michael stood straighter, his jaw working in anger.

“Are you threatening me, Sheriff?” he asked.

“No. I’m thinking you’ll be smart enough to take some friendly advice,” Beau said, but his eyes were sharp. “If I have to threaten you, then we really will have a problem.”

Michael was younger, leaner, probably faster, but Beau edged him out by a couple of inches, on both height and build.

“Just let her get on with her life,” said Beau.

Fortunately, the standoff didn’t last long.

Michael’s anger soon relented, letting the guilt and shame shine through.

“Make sure she’s okay,” he said. “Tell her…that I’m sorry.”

Then he turned and walked away. Beau watched him get into his car and leave the premises.

It wasn’t until the rumble of the engine faded away that Beau released the clenched fists at his sides. He pivoted slowly on his heel and made his way back up to your apartment.

And your door was locked.

On one hand, he understood your fears. On the other hand, he’d asked you not to move from the couch.

“Who is it?” you asked, after he knocked.

“It’s just me, don’t worry,” Beau answered. You opened the door with your good hand and let him in, while holding up your bloody one with a bunch of crumpled gauze and medical tape hanging down your arm. It looked like you got the glass shard out, but you were struggling on the “wrapping it up” part.

“Oh, sweetheart, I asked you to wait for me,” he said. His brows furrowed as he took your wrist and elbow to steady you.

“Yeah, well, I got impatient,” you replied, but your attempt at a smile lightened him too. 

Beau followed you to the kitchen sink and grasped your hand carefully. You’d already cleaned and sterilized the wound, so all he had to do was wrap it for you with some gauze and medical tape. 

“This is kind of deep. You might wanna go to the ER,” he said. “I could take you.”

“No, it’s okay. It’s really not that deep,” you replied.

“You sure?” Beau asked, frowning at you. “How you doin’? You okay?”

Your face had been tight with pain while he tried to get the wrapping right with deft hands. At his questioning, you softened with a wry smile. 

“I’m fine, more or less,” you said. “But…how…why were you here to begin with? How’d you know I was in trouble?”

Beau met your gaze for a moment. He was able to delay answering your question until he finished wrapping your hand. Afterwards, he sighed.

“I came to apologize,” he admitted. “But first, can I help you clean up around here? You just sit and relax. I’ll sweep up all this glass and mop the floor.”

You let out a long breath, your shoulders sinking. “Oh, Beau, don’t. You don’t have to do all that.”

“But see, I actually want to,” he said, giving you one of those grins you’ve come to know and expect. You couldn’t help but smile back.

“Okay.”

A thorough sweep, vacuum, and mopping, then a couple of cracked open beers and an order of Chinese later (plus cleaning and patching up the rest of your cuts), Beau sat next to you at the dining table and officially made his apology.

“I’m sorry for how things turned out today at the precinct,” he said.

You shook your head. You’d had some time to think about all of that, and there were things you could’ve handled better too.

“Beau, look. I get it,” you said. “You’re dealing with a lot at work, with Carla and Emily too, and…really, we haven’t known each other all that long. It wasn’t fair of me to expect you to open up on something that clearly still hurts you. Especially in the middle of your office.”

Beau let out a breath through his nose. He smiled and laid a gentle hand over your uninjured one, earning your widened gaze.

“You’re a sweetheart for that, but the truth is, you had a point today,” he said. “I’m a difficult man to know. It’s a flaw of mine that my ex-wife has pointed out several times. And even my daughter. Sometimes she looks at me like she can’t understand me.”

You bit the inside of your lip. You debated asking the question you wanted to ask. With his hand over yours, brushing his thumb over the back of your hand, you were able to gather your courage.

“Does it have something to do with the reason you were in grief counseling?” you asked. “About your partner on the job?”

Beau nodded, his smile fading. “Yeah, it does. It has a lot to do with Randy.”

He took a moment, but you gave him the time he needed to find his words. Eventually he began to explain to you what happened in Houston.

How he’d been an upper-level officer dealing with a narcotics case. His partner, Randy Santos, had volunteered to infiltrate a drug cartel undercover. He stayed in the field for a few months longer than protocol, but he was so close, he’d claimed. One bust, and they could arrest the kingpin. The entire cartel would crumble.

Beau had backed him up with the Chief, against his better judgment. When the time came that Randy had helped arrange a drug deal, Beau was the one leading the squad on the bust.

“It went south so fast,” he said.

And he paused in his story for a moment. His eyes were far away, lost in memories.

You squeezed his hand over yours to bring him back. He met your gaze.

“When it got down to it, I had two choices,” he said. “Take out the boss, or take out the guy right in front of me, Dante. Now, Dante had his back turned. He couldn’t see me. Would’ve been fish in a barrel…but I went for the head of the snake. I shot the kingpin. I didn’t realize that Dante had already burned Randy. Knew he was a cop.”

Beau met your gaze then. “Dante shot Randy in the head, point blank.”

Your mouth fell open in disheartened shock. Beau took a long sip of his beer, wishing it was whiskey.

“I saw it all…in slow motion. Just like the movies,” he said. “I see it almost every night, without fail.”

You shook your head helplessly. “Beau. It’s not—”

“Not my fault?” Beau gave you a sad smile. “Oh, but it was. Nothing else to it. Bad leadership. bad police work. Bad friend.”

He continued to drink his beer.

“And I checked out,” he said. “My wife and daughter paid the price of my absence. Picking myself off the bottom of whatever crusty bar would have me that night. Refusing to go to counseling. Generally making an ass of myself.”

You covered his hand with your bandaged one. It got him to look at you and forget his beer for a moment.

“It was a hard call,” you said. “Anyone could’ve made the same one you did.”

“Yeah. And it got my best friend killed,” Beau said. “His wife, his ten-year-old boy, his parents. They’ll never be the same because I messed up. I can’t abide that.” 

He sucked in an unsteady breath. “It still…sometimes I wake out of a dead sleep, and I see his face. I see the body they brought back.”

His eyes were red and shining. The emotion in his voice choked you up as well, making your eyes sting. 

You raised a hand to touch his cheek, your thumb drifting tenderly across his chin. 

“You’re not a difficult man to know,” you said. A tear found its way down your cheek, and then another. You didn’t bother to wipe them away. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned about you, it’s that you care. About your team, your family, everyone…even messy, accident-prone women.”

You gave him a smile at the last bit. He was able to give you one back, through his own unsteady breath.

“Especially those,” he agreed. Your hand moved down to his shoulder. 

“And you also like to eat. A lot,” you quipped. “I think you’ve got about three stomachs.”

“Probably four, realistically,” he said with a tearful laugh. He wiped at his face with both hands. You waited for him to meet your gaze again before you continued.  

“You’re also an old-fashioned cowboy,” you said, with a brighter smile. Your hand slid down, this time to his chest, over his heart. “But you’re a good man, Beau. That, I knew from the very beginning.”

Beau clasped your hand where it lay on his chest, almost on reflex. He was sure you could feel his heart tripping up, double timing. He reached out for your cheek, guiding your face up to his. He leaned over slowly, giving you time to say no, whether with words or with actions.

But your eyes, though still a bit shiny from tears, were nothing but beautifully welcoming. So he took a shot. He began to cross the distance between your lips and his.

And his phone buzzed on the table, making both of you jolt. 

It was just a text message. Frowning, Beau looked over and read the preview. When he saw Emily’s name, he cursed under his breath. He reached for his phone and opened up the message.

Hey, where are you?

“Shit,” he said. “Emily’s been staying with me all week and Carla’s joining us tonight, to be safe. They’re there already, asking where I am.”

You would be lying if you said you weren’t disappointed beyond measure, but you nodded.

“Then you should go,” you said.

You squeezed his hand before you released him. Beau wasn’t happy about it either, but he did the same. He helped you clean up the dining table and gathered up his wallet and keys. You walked him over to the front door, where Beau debated how he should leave this.

The door was open, literally and figuratively as you leaned against its frame. You couldn’t hide your unease. You didn’t know where this left the two of you either.

Beau sighed and propped a curled finger under your chin, earning your gaze.

“I need to settle some things. After…” he trailed. You nodded at what he was trying to say.

“When Carla and Emily have stability again, we can talk,” you finished for him. “I’ll be here.” 

He looked at you in wonder. 

“You’ll really wait for that?” he asked. His brows creased, and he truly marveled at your patience with him. “You know you don’t have to.”

A smile curved your lips. “Something tells me you’re worth waiting for, Sheriff Arlen.”

Beau grinned at you fondly. He cupped the side of your face and pressed a kiss to your cheek. 

“Well, thank God for that,” he said. “Really, thank you…”

Lord help him, but he couldn’t help himself. He finally crossed the distance and kissed you.

Your chest rose with your breath, but when your eyes fell shut, you couldn’t help but melt against him. You gripped the front of his buttoned-down shirt for stability while his fingers tangled in your hair. It all grew with heat when he tilted his head, tasting you deeper with each new kiss.

He pressed you into the doorframe, trapping your body with his. You held onto him like a lifeline.

While his hands drifted down your back and rested on your hips, bunching the material of your pretty yellow sundress, you twined your arms around his neck, pulling him flush against you. He felt your every curve, soft breasts and thighs and sweet sighs.

He released a sound of pleasure, deep in his throat. His lips veered away from yours to burn a slow trail down to your neck. He was satisfied by the way you moaned and struggled to catch your breath at his ministrations.

Your fingers wound up sweeping through his hair. It both soothed and aroused him, somehow. But Beau knew if he didn’t stop here, he wouldn’t be able to again.

He laid one last kiss under your ear that hinted with teeth, making you shudder. He pulled away just enough to rest his forehead against yours. You two breathed together for a moment, just existing here, hearts racing.

“I gotta go,” he said. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

You nodded, biting your lip. He pulled back further and thumbed at your lower lip. 

“Don’t do that, or I just might have to go back on my word,” he said, giving you a smirk.

You smiled in amusement. “Promise?”

Beau chuckled. He stole one more heated kiss before he withdrew from you, his hand lingering on your cheek. Heaving a sigh, you turned him around by his broad shoulders and reluctantly sent him on his way. 

Halfway down the hall, he slowed to look back at you. Seeing you leaning against your door, still catching your breath, all hot and bothered…it nearly broke his resolve.

“Nope,” he muttered.

He shook his head and forced himself to keep walking until he hit the stairwell for the umpteenth time today. 

He would stop three more times on the way to his car before he actually left your building.

AN: 😘 So, how'd you like the official "end" of Michael Hadley? And finally, finally, we get to a first kiss. In Part 7, we enter some even deeper waters...

Next Time:

“I’m actually glad you’re here,” she said. “I’ve kinda got a question for you.”

“Kinda?” you echoed with a smile, but you pat her on the knee. “What’s on your mind, honey?”

Emily looked a little unsure. It had you giving her your undivided attention.

“It’s about my dad,” she began. Your smile slowly fell, but now you were really listening.

“Okay,” you nodded.

Emily opened her mouth to reply, but before she could, the lights in the entire office went out.

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Series Masterlist

Big Sky Masterlist

Main Masterlist

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[stormblessed95]

Hey so as I stated I like jk song rec. Is there any thread where all his covers of there artists and rec up to date are given? Would be helpful thanks!

So this is a ton of content for me to go through. 🤣 we are talking almost 9 years of content here, 🤣🤣 I'll try to compile a list for you. But if I miss any, I want you all to remember... 9 YEARS OF CONTENT HERE. Lol thanks 💜💜 JK does have great music taste though, so let's get it! In this first post I did over his music recs,, I covered songs he recommended on Twitter, and songs he covered either on Twitter, YouTube or SoundCloud to the best of my knowledge (2015 - 2020). You can find that post here:

In this, part 2, I'll try to cover his Spotify list recommendations, his vlive recommendations and his Instagram recommendations along with any new song covers he has done since 2020. Again, to the best of my knowledge, if i miss any, please be forgiving!

2016

-160814, JK covered If You: BigBang on King of Masked Singer as the fencer

161129, JKs first solo vlive. During the vlive he covered and shared these songs with us:

- Half Moon: Dean, Gaeko

- Fools: Troye Sivan

- Paper Hearts: Tori Kelly

- Galaxy: Bol4

- Bermuda Triangle: Zico, Dean, Crush

- Lost Stars: Adam Levine

- I Know: RM, Jungkook

- Lost: BTS

- Boyfriend: Justin Beiber

- Begin: BTS

2017

Spotify Playlist recs from 2017:

- DNA: Lia Maria Johnson

- ILYSB - Stripped: Lany

- I Need Some Sleep: Eels

- Beautiful Lies: Birdy

- Dear No One: Tori Kelley

- Like A Star: Corrinne Bailey Rae

- Ghost in the Wind: Birdy

- What Do You Mean: Justin Beiber

- Clouds: Before You Exit

- Lullaby: Acro

- Dream Latern: RADWIMPS

- Namdemonaiya (movie verison): RADWIMPS

- Heavy Weather: Billy Marten

- Oasis: Jasmine Thompson

- Boyfriend: Justin Beiber

- Colors of the Wind: Tori Kelly

- Theme of Mitsuha: RADWIMPS

- 7 years: Jasmine Thompson

- Lost Boy: Ruth B

- Mannequin: Yuna

Spotify Playlist recs update 2 from 2017:

- Mic Drop (ft. Designer) (Steve Aoki Remix): BTS, Designer, Steve Aoki

- Sunburn: Droeloe

- Leaving: Illenium

- Beautiful Creatures (ft. Max): Illenium, Max

- Bedroom Floor: Liam Payne

- do re mi: Blackbear

- I Miss You (ft. Julia Michaels): Clean Bandit, Julia Michaels

- New: Daya

- Silence: Marshmello, Khalid

- Crime (with Skott): Grey, Skott

- Wolves: Selena Gomez

170422, JK went on vlive and was later joined by vmin. Part 1 and Part 2 of the vlive. During the live, he sang and shared these songs:

- It Ain't Wrong Loving You: HONNE

- Question: Lauv, Travis Mills

- Change Gonna Come: Shuko

- Unrequited: Totem

- Electric: Alina Baraz, Khalid

- Please: Lee So Ra

- Stigma: BTS

- I Need U: BTS

- Lie: BTS

- Can't Love You Anymore: IU, Hyukoh

- We Don't Talk Anymore: Charlie Puth, Selena Gomez

- Purpose: Justin Beiber (JKs cover)

- Change: RM, Wale

- Through the Night: IU

- One More Weekend: Audien, Max

2018

180906, JK did a solo vlive. During the vlive, he sang and shared these songs:

- Euphoria: BTS

- Best Part: Daniel Ceasar, HER

- Belong to You: Sabrina Claudio

- Bad Intention: Nikyee Heaton

- Through it All: Charlie Puth

- Honey: Kehlani

- Lovely: Billie Eilish, Khalid

- Ocean Eyes: Billie Eilish

- My Favorite Part: Mac Miller, Ariana Grande

- BED: Nicki Minaj, Ariana Grande

- Your Side of the Bed: Chase Huglin

2019

Spotify Playlist recs from 2019:

- Feel Something: Bea Miller

- Back In My Arms: Charlie Hanson

- God Only Knows: The Beach Boys

- Call You Mine: The Chainsmokers

- Do Me: Kim Petras

- Up: Sing Street

- Like You: Tatiana Manaois

- Find Yourself: Great Good Fine Ok

- Rainbow: Kasey Musgraves

- Tomorrow tonight: Loote

- You Should See Me in a Crown: Billie Eilish

- Love Me Less: MAX, Quinn XCII

- 190210, on Fancafe JK recommended the song The Flower Garden: Hisaishi Joe

2020

Spotify Playlist recs from 2020:

- Purpose - stripped: Etham

- Malibu Nights: LANY

- Mean It: Lauv, LANY

- by my side: Honne

- More & More: Finding Hope

- 201008, JK tweeted out a video of him singing Savage Love Remix: Jason Derulo, BTS

2021

Spotify Playlist recs from 2021:

- Permission to Dance: BTS

- Butter: BTS

- Mikrokosmos: BTS

- ON: BTS

- Blue & Grey: BTS

- Euphoria: BTS

- Butterfly: BTS

- Lost: BTS

- Mad at Disney: Salem Ilese

- Feel Something: Bea Miller

- People I Don't Like: UPSAHL

- Ashes: Stellar

- Hey Stupid, I Love You: JP Saxe

- Peaches: Justin Beiber

- We Belong: Dove Cameron

- Test Drive: Ariana Grande

- Your Power: Billie Eilish

- Boys Will Be Boys: Bülow

210227, JK did a solo vlive with his bright blue hair. He sang and shared these songs:

- Still With You: JK

- Who: Lauv, BTS

- At My Worst: Pink Sweat$

- Fix You: Coldplay

210307, JK did a solo vlive again. He sang and shared these songs:

- Blue Side: Jhope

- Abyss: Jin

- Blue & Grey: BTS

- At My Worst: Pink Sweat$

- 10,000 Hours: Dan & Shay, Justin Beiber

- UGH: BTS

- Filter: BTS

- Nothing Like Us: Justin Beiber

- Sweet Night: V

- Moon: BTS

- Jungle (Coca-Cola ad): BTS

- Holy: Justin Beiber

- Hello: Adele

- Moon of Seoul: Kim Gun Mo

210729, another JK solo vlive, in quite the outfit. Lol He sang and shared these songs with us over the hour:

- Smile Again: Blackbear

- Me & Ur Ghost: Blackbear

- Peaches: Justin Beiber

- Stay: Shane Thompson

- Leave the Door Open: Silk Sonic

- Hold On: Justin Beiber

- As Always: Ra.D

- Euphoria: BTS

- Dope: BTS

- Idol: BTS

- Baepsae: BTS

- Outro: Wings: BTS

- So What: BTS

210831, JK rings in his birthday on vlive for 2.5 hours with us. The songs he sings and shares with us here:

- Off My Face: Justin Beiber

And then he treated us to a BTS vlive concert as well, with the BTS songs as followed:

- Paradise

- Dimple

- Born Singer

- Pied Piper

- Let Go

- Two! Three!

- Mic Drop

- Autumn Leaves

- Spring Day

- Just One Day

- Magic Shop

- Heartbeat

- Rain

- Film Out

- Zero O'clock

- Sea

- Best of Me

- Mikrokosmos

- Home

- Love Maze

- Waste It On Me: Steve Aoki, BTS

-211028, Jungkook posted his cover on youtube of Falling: Harry Styles

- 211216, JK shared On The Low: Justin Park on Instagram Stories

- 211216, JK shared Generation (Prod. Lean$moke): Homies on Instagram Stories

2022

- 220203, JK covered Hate Everything: Golden on a Instagram Post

- 220204, JK posted a dance cover to Bare Wit Me: Teyana Taylor on a Instagram Post

- 220206, JK shared Roses: Finn Askew on Instagram Stories

- 220206, JK shared Too Many Feelings: Ruel on Instagram Stories

- 220206, JK shared Space: Audrey Nuna on Instagram Stories

- 220207, JK shared Even Days: O3ohn on Instagram Stories

- 220208, JK shared Never Change: Jeremy Passion, Melissa Polinar on Instagram Stories

- 220209, JK covered The Night of 1991 When Cold Wind Blew: Park Hyoshin on a Instagram Post

- 220209, JK shared It Takes Two: Fiji Blue on Instagram Stories

- 220219, JK shared Toxic: Boy with Uke on Instagram Stories

- 220219, JK shared 26: Lauv on Instagram Stories

- 220221, JK shared So Good: Joan on Instagram Stories

- 220222, JK shared Superstar: DeVita on Instagram Stories

- 220226, JK shared Love on the Weekend: Aria Ohlsson on Instagram Stories

-220309, JK shared the song Tú: Maye on Instagram Stories

-220329, JK shared an update with us while dancing to Winter Blossom: Dept, Ashley Alisha on Instagram

-220330, JK shared the song Baby Powder: Jenevieve Division on Instagram Stories

-220330, JK shared the song Never Let Me Go: Mac Ayres, CARRTOONS on Instagram Stories

-220331, JK listened to Invincible: Omar Apollo, Daniel Ceaser on Instagram Stories during a Q&A game while in quarantine

-220402, JK listened to Your Side Of the Bed: Loote on Instagram Stories during a Q&A game

-220402, JK answered a question on Instagram Stories about what was his current favorite song with Loving You Girl: Peder Elias, Hkeem

-220402, JK listened to Everything Sucks: Eric Nam, Vault Boys on Instagram Stories during a Q&A game

- 220402, JK listened to/sang Tango: Abir on Instagram Stories during a Q&A game

- 220402, JK sang Lovable: Kim Jongkook on Instagram Stories during a Q&A game

- 220402, JK listened to Strawberry Skies: Kid Travis on Instagram Stories during a Q&A game

- 220402, JK listened to Mirror Mirror: Milli, Fhero, Changbin on Instagram Stories during a Q&A game

- 220402, JK listened to so many songs during this Instagram Stories, lol here is a good link someone already compiled! Lol

220405, JK goes live super late at night after the Grammys to spend time with ARMY for an hour. The songs he listened to during vlive are:

- Tango: Abir

- Stuck With U: Ariana Grande, Justin Bieber

- Love Letter: Anthony Lazaro

- Dancing With Your Ghost: Sasha Alex Sloan

- Trace: Jeremy Passion

- Love Yourself: Justin Bieber

- Good For You: Peder Elias

- Easy: Mac Ayres

- Closer: Saweetie, H.E.R

- Pizza: Oohnyo

- BRB: Epik High

- Rock Witchu: PRETTYMUCH

- By My Side: Junny

- High: The Chainsmokers

- Test Drive: Ariana Grande

- Leave The Door Open: Silk Sonic

- What 2 Do: Dean, CRUSH, Jeff Bernat

- Ghost: Justin Bieber

- Cold in LA: Why Don't We

- Backyard Boy: Claire Rosinkranz

- 220521, JK listened to IDK You Yet: Alexander 23 on his Instagram Stories

220615, JK goes live at night and ends up singing 16 songs too. The songs he sang were:

- My You: Jungkook

- Young Love: BTS Namkook Demo

- Love You: Kim Woo Joo

- Still With You: Jungkook

- Graduation: BTS 3J Predebut

- Run BTS: BTS

- That That: Psy feat. SUGA of BTS

- Super Tuna: Jin

- Chilly, Windy Night in 1991: Park Hyo Shin

- It Must Have Been Love: Yoon Do Hyun

- HeeJae: Sung Si Kyung

- Emergency Room: IZI

- Love, Maybe: MeloMance

- If It Is You: Jung Seung Hwan

- 12:30: BEAST

- Soju Hanjan: Im Chang Jung

220901, JK goes live late at night to celebrate his birthday with ARMYs on Weverse. He celebrated and then played and sang songs with us too. The songs included:

- Butterflies: MAX & Ali Gatie

- Ex I Never Had: LANY

- Happy Ending: Chris James

- Love Back: Why Don't We

- Beautiful: Anne Marie

- Just One Day: BTS

- Left & Right: Charlie Puth, Jungkook

- Bad Decisions: Benny B, BTS, Snoop Dog

- Butterfly: BTS

- DDAENG: BTS

- Blue & Grey: BTS

- Love Is Not Over: BTS

- Paradise: BTS

- Coffee: BTS

- Autumn Leaves: BTS

- Christmas Tree: V

- Louder Than Bombs: BTS

- Mic Drop: BTS

- 134340: BTS

- Magic Shop: BTS

And that brings us up to date as of now, through September 2022. I can definitely try to keep this updated through the year of 2022 as well for Spotify, vlive and Instagram recs as he does them. Again. If I missed anything, feel free to let me know. Otherwise, I think this is all of them!

[mrs-gray]

best things about s6 /underrated things about s6

- Aneurin Barnard even though turns out his a slimy nazi dr who lied about tommy's illness i like the actor so...

- Uncle Jack, he seems slimy but has certain charisma to him/ plus easy on the eye XD

- Michael, RIP poor boy :(

-Duke seems interesting but feels forced at same time.

- Finn poor boy :(

Hello anon!🙋🏼‍♀️ Thanks for your message!💜 

◈ Yes, Aneurin Barnard is such a good actor and he played his part quite well (I also love that he and Cillian already played alongside in Dunkirk before 😉) The plot twist was unpredictable and really refreshing to witness! (Also, if you haven’t seen the show THE WHITE QUEEN, I can highly recommend it; Aneurin’s portrayal of King Richard III. is mesmerising!👑💛⚜️)

◈ Agree 💯❤️ I mean look at this charming, Bostonian mobster!🥰🥰 He's bringing so much attitude to the show and the way he smirks with his scarred lips is indeed very easy on the eyes!😏 I hope Jack will also be a starring in the upcoming movie!😍🇺🇸🥃 (…maybe Gina wants revenge for Michael and her Jack will help her…😉)

◈ My man, my husband, my love...where do I start?!💔😔 I'm a widow now and I am heartbroken that SK decided to build up his character for all those years and seasons just to kill him off in the end. There could have been such a wonderful storyline ahead of him and also a redemption arc…we never even really got a convincing scene where Michael and Tommy truly talked about everything that happened... I always thought of Michael as a younger version of Tommy and for me Peaky Blinders is about FAMILY, therefore I would have loved to see a reunion instead of just killing him off and showing once again that Tommy is the epitome of an omniscient divinity, the judge and also the executioner…

◈ I think Duke is a very interesting new character but it would have been great if he had appeared earlier…I totally get your forced feeling though – seems like SK wants to create this new family-betrayal-drama and I guess it will lead to a Duke vs. Finn kinda thing 😉  He will probably be one of the main characters in the film as well... 

◈ I don't know why Finn Shelby suddenly seems so oddly out of place. He was always willing to be like his older brothers and looked up to them like they're personified Birmingham Gods and yet we saw him act this way?! Very suspiciously...

May you have a lovely weekend, anon! Sending you much positivity! 🤗💫💛