#kaz writes

"What if I don't want to?"

"If you don't," she picked up a bag and tugged some barely there shorts out, "I won't wear these"

Dean groaned, sure he'd seen her naked plenty of times but he'd never seen her in something that skimpy, and in public at that.

"You better not go flirting with all the other car guys," he teased.

"I only have eyes for you Dean," she assured and swung the bag at her side as she walked back toward her room.

"When is this show?" Dean asked, trailing along behind her, hoping to get a glimpse of whatever else she might have in the bag.

"Two weeks so we better get that dent pulled and get her shinned up."

Dean huffed as he turned around and headed for the garage; as bad as the dent was he figured it would take two weeks just to get that straightened out.

She appeared at his side shortly after he'd started working on the car. Dean's eyes nearly bugged out when he realized she was wearing the shorts and a tank top.

"You trying to distract me?"

"Never," she cooed, "I'm here to help."

"Help me get a boner," Dean muttered as he picked a different tool out of the pile he'd gathered.

Each day they worked together on the car and Dean was glad she was so into helping him clean and polish his Baby.

The morning of the show she surprised Dean with a fancy new car shine kit and they headed into town to try and get a good spot.

"I don't know why we had to come so early," Dean grumbled as he turned onto the street where they would line up to enter the actual show.

"That's why," she pointed at the line of classic cars that sat idling in front of them.

"Where did all these cars come from?"

She laughed, "You miss a lot of stuff when you're out hunting all the damn time."

"I guess," he grumbled.

"Once we get the car parked I'll get you a breakfast burrito and a nice hot cup of coffee.

"Nobody will be able to see the cars," Dean whined.

"The sun is coming up. Just trust me," she giggled at him.

By the time the sun was fully up Dean had filled his belly and they two of them had finished shining up the car.

"She's beautiful."

Dean threw his arm around her shoulders, "She sure as hell is, and the car ain't too bad either."

"Ooh you know all the right things to say, Mr. W, um Campbell."

Dean grinned at her and then looked back at his car.

"Hard to believe she's 59 years old."

"Don't say it like she's soo old," Dean whined.

"What she is old."

Dean couldn't believe the words that were coming from his girlfriend's mouth.

"Darlin'."

She smiled so innocently, "Dean, she's older than you and still runs like she's new. You have to admit that's pretty amazing."

Dean leaned down next to her ear and whispered, "Just wait till we get home you're going to be punished for calling my Baby old."

Biting her lip she smirked up at him, "Is that a promise you can keep, old man?"

SPN Fam:

@all-alone-he-turns-to-stone  | @lyarr24

@dean-winchester-is-a-warrior  | @nancymcl

@deans-baby-momma

@squirrelnotsam | @leigh70  | @impalaslytherin

@mishkatelwarriorgoddess | @deans-spinster-witch

@perpetualabsurdity  | @bumbleb10 | @mrswhozeewhatsis | @123passwort | @roseblue373 

@jackles010378 | @hobby27 |  @b3autyfuld1sast3r

Mr. Green-eyes Tags:

@mrsjenniferwinchester | @k-slla |   @jamerlynn | @libby99hb  | @lori19

You were one of those people out there, who were fortunate enough to receive a soulmate memory.

Like many others, it happened when you turned 16. A glimpse of your soulmate from a past life.

Everyone’s memory was different, even for people who were soulmates. You were sadly unable to learn your soulmate’s name from yours, much to your dismay.

You saw her in your mind's eye: blonde hair framing her face, beaming at you from onstage, eyes seeking yours amongst a sea of illuminated pink glowsticks.

She was breathtaking.

You cherished the memory, holding it close to your heart, drawing strength from that smile whenever life tried throwing obstacles in your way.

*****

You’d often laugh at how Fate loves to play games with you, because the irony of your situation couldn’t be clearer.

After years of training, you finally debuted with your very own idol group.

Thinking of your soulmate, you wondered if she saw your face plastered on the huge billboard across the train station; wondered if she realized the same things as you did: how the tables had turned, and now you would be the one standing onstage instead.

But you’d also wonder, if you would ever be able to see her face amongst that screaming crowd one day. Even just for a moment.

*****

Because of a highly anticipated comeback, your group had a lot of activities lately. Arriving at the TV station for a talk show, you were surprised to see the huge group of fans waiting outside, wanting to catch a glimpse of your group’s arrival.

Cameras flashed, people screamed, there was pushing in the back from some rowdy individuals.

The station had put up some fences to prevent people from getting too close to your group, but you could see the ones in the front having a difficult time moving around because of them.

The pushing got out of hand, and someone stumbled. Their camera slipped out of their hands, landing with a loud crunch onto the pavement.

Because of the fence, they couldn’t pick up the camera that was now on the ground.

Not good. Was your initial thought.

Breaking away from your group, you went over and motioned for the people in the back to make some space. Thankfully, most of them listened, and the way was cleared.

You then went to pick up the fallen camera, wincing when you took a peek at the damage. The lens was cracked.

Handing the camera back to the fan, you had a good look at, well, at her.

That long, blue-silver hair was the first thing you saw. Your gaze then went to her face, those eyes certainly looked familiar.

Wait–

You suddenly had a flashback of pink glowsticks and screaming crowds, all which blended with your current surroundings.

The mystery girl looked at you with wide eyes, probably figuring out what you had figured out.

Snapping out of it, you stumbled forward to hand the camera back to the girl, well aware of everyone’s eyes on you.

“Are you hurt?” making eye contact with her was difficult, but you tried to play it cool.

“N-no, I’m not. Thank you.” she smiled at you briefly.

What a pretty voice.

“I’m glad.” you gave her hand a light squeeze.

“Please be careful, okay?”

She nodded. You bowed at her and waved to the surrounding crowd, before running back to join your members.

*****

A new fansite dedicated to you emerged not too long ago, their pictures taken of you shared all over Twitter. You were surprised how good you looked in most of them.

Your members would joke about the photos, because those often looked like they were taken by someone who knew you personally. Like a friend, or a lover.

Of course, you knew no such person. You only learned of this fansite, because you liked stalking social media from your alts.

“Forever & Always” was the name, and that was pretty much all you knew about this new fansite of yours.

One thing you were puzzled about, however, was the fansite was radio silent on the day of your TV shooting.

Laying on your bed that night, and refreshing the page every thirty seconds. Your mind suddenly went to the girl with the camera.

It must be her. You thought.

That girl, she is definitely my soulmate.

Giving up waiting for updates, you let out a long sigh, put your phone on the bedside table, and went to sleep.

That night, you dreamed of more pink lightsticks, another endless screaming crowd, and a certain silver haired girl. She held out her hand, pulling you onto the stage, giving you a very big hug that you didn’t think you needed.

*****

The fansign.

Something you always looked forward to during a comeback, it gives you the chance to interact with the fans you adored so much.

Sitting at the venue, you idly searched the crowd,

It’s been weeks, if not months before the incident at the TV station. You wish to see her again, your soulmate.

You thought you caught a glimpse of that familiar face amongst the crowd, but it was probably your mind playing tricks on you.

Aside from this, the day went by without much issue.

Bending down to retrieve one of those spare markers, you realize that the next fan was already standing in front of you.

Straightening up, you saw that it was, well, her.

“You!” you gasped.

She dyed her hair baby-pink this time. And her camera, now fixed, hung from her neck.

“Hi.” she gave you a small wave. Cute.

She handed you her album.

“I see you got that fixed.” Clearing your throat, you gestured to the camera.

“Oh, yes.” she exclaimed, holding it up.

“It took them a couple weeks to fix it and send it back to me. I couldn’t upload any photos before then, sadly.”

You cocked your head to a side.

“Photos?”

“Photos! You know, for your fansite.” Was she.. blushing?

“You run a fansite?” you asked absentmindedly, trying to perfect this autograph–

“Y-yeah. It’s called ‘Forever & Always’.”

Your hand stilled.

You looked up at her, even her neck was now red.

“Wait. That was you?”

She looked at you like a deer in the headlights.

“You knew about it?” you nodded.

“Yeah. Thank you for taking those pictures, they’re really pretty.”

You wrote something else down on the back.

“Can I..” she held up her camera again.

“Can I take a photo of you like this? I promise I won’t upload it anywhere.”

You smiled.

“Of course.”

Her camera wasn’t the only one that clicked at that moment.

*****

That evening, you laid on the bed, scrolling through Twitter when you got a text message.

Unknown number: “You know it’s dangerous to write your number down like that right?”

Right. You totally forgot you gave the mystery girl- aka your soulmate- your phone number. Wrote it down on the back of the album, real smooth, Y/N.

Y/N: “I know you won’t share it with anyone, so. Henlo soulmate-who-I-forgot-to-ask-your-name!!”

Unknown number: “Pfft. It’s Roseanne, you can call me Rosie.”

Y/N: “Rosie, it’s good to finally talk to you.”

Rosie: “Same, it’s been too long…”

Y/N: “You wanna like, go grab a coffee sometime? So we can, you know, catch up on everything?”

Rosie: “Sure! I’d like that <33”

And that, my friends, was the story of how you met your soulmate.

*****

*an unknown time ago, in an unknown location*

“Does it feel lonely? Being onstage?” Y/N asked her girlfriend.

Rosé hummed.

“Not really, since I have the girls with me. And I have you, my number one supporter.”

She then was silent for a moment.

“You know what would be interesting? Maybe in another life, I could be the one supporting you instead.”

Y/N’s brows furrowed.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me. But I think you deserve way more than that, you deserve the chance to shine.”

Y/N chuckled, and shook her head.

“I’ll never shine, not as much as you did.”

“I disagree.”

Rosé held Y/N’s hands in hers.

“We always support each other. And if my girl happens to be the biggest star in the universe in our next life, she will still have all my support.”

“Rosie—“

“I mean it, Y/N.”

A buzzing warmth spread through Y/N. Tears sprung from her eyes, but she fought them back.

“Thank you, Rosie. I love you so, so much.”

Rose’s smile was radiant. Weirdly enough, there were also tears shining in her eyes.

*~*~*

Shawn had made a bad mistake.

And bad was an understatement. THIS was like Sonic the Hedgehog’s cringy design bad. This was like cancelling Firefly way too early bad. This was a mistake of epic proportions. And it was bad bad bad.

The fake psychic strained at the bonds holding his wrists behind his back, being careful not to allow his shoulders to jar along with the movement. He was cross-eyed staring at the gun under his nose and a fleeting foolish thought crossed his mind of how he could wrest the weapon away from the perpetrator. As much as he would have liked to believe he was in an anime, he had to remind himself that he could not wield a gun between his teeth. Only Zoro had the jaw strength for that.

Besides, Lassie would be there within minutes. Shawn Spencer, Psychic Detective, had to practice the art of stalling.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” He sang, hoping the man in question would sneer and ego alone would grant him a few moments to allow for his two favorite detectives to show up.

The man did sneer. Shawn grinned indulgently before the fear he’d held at bay dropped like a stone in the pit of his stomach as the gun moved, pointed—Shawn’s eyes widened as the trigger finger moved, he opened his mouth to improvise more when the first shot struck him, robbing him of breath. He hadn’t fallen yet when the second shot tore through him and then a third.

Shawn hadn’t even realized he’d hit the ground. 

His mind registered the man’s receding footsteps. There was nothing but noise and the cold cement ground beneath his cheek and hand. Shawn’s fingers twitched and he felt a warm stickiness spreading under him. He didn’t know how long he laid there.

He knew he wasn’t going to make it.

*~*~*~*

Lassiter had arrived at a seemingly abandoned building—a shed or garage of some sort—after a whispered call from Spencer insisting that he had solved his case. His case. Lassiter’s case. Lassiter wasn’t sure why he bothered to feel disgruntled about that fact any more but he still found it in him to be so. He held his gun ready as he crept to the door.

He knew he should wait for Juliet. He had called Spencer twice upon arriving and had heard the obnoxious pop ringtone blaring from within. There was an open window with no frame or glass pane to speak of. When Lassiter exited his car, he could discern no other sound from within. It was concerning enough—because Spencer was a civilian goddamnit—that the detective found himself sneaking around to the first entrance he could find.

Trusting his instinct, not second guessing it, Lassiter threw the door open, gun aimed at the ready, corners, forward, cleared. 

Spencer was on the ground.

Lassiter lowered his weapon as he rushed forward, dread filling him at the sight.

Blood.

Blood had pooled under the consultant. The sort of sight Lassiter often found with murdered victims. Oh fuck.

Lassiter called for a medic on autopilot, already crouched beside Spencer. He was still alive, but the man’s eyes were glazed over, unseeing as he breathed shallowly. “Spencer—Shawn, snap out of it.” Lassiter could hear the quaver in his own voice. He didn’t care. He snapped his fingers in front of Spencer’s face, hand falling away immediately as the man blinked and seemed to focus on Lassiter. “Help is on the way, hold on.” He insisted, eyes roving over the man now, assessing. 

“Lass.” 

The detective’s eyes snapped back to Spencer’s. His voice was a rasp of concentrated effort and pain. His fingers twitched and Carlton had never felt more helpless in his life. “Don’t. Save your strength.” 

Spencer laughed. The jackass actually laughed. Granted, it was a breathy chuckle that gave way to coughing but Lassiter’s fingers clenched all the same in response. “I’m not…” Shawn started, but closed his eyes. Panic welled within Lassiter and he reached out to Spencer, laying his hand against Shawn’s cheek and neck.

“Stay with me, Spencer.” Lassiter urged, his thumb tapping Shawn’s cheekbone. The pressure of his fingers trembled, light, then grasping before loosening once more. Shawn’s eyes remained closed. “SPENCER!” Lassiter shouted, jarring the fake psych back into awareness. “Do you hear that?” He asked as relief briefly pushed into him at the sound of sirens. 

He wasn’t sure if Spencer could hear it but the man smiled, his eyes closing again.

“Spencer…”

“Listen.” Shawn whispered, his eyes fluttering open again. Yet somehow, Lassiter knew he was much too far away to really register him. His hand pressed warmly at the juncture below Shawn’s ear. He was so cold. “I need to tell you. It was—” Shawn’s breath hitched, his face wincing as his eyes fell closed once more. Lassiter waited, despite himself, hanging on Spencer’s every word, unable to tear his eyes away from the man.

He could hear voices outside the building. “IN HERE!” Lassiter roared.

“Lassie.” Barely a whisper now. “It was...” Shawn’s words fell on his out breath.

There wasn’t an in breath.

“Shawn, stay with me. Stay with me.” Lassiter was grasping the back of Spencer’s neck before his fingers fumbled for a pulse, eyes wide and angry as the paramedics burst around them.

Lassiter was swept back and seconds later Juliet was clutching his arm, fear in her eyes as she spoke but Lassiter couldn’t hear a word she was saying as the emergency responders hastened to move Spencer to the ambulance.

It didn’t matter, Carlton knew. 

Shawn was dead.