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doctorbitchcrxft · 4 months

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Provenance | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Eventual)

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, j e a l o u s y

Word Count: 6703

A/N: Taglist will be closing at the start of season 2! if you aren't currently tagged, and you'd like to join, please please let me know within the next two posts!!

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You gripped your beer tightly watching Dean getting a girl’s number across the bar from you.

“(Y/N), if you hold that thing any tighter, you’re gonna break it,” Sam snorted. “What’s your deal?”

You looked back at Sam but were unable to pull your eyes from Dean and his new “friend” for longer than a few seconds. “Nothing.” You took a swig of your drink.

“Are you sure you don’t know how you feel about Dean?” the brunet taunted.

You shot him a glare. “Shut up.”

He snickered in response and returned to looking over the papers in front of him.

You waved Dean over, who held a hand up behind the woman’s back to get you to wait. You gestured again and his smile dropped. He said something to her quickly before making his way back over to you.

“I think we got something,” Sam told his brother.

Dean grinned over his shoulder. “Oh, yeah, me too. I think we need to take a little shore leave; just a little bit. What do you think, huh? I'm so in the door with this one.”

You rolled your eyes. “So, what are we today, Dean? Rock stars, army rangers?”

“Reality TV scouts,” he grinned at you, ignoring the bite in your voice. “Looking for people with special skills. I mean hey, it's not that far off right?”

“If by ‘not far off’ you mean ‘completely off the mark,’ then you’re spot on,” you deadpanned.

Dean shot you a look while he turned to his brother. “By the way, she's got a friend over there. Possibly hook you up. What do you think?”

“Dean, no thanks, I can get my own dates,” Sam responded to his question.

“Yeah, you can, but you don't.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Dean shook his head. “Nothing. What you got?”

“Mark and Ann Telesca of New Paltz, New York were both found dead in their own home, a few days ago. Throats were slit. There were no prints, no murder weapons, all—” He trailed off as his brother looked back at the women at the bar.

“Dean!” you snapped your fingers at him.

He turned back. “Huh, what?”

“No prints, no murder weapons, all doors and windows locked from the inside,” Sam continued.

“Could just be a garden variety murder, you know, not our department,” Dean answered.

“No. Dad says different.”

“What do you mean?” Dean’s interest was piqued at the mention of his dad.

You pointed at the map. “John noted three murders in the same area of upstate New York. First one here in 1912, second, right here in 1945, and the third in 1970. Same M.O. as the Telescas. Throats slit, doors locked from the inside; the whole nine. Now, so much time passed that nobody checked the pattern. Except for your dad. It’s frustrating how much better he is at this than me sometimes,” you muttered at the end of your sentence.

“Alright, I'm with ya. It's worth checking out. We can't pick this up ‘til first thing though right?” Dean asked, trying to contain his excitement.

“Yeah,” Sam answered.

“Good.” Before you could stop him, Dean was off to the two women again.

You were fuming; staring daggers at him and downing the rest of your drink.

Sam snickered at you. “Let’s get you out of here before you end up killing one of those girls.”

“Nah, I’d kill your brother. They didn’t do anything wrong,” you responded, helping Sam pick up the papers scattered about the table. “How ‘bout the Telescas’ house?” you asked.

***

You and Sam headed back to the motel you were staying in to research the history of the Telescas’ home. You sprawled out across Dean’s bed with your laptop, and Sam sat on his bed with his laptop.

“Finding anything?” you asked him.

“Nope. You?”

You shook your head. “Nada.”

He shut his laptop. “So? You wanna talk about it?”

You shut yours, too. “About what?”

“Dean?”

“Oh, hell no,” you snorted.

“You two are made for each other,” he deadpanned at your boxed-up emotions.

“Fuck off, Sam,” you retorted. “What about you? Still not ready to jump back into the dating pool?” You snuggled into the blankets on Dean’s bed, reveling in his scent emanating off them.

He shook his head. “No, I don’t think so.”

“What was she like?” you asked after a moment.

“Who?”

“Jessica. You never told me much about her.”

He sighed. “She was just… the best, man. You two would’ve gotten along great, honestly. She was—” he grinned sadly at the thought of her, “—so smart. So beautiful. Quick, witty, and…” he shook his head. “I was looking for wedding rings. Few weeks before she...”

You smiled sadly at him. “She sounds amazing.”

“She was,” he responded. A quiet settled over the room.

“Don’t you think she would’ve wanted you to be… I don’t know, happy? Do you think she’d want you to move on? It’s been almost a year,” you said. “Jesus, I’ve known you guys for almost a year now," you realized.

He chuckled before going quiet again momentarily. “I think she would. But Jess… I don’t know if I’ll ever be fully over her. She was my best friend, y’know?”

You nodded. “I get it. I’m glad you had that with her, though. Sounds like you really loved each other.”

“We did.”

You and Sam went silent once more, and you succumbed to the tiredness of your limbs and mind. You were so comforted by the scent of worn leather, Dean’s cologne, and whiskey, that you slept better than you had in years.

***

When you woke up the next morning, Sam was standing over you, shaking you gently. You popped up and grabbed his wrist, twisting it and putting a hand to his throat. “Hey, hey,” he tried to calm you down, “Dean’s back.”

You released him immediately. “Sorry, dude. Uh… reflexes,” you laughed awkwardly.

“It’s okay. Dean does that, too.”

The man in question stumbled into the room tiredly. “Move your asses. Let’s go.”

***

You and Sam had just swept the Telescas’ house for EMF while Dean slept in the car trying to get over his hangover. When you returned to the car, you beeped the horn. Dean shot up a foot in the air and groaned.

“Man, that is so not cool.” He adjusted his sunglasses and leaned back against the car door. You and Sam climbed into your seats and began to explain what you had been up to.

“We just swept the Telescas with EMF. It's clean. And last night, while you were, well, out—” Sam trailed off.

Dean’s smirk made your stomach drop. “Good times.”

“—we checked the history of the house.”

“Nothing strange about the Telescas, either,” you said, swallowing your feelings.

“Alright,” Dean’s gravelly voice came, “so if it's not the people and it's not the house, then maybe it's the contents. Cursed object or something.”

“The house is clean,” you said.

“Yeah I know, you said that.”

“No, no, it’s empty. No furniture, nothing,” you explained.

Dean turned back to you. “Where's all their stuff?”

***

You felt so out of place in the swanky auction house the Telescas’ belongings had been brought to. Even the Impala looked like an outcast in the parking lot full of McLarens and Corvettes.

You and the brothers wandered around the auction house, and you wrapped your jacket tightly around yourself.

“Consignment auctions, estate sales. Looks like a garage sale for Wasps if you ask me,” Dean commented. He took some food from a tray table as a man came up behind you.

“Can I help you?” the man questioned.

You wheeled around to face him.

“I'd like some champagne please,” Dean said in a mock posh voice.

You could’ve killed him. “He’s not a waiter.”

Dean cocked an eyebrow at you, and you held out your hand to the man. “I’m (Y/N) Dewitt. This is Sam and Dean Connors. We’re with Connors Limited. We’re art dealers.”

The man didn’t give you the courtesy of a handshake. You fought the urge to make an inappropriate comment.

“You. Are… art dealers,” the man said, clearly having difficulty grasping that concept. “I'm Daniel Blake, this is my auction house. Now, this is a private showing, and I don't remember seeing you on the guest list.”

“We're there, Chuckles, you just need to take another look.” Dean, of course, talked through a mouth full of food.

You shot a sharp look at Dean as he took a glass of champagne off the tray. He turned and walked off, and you followed him.

“Can you chill out?” you asked him.

“What?” he asked through a mouthful of champagne.

You rolled your eyes. “You know what I’m talking about. I don’t like this crowd either, but relax.” You noticed a painting just beyond where you and Dean were talking. It was of a family in an American Gothic style; presumably from the early 1900s. The family contained three young girls in frilly dresses, a man with a gaunt and creepy face, and a woman you assumed was the mother seated in a chair.

“A fine example of American Primitive wouldn't you say?” a woman’s voice called from behind you.

You turned to the place the voice came from to find an extremely good looking woman in a sleek black dress with glossed lips descending the staircase. You noticed Dean beginning to ogle her as Sam answered her. “Well, I'd say it's more Grant Wood than Grandma Moses. But you knew that, you just wanted to see if I did.”

The woman smiled as she approached you. “Guilty. And clumsy. I apologize. I'm Sarah Blake.”

“I’m Sam,” he said. “This is my… brother, Dean.” Dean was still stuffing his face with food from passing trays. “And our friend, (Y/N).”

“Dean. Can we get you some more mini-quiche?” Sarah questioned.

You snorted. You liked her.

“I'm good, thanks,” he smiled through a full mouth.

“So, can I help you with something?” she asked Sam. You knew she liked him; she was giving him the same look you often gave Dean.

“Yeah, actually. What can you tell us about the Telesca estate?” Sam asked her.

She grimaced. “The whole thing's pretty grisly if you ask me, selling your things this soon. But Dad's right about one thing, sensationalism brings out the crowds. Even the rich ones.”

“Is it possible to see the provenances?” Sam asked.

The man from earlier came up behind you. “I'm afraid there isn't any chance of that.”

“Why not?” you asked.

“You're not on the guest list. And I think it's time to leave.”

You rolled your eyes, dropping your polite disposition. “Don’t have to tell us twice.”

“Apparently, I do,” he said.

“C’mon, Dean,” you said, dragging his arm out.

***

You and the brothers found a decently priced motel and approached the rooms you had been assigned.

“Grant Wood, Grandma Moses?” Dean scoffed at his brother.

“Art history course. It's good for meeting girls,” Sam replied simply.

Dean unlocked the door to his room and chuckled. “It's like I don't even know you.”

You walked a little further down to the room next to theirs and unlocked it only to find a gaudily outfitted room full of obnoxious disco decor. The "do not disturb" hanger was even of John Travolta’s silhouette from Saturday Night Fever.

“Huh.” You dropped your bag off and headed back to the boys’ room.

“What was… providence?” Dean was asking as you entered the room.

“Provenance,” you corrected. “It’s like a biography for a painting. You use ‘em to check the history of the pieces; in this case, to see if they have a freaky past.”

“Alright, professor,” Dean taunted you. “Well, we're not getting anything out of Chuckles, but Sarah…” he smirked at his brother.

“Yeah, maybe you can get her to write it all down on a cocktail napkin,” Sam smirked back.

“Not me,” Dean laughed.

You shot a look at Sam, too.

He seemed only mildly horrified. “No, no, no, pickups are your thing, Dean.”

“It wasn't my butt she was checking out,” Dean snorted.

You giggled despite yourself.

“In other words, you want me to use her to get information,” Sam deadpanned.

“Sometimes you gotta take one for the team. Call her,” Dean instructed his brother.

Sam rolled his eyes, but took out his phone. You weren’t sure when he had gotten her number, but he left about an hour later to take her out to dinner.

You and Dean sat in awkward silence for a bit.

“So…”

You went silent again.

“What’s goin’ on with us, (Y/N)? You’ve barely spoken a word to me this whole trip.”

You huffed. “Nothing.”

“Obviously, it’s not nothing.” Dean held your challenging stare.

“Seriously, drop it, please,” you said.

“Fine. You wanna go get some food?”

You smiled despite yourself. “You know I do.”

You and Dean found a crappy diner with deliciously greasy burgers to stuff your faces with.

“So, how ‘bout you, sweetheart? Why don’t you ever go out?” Dean asked.

“On dates, you mean?”

He nodded.

You nibbled on a fry. “I’m just not one for hookups. I can’t take ‘em,” you admitted. “You, though, are king of the unattached drifters.”

He chuckled. “What’s wrong with hookups?

“I get too attached, which kind of defeats the whole purpose,” you replied. “The idea of being intimate with somebody I don’t even know makes me want to throw up.”

“Why? You’re gorgeous. Anybody would kill to get with you," he said casually.

You ignored the way your heart swelled in your chest. “It’s not that, it’s just…” you sighed. “I’m, like, allergic to vulnerability.”

“I get it,” Dean chuckled. “You know by now I’m not exactly the best with it, either.”

“Oh, yeah, you’re worse than me,” you quipped. “You look like you’re gonna throw up any time you have to tell me you’re sorry or something like that.”

“Maybe it’s just your face,” he retorted.

“Hey!” you giggled. “You can’t call me gorgeous one minute then tell me looking at me makes you sick the next.”

He chuckled. “I just did, so…”

“Whatever, Winchester. What is it about hookups you enjoy so much, anyway?”

He shrugged and took a bite of his burger. “Sex is just fun, I guess. Always helps me blow off steam.”

You scoffed. “I’m sure it does.”

“I’m serious! Helps me take a break from… all this.” He gestured around him.

“That’s why you have hobbies, Dean. Sex is not a hobby.”

“It can be! You draw, Sam reads, I fuck."

“Well, get a better one,” you scoffed.

“What would you suggest I do? Knitting?”

You rolled your eyes. “No, just… something a little more wholesome, maybe. You said it yourself, it doesn’t always make you feel great.”

“Never should’ve told you that,” he responded.

“Well, ya did, so.”

He snorted at you. “It’s frustrating how well you know me sometimes.”

“Oh, look at that, another crumb of vulnerability from Mr. Closed Book.”

“That’s the best diss you could come up with?”

“Hey, it’s not easy being effortlessly funny all the time,” you retorted. “It’s a lot of pressure.”

***

When you and Dean returned to the motel room, you pulled out your whetstone to sharpen your knives.

“Who you plannin’ on carvin’ up, sweetheart?”

“Haven’t decided yet,” you answered.

“Remind me not to piss you off,” he remarked.

“You do literally all the time,” you quipped. “You’re lucky you’re still in one piece. If you give me yours, I’ll sharpen ‘em, too.”

“Thanks,” he said. He handed his knives over to you.

Sam burst through the door at that moment holding a stack of papers. “Got ‘em.”

“So she just handed the providences over to you?” Dean questioned.

“Provenances,” you corrected.

“We went back to her place, I got a copy of the papers—”

Dean raised his eyebrows expectantly. “And?”

“And nothing. That's it. I left.”

“You didn't have to con her or do any… special favors or anything like that?” Dean questioned.

“Dean, would you get your mind out of the gutter, please?” the younger brother scoffed.

“You know when this whole thing's done, we could stick around for a little bit,” he suggested.

“Why?”

“So you could take her out again. It's obvious you're into her, even I could see that.”

Sam ignored his brother. “Hey, I think I've got something here.”

You headed over to Sam’s seated position at the desk and looked over his shoulder at the papers. “ ‘Portrait of Isaiah Merchant's family, painted 1910’,” you read off.

“Now, compare the names of the owners with my dad's journal,” Sam said.

Dean pulled it out. “First purchased in 1912, Peter Simms. Peter Simms murdered 1912. Same thing in 1945. Oh, same thing in 1970.”

“Then stored, until it was donated to a charity auction last month. Where the Telescas bought it,” Sam continued.

“So what do you think? It's haunted? Or cursed?” you asked.

“Either way, it's toast,” said Dean, getting up from his bed.

***

Under the cover of night, you and the brothers broke into the auction house. You were consistently impressed with and sexually frustrated by how easy scaling tall fences and gates were for Dean.

“Come on!” Dean urged you.

You disarmed the security alarm, wearing gloves to avoid leaving fingerprints. “Go ahead,” you whispered.

Dean picked the lock at your cue. You shone your flashlight ahead of you searching for the painting. When you found it, you and the boys were in and out within minutes. You and the boys had clearly been breaking and entering for years. You found it comical almost how good you were. You brought the painting out to a field behind the arthouse and set it alight.

Dean dusted off his hands. “Ugly ass thing. If you ask me, we're doing the art world a favor.”

***

Dean banged on your door the next morning. “We got a problem. I can't find my wallet.”

You opened it. “How the hell do you lose your wallet?”

“I think I dropped it in the warehouse last night.”

“Fuck, dude, that’s bad.” You started pulling on your boots as he paced around the room.

“Yeah, I know. It's got my prints, my ID— well, my fake ID anyway. We gotta get it before someone else finds it. Come on.”

You and the brothers hurried around the auction house searching for the wallet. Sam was clearly frustrated with his brother until he caught sight of Sarah.

“Hey guys!” she smiled.

You wheeled around at the sound of her voice and attempted to act cool.

“Sarah! Hey,” Sam breathed.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“Ahh, we.... we are leaving town and, you know, we came to say goodbye,” Sam responded.

“What are you talking about Sam, we're sticking around for at least another day or two,” Dean grinned as he strolled up to the two. He took his wallet out of his pocket and shot a look at Sam. “By the way, I'm gonna go ahead and give you that $20 I owe you.” He turned to Sarah. “I always forget, you know.” Dean chuckled and you grinned as he held out the cash to his brother. Sam took it and glared at him. “Well, we’ll leave you two crazy kids alone, I gotta go do something… somewhere.”

“Smooth, Dean,” you told him as you walked away from Sarah and Sam. The two of you headed back out to the Impala and sat in it waiting for Sam. When he returned, he was frantically saying the painting was back in the auction house.

“I don't understand. We burned the damn thing,” Sam rushed out.

“Yeah, thank you, Captain Obvious,” Dean remarked.

“Alright, we just need to figure out another way to get rid of it. Any ideas?” you chimed in.

“Well, um, in almost all the lore about haunted paintings it's always the painting's subject that haunts 'em,” Sam began.

“Yeah. So we just need to figure out everything there is to know about that creepy-ass family and that creepy-ass painting. What were their names again?”

“Merchant,” you answered. “I say we find us a bookstore.”

***

And so, that was where you headed. You found a proprietor whose personality was interesting, to say the least. You found his quirk had a bit of charm to it.

“You said the Isaiah Merchant family right?” he asked you.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Sam said.

You and Dean were flicking through a book with pictures of guns in it. The proprietor laid a book of newspaper clippings on the table in front of you. “I dug up every scrap of local history I could find. So, are you folks crime buffs?”

“Kinda. Yeah. Why do you ask?” you responded.

He held up the newspaper article before him. It talked about the sinking of the Titanic, and just next to it, read “Father Slaughters Family, Kills Himself.”

“Yes. Yeah, that sounds about right,” Dean replied.

“The whole family was killed?” You tilted your head.

“It seems this Isaiah, he slits his kids' throats, then his wife, then himself. Now, he was a barber by trade. Used a straight razor,” the proprietor explained.

“Why'd he do it?” Sam questioned.

“Let's look. Ahh... ‘People who knew him describe Isaiah as having a stern and harsh temperament. Controlled his family with an iron fist. Wife, uh, two sons, adopted daughter…’ “ he skimmed on. “Yeah, yeah, yeah… ‘There were whispers that the wife was gonna take the kids and leave.’ Which of course you know in that day and age, um, so instead, old man Isaiah, well, he gave them all a shave.” He drew his hand across his throat and made a noise to go along with it. You and Dean joined in laughing with the proprietor.

“Does it say what happened to the bodies?” asked Dean.

The proprietor shook his head. “Just that they were all cremated.”

“Anything else?” you asked.

“Yeah. Actually, I found a picture of the family. It's right here. Somewhere. Right— here it is.”

It was a picture of the painting, but something seemed off to you.

“Hey, could we get a copy of this please?” Sam asked the man.

He nodded, and returned a few minutes later with it.

***

You and the boys sat at a table in the motel room and looked over the copy of the picture.

“I’m telling you,” you started, “The picture at the auction house, Dad’s looking down. Here, dad’s looking out. The painting changed.”

“Alright, so you think that Daddy dearest is trapped in the painting and is handing out Columbian neckties like he did with his family?” Dean questioned.

“Well, yeah, it seems like it. But if his bones are already dusted, then how are we gonna stop him?” Sam asked.

“Maybe other things changed in the painting, too. Maybe it could give us some clues,” you answered.

“What, like a Da Vinci Code deal?” Sam asked.

“Maybe,” you shrugged.

Dean looked down at you, confused. “I’m lost. Still waiting for the movie on that one. Anyway, we gotta get back in and see that painting.” He walked over to his bed and laid back, crossing his arms. “Which is a good thing ‘cause you can get some more time to crush on your girlfriend.”

Sam huffed. “Dude, enough already.”

“What?” he responded.

“What? Ever since we got here, you been trying to pimp me out to Sarah. Just back off, all right?” he said defensively.

“Sam, relax,” you told him.

“Well, you like her don't you?” Dean pushed.

Sam threw his arms up and looked to the ceiling.

“Alright, you like her, she likes you, you’re both consenting adults…” Dean trailed off with a smile.

“What's the point, Dean? We'll just leave. We always leave,” came Sam’s frustrated response.

“Well, I'm not talking about marriage, Sam.”

Sam snarled angrily. “You know, I don't get it. What do you care if I hook up?”

“ ‘Cause then maybe you wouldn't be so cranky all the time,” Dean answered calmly.

Sam stared at him and huffed before looking away.

“Look, I’m not crazy about hookups either, but maybe it would be helpful,” you suggested.

“And this isn't about just hooking up, okay?” Dean continued. “I mean, I think that this Sarah girl could be good for you. And... I don't mean any disrespect, but I'm sure this is about Jessica, right? Now I don't know what it's like to lose somebody like that, but... I would think that she would want you to be happy.” Sam’s eyes welled with tears as his brother continued to talk. “God forbid, have fun once in a while. Wouldn't she?”

“Yeah, I know she would,” Sam responded softly. “Yeah, you're right. Part of this is about Jessica. But not the main part.”

“What’s it about?” you asked.

He wouldn’t answer you.

“Well, we still gotta see that painting, which means you still gotta call Sarah, so…” Dean trailed off.

Sam picked up his phone and cleared his throat. Dean shook his head and closed his eyes, settling back on his bed.

“Sarah, hey, it's Sam… Hey, hi… Good. Good, yeah. Umm. What about you?... Yeah good, good, really good.”

Dean opened one eye and looked at his brother. “Smooth.”

You suppressed a laugh.

“So, ah, so listen,” Sam continued. “Me and my brother were, uh, thinking that maybe we'd like to come back in and look at the painting again. I- I think maybe we are interested in buying it… What?!”

At Sam’s tone, you and Dean snapped to attention.

“Who'd you sell it to?” Sam stood up.

Dean rose and came to stand next to you.

“Sarah, I need an address right now,” Sam urged her.

Once she’d given it to you, you and the boys sped away in the Impala to an upscale neighborhood. You and the boys were surprised to see another car parked right outside the building: Sarah’s.

“Sam, what's happening?” she asked as you and the boys ran up the front steps of the house.

“I told you, you shouldn't have come,” he responded.

“Hello, anyone home?” Dean banged on the heavy front door.

“You said Evelyn might be in danger; what sort of danger?” Sarah asked Sam frantically.

“I can't knock this sucker down. I gotta pick it.” Dean crouched down in front of you and you moved over to the windows, banging on them with all your might.

“What are you guys, burglars?” Sarah yelped.

“I wish it was that simple. Look, you really should wait in the car. It's for your own good,” Sam told her.

Dean got the door open and you followed him inside quickly.

“The hell I will. Evelyn's a friend,” she said, trailing behind you and the boys. “Evelyn?” She moved over to the elderly woman sitting half-turned away from you. Something was wrong and you knew it; the woman’s gaze seemed completely empty. “Evelyn? It's Sarah Blake. Are you alright?” She touched her shoulder gently.

“Sarah, don't. Sarah!” Sam told her.

Evelyn’s head tipped back, exposing her slashed throat.

Sarah jumped back in horror and screamed. Sam put his arm around her and led her out of the room. You and Dean stared up at the painting before following the younger brother out of the house.

***

Back in the motel room, you and Dean clacked away at the keys on your laptops while Sam paced in front of you. A knock on the door stirred all of you from your thoughts. Sarah stormed into the room and brushed past Sam.

“Hey. You alright?” he asked her.

“No, actually, I just lied to the cops and told them I went to Evelyn's— alone— and found her like that,” she answered, wheeling around.

“Thank you,” Sam nodded.

“Don't thank me. I'm about to call them right back if you don't tell me what the hell's going on. Who's killing these people?”

Sam looked back at you and Dean, and you shrugged.

“What,” he told her.

“What?”

“It's not 'who'. It's 'what' is killing those people,” he explained.

Sarah was still looking at Sam like he was insane.

“Sarah, you saw that painting move,” he sighed.

The woman began to pace. “No, no. I was— I was seeing things. It's impossible.”

“Yeah, well, welcome to our world,” Dean grinned.

“Sarah, I know this sounds crazy, but we think that that painting is haunted.”

Sarah laughed humorlessly but had tears in her eyes. “You’re joking.” She looked between you and the Winchesters. “You're not joking. God, the guys I go out with.”

“Sarah, think about it. Evelyn, the Telescas, they both had the painting. And there have been others before that. Wherever this thing goes, people die. And we're just trying to stop it. And that's the truth,” the brunet told her.

“Then I guess you'd better show me. I'm coming with you,” she said matter-of-factly.

“What? No. Sarah no, you should just go home. This stuff can get dangerous and… and I don't want you to get hurt,” he admitted.

“Look, you guys are probably crazy, but if you're right about this? Well, me and my Dad sold that painting that might have gotten these people killed. Look, I'm not saying I'm not scared, because I am scared as hell, but I'm not going to run and hide either.” Sarah strutted over to the door. “So are we going or what?” She walked out.

“Sam?” Dean said. “Marry that girl.”

***

You and the boys returned to Evelyn’s house to scope out the crime scene a little further. Sam picked the lock to let you, his brother, and Sarah inside.

“Uh, isn’t this a crime scene?” Sarah protested.

Dean smirked. “You've already lied to the cops. What's another infraction?”

Once inside, you and Sam got the painting down from off the wall to examine it.

“Aren't you worried that it's gonna kill us?” Sarah asked.

“Nah, it seems to do its thing at night. I think we're alright in the daylight.”

You took the copy of the painting out of your pocket. “Sam, check it out. The razor: it's closed in this one, but it's open in that one.”

“What are you guys looking for?” she asked.

“Well, if the spirit's changing aspects of the painting, then it's doing so for a reason,” Dean explained.

“And look, the painting in the painting,” you pointed out. “Looks like a crypt, or a mausoleum or something.”

Dean grabbed a thick glass ashtray and used it as a magnifying glass. You ignored how your body came alight as he wound his arm around you to reach the painting. “Merchant,” he read out.

***

Your next stop was a graveyard. Several, in fact. You stepped over gravestones carefully to avoid disrespecting the dead even further.

“What, are you superstitious?” Dean asked.

“A little, actually. I think I’m in such deep shit with the spirits already; I don’t wanna make it worse,” you laughed.

“You are somethin’ else, woman,” he smirked. “This is the third boneyard we've checked,” Dean addressed your group. “I think this ghost is jerking us around.”

Sam and Sarah talked amongst themselves behind you and you and Dean walked a bit ahead.

“Over there,” you said, pointing to a mausoleum. The group followed you into the mausoleum where you found four urns in front of little glass-fronted boxes on one wall. On the opposite, there were five brass nameplates.

Sarah looked at one of the boxes containing a little porcelain doll with brown hair. “Okay, that right there is the creepiest thing I've ever seen.”

“It was a sort of tradition at the time,” Sam told her. “Whenever a child died, sometimes they'd preserve the kid's favorite toy in a glass case; put it next to the headstone or crypt.”

Wind blew in the mausoleum, sending a chill down your spine.

“Notice anything strange here?” Dean asked.

“Ah, where do I start?” remarked Sarah.

Sam snickered.

“No, that's not what I mean. Look at the urns,” said Dean.

“Yeah. There’s only four. Where’s the dad?” you questioned.

***

You and Dean discovered that Isaiah’s body had been buried in that same cemetery away from the rest of his family. You returned there that night with Sarah in tow.

You stood watch with Sarah while the boys dug the hole down to Isaiah’s corpse.

“You guys seem to be uncomfortably comfortable with this,” she said.

Sam climbed out of the hole laboriously. “Well, ah, this isn't exactly the first grave we've dug. Still think I'm a catch?”

You giggled when Dean’s shovel tapped something hard. “Think I've got something.” He cracked the coffin open to reveal Isaiah’s rotten bones. You helped him out of the ground and began pouring salt and kerosene over the body.

“You've been a real pain in the ass, Isaiah. Good riddance.” Dean tossed the match he’d struck down on top of the body.

“God, I will never get used to that smell,” you commented.

“What? Burning flesh?” the older Winchester turned his head to you.

You made a face and scrunched up your nose to which Dean just smirked at you and chuckled.

***

You returned to Evelyn’s house soon after to make sure the job was complete and bury the painting. You and Dean remained outside and told Sam to go in with Sarah. You and Dean smiled at each other before turning the radio up. A love ballad played loudly through the speakers, and Sam turned to the two of you. You both snickered at the “what the fuck” gesture he was giving you. Sam motioned for the two of you to cut the music. You sighed and turned it off.

Before you and Dean could say a word to each other, the door slammed shut behind Sam and Sarah. You and Dean jumped out of the car and ran across the lawn, trying your best to unlock it.

“Guys! Hey! Is that you?” Sam called from inside.

“Sammy, you alright?” the older brother asked. Moments later, you got a call from Sam.

“Tell me you slammed the front door,” you said after you answered.

“Nope, it wasn't me. I think it was the little girl,” he told you.

“The little girl? What girl?”

“What’s he saying?” Dean interjected, leaning close to your ear and the phone.

“Yeah, she's out of the painting. I think it might've been her all along,” Sam said.

You snorted humorlessly. “The dad was trying to warn us all along. He was looking down at her the whole time.”

“Hey, hey, hey, let's recap later all right? Just get us out of here," the younger brother rushed out.

“Well, Dean’s trying to pick the lock, but the door won’t budge.”

“Well, knock it down!”

“Okay, smartass, just let me get my battering ram,” you remarked.

“(Y/N), the damn thing is coming!”

“I know, I know, just hold it off til we figure something out. Get some salt or iron or something,” you responded. “Stay on the phone with me!”

Moments later, you heard Sam say to himself, “What kind of house doesn't have salt? Low-sodium freaks.” Another minute or so went by before he spoke back into the phone. “Uh, (Y/N), give me a sec, don't go anywhere.”

You and Dean began to walk around the outside looking for an alternative entrance. A bit of yelling and crashing was heard on the other end of the phone. “You okay, dude?”

“Yeah, for now,” he responded.

“How’re we gonna waste her?” you asked.

“I don't know, she was already cremated. There's nothing left to burn.”

Dean got close to the phone again.

“Then how's she still around?” you challenged.

“There must be something else!” Sam went silent on the other end, but you could faintly hear Sarah’s voice.

“(Y/N), Sarah said the doll might have the kid's real hair. Human remains; same as bones.”

“The mausoleum,” you and Dean said in unison.

“Hang tight, Sam,” you said, snapping your phone shut. You and Dean sprinted back to the car, and Dean drove as fast and as wildly as he possibly could.

“One of these days, your driving’s gonna fucking kill us all,” you said, gripping the leather of the seat next to you and the door.

“Not now, (Y/N),” he responded evenly, driving even faster. He plowed straight through the fence of the cemetery and drove right up to the mausoleum. You and Dean jumped out of the car and hurried into the building.

Dean pounded the door of the glass box containing the doll with the butt of his gun, and then went to walk out of the mausoleum. “Come on, Dean,” he grimaced. “Cover your eyes!” He told you. He shot at the box, and you shielded your face as he did so. You leapt back into action and knocked away more of the glass with your hands, cutting them as you did so. You ignored the burning in your palms and took the doll out of its case.

You held the doll’s hair over the lighter, which Dean was having trouble lighting. “Come on, come on!” he said. Thankfully, the lighter caught the hairs of the doll and sent it up in flames. You dropped it on the floor between you and Dean and watched the rest of the doll burn.

Dean pulled out his phone moments later to call his brother. “Sam, you good?” He breathed a sigh of relief and hung up the phone.

You looked down at your bloodied hands. Dean followed your gaze. “(Y/N), you maniac, what were you doin’ pawin' at that glass with your bare hands, huh?”

“It seemed like a good idea in the moment,” you mumbled.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, huh?” He guided you back to the car. He held your wrists and sat you down in the front seat of his car. He went to his trunk and returned a few moments later. He sat next to you and gingerly began wiping down your hands. You hissed and grabbed his hand at the pain. He looked back up to you and paused momentarily.

“Sorry,” you said.

“All good,” he responded and went back to work. He gently cleaned your wounds with an alcohol-soaked rag and began to wrap up your left hand. You watched as he worked, heart swelling at the kind gesture.

“Thank you,” you said.

“You’d do the same for me,” he muttered.

“I would,” you affirmed, smiling.

He picked a piece of glass out of your right hand. You hissed again.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” he said. “This one’s probably gonna need stitches.” He handed you his flask. “Drink this.”

You did as told and took a sip, swallowing sharply as you felt the first prick of the needle in your palm. “I’m not trying to be a little bitch. I’m really not when it comes to pain,” you said. “I can finish stitchin’ me up on my own if you wanna get back to Sam—”

“No. Let me,” he responded authoritatively. He looked up through his eyelashes at you before returning his attention to your fingers. He ran his along yours and gingerly cleaned the cuts, giving special attention to the deeper ones before bandaging the exterior of your hands. You flexed them painfully.

“Thank you. Seriously,” you said softly.

“Any time,” he responded.

***

“This was archived in the county records. The Merchant's adopted daughter, Melanie. Know why she was up for adoption? 'Cause her real family was murdered in their beds," Dean explained to you. “Who'd suspect her? Sweet little girl. So then she kills Isaiah and his family. The old man takes the blame. His spirit's been trying to warn people ever since.”

“Huh,” you said. “Psycho bitch.”

He scoffed. “You know you’re talking about a kid, right?”

“Yeah. Psycho bitch all the same.”

You and Dean were waiting outside of the auction house for Sam to finish talking to Sarah. You and he leaned against the car, watching Sarah and Sam talking at the door. Sam turned away from her before turning back moments later. He grabbed Sarah’s waist and pulled him to her, kissing her deeply.

“That's my boy,” Dean smiled.

“Alright, perv,” you remarked. You shoved him down into the car.

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @iloveshawn @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @davina-clairee @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @stephshaww @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @here-for-the-extravaganza @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @rei0812 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @more-espresso-less-depresso-og @mysticmyth @favoritefandoms27 @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h

quite a few tags are broken; so sorry, my loves!! make sure you have my blog notifs on so you don't miss a chapter, and please let me know if ive misspelled your blog name!

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean winchester #spn #supernatural #supernatural series rewrite #spn series rewrite

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mumms-the-word · 6 months

Text

guys

GUYS

you’ll never believe what nonsense I came across while I was brainrot doomscrolling through all the books and notes on the BG3 wiki trying to find stuff I might have missed in act 2

druid self-insert romantic fanfiction about the first battle against Moonrise and Ketheric

fanfic that Halsin read and criticized!!

Okay if you played early access you shouldn’t be surprised because these books existed in EA. I’ve tried to find them in my game post patch 6 but all I can find is volume 3, which is disappointing because I was hoping to find volume 4

But as a treat, if you’re like me and completely didn’t know about this, buckle up and please enjoy the self-insert adventures of a certain “Roa” who totally isn’t Roan Featherway, a druid of Silvanus and colleague(??) of Halsin himself

———

Book Draft - Volume I

The name on the inside of this faded journal suggests it belonged to a 'Roan Featherway', a druid of Silvanus.

[Neatly written chapters fill this journal. A list of what appears to be book publishers in Baldur's Gate are on the first page. The cover has a multitude of titles, all crossed out: 'The Unforeseen Alliance, volume 1', 'Druids and Harpers, a fight for good!', 'The Shadowed Evil: who dares to stand against it?'] Our hero, the [brave? mighty?] druid Roa arrives in the grove. When he received the summons from the Emerald Enclave, he knew something was afoot. Filled with druids and rangers alike, members of the Enclave are scattered across the realm. They fight to preserve the natural order, keep the elemental forces of the world in check, and do battle with those who would upset this delicate balance. They are fierce warriors, though none as fierce as Roa. Built like [an ox? A bear?], he stands head and shoulders above the crowd. The grove is buzzing with activity. Roa spots a beautiful woman with ebony hair flowing past her shoulders, her eyes as blue as a [summer's day? bluebird?]. His smile turns to a frown as he notices the crescent moon and harp pinned to her chest. By Silvanus, what was a Harper doing here?

———

Book Draft - Volume II

Formed from several journals, paper scraps and, in one case, the back of an envelope, this book has been carefully glued together to form the second in a series of romance novels.

[This seems to be the second volume in a series written by an amateur novelist. The title on the cover, 'Love in Shadowed Lands', is crossed out.] The ebony-haired woman notices Roa's gaze and crosses the grove, [winking? smiling?] as she stands by the druid's side. 'I don't usually wear it out in the open,' she says, tapping the brooch on her cloak, a crescent moon and harp pinned to her chest. 'Except for special occasions.' 'What's a Harper doing in a grove of Silvanus?' Roa asks. 'Not just one.' She gestures to a group by the sacred pool. 'We're generally more cloak and dagger,' she continues, 'thwarting tyrants and [guarding? protecting?] the realm is best done in secret. But you lot have a fight on your hands. We're here to help.' 'Since when do the Emerald Enclave need a bunch of Harpers?' Roa says. 'You haven't heard?' She laughs, her laugh tinkling like a bell. 'Strap in, sweetie. We're about to take on Dark Justiciars, their demented leader Ketheric Thorm and, if we're very lucky, Shar herself.'

———

Book Draft - Volume III

The third book in a series of romance novels, this once beautifully bound book has had pages ripped out, glued back in and even tied to the book's spine using a piece of twine.

['Volume Three' is written in bold on the front. The title 'The Cost of Sorrow' is followed by a number of question marks.] 'But why?' Roa screams, the beast within barely contained. 'Why follow Shar? Why destroy Moonhaven?' Ketheric stares down [haughtily? cruelly?] at Roa as he steps over the bodies of Harpers and druids alike. 'Shar knows all.' He smiles [maliciously?]. 'She gave me a holy mission. I'm merely fulfilling it.' 'The people of Moonhaven trusted you!' Roa cries, his anger rising. 'How could you turn your Dark Justiciars on them?' Ketheric smiles, 'They needed the target practice. Can't have Shar's elite getting rusty, now can we? As for you...' a crescent blade appears in his [cruel?] hands. 'You are but one lone druid, Roa. Who are you to stand against me?' Roa forces himself to his feet, Silvanus' fury coursing through him. 'I'm your downfall. Today you die, Ketheric!'

———

And for the pièce de résistance 😮‍💨🤌

Book Draft - Volume IV

The fourth volume and final novel, this book has had almost every single page ripped out, except for the last twenty or so pages.

['Shadow's Kiss' is written in bold on the front. Pages of crossed out lines have notes in the margin reading 'finale!', 'more exciting!'. The final entry reads:] 'Get out of here.' Roa whispers, clutching his side. Blood pours from his fingers, a final gift from Ketheric's blade. 'I'm not leaving you,' Selene sobs, blue eyes filling with tears. Roa cups her face. 'I won't make it out in time. But you can.' Selene presses her forehead against his. Her ebony hair falls forward, forming a curtain that envelops them both. Roa closes his eyes, a smile lifting his lips as her scent, wild roses, washes over him. 'That grappling hook. You still have it?' He asks. 'Of course. Why do you -' With the last of his strength, Roa pushes her from the balcony. He watches her fall, watches her pull the hook from her pack and expertly throw it, swinging gracefully to the ground. A mighty crack splits the floor beneath him as the tower crumbles. He smiles contentedly. Selene was safe. That's all that mattered. Epilogue: 'Selfish bastard.' Selene says, kicking the base of the grave. Balsin places a comforting hand on her shoulder. 'He was the greatest of us all,' Balsin says, a towering behemoth of a druid, although not as tall as Roa. 'We will forever honour him, for he single-handedly broke Shar's hold on the land, and helped -' [A different hand appears beneath the final entry.] Roan, you had one job. This is not a historical record of what occurred, it is poorly written romance with no basis in fact. And if I ever see the name 'Balsin' again, I will personally feed you to Ormn.

Halsin you’re such a critic

we were robbed

#bg3 #baldur’s gate 3 #bg3 discourse #bg3 screenshots #bg3 lore #bg3 fanfic #I mean that last tag is technically true #also I’m sure Halsin was very upset with roan but like #still funny #halsin #halsin silverbough

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tencrushesperday · 5 months

Text

Will you go to prom with me?

matt rempe x college!student reader, friends to lovers

warnings : the fluffiest fluff to have ever fluffed for 7.5k words

an : in honor of the rangers playing their game 1 of the 2nd round, i’ve been writing this for the past week and omggggg there must be so many mistakes in it but im so happy with it it’s so cute. idk about the rangers wives and stuff so christine is obviously made up sorryyyy

How did you get so lucky ?

Matthew gave you a ticket for tonight’s game and made you promise to stay after the game to wait for him.

You have gone to see his debut at the stadium series and this was his second game so you would have gone to see him play even if he hadn’t gotten you a ticket.

The two of you met when he was first invited to the Rangers summer camp. You were having a picnic with friends in Central Park on a hot summer evening. Matt was playing football with his friends not far from you and when the ball fell near you he ran up to get it.

The first time he just excused himself then went back to his game. But the second time his friend threw the ball your way intentionally you asked him if they wanted to eat something but you weren’t going to finish all the food you brought by yourselves.

It took all your courage to ask the tall cute guy that question. Especially because he was cute. Your friends had teased you for blushing the first time he came to get his ball and to defend your dignity you had to show them he didn’t affect you that much and you could be chill around tall attractive guys.

That improvised picnic turned into an ice cream date the next afternoon as you bonded over the fact that you were both foreigners in the US. Then that turned into another museum date, and a shopping date when he asked you for help to find his sister a present.

Superficial conversation turned into long conversations deep into the night so naturally.

Yet he had never tried to kiss you. You wanted to think those dates were really dates and that he felt the same way you did. But he never expressed any further interest into you so you settled for his friendship. You knew he would leave after the training camp to go back to Calgary and you would leave too to go back home.

When he came back for the second time for the training camp, you had already left New York. He had texted you that he was in town again and asked if you wanted to go get ice cream with him. You wanted to smash your head against a wall for leaving a week too early and missing him. But he promised that he would try to go to New York before the start of the season so you could catch up together.

After that first catch up in New York, you also went to Hartford for a weekend a few times when you didn’t have too many assignments.

You surprised him once by coming to a practice and staying for his game. Some of your friends teased you that you were head over heels for him and you “really wanted to get that d” in the words of your best friend but you never made any attempt at flirting and neither did he.

However now, he played in New York, for the Rangers and you couldn’t be any prouder of him. He had texted you that he was called up to play for them for the stadium series and you told him that you already got tickets with friends to go see the match. You missed your morning class to get breakfast with him before the game and congratulate him.

So you are now waiting awkwardly by the VIP entrance because he didn’t get you a special pass since he didn’t dare ask for it and you have no idea where the locker room is in this place. You check your phone from time to time to see if Matt has texted you but you just assume that he’s still busy.

At some point, a security guard approaches you and asks what you’re waiting for. You’re about to answer him and you hear a voice answering in your stead.

“For me. She’s waiting for me. But thanks for taking care of her.” He’s always been kinda hot, but that sentence? The messy post game hair? The sweaty look and slightly tired eyes?

You thank the security guard and walk towards Matt with a big smile on your face. “Congrats on your second game and second win champ. Looks like you’re this team’s lucky charm.” You give him a hug when you reach him and he keeps his arm around your shoulder not letting you go.

“Hmm no I think it’s you. You’ve been for every win too.” He winks at you.

“When did you get this cheesy?”, you tease.

“Winning makes me emotional.”

You aww at his honest response and jokingly tickle him. But you love how he’s not afraid to show his emotions in front of you and you cherish that.

“So.. we won… Do you know what that means?”, he asks with an amused look in his eyes.

“Free and good food?”, you inquire hopefully, batting your lashes at him to go overboard with it.

“Better. Free drinks !! I wanted you to come celebrate with us. I got out the looker room as soon as I could to not make you wait and have some time to convince you. The guys are ready to go.”

“It’s a wednesday night.”

“Perfect night to go out the bars are less crowded.”

“Matt I have classes tomorrow.”

He has a resolute look on his face and you know you’ve lost the argument here. “I’ll bring you back to your dorm by midnight.”

You admit defeat by nodding your head yes and he pumps his fist in an overly exaggerated way. Then he puts his arm back around your shoulder and drags you towards the exit.

“Schneider knows a nice place not far from here apparently.”, he informs you.

“You’re new best bud?”

“I would never dream of replacing you”, he says with a funny smirk.

When you walk out of the building you’re met with huge, impressive hockey players and their beautiful significant others. You smile politely and wave your hand when Matt introduces you but nobody pays you too much attention as everybody is eager to get to drinking.

The bar you get to is nice, not too big but still pretty loud and the players overjoyed from their win only make it louder.

You sit squeezed in between Matt and one of the girlfriends. She doesn’t particularly pay you attention except when she asked you who you are and how you met Matt.

When Matt leaves to get you a drink at the bar, Chytil’s girlfriend approaches you and introduces herself.

“So have you and Matt been together for a long time ?” Luckily, the lighting is bad and she can’t see you blush at her question.

“We’re just really good friends”, you answer her after a beat.

“Oh sorry, my bad.. It’s just that usually guys don’t bring such beautiful friends to bars when they try to find other girls to hook up with”, she explains jokingly and you try not to get such thoughts into your head.

“First of all it’s so nice of you to call me pretty. And no honestly i’m really supportive of him trying to hook up with girls if he wants to. He just promised to get me back to my dorm before midnight so he’ll probably have to do that afterwards.” She laughs at your words a bit too much and you laugh awkwardly as well, confused look on your face. Until she looks behind you and you understand.

“Always knew I could count on you to be my wingwoman” You turn around at Matt’s voice, the awkward smile still on your face. “And here’s your cosmopolitan.”

“I'm not even sure you need a wingwoman now that you’re in the NHL.”

“That’s not something we are going to test tonight because i’m here to celebrate with you and not some random girl.” He grins at you.

You spend the rest of the evening dancing and drinking your cocktails with Matt acting as the best body guard to ever exist on the dance floor. It’s not often that you don’t have any weirdo trying to approach you but having a 6’7 guy built like a refrigerator definitely helps so you can enjoy the music and just dance. Maybe you should go to the club with him more often.

You don’t leave before midnight as promised. It’s closer to 1am when you bid goodbye to Chytil’s girlfriend. She asks you if she will see you around more and you promise her to attend the next game.

When you’re outside the uber is already waiting for you and you get in with Matt still talking and laughing.

He then walks you up to your door and you turn around before opening. “So now you know where I leave”

“Yes this was my plan all along now I know where to come to steal the most comfortable blankets”, he says with a smirk

“I knew you were evil. You can’t be tall, hot and ambitious without something hiding under the surface.” Did you just call him hot ? You can blame it on the alcohol even if it was only 3 cocktails.

“Obviously. Now go get some good sleep and drink a glass of water.” He turns around to leave “Good night”

You yell after him “Drink some water too big boy” you giggle to yourself and cover your mouth aware of how loud you just were.

The next morning you have a mild migraine but it hits you when you are brushing your teeth a song from last night playing on your phone.

The reason no guy approached you last night was because Matt always had his hand on you, your hand, your hip, your waist. It was just so natural to have him that close you didn’t even notice in the moment.

——

Almost a week later, as you sit on your bed, music playing on your speaker because your roommate is out, you hear a loud repeated bang on your door.

You jump out of bed, turn off the music and run to the door. “Who’s there?”, you ask warily.

“Open up the door you deaf dumbass”

“Great to see you too my sugar plum”, you stick your tongue out to Matt when opening the door.

He walks right past you into your dorm room and sets a bag on your desk. “I brought us snacks and video games.”

“You know I don’t have anything to play video games on right?”, you look at him eyebrows raised, hands on your hips.

“That's why I brought my Xbox in my backpack?” He starts unpacking his stuff and setting up his gaming corner. Luckily you had a small TV you and your roommate chipped in together to buy.

“Make yourself at home I guess… I also hope you’re aware I won’t be playing with you I have to finish this essay for tomorrow morning.”

“I know. You said that you had to finish it tonight. I just thought it would be more fun to have company. And I haven’t seen you because of the roadie.” You smile at his logic. It’s non arguable. You would rather do anything and everything with him around than without him. And you missed him too.

Once he’s done setting it up, he sits at the end of your bed and looks at you expectantly. “I won’t be noisy I promise. Now can you bring the snacks?”

You smile like an idiot again, hand him the snacks and get back to your previous position in your bed.

He takes your feet on his lap and starts his game. Without even looking your way, he pushes the bag of your favorite candies towards you.

You sight contemptuously, a small smile adorning your face. This was so comfortable. A little too cozy for you to just see him as a friend.

Around 1am, you finish your assignment and Matt is already asleep at the feet of your bed. You lightly tap his shoulder and tell him to get under the covers because it’s too late for him to go home.

Still sleepy, he takes off his hoodie and gets comfortable while you go to the bathroom to get ready for bed. Then you get back to bed and try falling asleep but you are far too aware of his tall presence right next to you.

He is fast asleep when he sneaks one of his arms around you. Your bed isn’t large enough for you not to touch anyway so you decide to enjoy his warm, comforting cuddles and fall asleep much faster now that you’re not stressing over it.

When you wake up for your class in the morning, Matthew has already left for practice.

——

The game against the Devils has been brutal. You couldn’t attend but you were watching on your phone while at the library. You try to get done as much as you can before leaving the library and going to your closest 24/7 store.

You are ready to go around the whole city. You have a mission in mind and you will accomplish it : finding a Lego set (and food of course).

Luckily you only have to try two convenience stores before finding a good enough set. You also grab some snacks and head to Matt’s apartment.

You are already waiting in the lobby of his apartment building when he comes in.

He looks nasty and you can’t help but cringe.

He drops his bag on the floor when he’s near and wraps his arms around you. For a while, you just remain like that, hugging, passing your fingers through his hair in an attempt to soothe him.

“You wanna go up? I got us lego sets to build”, you ask in a small voice. He nods and pulls away without meeting your gaze.

You haven’t seen him since his huge fight in Toronto so the black eye is shocking at first. And now he’s been suspended for four games. You know that even if he likes causing chaos, he likes the game more.

You silently follow him up to his apartment. It’s a small studio, nothing crazy but it’s cozy and it’s clean.

You set your bags near the couch and go to the kitchen to look for something to cook dinner with. In the meantime, Matt gets another cold shower and changes into a pair of sweats.

When he comes out of his room, wet hair falling across his eyes, his t-shirt half up, your breath catches in your throat. Your gaze moves downwards and then you catch a glimpse of the bruises on his side as he finishes putting his shirt on.

“I left clothes for you on my bed if you wanna change into something more comfortable. I looked for the smallest sweatpants but hoodie might be just enough.”

He walks up to you and smells around, “What you’re cooking there?”

“Mac and cheese. Didn’t have too much choice” A pleasant smile appears on his face. “I can finish it, go get comfortable.”

He nudges you lightly so you let him take over and go to take a shower and change.

You had stayed at his place in Hartford the last two times you went up there. But this was different. You had always brought your own clothes and you would eat out with his friends before coming and crashing on his couch before leaving the next morning.

Now you are changing into his clothes, and as he said the hoodie almost reaches your knee so you don’t bother with trying on the pants. It smells of him and you try not to be weird about it but it brings you such a sense of comfort you can’t help but wrap your arms around yourself.

When you walk back into the open kitchen Matt is done with the Mac n cheese and getting the table ready.

“You can sit down. I’ll be ready in a minute.”

You listen to him and sit down and a few moments later so does he. You eat in silence until he asks you about your day.

You don’t want to press him about anything or upset him so you just go with his flow, letting him welcome you in when he’s ready.

When you’re done eating, it’s your turn to tell him to go get comfortable on the couch while you clean up the kitchen. Once you’re done you join him on the couch where he already started taking the legos out of their boxes.

You talk about your childhoods and how you used to play with legos and other toys, about your favorites and the ones you lost but just remembered how much you liked them.

When you finished the set, he put it on the shelf next to his TV and you both went to bed.

You insisted on sleeping on the couch to not bother him but he argued that he would.

Of course you wouldn’t let him, knowing the physical state he was in. So you agreed to both sleep in the bed.

Once you’re under the covers and the lights are off you can’t stop the words from falling out of your mouth as you turn towards him, “Does it hurt a lot?”

He turns around to face you too, “Where?”

It breaks your heart to hear him say this. Are there really so many hurtful part?

You slowly bring your hand to his abdomen under the covers. “Here?”

“I didn’t think you would see it”, he shuddered at your touch so you pull your hand back.

“I’m sorry”

“It’s okay.” your voices are no louder than a whisper.

“Can I hug you?”, there’s timidity in your voice that he has never heard before.

“Please”

You wrap your arms around him and press his head under your chin. You fall asleep in that position only a few minutes later.

——

Now, you are waiting for him by the north entrance after his game against Florida as he had asked you but you have no idea what to expect nor where he is taking you. It didn’t really matter anyway as you get to spend time with him.

He walks out the building wearing his suit, his bag slung over his shoulder.

“Congrats ! You played until the end” You laugh at him throwing your arms around his torso. God how you loved his hugs. It feels like being engulfed in the warmest cloud.

“And I got an assist”, he says pulling back from the hug and grinning at you.

Your smile widens as well as you crank your neck to look up at him “You did great champ!”

You pull away from his arms feeling yourself getting hungrier by the second. “Come one now take me to eat. You know cheering on you is such a physical activity.”

You catch sight of his crooked tie once you are completely out of his arms and reach to straighten it. “I changed as fast as I could so you wouldn’t have to wait long.” He explains looking down at you.

You can’t look up to meet his gaze, too busy trying to hide your blush.

When you’re done, you ask him to lead the way and he points to the left and tells you to follow him because “he knows a place”.

You walk for a few blocks until you’re in Times Square and then he stops.

“Matt don’t tell me you wanna play tourist right now. I swear I’m not kidding when I say I’m famished.” You look up at him with a pout.

He checks his watch, “Can you keep the whining down, I’m the one who’s paying for dinner, please?” He looks around at the billboard like he’s never seen them before.

“I’m hungry, come on let’s go I’ll pay for my meal if it’s what it takes.” You try to argue.

He stops turning around and you get in front of him to try and get his attention back on you. He checks his watch again. What is he waiting for?

“Matt the hell are you looking around for ? This is not your first time in Time Square. I hope the place you wanted to take me doesn’t close too soon…”

He looks behind you and his eyes light up. “This is where I wanted to take you.” He says grinning like a devil.

You want to ask what’s going on, mouth half open but he tells you to turn around so you do.

Mouth still hanging agape, the first thing your eyes lay on is a huge billboard with your name on it. And the question “Will you go to prom with me?”. You heart skips a beat there.

You’re speechless for a second and very confused when you turn back around to look at Matt. “What is this? What prom, Matt? Colleges don’t do proms and I’m in my senior year. What do you…”

He cuts you off seeing the frown on your face “You told me once that you never got to go to prom during high school. And I know how much you love those fancy dresses and dancing to 2000 music. I didn’t want you to feel sad again because you feel like you missed out on something.”

Oh you are so about to cry.

Tears are brimming your lashes already. Your stomach is doing somersaults.

“So will you go to prom with me? The one I organized just for us so you can’t really say no…” You hear the small quiver in his voice and how he slows down at the end. He is feeling unsure. It’s the sweetest thing ever.

The tears staining your face are happy ones so you nod your head vigorously, unable to speak because of the knot in your throat. A smile cracks its way onto your face and at the sight of it he leans down to hug you. You jump into his arms and wraps yours around his neck.

“I can’t believe you did this for me” You’re now sobbing into his shoulder, pushing your face into the crook of his neck to hide your tear stained, all red, face, from the crowd around you.

It feels like it’s just the two of you in the world. You don’t hear the crowd over your own beating heart anymore.

How did you get so lucky?

You want to tell him how much this means to you, how much he means to you. Yet it’s not the time to confess your feelings. You can’t ruin this moment with your selfish emotions when he’s done this for you as a friend. So you settle for thank yous.

“You’re the best, really.” You squeeze harder before trying to pull away but he still has you in his arms and your feet don’t even touch the ground.

Your faces are inches away, and you feel an itch you can’t quite scratch, because he’s not your boyfriend and kissing him could ruin all this.

“Thank you. Genuinely. I don’t know what I did to deserve you but you’re really the best Matt” You think he can probably feel your breath on his face. You hope he can’t hear your pulse this close. You hope you don’t smell of the beer you drank earlier at the game.

Oh no, you realise as he puts you down, your breath probably smells of the beer.

He shots the toothiest smile you’ve ever seen on him. “Good let’s go get you some food now.”

May the universe help your poor little heart, as you melt internally at his smile, words and actions.

——

You knew Matthew was a man of his word and if he said he would do it he will. But what you didn’t expect was for him to go so overboard with it.

A few days after his promposal, he texts you that after class you’re both going shopping the next day. He had called you after the game when they clinched the first spot and said that your fake prom would be before the playoffs.

He waits for you in front of your building, baseball cap sitting backwards on his head, two coffees in his hand.

Your heart skips a beat when you first catch sight of him, easy to notice him with such a height. You think you would recognise him even in the dark anyway, when everything in your body pulls you to him in the way it has done since you’ve met him.

He’s right here and so close and yet so out of reach because you can’t run up to him and kiss him like you would like to.

It has gotten harder to ignore your feelings since he started acting like the best boyfriend in the world while simultaneously not being your boyfriend.

You walk slowly to give yourself time to recompose yourself. He smiles broadly when he sees you too.

He doesn’t know how much he affects so you can’t blame him. He’s just being friendly, like he always was.

When you reach him, he hands you your cup of coffee then pulls you into his chest and your giggle gets muffled by his warm sweater.

He asks you about your day, your classes, why you’ve been up since he went away. He listens to your every word even though you’ve already told him all of this through texts.

You walk the streets of New York together until he stops in front of a dress shop.

“No, no, no Matt, I cant afford this.” You stop him before he walks inside, hand on his arm. “And ai’m not letting you pay for my dress. Just putting this out there hopefully before the thought even crosses your mind”

He takes your hand off his arms and wraps it with his. “Let’s just see what they have.”

He tugs you inside and you don’t have any other choice but to follow.

The shopping assistant greets you and after giving you a few minutes to look around she starts asking question about what you want, the type of event, the color preferences, the length.

Sure you had imagined the type of dress you would have worn if you ever got invited to prom when you were a teenager. But you were never invited by anyone and as you were starting to think about going alone your mom got very sick and you had to stay home while your dad went to work.

But asked this way on the spot you have no idea. You say blue for the colour. It’s you favourite one and Matt has a nice blue suit that could match.

The sales assistant picked out some dresses for you while you and Matt looked around. He made you promise to not look at the price until you’ve tried on all the dresses that you liked but you knew you wouldn’t be getting anything from here.

After going around the whole store, the sales assistant directed you to the back to try on the dresses. Struggling to tie up the dress, you peak your head outside the door to ask her for help but only see Matthew.

“She went to get you heels. Do you need help?” You nod, open the door wider as he gets closer and slowly turn around making sure the dress stays in place.

He gets on it with expert hands pulling the laces tight. “Tighter?” His voice is low, near your ear. It sends shivers down your spine.

You nod not trusting your voice just yet. You feel hot all over but you also shiver.

“Sorry my fingers are cold…”

He is almost done now so you want to break the awkward silence.

“You’re good at it.” Great remark, way to go.

“Yeah I helped my sister a few times.”

Did he just compare you to his sister? Amazing.

With perfect timing your sales assistant comes back with a pair of beautiful black heels. “Sorry for making you wait. Your boyfriend told me you shoe size but I had to find something that would match.”

So much for helping with the awkwardness…

“He um… we’re not um…” You tried articulating your thoughts pointing between you and Matt.

Instead of helping you, he looks at you with an amused look on his face then thanks the woman while taking the shoes from her.

“You can hold onto my shoulder.” He says kneeling down and setting the shoes on the ground in front of you. You lift your dress with one hand, grab his shoulder with the other one as he so kindly suggested, and then extend your foot to put the shoe on. He even helps you get the shoe on.

You were trying not to overthink his every move but it was impossible. Why is he acting this way all of a sudden ? Why didn’t he tell the sales assistant that you were just friends ? Why ..?

Your thoughts are cut off when Matthew stands up and you lose your balance and almost fall.

He extends an arm to catch but you stop him with your hand and a chuckle.

He steps back and he and the sales assistant both look at you. You start feeling flustered so you turn around to look for a mirror.

As you walk over to it, you can feel Matt’s gaze on your black, and the ghosts of his fingertips on your skin.

The dress looks beautiful but something is not right. It’s a bit too over the top and you just don’t feel it. Matthew sees it in your eyes when you look at him through the mirror.

You change into the second dress but you don’t like how it looks around your chest so you don’t even get out of the dressing room.

The third one was beautiful. The flowy fabric, the sea green color of the dress, the thin straps and square neckline accentuating all the right places. You look down at yourself one last time and take a peak at the price tag before walking out of the dressing room to show it to Matt. It breaks your heart to act like it’s not the most beautiful dress you have ever worn. But you can’t afford it.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen Matthew looking at you this way. His mouth is slightly agape which gives you an insane boost of confidence.

“Yeah I’m not gonna take this one. You wouldn’t be able to handle it.” You tease him which makes him slightly blush. Oh this is getting funny.

“Should I do a spin ? Let me do a spin”

Maybe you could not eat for the next month or two ? Because if it triggers this type of reaction from Matt you would wear it everyday.

When you look at him again, he stares at you and gulps.

“You look.. you look like a washed up algue on the Jersey shore” He deadpans. A smirk threatens to crack his serious appearance.

You explode in laughter, “You sure know how to talk to a woman. But that settles it I’m not buying it.” You turn around to go back into the dressing room without seeing his disappointed look or leaving him the time to argue with you.

You try on the rest of the dresses but none of them are what you are looking for so you bid goodbye to the sales assistants and exit the store.

“This was very cute of you Matt but I promise I’ll find the perfect dress in a thrift shop without having to starve for the next month.” You assured him.

“Yeah sure sorry…” How dare he be this cute??

“I know that we went to this type of store with my sister for her proms and she loved it.” He argues

You smile at him, “So you wanted my experience to be as authentic as it gets.”

“Exactly” he gives you that cheeky childish grin. He’s proud of himself and he can be.

You shake your head at him and urge him in the direction of your favorite coffee shop.

“It’s too late for coffee I think”, he remarks which makes you look at the time on your phone.

“Wow I didn’t think we wasted that much time in the store” you were surprised, but then again time moves so fast when you were having fun with Matt.

“Hey come on it wasn’t a waste of time you got to try on beautiful dresses” he argued again, heading back in the direction of your dorm.

“You’re right but not walking faster to get to Phil’s surely is a waste of time” You saying grinning.

“When it comes to getting food it always sounds like you’re the 6’7 hockey players who needs to eat a lot of calories” He’s already caught up to you so you can punch his arm at the teasing.

“Yeah well where would I get the energy to annoy you if I didn’t eat this much?”, you give him the same sassy energy back.

The banter and the laughter doesn’t stop and suddenly he’s already walking you back to your dorm and hugging you goodbye.

Once you are in your pyjamas you get your laptop out and get to work on your assignment.

To your dismay, pretty boys don’t make uni work disappear…

——

You were looking at your eyeshadow palette, indecisive. Maybe you should just do a simple eyeliner ? You wanted to do your best, look your best, impress Matt after everything he’s done for you.

You were lucky to find a dress similar to the sea green one you had found in the store but just a tad lighter in colour. You put on your highest heels so the pictures with Matthew looked better. He promised to make it look as authentic as possible so he got one of the older guys on the team to let him borrow the apartment. Pictures by the fireplace are a must according to him.

So you gathered all the belongings you needed after your only class this morning and came to the address he had sent you. You called the number he had sent along when you were in front of the building and a nice woman who introduced herself as Christine told you what apartment to go to.

You were sort of starstruck when she first opened the door and wondered how these hockey players really bagged all these 10s. She wasn’t amongst the girls and women you had met both times you have gone with Matt to the bar to celebrate after a game and you understood why when you heard two kids arguing in the background.

She had quickly let you in and apologized for the noise they were making while taking you to the room where you could get ready. You had thanked her a million times over for welcoming you this way but she told you that they couldn’t say no when Matthew had explained his plan so sweetly. She had commented about how lucky you were to have him with a wink and you nodded, cheeks flustered.

Now you are almost done. You had begun with your hair, finally decided to just do a soft look on your eyes with some glitter and put on your dress.

You are putting on your pink gloss, looking at yourself in the mirror. You promise yourself that this is the night you will tell Matt how you feel, when you hear a knock on the door.

“Honey, are you ready? Matthew is here.” Christine calls out to you.

“I will be out in a minute.”, you answer as you put on your perfume finally.

You take a deep breath before opening the door and shake your arms in a manner to get the anxiety out of your body. You walk to the living room slowly to not scrap the parquet with your heels, looking down at your feet, dress in hand.

When you get there, you raise your head to find Matt already looking at you. He looks stunning in his suits, you already knew that. But there something that made him look particularly handsome. Probably knowing that he dressed up for you.

A smile creeps its way in your face as he stares at you in awe. You pat yourself on the back internally for doing a good job on the hair and makeup.

“You look um… you look beautiful.”, he finally manages to get out.

You giggle and thank him. He really makes you feel like a high schooler, you think.

“You don’t look bad yourself.” You smile.

“You see me in a suit every other day”, he’s being modest.

“But you have something particular about yourself today”

Oh god, you’re gonna be the death of him. Complementing him so effortlessly. He made more of an effort today it’s true. He wanted to look half as good as you at least. He also made a point of not fighting in his last games so he doesn’t have a bruised face on these pictures.

“Oh I got something for you.” He reaches out behind him on the fireplace and grabs a box. You walk closer, curious to see what it is and your eyes lay in a beautiful corsage for your wrist and a matching flower for his pocket.

You give him your hand and look at him while puts it on “It’s beautiful thank you.”

“Okay kids, let's take some cute pictures,” Christine says, clapping her hands, even though she already took ten pictures of you interacting.

“I see you’re fully playing your role” you laugh at her antics.

“Just rehearsing for the future”, she retorts with the same cocky smile you gave her. “Okay now get in front of the fireplace. Matt stands behind her.” She was giving instructions like a pro and you assumed she’s already done this for her own prom.

Just like she said, Matt walks up behind you and sneaks his arms around your waist. Instinctively, he spreads his fingers but his hands awkwardly cover your whole tummy so he holds your hips.

You try to relax for the picture but you’re overly aware of every inch of his body touching yours.

“Come on guys, give me your best smiles now!” Christine encourages you.

You try to focus on the pictures, the camera, your hair, your smile. You rearrange your dress to be sure it is okay.

Once she says she has a few good ones, you change your pose and you get used to it. You look at a few before takes and they do look beautiful.

Once you’re done, Matt thanks Christine and you both head out to the restaurant he had made a reservation for.

The taxi ride is not too long since you were already in a nice part of the city. The restaurant looks way too over priced and you feel bad for how much money he’s spending on you.

Once you’re sitting at your table, you can help but tease him, “I’m amazed you even managed to make such a reservation.”

“Schneider helped”, he admits.

“So this evening really is a team effort. If I wasn’t enjoy it so much, I would probably feel bad for bothering everybody”, you say half jokingly.

The whole dinner is amazing and delicious. You don’t think you’ve ever eaten in a place this fancy and frankly both of you probably look out of place.

More than once you laugh a little too loud and swear a little too often which earns you some pointed glances from the old rich people around you. That only makes you laugh even more.

By the time you’re out of them, you feel the slight buzz of the overpriced wine and can’t wait to see what Matt has planned next.

The next taxi ride takes you back to his apartment and you’re sad you didn’t get to dance. You think you might still convince Matt to put on some music to dance in the kitchen too.

You think of your arguments all the way up and when he makes you wait in the hallway. But you don’t need any once he opens the door and lets you see what he prepared inside.

There was glitter everywhere, colorful light effects and you couldn’t even catch a glimpse of a photo zone next to the bathroom door.

“I know we don’t have a prom party with all the people dancing around us and our friends but I hoped this would make do.”, he says looking at you from behind, studying your every emotion.

You turn to him, your brightest smile on your face “This is perfect Matt.” You grab his hand and drag him inside.

“Let’s take a picture first. We can set the timer and flash on my phone.” You set your phone in the place he prepared for it and push on the timer. You take your dutiful place in front of him in front of the photo zone and there’s no awkwardness as earlier.

Then you go back to the leaving room to put some music on, he goes to the kitchen and comes out with punch.

“Don’t we face the chaperones too? For the more authentic experience…”

“You plan on doing such naughty things you need a chaperone?” Oh, you weren’t expecting him to clap back this way.

“I don’t have enough alcohol in the system, bring that punch over here”, cowardly move but you didn’t lie. You need more liquid courage to tell him everything you think.

You take the drink from his hand when he extends it to you and down half of it.

You cradle the rest of your hand while Give me everything tonight plays in the background but it doesn’t take long for you to finish that too.

You dance to your favorite songs until a slow by Def Leppard comes on. “Wouldn’t be a full prom experience if we didn’t slow dance”, Matt defends his choice of putting it in the playlist.

“You’re right. Let’s dance”c you nod getting closer to him. Your fingers are intertwined behind his neck and his hands settle in your lower back.

With each sway to the rhythm, your bodies get closer.

You look amazing. He used beautiful earlier but that hadn’t been enough to describe how truly gorgeous you look. He wants to use every word he knows, compare you to stars and flowers and yet it still feels like it wouldn’t be enough. You are giving him your brightest smile and he feels proud at the thought that he is the one who put it on your face. He made you happy. He wants to make you happy everyday in the future.

You are so close to him. Right in front of him. He thinks he should gather his courage and tell you he likes you. He can feel the warmth radiating from your skin through your thin dress, your fingers running through his hair at the nape of his neck.

He thinks about all the times you’ve made him happy. The first time you ever talked to him and offered snacks to him and his friends who were just strangers in the park. The time when you first surprised him by coming to Hartford to see him play. He wasn’t seeing you in that light at the time. However recently, when you came to comfort him after he had been suspended for four games. He had wanted to kiss you then right in his lobby when he saw you. But he couldn’t use you like that to drown his sorrows. And what were the chances that you wouldn’t push him away and leave him all alone?

He always thought you were hot, even Schneider and Lafrenière commented on it when he had brought you to the bar with them to celebrate. He had told them to back off right then and there, to not even think about it. He thought it was due to friendly protectiveness. He later realised that he hated the thought of anyone else putting their hands on you and make you happy in that way.

“Why didn’t you ever kiss me?”, you interrupt his train of thought. He is completely caught out. Did he hear you right? He takes another few seconds to process but he can see the concern taking over your features.

“I could do that? I didn’t know I could?” he looks dumbfounded which makes you laugh. “Can I kiss you now?”

“Do you want to?”

“Stupid question. Can I kiss you?”, his breath is ragged.

“Stupid question.” you giggle, “Lose some more time asking others like this o-“.

He doesn’t let you finish before crashing his lips on yours and stealing your breath away. It’s passionate but sweet and oh so soft at the same time.

It’s so much better than you couldn’t have ever imagined. Sparks fly. Butterflies erupt in your stomach. Shivers run down your spine. You have wanted this for so long, was tempted to do it a million times and it is finally happening.

You need more. You wish he would never stop kissing you.

When he pulls away for air, slightly panting and lips and the skin around them sparkly from your gloss, you can’t help the chuckle.

“It tastes like cherry”, he says through a small laugh of his own.

“Oh yeah? wanna taste it some more?”

#matt rempe x reader #matt rempe

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mishapeep · 6 months

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Uh, I saw your post and you mentioned that you teach the kids... how do I put it... that are given to you at social functions due your park ranger aura for safekeeping how to tell the difference between predatory lightning bugs and normal lightning bugs.

And then you didn't tell us that secret! May I ask you to share the difference between predatory lightning bugs and normal ones?

Thank you very much :)

By popular demand and because this was the most polite ask: how to tell the predatory lightning bugs from the non-predatory lightning bugs.

First, there are over 2000 species in Lampyridea. I am not qualified to distinguish between all that. I grew up in Northern Ohio (71 species) and every year summer wasn’t official until the lightning bugs came out in the evenings (usually the first or second week of June).

This is our first clue. The first lightning bugs out each evening are a species of non-predatory chaps. Their glow goes in a special pattern. Flash, pause, “J” shaped flight about 2 -3’ off the ground. Repeat. Their glow is more yellow and lingers. These are the males of Photinus pyralis or the common eastern firefly. They look like this:

(Photo from iNaturalist: a lightning bug beetle, mostly black with gold lines around the wing casing. Head shield is yellow with a red “eye” with black iris in the center. Rounded front and back, long down the center.)

Their females hide in tall grasses waiting for the right suitor. If you’re lucky and clever you can see her dimmer flash in the grass beaconing the males closer.

As the dark of night progresses you’ll start to see a quicker, brighter, greener flash. Blip, blip, blip, blip, long pause. They are FAST! They’ll also mimic the flashes of Photinus females. These are usually higher up off the ground. Even in the trees! These lightning bugs aren’t looking for love.

Photuris (not gonna get to specific epitaph on this one without a sample and a key) are looking for dinner!

(Photo from blog.greatparks.org another lightning bug beetle. This one is slightly larger than the non-predatory bug. It has “shoulders” and extra gold lines running through the back. Its legs are longer and its shield is more “sharp”. The shield marking is less like an eye and more like a yellow D where the inside is a red triangle with a black line running through.)

Another way to tell is to go out at night and catch a bunch of lightning bugs (if you can; I hear they’re getting scarce). Offer them a slice of apple. If you wake up in the morning to only a few and the rest are dead, good chance you found some predators. (This is how I found out about them! Wooops!!)

Lightning bugs are freaking magical. I’m so sad to hear that they are yet another wonder that we are losing at an alarming rate. If this bugs you as much as it bugs me there are a few things you can do to help them:

1) do not spray for mosquitoes! That spray is not-species specific. It’s bad for lightning bugs. It’s bad for monarch butterflies. It’s bad for birds. It’s bad for bats. It’s bad.

2) kill your lawn. But Misha! You said they breed in the grasses! True! However native plants are going to provide so much more habitat for these guys than a gross monoculture of Kentucky bluegrass ever will. The Midwest has some of the best native plant nurseries in the country! Use that resource!

3) Advocate for them and donate to conservation if you’re able. Bugs don’t have voices and they fight an uphill battle just for being a bug.

Thanks for joining my ranger talk! Support your parks.

#lightning bug #fireflies #firefly #glow worm #bug #bugs #beetles

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yurinaa-world · 2 months

Note

Can I request an Part two of Argenti x fem Vash like reader and maybe x Boothill too? Like since Argenti met Vash reader what if they meet Boothill too? Like how he was trying to find Vash reader due to their bounty over their head and finally found them when Argenti gave them a gun to vash reader from the last interaction with Argenti and Vash reader, this can be the reason why Argenti and Boothill fought for each other about how they fight over who tried to capture Vash reader when the readers goal was saving many lives as possible and stoping their twin brother knives (knives is the very reason why Vash reader has a bounty over their head because knives made it convincing that Vash reader stole smithing sand murder others when it’s actually Knives that did that)

(It is said that Boothill met Argenti and caused some heat between the two so I assumed the two became enemies😭, you can ignore this if you’d like and also take your time and be sure to hydrate!!!)

𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈: Boothill & Argenti x Female reader

𝒮𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: with a reader that like Vash

𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: fluff, spelling mistakes,

𝒫𝒶𝓇𝓉 𝓉𝓌𝑜 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈: post

𝐵𝑜𝑜𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓁𝓁 "𝑀𝑒𝓂𝒷𝑒𝓇 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒢𝒶𝓁𝒶𝓍𝓎 𝑅𝒶𝓃𝑔𝑒𝓇𝓈"

The second he sees that bounty on your head, he wants you. He never missed a target, never! You ain’t nothing special either, pretty face with a high bounty. He doesn't mind any mouse and cat chase with you, you better hope you’re running fast.

He’s gotten you a couple of times but you're always escaping by matter of luck and mistakes. The galaxy rangers make fun of him, saying if he ever caught you he should try his luck on a lottery ticket.

You’re just pulling his boot but he’s got ya. You're distracted by that redhead knight, just don’t move and let his bullet go right through yer’ without any pain, quick and easy for everyone.

Until that dunce of a knight grabs you and pulls you away just at the right second. Now he’s just gotten himself some more work to do. You run along with that Prince Charming of yours holding him off, He doesn't get any time for this bull.

He’ll take the loss this time but he’s gonna be on tail til’ you’re backed up in the corner with your tail between your legs.

That knight ain’t telling him nothin’ either, all that’s coming out from his mouth is flowery trash. Makes him wanna feed that knight some led

Till he found your little self in a bar with some angry men around you and they have a bone to pick with you.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Come guys! Let’s talk things out first!”

Putting your hands up to surrender, while a group of men surrounds you—all of them are angry and you’re not getting out of here Scot free.

“How bout’ we sell her piece by piece?” One of the men brought up an idea that made everyone else laugh but made you shiver to your core. “That isn’t necessary!” “Yea, gentlemen, that ain’t necessary cuz’ she gonna be my catch.”

Shots just started piercing through everything like a madman was given a machine gun. You just book it towards the behind-the-bar—glass shatters around you as you run— the adrenaline in your body doesn’t want you to stop.

“Move 'n I’ll shoot yer brains out too.”

You just completely stop the track, hearing his gun click he was going to shoot and there isn’t any way you're getting out of this either. The cold barrel of the gun against the back of your neck.

“Come on, let’s just talk this out of you—“You slowly turned your head, before he smashed you to the side, against the wall with a gun right between your eyebrows. “Yeah, talkin' it out like good ol buds, sorry but I gotta bounty to collect. It’s money, not ya”

“Haha….” You feel sweat dripping from your forehead, the gun being pressed more in between your eyebrows as if to prove a point. “Come on, it doesn't have to be that depressing! Not everything has to do with money.”

“Neither does it have to end up in people getting shot up—“

You shove him roughly to the side, fast but not fast enough for you to avoid the bullet going through your body—catching him completely off guard. What are you stupid or just that selfless—sharp bang echoes fill the air.

The flaming sharp pain in your shoulder, makes the adrenaline run off the walls in your head. Your knees weaken, collapsing onto the ground, body hunching over. Your hand clutches the coat where the bullet tore into, warm blood rapidly soaking through. Every breath just felt like you’re last. Gasping for air like a man who’s drowning in the big ocean.

He doesn’t get it at all, that bullet would’ve gone straight through and probably killed him, no it would have killed him. Yet after shots were fired and everyone was lying limp on the ground, he turned back to have gone with a trail of small drops of blood following.

Guess he was unlucky today.

In another universe you kiss, have a happy family and live without worries because I said so

𝒜𝓇𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓉𝒾 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒦𝓃𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝐵𝑒𝒶𝓊𝓉𝓎"

Argenti is bae. Like he saw you around a couple of times, helping people and keeping them safe and how can he not find that respectable? Like is knight, not someone who is the most selfless even without amour.

Forget the bounty bae, you're his bae now(jk). He finds you so gentle that he can’t even come close to taking you away.

Seeing kids surrounding you, telling you all about their days and interests all at the same time like you’re the heavenly woman he’s ever witnessed. You’re blessing him with your presence near him.

But seriously he’s most of the time just seen you injured, and it’s pretty obvious when you try not to. Taking shallow breaths, grunting in pain, having a hard time leaning down or just the expression of wanting to die when you’re alone.

Yet he doesn’t understand when he tries to help you out that you start telling it’s fine and he should get off his knee. A warrior fighting for others shouldn’t go without some reward, to allow him to help with injuries. One look. Just one.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Even under the gaze of the bright sun and in pain, your beauty is breathtaking.”

Sitting on wood with your back against the old wood of the box, creaking every minute with newspaper on your face blocking out the sunlight as you try to deal with the terrible pain in your shoulder—even with the bullet out and bandaged up, the pain was just worsening— “Huh?…” you take the newspaper from your face to get a good look at who was there.

“Ah…before you decide to arrest me…we…should talk out Mr knight!” You look at him nervously, knowing you probably wouldn’t be able to get out of this with your injury.

You don’t have glasses on, why now? You try to move your arm around to see where your glasses go. You can’t just leave without them!

“A knight doesn’t attack the innocent. Especially one with honour such as yours.”

“Yeah ....I wouldn’t say I would have honour, it's more like I just want to be as helpful as I can.”

Glasses? Where are those glasses? “Your eyewear.” He’s just holding it right in front of you, “Allow me.” Put it gently on your face before going on your knees.

“What are you doing?!”

“Allow me to treat your injuries.”

“No, no, that's completely fine!”

“I insist, allow me to be in the grace of your beauty.”

if you liked this, consider tipping me on ko-fi! it'd mean a lot!

#✧*:･ﾟ✧:･ Yurinna's Writing :･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧#hsr x reader #hsr fluff #boothill x reader #boothill x you #hsr x you #hsr boothill #hsr boothill x reader #honkai star rail x you #honkai star rail x reader #star rail #star rail x reader #boothill hsr #honkai star rail #hsr #hsr imagines #Argenti x Reader #Argenti x You #star rail x you

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violetmuses · 2 months

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I Hear Sirens - A. Aretas 🚔🚨

Title: I Hear Sirens - A. Aretas 🚔🚨

Fandom: "Bad Boys" Film Universe

Character: Armando Aretas

Pairing: Armando Aretas + Female Reader

Main Storyline: When three headlining names reach your side, anything can happen.

Author's Note: Here is another request. Enjoy! 💜 @nelo0wesker

=====

2024

This bounty struck down everywhere as three professionals investigated this large frame case up against deceased Captain Conrad Howard.

“Hold up. I thought we'd visit Tabitha.” Miami Detective Marcus Burnett questions his partner Mike Lowrey when plans change on the run.

“Uh-huh. I know someone better.” Mike shook his head.

“Who?” Even criminal Armando Aretas glanced toward his biological father with curiosity.

“Nobody knows her real name, but this woman moves all over for different reasons.” Mike cleared his throat while explaining. “Special Ops, hacking, undercover shit. You name the plot and she's probably done it.”

“How do you know she's legit?” Armando's interest piqued.

“You'll see. Let's go.” Mike stepped out of this truck when Aretas parked near one of the last places.

______

“I'm looking for a woman, she works here.” Mike lowered his voice while standing near others. Their true location still moved past this late-night spot.

“Are you sure about that?” One bartender squinted toward Mike and Marcus.

“Got cash in my pocket. Tell me the location if you don't trust them.” Despite looking out of place wearing this Bud Light shirt and trucker hat, Armando spoke up. Jeans covered both legs and scuffed boots walked along.

“Hell yeah. She's down in the cellar, man. Last door.” That bartender accepted wrinkled bills and slid one shot on the house.

Armando drowned this beverage in five seconds, tapping down the glass.

“Thanks.” Armando nodded, jutting his chin before stepping away.

“No problem.” The bartender kept working, observant while Mike and Marcus looked flabbergasted.

“Did you just bribe that motherfucker?” Mike screwed up his face, bewildered toward Armando.

“No more rules. C'mon.” Armando stopped himself from laughing.

“That's your son.” Marcus chuckled as Mike rolled both eyes.

_____

High-tech cameras alerted you before people even knocked.

Shit!

Mike Lowrey, Marcus Burnett, and Armando Aretas showed up on your doorstep, wanted fugitives.

Sliding back the Judas Window first, you won't even open this main door yet.

“Yes?” You call from this brief space located between yourself and three men.

“Took some work, but we found this place. Can you help us out?” Mike Lowrey noticed your presence.

“With a bounty looming right over your heads, I wouldn't even step out. All of you seem better off hiding, Detective.” You crossed both arms.

“Captain Howard is innocent and we can prove it.” Mike defended this case.

“What do you need?” You tilted your head, still annoyed.

“Let us in first.” Mike seemed frustrated because time dwindled.

“Why?” You clipped.

“Cause these two are the worst fucking fugitives!” Armando called out.

At that moment, you cracked up and finally opened the door.

“Damn!” You nearly gape after noticing their current outfits.

“We've been shot at and harassed for days. Stop laughing.” Marcus squinted.

Even Armando nearly grinned, but Mike watched him through silence.

“We need different clothes, a new ride, and some phones.” Mike is absolutely serious.

“Yeah. Guns, too.” Aretas slyly leaned over and turned up the volume for your music system.

“What the hell are you doing?” Mike faced Armando once more.

Ignoring Lowrey again, Armando sits down in this empty chair and questions you.

“Who's James McGrath?” Aretas started.

“Army Ranger who ended up being tortured by the cartel. He's only joined a faction to gain power.” You highlight details. “Now you know.”

“Thanks.” Armando confirmed information. “Is there anything that you want before we leave?

“If you survive, call me.” You then gestured your hand regarding Aretas.

Both Mike and Marcus scoffed in unison.

“Deal.” Armando winked just as you planned their requests tonight.

_____

Just weeks later, one international text message reached your phone:

Armando: Waiting in Mexico. Thanks for helping us. 🇲🇽

You smiled and booked this upcoming flight, planning to see him.

"Without you, I've got nothing to lose. - "On The Run" by JAY-Z & Beyoncé

#armando aretas x reader #armando aretas #armando #armando x reader #bad boys ride or die #bad boys for life #bad boys #movies #request #requests #drabbles #drabble #violetmuses #strong language #dark themes #💜#jacob scipio #drabble requests

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hulhudhonado · 1 year

Text

The Moment They Fell For You (3)

Synopsis: Short stories about the moment in time that the character fell in love with reader. Continuation of Sumeru characters.

CW: Mentions of being hurt

HC: Reader is gender neutral and does not have a vision. Reader is a doctor (Tighnari) and a Trader/Merchant (Candace)

Characters: Tighnari, Candace

Note: I already started with Sumeru characters, I might as well finish them all before I go to the next region. After this there will only be two more post for the Sumeru characters which will hopefully have Wanderer, Layla, Kaveh and Faruzan. Also this one was not my proudest work. Hopefully I will either re-write this or make better stories for these two, they deserve the world. Spoilers for the story in Tighnari's section. Anyway, enjoy.

Tighnari

Tighnari was known for being self-sufficient. He made his elixirs and medicine for not only others but for himself as well. At this point everyone was certain that he could have easily got the title of a doctor if he pursued it, however, as humble of a person he was, he refused to be a forest ranger stationed at Gandharva Ville. Which leads to you now, feeling useless.

You, unlike him, actually had the title of a doctor. You were also stationed at Gandharva Ville alongside the team. However, at this point, almost everyone tended to go to him for help rather than you. You still got your pay but was it worth it if it meant you would have to always be second to him? It was humiliating, to say the least.

You tried to not let it get to you. You were a doctor, it was your job to attend to those when they needed it and you knew even if they didn’t like you, you couldn’t refuse service unless deemed otherwise. So anytime someone had shown displeasure of having you treat them rather than the saint of the forest rangers, you just suck it up and try your best. You wouldn’t say your abilities were lacking either, especially since you were trained to do this for almost years. Tighnari praised your abilities constantly. However, Tighnari himself had such a great reputation, a couple of good words couldn’t replace the original.

Even if the group never acknowledged you as the official doctor, in the written agreements you were considered to be one, therefore you always had to be near at least one active team at all times. This usually meant you were patrolling with Tighnari. He made sure you kept your distance, which meant it was usually you trailing behind him, watching him be cool and in action while you sat on a log counting how many boar shrooms go past you during that time.

Tighnari also being so perfect at taking care of himself, even if he was hurt he already had the tonics made to heal himself after battles, rendering you once again useless to the team. The last straw was when he decided that he wanted to try random mushrooms around the Sumeru forest, against your better judgment, and somehow managed to live through it without your assistance. At this point you decided that maybe you were not needed in this team, beginning to write your official request to change teams.

Only mid-way through writing your letter, you were taken to Pardis Dhyai for another request. It seemed one of the scholars, Haypasia was infected with a maddening disease and now had to be taken care of specially. You sighed, shoving the half-written letter into your pocket to follow Tighnari to the location.

_ _ _

When you met her you were certain she must have caught a horrible disease. She kept going on and on about contacting the divine being and you couldn’t wrap your head around the rest of the nonsense she kept spewing out. To keep both you and Tighnari’s minds at ease, you conjured a sleeping tonic to rest her mind.

“Efficient as always. Hopefully, she will calm down after she wakes up.” Tighnari praised you. You let out a light laugh, a sudden guilt in your chest. He never said anything bad about your work, it felt wrong leaving just because others couldn’t see your effort. However, he was the source of why you were having such an issue so you weren’t sure what to do about it.

Sudden noises began to be heard outside. You watch Tighnari, his ears up and alert, watching the door attentively. “Keep away from the main entrance, I need to get rid of some unwanted guests, “ He said on his way out. You nodded even though you knew he couldn’t see you.

It was now just you and an unconscious Haypasia in the building. You sat at the edge of the bench she lay on, pulling out the letter once more. You began to finish off your letter.

“Dear Grand Sage,

It has come to my attention that the forest patrol at Gandharva Ville is sufficient enough with staff that they do not need my services in the area. Therefore I would like to transfer to a patrol station in another area that may require my services.

If evaluation or proof is needed, I will be happily willing to provide a date and time for it.

I hope to hear from you soon.

Best Regards,-”

Just as you were about to sign off your letter, you heard Haypasia stir in her sleep, mumbles of panic in her voice. You immediately stood up, dropping the letter in your hand. Either she was suffering ailments from the disease or the medicine, either way, you needed to get her a soothing medication as soon as possible.

You looked around for your medical bags only to realize that Tighnari must have taken them with him to meet his “guests.” You bite your lip, hesitantly looking for anything you could do.

“I’ll try to come back as soon as possible, stay strong.” You whisper to Haypasia, before running out of the room to find supplies. You hoped nothing wrong would happen during that time.

_ _ _

You were only gone for a couple of minutes at most however the minute you returned the only view your eyes laid on was now a stable Haypasia and an injured Tighnari. He sat on a mechanical crab, wincing horribly. You decided now wasn’t the time to question the crab, and immediately rushed to him.

“Are you alright?! What happened?!” You yell out. For once he wasn’t preparing something to cure his pain, which meant it must have been something severe or incurable. He let out a slight chuckle, trying not to cringe from the pain.

“Our guests just gave me a present. Not a pleasant one but they insisted I have it.” He joked, trying to lighten the mood. Being rewarded with a harsh glare from you, he sighed. “I was struck by lightning.”

Your jaw dropped, and so did the medical supplies in your hands. “WHAT?!” You yelled once more. You could feel tears form in your eyes. He looked at you worriedly, trying to extend an arm towards you, only to be stopped by the pain worsening. “Don’t you dare try to comfort me when you’re the one like this!” You reply with a sharp tone which made the ears on his head flick down, almost like a sad little cat who was being scolded.

You looked at the crab. “Put him down on the bench please.” You command. To both you and Tighnari’s surprise, it followed your orders, gently guiding him towards the nearest empty bench.

“Hey, you're supposed to follow my commands,” Tighnari mumbled. You rolled your eyes before sitting down next to him, motioning to your lap. “Put your head down, you need rest. The bench is rough so you can lay your head on my lap instead.” Tighnari looked at your lap and back to you.

“Now.” He slowly laid down on your lap, trying not to cause more damage to his wounds.

“There is no treatment for being struck by lightning from what I learned, however, if you rest enough you can use your vision to counter any elemental energy inside you.” You wipe any tears from your eyes before they got worse. “I’m sorry I can’t help you, like always.” You mumble, gently pushing his hair out of his face, petting his head.

Tighnari on the other hand couldn’t rest, he wasn’t even sure the words you spoke were registering in his mind. Your hand felt like heaven especially when his body was in such pain. All he could was stare at you as you tried your best not to cry. He didn’t expect you to react this badly when he got hurt. Especially since you had seen him get hurt before.

You glared at him once more, placing your hand over his eyes to cover it up. “Go to sleep, you idiot.” No matter how hard his heart was beating, he still somehow managed to slowly go to sleep. The feeling of your hands stroking his head was still faintly in his mind.

_ _ _

It was no surprise Tighnari recovered perfectly fine. Vision users had a special talent to heal at a faster rate than normal individuals. However, one aspect of Tighnari had changed and that was the fact whenever he got injured or hurt he asked for your help. This included minor injuries.

You weren’t sure what triggered this change but it made things a lot easier for you knowing that you were still needed by the camp. His sudden change also meant the team was also opening up to be treated by you. You almost forgot that you had even tried to write a letter to switch patrol areas.

Tighnari didn’t forget though. The day he was injured he caught a glimpse of the letter peaking through the bushes from where you had dropped it. He saw you carry it around multiple times so he had assumed it was important, keeping it with him until he got better. He didn’t mean to peak, you just had not closed it up at the time.

He disapproved of the contents of the letter and definitely didn't want you to follow through with what was written, especially since something clicked in his subconscious mind that day he got hurt. So he had been holding on to it without even thinking of handing it back.

He liked being efficient and getting things done on his own accord, but if being treated by you meant you would stay longer by his side, he was willing to play sick all day. He just hoped you wouldn’t catch on until he could confess.

Candance

Candace rarely stepped foot outside of her village. It was the world she only knew to say the least. Looking after the village as a guardian since the mere age of 8 meant she wasn’t one to travel outside often. She was almost certain she had not stepped out of Sumeru at any point in her life.

Yet you were quite the opposite. The minute you were old enough to travel you already headed your way to Liyue, far from her reach. How was she going to protect you if you left? She wasn’t sure and it made her nervous. Every day you were gone she wondered whether you would ever come back. She had no way of knowing.

You always did come back. A bag full of various items from all over the world. You started to make a living from it, trading items from region to region. It suited your free-spirited nature. You didn’t only bring items for trading of course. You brought gifts for the village, this of course included Candace.

_ _ _

Candace made her rounds around the village It was a typical work day for her. Then she heard the jingle of bells and the footsteps of sumpter beasts coming nearby. Immediately she headed towards the entrance. Of course, it was you, with your bag full of trinkets and your body covered in bandages.

Candace stopped in her tracks. Bandages. You didn’t dress up like that. She watched as you limped towards her, a grimace on your face that only made her eyes grow wide. She ran up to you, holding you up for support while you tried to catch your breath. “Ha, tough trip this time.” You try to joke. Candace was having none of that.

She immediately picked you up bridal style, to which you could only respond with a yelp. Leaving your supplies and sumpter beasts in the sand, she ran to her house. She should have convinced you to never leave the village. Look at the state you ended up in. This could have all been prevented if you stayed by her side in the village where she could take care of you.

She ignored you as you kept telling her you were fine. All she could think was how stupid she was to agree to let you go over and over again. She dropped you on the bed, rushing towards her dresser to get more bandages and medicine.

“You don’t need to bandage me again, I did an ok job!” You whine, showing off your bandages to her. Candace sighed, returning with the medical equipment. “Oh please, when was the last time you replaced them? I bet you wore the same wraps the entire trip.” You pouted, flopping onto the bed in defeat.

“Sit up, I need to change them.” You face away from her, arms crossed. “You think of me as a baby. I’m a grown-ass adult!” You mumble, refusing to look her way. Candace was certain she was going to sigh away all the life in her body having to deal with you. “Well someone needs to protect you. Look at you. Every time you come back you’re worse than before, covered head to toe in scars and blood! It’s almost like you have a death wish.”

You finally peak over your shoulder. You looked at Candace, who continued to have a pained expression on her face. You could see her shake. Frustration? Sadness? It didn’t matter because she was not enjoying it.

“Why do you have to leave me here and run away? Do you want to die? The minute I look away you’re always gone off to someplace else and I can’t go with you. How am I supposed to protect you when you keep leaving? One day you’re going to end up dead and I won’t even know what happened to you.”

You sat up, hand digging into your pocket. “Candace.”

“I’m so tired of this, you have always been so reckless. Did you forget this was your home? Did you find something so incredible out there that you forget? Why do I bother at this point, it’s not like you care.”

Candace wasn’t sure what was coming out of her mouth at this moment. She was always so rational and careful with her words. She would never say things like this, always keep such thoughts to herself. You somehow managed to make it all spill out. “Candace..” You say once more, pulling out a box from your pocket. You stood up now, facing her.

“What now? You’re going to leave again? Did you come here to stop by before going off on your next journey? Where to? Fontaine? Mondstadt? Hell, I heard Inazuma opened up recently, you can go there and leave me alone again.”

You grabbed the supplies out of her hand, tossing them on the bed. You reached out and grabbed one of her hands. “I got you a gift.” You placed the box in her hand. She looked at you, unphased. You gave her the softest smile you could, helping her open the box to see the contents inside.

“It’s earrings. It’s a pretty rare stone, it’s blue when you look at it, but when you put it up to the light it reflects a yellow tint. It reminded me of your eyes.” You say you enclose the box in her hand. You reached for her other hand and grasped them ever so.

“Candace,” You smiled as she looked at you, almost dazed. “Even if I ever end up with all my bones broken, I am certain I will always end up finding my way towards you. I have seen almost every crevice of Teyvat, and I would still end up in Aaru Village by your side.”

You grip her hands tighter, your eyes not leaving her even for a second. A small gentle smile on your face made her heat up. Had you always looked so mature? When did you become so different? You were pouting like a child a minute ago. She always thought you were careless, always lost in your world of adventures. But here you were, looking at her as if she was the world to you.

You finally break the staring match, looking down at her hands. “Look at you, worried about my scars when you’re as bad.” You loosen your grip, now circling the scars and calluses on her hand. It felt electrifying.

You let her hands go and she felt cold, your touch made her feel too complete and it confused her. You looked at her once more, she watched the way your eyes were shining. She could only feel how amazing it felt, how wonderful it was that you looked at her in such a light. “Don’t worry about me. You already have a village to take care of, that’s already a big responsibility. Let me help you instead.”

Standing up, you began to make your way towards the door, only stopping near the entrance to turn back to her. “Now come outside, I got gifts for everyone and sumpter beasts to feed.” with that, you began to make your way out the door.

But, Candace couldn’t stand up. Her usual strength drained. Her legs felt like jelly and she could feel her heartbeat still unsteady. She felt cold but when she raised a hand to her cheek she could still feel the heat.

She looked down at the earrings in her palms. All your gifts were usually kept in her cupboard. You always gifted her such precious items, too valuable considering how she works. However this time, she wore them, taking off her old ones and placing what you had given on. She stood up using the bed as support and hobbled towards the mirror on the dressing table. The earrings shined just as you had told her, blue with a tint of yellow.

She hoped you kept your promise to protect Aaru village with her. She also planned on making sure you take responsibility for what you had done to her that day.

#tighnari x reader #genshin fluff #genshin impact x gender neutral reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #tighnari x gender neutral reader #candace x reader #candace x gender neutral reader #genshin angst

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pascalpvnk · 11 months

Text

Pour Choices // You & I

pairing: bartender!joel x f!afab!reader

summary: Austin, Texas was never a dream destination for you, however your work trip there might’ve changed your perspective of the Lone Star State, and it absolutely was not work related.

word count: 6.6k words (oops…)

warnings: 18+ MDNI, fluff, smut (dubcon [both drank alcohol], handjob if you squint, oral [f receiving], fingering, unprotected p in v sex [wrap it up!], Joel has had a vasectomy, premature ejaculation, double creampie, alluding to aftercare), possibly ooc, no outbreak AU, Joel is 36 with no specified age for reader, reader described as a woman, use of she/her pronouns, minor body descriptions (reader described as having curves, reader has hair long enough to grasp/pin up, reader is shorter than Joel, he picks up reader for like half a second), time jumping (indicated by solid orange divider), religious euphemisms (?) from Joel (i know that man has religious trauma), alcohol consumption, food consumption

a/n: hello! I know this is a long time coming but she’s finally here. thank you for being patient with me during this writing process and thank you to those who helped and encouraged me! a special thanks to @delicaatefl0vver for beta reading and supporting and adding to my thots. welcome to the rebirth of my fanfic writing. I hope you enjoy xx (dividers by @/saradika)

main masterlist | series masterlist

Sat in the corner of the rustling bar, you were sipping on your Manhattan. The drink tasted medicinal, not how you’d usually prefer it. You had watched the young bartender pour heavy on the vermouth, but chose not to say anything. Red lipstick stained the rim of your glass with each sip of the cocktail. The whiskey mixed in and the maraschino cherry garnish were its only saving graces.

A low hanging light illuminated a warm hue across your features. You were surrounded by classic Texan bar decor and architecture; high ceiling rafters, support beams strung with fairy lights, the walls packed with framed posters of all varieties, the occasional beer branded neon sign, and license plates tacked up behind the bar. Two televisions sat flush against opposing walls, both playing a pregame show of Rangers highlights as they counted down to first pitch. The air was thick as the feet of the patrons shuffled around and chair legs scraped against the wood finished floors. Groups of friends, couples, and everyone between flooded through the doors, ushering themselves to an empty table or stool at the bar. Being there on a Friday night right as the outside rush hour died down was a bold choice, but you had one goal in mind.

The moment the music changed from country to rock and roll, you knew it was time to set yourself out to accomplish it.

The click of your high heels contrasted from the stomp of sneakers and cowboy boots. Glass in hand and head held high, your heart was pounding so hard in your chest, you felt it in your throat. You sure as hell weren’t living up to your stoic, stone cold hearted reputation back home. It’s almost as though your heart thawed in the Texas heat. Though your heart changed with the state, your attire didn’t. You stuck out like a sore thumb among the other consumers in your black maxi dress and perfectly pinned up hair. Some eyes gazed towards you, but you were set on finding one pair in particular. The set of eyes that were darker than the coffee he brewed, but the same ones that looked like honey when the sun was setting. The eyes that were facing away from you at the bar as you found a stool. The ones that snapped up towards you with one word.

“Texas.”

You called for him like a melody. Your throat immediately felt dry as a lump formed. He either felt the same way you did or it was a one off fling. You were hoping it was the former. But…it had been two years since you met, so there was a decent chance he was the one that got away.

The way his muscles tensed under his tight Henley gave away that he recognized you simply from your voice. Those beautiful eyes met yours, and his jaw went a little slack, the corners of his mouth curved.

“Evenin’, Miss New York,” Joel drawled, leaning against the counter. “How are ya, darlin’?”

Joel’s mind was preoccupied before he had seen you the first time, filled with important nonsense that about drove him up the wall.

Gotta make the next schedule. What time is that birthday party Sarah wants t’go to? Wonder if Tommy would be willin’ to take her. No, he’s workin’ on a job site out of town. I need to find someone to cover part of my shift so I can take her. Gotta pay the rent for this month. Can’t keep running the bar if s’gonna be slow like this and that bastard won’t cough up his half of it. God dammit.

“Welcome in, what can I get for ya?” The southern man drawled absentmindedly, tossing a rag over his broad shoulder. The moment his eyes caught yours, his worries washed away. He was only interested in you and your big, beautiful eyes and bright, red lips.

“Whiskey on the rocks. Make it a double please,” you practically sang to him…or at least it sounded like music to his ears. Your ID slipped out of your billfold with ease, and you slid it across the bar as you took a seat. Joel examined the horizontally wide piece of plastic, deciding it was real, especially for a lady ordering a whiskey. A lady from New York, no less.

Joel took in your features for a moment, noticing the difference in your attire and even your accent compared to the other bar patrons. Your beauty was striking to him, making all of the women he’s seen come in flee his memory. He repeated your name over and over in his head, wanting to know how it felt on his tongue. To say he was intrigued would be the understatement of the year.

“You got it, sweetheart,” he said, his voice deep and smooth. He poured a generous portion of whiskey into a cut crystal glass and added several cubes of ice, then slid it over to you with a smile. He leaned forward to rest his arms on the bar, eyes lingering on your curves. "So, what brings you in here tonight? The Big Apple too small for ya?"

“Work,” you responded simply, taking a sip from your drink. He watched as your eyes raked down his frame. There was no visible emotion behind them, so he was unsure if you were checking him out or simply giving him a once over.

Joel’s eyes on the other hand drank in your features, not even attempting to hide his gaze. It lingered across your chest and the way your dress contoured your breasts so perfectly. He was damn near drooling at the sight of you taking down your whiskey better than he would. Your face remained expressionless, zero signs of your mouth twisting in distaste. The simple action had him hooked.

He cleared his throat and began polishing some glasses as he continued to have small talk with you.

“Care to elaborate?” He asked, lining the cups along the bar as he shined them one by one.

“Flight just landed. I checked into my hotel and dropped off my stuff. Wanted to take a walk around to see what this city has to offer and I landed here,” you shrugged, taking another drink of your whiskey. “Nice place, are you the owner?”

“Co-owner, yeah,” Joel chuckled. “So I take it, your work stuff starts tomorrow? Or are you drinking on the job?”

“The former,” you smiled softly. “I’m not trying to get fired, they barely trusted me to come out here in the first place.”

His head nodded gingerly. He couldn’t quite tell if you were shooting him down or just quiet after a long day. He wanted to know more. Wanted as much information that he could get from you without coming off as a creep. Deciding to take a minor risk, he continued conversing with you.

“What kind of work are ya doing all the way out here, hm?” He asked politely, restocking the freshly polished glasses back on their designated shelves.

“My uh…my peer, I suppose, is on maternity leave and she represents most of our buildings in Texas. I’ve been doing most of the work over the phone but one of the Austin buildings required a visit. A lot of incident reports to go through.”

The whiskey in your glass was almost gone and he could tell it was opening you up a little bit. First time in the whole conversation you said more than what his question asked for.

“Darlin’, that’s some big wig stuff, and yet you make it sound so inconspicuous,” he drawled, a low rumble of laughter rolling from his chest. “What field are you in? Or is it top secret?”

“Oh! I work in HR,” you let out a small laugh. “Probably should’ve started with that.”

He smirked at how you fumbled over yourself, admiring the way your smile folded the skin around your eyes and exposed a dimple. He could definitely tell he was breaking down your stone wall. His eyes took you in once more. Your lip prints stained red on the once clean glass, immediately grabbing his attention. Arousal shot through his body, directing into his pants. That’s not something he knew he was attracted to.

“Need another, ma’am?” He asked politely and swallowed hard, attempting to look anywhere but your chest. You accepted his offer and opened a tab. Joel was thanking his lucky stars that the universe brought such a beautiful woman into his bar that night. Thanking fate for having him cover this shift.

“Well, I’ll leave you alone, miss. Just holler if you need another drink or y’wanna close out. My name’s Joel,” he smiled with his boyish charm, flipping his towel back over his shoulder before reluctantly diverting his attention to another customer in need.

You stuck around for a bit, snacking on peanuts and watching the baseball game running on the television. Joel felt your eyes burn into the back of his head as he worked.

It was innocent to start. He popped tops off of beers, poured shots, and shook cocktails all while his cheeks burned pink under the heat of your gaze. Then he intentionally reached up to the top shelf more often, flexing his muscles and letting his shirt ride up his back to grab your attention again and again. It became increasingly difficult for you to peel your eyes off of him the more you drank.

And he noticed.

A couple hours passed, and before you knew it, the clock was nearing midnight. Joel walked around the bar, going to each empty table and wiping them thoroughly. He restocked everything as most of the small crowd filed out. He took a look at you from the front door, admiring the curves that were hardly hidden under your snug dress as you watched the TV mindlessly.

“Well darlin’,” he began as he approached the bar again. “I don’t know what time you have to work in the morning but it’s getting late. Wanna close out your tab?”

“I s’pose so,” you chuckled, copying his accent a little by accident. Your tired, drunken smile made his heart flutter.

A small smile plastered itself across Joel’s face as he ran your card. He let it process, grabbing both receipts and scribbling something on them.

“Can I call you a cab, sweetheart? They aren’t driving around all the time like they do back home for you,” he offered, handing you the merchant copy receipt. He crossed out all of the options to tip, just requiring your signature. You tried to protest, but he silenced your argument.

“Yeah,” you hiccuped. “That would be nice, thank you.”

Joel examined you cleaning up your peanut shell debris as he called for the cab. You signed the receipt, and slid his copy back across the bar. He noticed your subtle smile as you noticed ten digits written neatly on the customer copy.

The line went dead when the conversation concluded, and Joel put the phone back on its charger. He noticed how you folded the receipt paper and tucked it safely into your clutch along with your debit card.

“Cab should be here in ‘bout ten minutes. Um,” he cleared his throat. “If ya need someone to recommend restaurants or if you want a tour of any sort, I hope that’ll come in handy.”

Joel gestured towards your clutch, the current home of his phone number. He wanted to ask you out, so so badly, but you were intoxicated and he didn’t want to give a bad impression. If it was meant to be, you’d take the initiative, at least that’s what he told himself.

“I bet it will,” you openly flirted. Joel knew better than to return the sentiment, but it was so damn difficult. His mama would’ve smacked him upside the head if he had, and that was enough to stop him. All he offered was a smirk before turning away and gathering dishes to be brought back to the pile of other used utensils.

“D’ya need a water or anything?” Joel asked, already reaching for a clean cup. You nodded and he filled the glass first with ice, followed with water and a straw. Laying a napkin on the counter, Joel gently set your water down with a close lipped smile.

“Thanks for stopping in, darlin’,” he said just loud enough to be heard over the rock music he had playing. “Get back to that hotel of yours safely, alright? Don’t wanna hear about Miss New York on the news. They never show anything positive nowadays.”

“I wouldn’t dare,” you chuckled, gathering your things to leave after drinking most of the glass. He took these moments to really take you in, dramatically telling himself that this could be the last time he’d ever see you. Last time he’d witness your cherry stained, stunning, yet intoxicated smile, your soft skin, and those gorgeous eyes.

His admiration was interrupted by the honk erupting from the impatient taxi driver’s vehicle outside. You turned on your heel, offering a ‘goodnight, Texas!’ before walking out the door. Joel scrubbed a hand across his beard, huffing a self deprecating laugh and a muttered ‘shit’ before continuing to close up shop. He beat himself up internally while cleaning the dishes until his phone buzzed. He dug the device from his pocket, flipping it open to see a text from an unknown number.

“Didn’t end up on the news. What a bummer! Maybe next time ;)”

Joel smiled to himself, tucking his phone back into his pocket. He finished his closing tasks and made a little to-go Shirley Temple mocktail for his daughter. Before exiting the building for the night, he turned off the glowing ‘Pour Choices’ sign and locked the door behind him. His smile faded as he left his bar behind, remembering his life’s reality and his responsibilities. Those stressors sat heavy once more upon his shoulders until he fell into a deep slumber that night.

Your first full day of work was exhausting to say the least, and the small hangover you suffered did not help one bit. And whoever decided you should come to Austin in August had become your own mortal enemy. You’re used to your mild summers back home, not sweating so much that your clothes stick to you uncomfortably. But the thing that bothered you the most was the imminent, distracting thought of Joel, especially as the sun retired behind the horizon. The way the fabric of his shirt pulled taut around his thick biceps and how they flexed every time he mixed up drinks. You had watched him use his charm to get tips practically thrown at him by the other patrons, he really put that handsome grin to work.

You were alone in your hotel. There wasn’t a scheduled dinner with your team, so you sat in bed watching Scrubs reruns and eating what constituted your dinner: cheese, crackers and pepperoni slices you picked up from the grocery store. A little disassembled charcuterie board if you will.

Beckoning your attention, your phone buzzed against your nightstand. The caller ID had your heart pounding against your chest. Joel. It was almost like he could read your mind.

“Hello?” You started, wiping the crumbs off of your fingers and lowering the volume on the show.

“Evenin’,” he drawled out your name. His voice came across gruffer and frankly hotter over the phone than in person. The way it fed directly into your ears had a chill running down your spine.

“Night off?” You asked nonchalantly, a sad attempt of remaining mysterious, knowing if he was sat next to you, you’d melt into a puddle.

“Mhm,” he hummed, pausing for a moment and chuckling quietly. “Sorry for callin’ late. I’d text but that would’a taken me a decade. How was today? Hope that whiskey didn’t ruin your morning.”

The smile you sported grew in size. It felt nice having a normal conversation that wasn’t work related…even if it was with someone you just met.

“It was good! Busy but good. I had a headache but nothing I couldn’t handle. It’s stupid hot here though, didn’t appreciate that,” you hummed to yourself in thought. “Nothing much happened, lots of meetings. Now I’m just hanging out in my hotel. How about you?”

“Same here, nothin’ much. Are ya doing anythin’ or just wallowin’ in your loneliness?” He teased, testing the waters a little. You wish you could see his face. See whether he was sporting a shit eating grin or if he was gnawing on his lip nervously.

“Ha-ha,” you shot back, pressing your cell between your cheek and shoulder to stand up and settle near the window. “I’m watching TV and eating my nutritious dinner of cheese, crackers and pepperoni, thank you very much.”

“Dinner?” He scoffed. “Now I think you need'ta hustle on over here and have a real meal. You can’t possibly be callin’ all ‘f those HR shots with that diet, hm?”

You gotta give it to him, you aren’t that smooth on a whim, that takes practice. Looking out at the Austin skyline, you snickered to yourself and leaned against the window’s frame.

“C’mon, I have almost all of my food groups in front of me, I don’t think that’s too horrible,” you retaliated jokingly. “What do you have to offer, huh?”

“Well you got me there, darlin’. I do have wine if you wanna round out your meal,” he offered. You could hear faint tapping coming from the line. He was nervous.

Considering the proposal, you decided to take it, despite your early morning and full day approaching. Joel offered to pick you up so you didn’t have to pay for another cab and you gratefully accepted. You quickly got changed back out of your sleepwear into something almost equally as comfy and perhaps a bit more revealing.

So you find yourself sat on Joel Miller’s couch. The ride was fine, you chatted like before, but with a bit more direct flirting. You observed his spaces. His truck was simple, a little, beat up pickup, but you were sure it got his work done. There were scuff marks from tennis shoes on his dash. Your mind wandered as you imagined if they were from a friend or former lover, but you didn’t let it bother you.

There was a little pine tree air freshener hanging from the rear view mirror. The smell of its woody scent combined with his warm, leathery cologne and a hint of Irish Spring all flooded your senses. And god, he didn’t just smell good, he looked so good.

Joel looked perfect in the driver’s seat, his biceps straining against his smooth skin as he gripped the wheel, prominent veins popping through his forearms. Looked so cozy in his small kitchen, pouring both of you a hefty glass of rosé. His hands enveloped his cup entirely as he brought it to his plush lips. The way they framed his teeth when he smiled down at you gave you heart palpitations.

And even sitting comfortably in the corner of his L-shaped couch, Joel continued to look amazing. His leg was crossed over the other, creating the perfect shelf on his knee for his wine. Those arms stretched far across the back of the couch as he fidgeted with a loose string stuck on the cushion. Everything about him screamed disciplined. The way his spaces were mostly neat, organized and decently decorated added to your observation. He belonged here, and it seemed like he worked hard to get the things he earned.

The casual facade you had faded away the longer you chatted about your lives and sipped on your glasses. Topics like work and hobbies came into conversation, and you learned that Joel liked to play with guitar and sing a little—only when he was alone of course. Then you began talking about more personal matters, like your relationship statuses.

“You’re kidding!” You exclaimed, feeling warm from the wine in your system. “You don’t have a girlfriend or anything?”

Joel chuckled and shook his head down at the couch. You watched as he observed the cushions-worth of space between you two. By that point, you were fully turned ninety degrees to face him in conversation, your legs tucked comfortably under you. Your face felt hot as you wielded the half empty, stemless wine glass.

“What about the kid in your pictures? Is she your niece or something?” You were referring to the framed photos both nailed to the wall and decorating the table in his entryway. Most of them contained himself and the child, whether she was celebrating with a soccer ball and a trophy or blowing out candles on a cake, her wild curls spilling every which way from her party hat.

“Nah, she’s all mine. My Sarah turned fourteen a few weeks ago,” he smiled to himself, making your heart clench and pound against the confines of your ribcage. The proud look he had on his face told you about everything you needed to know about his relationship with his daughter.

“Fourteen? You don’t seem old enough to have a teenager,” you chuckle. “Where is she tonight? Seems like you got the house to yourself.”

“Why I'm flattered. She’s got a friend’s birthday party sleepover thing. That’s why I had to take the night off. I’m her personal chauffeur, of course,” Joel offered a curtsey jokingly.

Your smile widened as you brought your now second glass of rosé up to sip once more. You don’t care to ask about Sarah’s mother, it was a personal matter and possibly a sensitive subject.

A comfortable silence fell between you as you looked at one another. You watched the automatic rise and fall of his chest and the way his cheeks burned from your gaze. His chocolate eyes bore into yours, melting your heart without even trying. His exterior was gruff and masculine but he had proven time and time again that he was probably one of the kindest men you have met. Must be that southern charm and hospitality, but man was it addicting.

“What?” He barely asked above a whisper, copying your actions with his wine. His attempt to hide his smile behind his clear cup obviously failed. His blush spread down his neck and you could only imagine if it went any farther down. Your thoughts of Joel were beginning to become tainted by your blooming arousal. You wanted him. On top of you, under you, you’d take anything and the growing wetness pooling in your panties was evidence of that.

“Can I be blunt, Joel?” You grinned as you sunk a bit further into the cushion against your side. He responded with a hummed ‘mhm’ so you’d continue, bringing his hand back into his lap. The fabric of his joggers barely contained his strong thighs, making it more and more difficult to contain your urge to see what else lied beneath his pants.

“I really wanna kiss you,” you admitted cheekily, fairly certain that he was thinking the same thing.

“Oh, do ya now?” He smirked, leaning over to pluck your glass from your grasp and put it safely on his coffee table along with his own.

“I think you’re a little mind reader,” Joel continued. “‘Cause I was thinkin’ the same thing. Bet those pretty lips are real soft.” His hand found your waist after you confirmed he had consent as he guided you onto his lap. You hummed contently as you draped your arms over his shoulders, toying with the stray, chestnut curls at his nape.

“What happened to Mr. Shy Guy, huh?” You teased, letting his calloused hands explore the expanse of your back as your lips ghosted over his.

“Not shy, just polite, sweetheart,” he rasped before closing the gap between you two. His palms were flush against your lower back, radiating heat through the thin material of your shirt.

You melted into him, bodies pressed as close as possible without your knees sinking between the couch cushions. Lips slotted together and hands wandered as you filled all of your senses with Joel. His tongue was stained with a familiar smoky taste, which was definitely not coming from the wine

“Why do you taste like whiskey?” Your mouth formed a smile against his matching one. His hand cupped your cheek as a chuckle rumbled deep in his chest.

“Had some before I called ya,” he admitted bashfully. “Doesn’t matter now.”

In an instant, he was kissing you once more with increased passion, making you completely forgo the subject. His tongue flicked into your mouth, teasing the delicate skin on the inside of your lips. He gripped at your hips, trying to pull you closer to him but your legs protested against his furniture.

“Scoot forward,” you mumbled against him. And he did what he was told. His hips shifted forward, granting you more room to sit directly on his lap. Sighs were drawn from both of you as you settled back into each other, his cock already half hard under you. Your fingers messed with the hair behind his ears, earning a pleased moan from him.

“This doesn’t have to go anywhere if you don’t wan’ it to,” he panted between kisses. Just above a whisper, you uttered, ‘I want it,’ and Joel’s hands took it as permission to explore further down your body, palming at your ass through your shorts.

A whimper slipped between your lips into Joel’s, and he swallowed it whole. He pressed your body closer to his, your clothed sex dragging over his sweatpants. His cock twitched up in response to your mouth finding his jaw, his short beard scratching against you.

“Lemme take care of you,” you mused, bringing your hands up the sides of his face. He relaxed back into the couch, his blunt nails pushing under your shorts into the meat of your bare thighs.

You started by kissing his lips once more, then the two prominent patches of missing hair on his chin, and made your way down to his throat. His adam's apple bobbed under your touch as pants grew tighter on him.

“Knew you’d have the best lips, fuck,” he mumbled as you licked up the side of his neck, his pulse racing under your tongue. “Can’t wait to feel your pretty pussy ‘round my cock, sweetheart.”

“Patience, handsome,” you whispered into his ear, your breath sending chills through his body. He let go of your legs as you bunched his shirt into your palms, sitting up to help remove it. Hair scattered sparsely on his chest, pausing on his upper stomach only to come back thicker as it disappeared into his boxers.

Your palms dragged down his torso, skimming over his nipples and ribs as he naturally recoiled from the stimulation. You gently kissed and sucked at his collarbone so it could be hidden away under his shirt. Color rose to the surface of his skin the more you worked at it, flattening your tongue against it once you decided your mark was left properly.

Joel was breathing heavily under you, his hands snaking under your shirt to your breasts. Your nipples were already pebbled through your bralette, becoming unbearably hard the moment Joel started running his thumbs over them. He gently pushed your shirt and bra above your tits, leaning forward to bring one to his mouth as his hand toyed with the other. His tongue lapped your skin, rounding the hardened nipple and sucking it back slightly. An image of him doing the same to your clit had your eyes rolling back with pleasure.

“Joel,” you mewled as he switched breasts. He spread his saliva around your areola as he picked up his ministrations on the other. A groan vibrated against your skin as your nails raked down his happy trail.

“Wanna suck your cock,” you continued, holding onto the waistbands of his pants and underwear. His unused hand covered yours entirely, pushing it down to free his throbbing cock from its confines, the tip weeping with precum. Never in your life had you seen a dick so big before, and you couldn’t wait for it to split you in half.

“I won’t last a minute in your mouth, sweet girl,” he drawled, reaching back up to leave a chaste kiss on your lips. “Don’t wanna come before you.”

Spitting onto your fingertips, you mixed it with the slick seeping from his tip then dragged it down his shaft, squeezing it in your palm on the way back up. Joel groaned into your neck. He wedged his hands back under your top, lifting it over your head and forcing your hand to leave his cock.

“Need’ta taste you first,” he muttered, his amber irises completely eclipsed by his pupils. Joel removed you from his lap and laid you down onto the couch. You watched as he settled between your legs and hooked his thick fingers into your bottoms, licking his lips. Raising your hips, he pulled everything off of you, leaving you bare. Cool air hit your glistening pussy, sending a shiver up your spine. You whined out his name after he stared at you for a moment.

“What?” He cooed, smoothing his hands over your inner thighs. “Wan’ me to touch ya, hm? Fuck you with my fingers ‘n stretch that pretty pussy out? Maybe suck on your clit. S’that what you want, darlin’?”

You nod your head furiously, dying with anticipation to have his hands, mouth, something on you. Wordlessly, your foot hooked around the back of his leg as you attempted to pull him closer to you.

“Ah ah,” he tsked. “I think ya gotta ask for it, honey. Ask for it nicely.”

“Fuck,” you whined with desperation. You could feel your arousal dripping down your ass and ultimately onto the couch. “Please fill me up, touch me, taste me, whatever you want.”

“Good, so good f’me. Open up,” he encouraged, slotting his first two digits between your lips. He spread them on each side of your tongue. Saliva collected on his thick fingers as you swirled your tongue around them in figure eights. A groan rumbled in Joel’s chest.

“Yeah I’m gonna put my cock in this pretty mouth next time, baby. Feels perfect on my fingers,” he grumbled. His fingers came out of your mouth with a pop, a string of spit connecting him to you.

Joel finally slipped his fingers through your swollen folds, teasing your entrance and collecting more slick. His fingertips circled lightly around your clit, drawing a broken moan from your throat. His free hand tapped against your hip, signaling you to raise them with an ‘up.’ He grabbed a throw pillow and positioned it under you. You relaxed your already trembling legs, and he had barely even touched you.

He settled onto his stomach, spreading your legs apart as far as they’d go. A pointer finger breached your entrance as he kissed the seam where your thigh and pussy came together. Soft moans escaped you as you carded your fingers through his curls. His smug eyes met yours as his tongue moved everywhere but your clit. He looked better than ever between your legs, and you didn’t know that could be possible. His teasing was deserved for what you were doing previously, but it was agonizing.

“Please, Joel,” you groaned. “Please gimme more, I need you.”

Obliging to your request, Joel added another finger into your cunt, curling them both and stroking your g-spot expertly. All of the air left your lungs the moment his flattened tongue finally found your clit. Joel’s groan vibrated throughout your entire pussy, adding to each sensation deliciously. It didn’t take much more for your legs to start shaking and squeezing his head between your thighs, a hot sensation bubbling in your lower belly.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come, don’t stop,” you cried, grasping Joel’s hair much tighter than before. He suckled your clit and flicked his tongue over it with a moan, sending you flying over the edge. Your walls fluttered around his fingers and he rode you through your high. He kissed your trembling thighs until they relaxed, his unmoving fingers still stuffed inside you.

“God, you’re even sexier when you come, sugar. Taste even sweeter too,” he hummed, shifting himself up your body until his lips found yours again. He tasted still of whiskey but with a mix of your arousal.

Joel brought his now soaked fingers back into your mouth to replace his tongue, urging you to suck all of your spend off of them. You hummed around his digits and wrapped your quivering legs around his waist.

“And you were preachin’ to me about patience,” he teased, removing his fingers and stroking his cock a couple times. He was sitting up and resting on his heels, looking like pure sex. His proportions were perfect, he was broad and you’d happily let him crush you under his weight.

“It’s hard to be patient when you look at me like that,” you muse, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. Joel snickered quietly, dragging his nails over your inner thighs. Goosebumps followed behind his light touch and your legs twitched when he got close enough to your sensitive core.

“So,” Joel began, settling comfortably on top of you and kissing your jaw. “I haven’t been with anyone since I was tested last n’ I’ve had a vasectomy. But I’ll gladly get a condom if ya want me to.”

“Hmm, a gentleman,” you grinned, your fingers finding their way back into his hair as you enjoyed his affection. “I’m clean and more than okay without it.”

Joel slotted his cock into your slit with a smirk, groaning at the new sensation. His tip nudged at your clit with each pass, earning moans from both parties.

“Almost came all over this couch with you clenchin’ ‘round my fingers like that, honey,” he drawled. “Fuck, ‘m not gonna last long.”

You gave him a reassuring kiss as you wedged your hand down between you two. Lining up his tip with your entrance, you watched as he disappeared into your welcoming cunt. His face pressed into your neck as he slowly sank into you, anchoring himself with his hands planted on your waist and thigh. Strings of profanities left him as he stretched you out, the pressure you felt quickly morphing into pleasure.

“Shit,” you hissed when he bottomed out. “Feels so good, Joel.”

You urged him to continue, and he complied. Starting slow, he pulled out halfway and pushed back in to test the waters. The drag of your core had his toes curling. He wasn’t lying when he said he wouldn’t last long. His cock swelled in you after a few minutes as he panted into your neck.

“Fuck, fuck I’m sorry,” he grunted.

“S’okay, come for me, Joel. Please,” you consoled him, wrapping your legs around his hips tighter. He spilled into you, the sticky fluid coating your inner walls. Your nails dragged along the expanse of his back as he caught his breath.

His face emerged from the crook of your neck, flush and sweaty. He tried apologizing once more but you shushed him. Your lips met again as you grasped his dampened curls, pulling at his locks harder than before. Cock stiffening up again, Joel resumed thrusting into you slowly. A squelching sound emitted from your pussy as his pace quickened.

“Joel,” you gasped, tangling yourself around him tighter. He took it as an opportunity to scoop you up and change positions, sitting on the couch and giving you the freedom to ride him.

“Wan’ you comin’ on my cock, beautiful,” he moaned. His calloused fingertips circled your clit as he fucked his load deeper into you. You bounced on him, his cock spearing you. The tip hit your g-spot with each thrust. Stars sparkled in your vision as you clenched down on him hard.

“C’mon, use my cock, make yourself come. That’s it, fuck.”

His hips bucked up to meet yours halfway, the sound of skin slapping echoing throughout his living room. You were a moaning mess, chanting his name haphazardly. Your walls clamped down around him and milked any remaining cum from him as you both reached your second peaks.

“Christ,” he groaned, stilling inside of you. The mixture of your fluids seeped from your fluttering hole. Joel smoothed his palms over your sweat slick back, peppering kisses along your shoulders and collarbone. Praises flew from his mouth like a prayer and you were his goddess, all his to worship.

Joel used his sweatpants to catch any leakage as his softened cock slipped out from you. He took his time with you, helping you regain your composure with more kisses and lingering touches. You followed him to his room where he properly cleaned you up and gave you a Texas Longhorns shirt and boxer shorts.

“You’re more than welcome t’stay,” Joel offered. “Or I can drive ya back. Your choice, sweetheart.”

Your arms snaked up and around his shoulders, stretching yourself up on your tiptoes. A smile crept onto your face as Joel held you steady by your ass. You peeked over at his unmade bed with only two measly pillows, one of them crumpled up in the middle of his bed. A shy smile adorned his face as you refocused on him. He was going to be the death of you.

“Set an alarm and take me to bed, cowboy.”

Late into the following evening, you found yourself back in Pour Choices. A lingering soreness twinged between your legs the entire day. You weren’t there to drink. You wanted Joel.

He started his usual greeting until he realized you had stepped through the doors, another black dress clinging to your body and lips stained a deeper shade of red than before.

“Hey, darlin’,” he smiled breathlessly. You sauntered over to the bar, leaning in close and cutting to the chase in a seductive whisper.

“I’m gonna sit in the corner and wait for you to close up. Wanna return the favor from last night.”

Joel can confidently say that was his quickest close of his career, and you can just as confidently state that you successfully returned the favor, covering that poor man with crimson lip prints. He’d never complain about the physical reminder of you, using it as inspiration on the nights he craved you while you were away. He never thought he’d go from having everything from you for a couple weeks to having nothing for over a year.

“Wasn’t sure if you were gonna remember me,” you smiled softly, a twinge of sadness in your eyes. He chuckled and shook his head, grabbing a new glass and some ice.

“I could never forget you, sugar,” he smirked, grabbing a top shelf whiskey and pouring it into the glass. The crackle of the ice drew your attention. You were always a sucker for whiskey. He remembered.

“On the house, darlin’. Want me to take your other drink? Doesn’t seem like you enjoyed it,” Joel pointed to the condensation lined cup with the half dranken Manhattan. “I know you’re not the sipping type of gal.”

“Yeah, thank you,” you smiled brighter as he took away the used cup. “Y’all don’t make Manhattans like they do back home,” you jabbed, taking a big gulp of the chilled whiskey. Those familiar lip prints stamped on the glass.

“But,” you continued, glancing at his bare ring finger. You observed the sprouting grays in his sideburns and deepened creases on his face, seeing the effect that the last two years had on him. “Y’all have something that New York doesn’t.”

You traced the rim of the glass, trying to pick up any emotion from his expressionless face. He did however crack a small smirk at your comment and leaned against the bar with both hands. Suddenly it felt like everyone else disappeared and it was just you and him in the moment.

“Hm, and what’s that, sweetheart?” He leaned closer and replied softly, but just loud enough for only you to hear.

“You, Joel.”

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dianawinchester03 · 5 months

Text

Season 1, Episode 19 - Provenance

Series Masterlist

Third Person POV

The trio was at a bar, Dean chatting up a random girl. "Seven, four, two, zero" A gorgeous girl who was flirting with Dean, was giving him her number while Y/N ventured off on her own. Taking in the hot guy that was checking her out earlier. "So if that Brandy with a Y or with an..." Dean trails off when he notices Y/N and the guy (who introduced himself as Carson to Y/N) chatting, he began gripping his beer bottle, seconds away from crushing it in his hands.

He lost focus on the woman that was flirting up a storm with him, she scoffs when she realizes he stopped paying attention and walked away. Dean takes in every ounce of their interaction, the way Y/N batted her beautiful (e/c) eyes at Carson, the way she would lean in and brush her hand on his biceps, giggling when he said something funny.

He scoffs, pretty sure the guy can't be that funny to have Y/N laughing. Because her smile didn't meet her eyes and she didn't scrunch her nose the way she usually does when she's genuinely happy or laughing hysterically.

Meanwhile Sam was canvassing the newspaper for some cases. He stumbled upon an article titled, 'Couples throats slashed in their own homes'. He calls Dean over who nods, and gestures for him to call Y/N over. Dean happily does so, feeling joy because he has to go and break up Y/N's flirting fest.

When he looks over in Y/N's direction at the couch she and Carson were lounging on, her lips were locked with the strangers. An anger flares in Deans chest at the sight of the woman he loves locking lips with another man, his nostrils flaring. Sam watches curiously as Dean walks over, his feet padding heavily. He chuckles to himself at Deans blatant jealousy. Dean approaches the two who are in a heavy make out session and clears his throat.

They don't hear him the first time so he clears his throat again, this time more louder and obnoxious. Y/N is startled, groaning as she unlocks lips with Carson, "What?!" She grumbles wiping her mouth, clearly mad at the fact that Dean cockblocked her. "Sam seems to have found something" He said, his jaw clenching. Her expression changes when he says this.

Carson looks confused, his eyebrows furrowing at the interaction between Dean and Y/N. Dean is clearly jealous as he can't look at either of them, "You know this guy?" Carson asks her. She sighs, "Yeah, I'm sorry. Can you give me a sec?" She says apologetically. He smiles, nodding understandably. "I'll be right here" He smiles. "Thanks, I'll be quick" She replies smiling, flashing him a wink.

She then gets up and follows behind a seething Dean. "Dude, did you have to be a cockblock?" She grumbles annoyed. He just smirks to cover up his burning internal wounds, "Don't blame me, blame Sam. He cockblocked me too" He retorts smirking. Y/N scoffs in annoyance as they make their way to Sam's table. "Alright, I think I got something" Sam begins as they approach.

"Yeah, me too. I think we need to take a little shore leave, just a little bit" Dean says, looking back at the hot girl he was talking to. "What do you think, huh? I'm so in the door with this one" He brags pointing to the women who are glaring his way. "So, what are we today, Dean? Are we rockstars? Are we Army Rangers?" Sam says sarcastically. Y/N snorts, "You have to lie to get girls?" She laughs while eating the peanuts in the basket.

Dean glares at her while she gives him an innocent look, "We're Reality-TV scouts, looking for people with special skills" He says smugly, making Sam and Y/N chuckle. "I mean, hey, it's not that far off" Y/N jokes. "Amen to that" Dean toasts his beer. "By the way, she's got a friend over there. Probably hook you up. What do you think?" Dean says to Sam suggestively.

Sam shakes his head, "Dean, no thanks. I can get my own dates" He says. "Yeah, you can, but you don't" Dean mumbles. Y/N chokes on a peanut at this, "Jesus dude, that's cold" She says to Dean who just shrugs. "What's that supposed to mean?" Sam narrows his eyes at his brother defensive. "Nothing, what do you got?" Dean diverges the subject.

"Mark and Ann Telesca of New Paltz, New York we're both found dead in their home a just few days ago" Sam begins to tell them about the case. "Mhm" Dean responds a bit uninterested because he turnt around to gawk at a girl walking by. "Throats were slit. There were no prints, no murder weapons, all-" Sam stops talking, rolling his eyes when he realized Dean wasn't paying attention.

"Dean!" Y/N knocks on the table to catch his attention when she realized his eyes were trailing. "What? Huh?" Dean turns back, a bit confused. Y/N and Sam roll their eyes as Sam continues, "No prints, no murder weapons, all doors and windows were locked from the inside" Sam finished his explanation as Dean sips on his beer.

"Could just be a garden variety murder, you know? Not our department" Dean suggests. "No. Dad says different" Sam says, opening Johns journal and turning it to them. "What do you mean?" Y/N asks him. "Look. Dad noted three murders in the same area of upstate New York" He points to Johns entry's of the murders.

"First one right here, 1912, the second one in 1945 and the third in 1970, the same M.O. as the Telescas. The throats were slit, the houses were locked from the inside" Sam reveals to them as they both sip their beers. "Now so much time passed between the murder. That nobody tracked the pattern except for Dad. And he always kept his eyes peeled for another one" Sam tries to justify.

"And now we got one?" Y/N says. "Exactly" Sam responds. "Alright, I'm with you. It's worth checking out" Dean says. Sam smiles happily at this, "We can't pick this up till first thing, though, right?" Dean asks them. "Yeah, I guess?" Y/N says. "Sure" Sam adds. "Good" Dean smiles smugly, making his way over to a new set of ladies to flirt his way into a wild night.

Y/N rolls her eyes scoffing, she grabs Sam's beer, gulping it down as she tries to mask her clear jealously. I mean, she shouldn't be jealous, right? Sam notices the way Y/N chugs the beer, a sly smirk on his face as he looks down into his book. "What?" Y/N asks him when she notices the look on his face. "Nothing" He feigns innocence. She cocks her eyebrow at this but decides to brush it off.

She looks over to the couch to see Carson still there, she flashes him a quick wink before, "Hey, I'll meet you guys back at the motel" She tells Sam quickly who just responds with a simple "Mhm", going back over to Carson who was waiting for her at the couch, allowing herself to indulge in her own wild night.

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Y/N's POV

New Paltz, New York

The next day, we hit the road. Me and Sam just finished investigating the Telesca house. Dean is fast asleep in the passenger side of the Impala, sunglasses over his eyes to shield the light due to his banging hangover. Me and Sam share a mischievous look when we see this, "Honk the horn" I whisper to him. He snickers lightly as we both lean down on the drivers side.

Sam presses the horn, the loud honk filling the silent neighborhood and Deans eardrums, causing him to jump awake. "AHH!" He exclaims loudly, causing me and Sam burst out laughing hysterically. Sam jumps in the back while I jump in the drivers seat laughing. "Man, that's so not cool" Dean groans holding his head.

"We just swept the Telesca house with EMF. It's clean." I tell him as he takes his sunglasses off, squinting from the harsh light. "And last night, while you and Y/N were....out" Sam says vaguely, making us both smile. "Good times" Dean grins proudly. "Indeed" I agree, smirking to myself as I reminisce about my night with Carson. Yet I feel angry over the fact that Dean got with someone else too.

God I'm a hypocrite. Get over it Y/N!. "How the hell are you not hungover? You drank just as much as me." Dean asks me, cocking his eyebrow. I shrug, "I don't usually get hungover. It's a blessing" I reply sassily, flipping my hair dramatically. Sam chuckles at this, "I checked the history of the house. No hauntings, no violent crimes. Nothing strange about the Telescas themselves either" Sam tells us.

"Alright, so if it's not the people and it's not the house and uh...." Dean tries to think. "Maybe it's the contents, a cursed object or something" He suggests but I shake my head. "Nope. House is clean" I tell him. "Yeah, I know, you said that" Dean responds. "No, she means it's empty. No furniture or nothing" Sam says. Dean looks confused at this, "Where's all their stuff?" He asks us. Me and Sam share a look at this.

Later we pull into an art auction, being held in a rather fancy house. The parking lot swarmed with luxurious cars. As we walk in I felt a tad bit underdressed, seeing all the men in suits, ties and three piece suits, while women wore almost ball like dresses. I felt a bit insecure not gonna lie but gosh were they gorgeous.

Dean immediately starts grabbing finger foods, chowing down on them as we walk in. He offers me one but I shake my head. "No thanks" I say. He shrugs, stuffing it into his mouth. "Consignment auctions, estate sales. Sounds like a garage sale for Wasps, if you ask me" Dean mutters, I snicker at this as he stuffs a pig in a blanket in his mouth. "Can I help you guys?" We hear a posh males voice behind us.

We turn around to see a ageable man, staring at us suspiciously as if we were scum on the bottom of his shoe. "I'd like some champagne, please" Dean responds back in a equally snooty tone, his mouth filled with the food. The man looks at him in disbelief as I shake my head, facepalming. "He's not a waiter" Sam points out to Dean.

"I'm sorry about that sir, I'm Y/N Salvatore" I put my hand out to shake the man's, but he looks down at it, not taking it. I clear my throat awkwardly. "I'm Sam Connors and this is my brother Dean and his girlfriend Y/N Salvatore. We are art dealers, with Connors Limited" Sam lies on spot. Dean and I look at him confused when he introduces as Deans girlfriend but I just roll with it.

"You're...art dealers?" The man asked us stunned. "That's right" I say sweetly, trying to not punch this man by his disgusted look on his face, his eyes scanning us up and down judgementally. Some rich people, I swear. "I'm Daniel Blake. This is my auction house" The man introduces himself as Dean looks around impressed, chewing on the food.

"Now, this is a private showing, and I don't remember seeing you on the guest list" Daniel says plainly. "We're there, Chuckles, just take another look" Dean scoffs cockily. Me and Sam look at him as if he's crazy, he then turns around to see a waiter with a tray of champagne. "Oh. Finally. Hmm" He exclaims in relief, taking two.

He hands one to me, "Here you go, Princess" He winks at me, I take it from him, shaking my head as he sniffs the glass before pumping his eyebrows smugly at Daniel. "Cheers" I say awkwardly to a clearly pissed off Daniel. Both me and Sam following behind Dean.

The boy and I begin to look around the items that had the Telescas name on it. My gaze then lands on a old painting of a family portrait, consisting of two young boys, a young girl and their parents. By just looking at it, I knew that had to be our cursed object because the second I laid eyes on it, I got that same feeling of chills behind my neck.

Hello old friend, how I've missed you (note the sarcasm) I hated that damn feeling.

"Fellas, look at this" I point to the painting. They both caught my attention, giving the painting a once over before, "A fine example of American primitive, wouldn't you say?" We hear a woman's voice behind us. We all look up the stairs to see a breathtakingly gorgeous dark haired young woman, no older than me and Sam, walking down the stairs dressed in a beautiful black dress paired with some stiletto heels.

"God damn" I whisper to myself, taken back by her beauty. Dean has a smirk on his face, we both then tap Sam on his shoulder for him to reply because she was clearly talking to him. "Well, I'd say it's more Grant Wood than Grandma Moses" Sam retorts intellectually. The girl looks down smiling.

"But you knew that. You just wanted to see if I did" Sam says in realization. She smiles coyly, "Guilty." She admits making Sam smile widely. "And clumsy. I apologize. I'm Sarah Blake" She introduces herself, putting her hand out to shake Sam's while Dean reaches to another waiters tray, taking up a mini quiche. He hands me one again but I shake my head. He shrugs, stuffing his mouth with more finger food.

"Im Sam. This is my brother Dean and his girlfriend Y/N" Sam introduces us. She puts her hand out to shake mine. I take hers gladly, shaking it. "By the way, loveee the heels. You are so gorgeous!" I compliment her smiling. "Thank you girl! You are stunning, love the leather jacket" She returns the compliment, which makes me feel so appreciated.

"Thank you" I smile gratefully. "Dean. Can we get you some more mini-quiche?" She then turns to Dean. "Mm-mm. I'm good. Thanks" Dean responds chewing on his food contently. "So can I help you with something?" She asks Sam with a bit of a flirtatious tone. "Yeah, actually. Um, what can you tell us about the Telesca estate?" Sam asks her.

"The whole things pretty grisly, if you ask me, selling their things this soon, but Dads right about one thing: Sensationalism brings out the crowds. Even the rich one" She admits, we all look at each other like, 'What the hell?' But cover it up with fake smiles. "Is it possible to see the provenances?" Sam asks hopefully. "I'm afraid there isn't any chance of that" Daniel chimes in.

"Why not?" I ask him confused. "You're not on the guest list" He says harshly then turning to Dean. "I think it's time to leave" He adds. "Well we don't have to be told twice" Dean retorts sassily. "Apparently you do" Daniel counters. "Okay, it's alright. We don't want any trouble sir" I say calmly, trying to de-escalate the situation. "We'll go" Sam adds.

Dean walks off first and I follow behind, when I look back I see Sam with an apologetic look on his face towards Sarah, which she returns. Awwww, Sammy has a crush. Hopefully he gets laid too. Not to sound like Dean, but the dude needs it, honestly.

"Grant Wood, Grandma Moses?" Dean asks Sam in a questioning tone about his conversation with Sarah as we make our way to our motel room. "Art History course." Sam responds. Me and Dean look at him confused "Art History?" I ask questionably. "It's good for meeting girls" He shrugs. Me and Dean look at him shocked, "Who are you and what have you done with my prude of a best friend?" I feign a mock surprised tone.

"It's like I don't even know you" Dean says ironically as Sam scoffs. When Dean opens the motel room door, it reveals a retro 70's themed area. Weirdly enough, it wasn't bad looking. "Huh" The boys and I say in unison before dumping our bags on the ground. Unfortunately the room only has two beds. "Dude, you said the room had three beds" I groan at Sam.

He shrugs innocently, "Huh? Really? I told them three. Maybe they got it mixed up" He said, his eyes not meeting mine. I cock my eyebrow at this, not convinced. "I'll just go book my own room then because I am not sleeping on that thing" I say, pointing to the metal chair, going to walk out the door. "Wait, no! I don't mind sharing" Dean says casually, stopping me. I turn back surprised.

"You sure?" I ask him. The thought of sharing a bed with Dean again is exciting. It's weird, usually I would've been chill about it but right now, I'm trying not act all giddy. "Yeah....you'd save money too" Dean says nonchalantly, clearing his throat. I just shrug, "You're right I guess. Thanks" I say gratefully, Dean smiles in return to me before turning to Sam. "Now, what was the providence?" He asks him.

"Provenance" Sam corrects him as Dean mouth the word mockingly. "It's a certificate of origin, like a biography, you know? We can use em to track the pieces history. See if any has got a freaky past" Sam explains. "That painting of that family...it gave me a weird feeling- if you ask me if it's my ESP feeling, Dean, I will slap you" I tell them, not before turning to Dean and shooting him a warning look.

He already had his mouth open to most likely ask me the same question, it snaps shut when I warn him, a smug look on his face. "We'll look into it." Sam says. "Well, we're not getting anything out of Chuckles, but, uh, Sarah..." Dean says to Sam suggestively. "Yeah, maybe you can get her to write it all down on a cocktail napkin" Sam retorts, this makes me chuckle.

"Good one" I commend, giving him a high five which he returns. Dean laughs shaking his head, "Not me" Dean says. "Oh, no, no, no" Sam laughs. "Pick ups are you guys' thing" Sam adds. "It wasn't our butts she was checking out" I snort as I unpack my bag, me and Dean giving Sam a suggestively look.

"In other words, you want me to use her to get information" Sam shakes his head. "Sometimes you gotta take one for the team." Dean smirks. I take my phone out and hand it to Sam, "Call her" I instruct him. He sighs, taking the phone.

________________________________

Third Person POV

After Sam called Sarah and asked her to dinner, Y/N and Dean decided to stay in, order take out and watch a movie. They settled for 2 Fast 2 Furious. Currently they're buckled over, laughing hysterically at a scene of Roman Pierce clowning some Latino guys, "Elian and Fidel. ¿Que pasa jota?" Roman pops up from the side of the car drivers side window before spraying the windshield.

They burst out in a fits of laughter. "This guy is hilarious" Y/N snorts in laughter. "Here I was thinking you were a Paul Walker kind of gal" Dean jokes, nudging her slightly as she munches on popcorn. "Oh I am, but Roman however, is sexy. Paul Walker can still get it though, god damn" She groans, wolf whistling, making Dean chuckle. "You really got a thing for guys nice eyes huh?" He smirks, leaning in closer to her on the bed.

She peers her head to look at him, his eyes piercing hers. She holds back a blush at the way Deans eyes settled on her lips. "You could say that" She whispers coyly, her eyes flickering down to his lips. Their faces just inches away from each other. "What else do you notice in a guy?" He asks her curiously. Y/N taps her pointer finger on her chin as if she's thinking deeply.

Dean chuckles, throwing some popcorn into his mouth, chewing as he waits for an answer. "I'd say, their lips. I got a thing for kissable lips." She answers flirtatiously, tugging the corner of her bottom lip between her teeth. "Oh yeah?" Dean cocks his eyebrow at this, his tongue darting down to moisten his own lips. Y/N's tone alone is making him feel to just grab her and make love to her right there.

When Y/N catches herself staring, she quickly rebounds. "Yeah...what about you?" Y/N clears her throat looking back down at her popcorn. "I don't know. Maybe the way women walk. I love it when a girl knows how to sway her hips" Dean tone is low and husky. Y/N could feel herself get turnt on by the second the way Dean was talking. Her gazes snaps back up to his, Dean now invading her personal space, not that she minds.

"Oh yeah?" She asks lowly, a coy look in her eyes. Deans heart skips a beat at this. "Yeah" Dean responds, a primal look in his. "Hey guys, I got the- Woahh!" Sam enters the room, papers in hand. Y/N and Dean who were inching closer to each other, just seconds away from lips connecting. They pull back startled at the sound of Sams voice. Having almost gotten caught in the act.

"Crap, sorry, did I interrupt something?" Sam asks them sheepishly, stuttering as he scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. Dean sends a harsh glare his brothers way while Y/N shakes her head. Her heart beating out of her chest rapidly. "Nono. It's fine." She says quickly. "What'd you find?" She asks him, handing Dean the bowl on popcorn. She pushes herself to sit at the edge of the bed.

While Dean seethes internally at the fact that Sam just barged.

Y/N's POV

HOLY CRAP. We almost kissed! Was he gonna kiss me? Did he want to kiss me? Maybe I'm just being delusional. Calm down y/n!

"What'd you find?" I ask Sam, trying to change the subject. "Sarah gave me the provenances" Sam tells us, taking a seat on the chair. Dean moves at the edge of the bed next to me, he pulls out his knife and begins sharpening it on a file. "So she just handed over the providences to you?" Dean cocks his eyebrow. "Provenances" I correct him. "Provenances?" Dean queries.

"Yes, and we went back to her place. I got a copy of the papers..." Sam explains, sorting through the papers. "And?" Me and Dean ask in unison. "And nothing. That's it. I left" Sam says firmly. "That's it?" I say surprised. "You didn't have to con her or do any special favors or anything like that?" Dean asks him suggestively. Sam rolls his eyes in annoyance, resting the papers harshly down on his lap.

I chuckle at this, getting up to take the papers from Sam. "Guys, would you get your minds out of the gutter, please?" Sam says annoyed. We chuckle at his reaction. "Hey, you know when this whole things done. We could stick around a little" Dean suggests. "Why?" Sam asks. "So you could take her out again. It's obvious you're into her" I say bluntly, my eyes still focused on the papers as I take a seat next to Sam.

"Even I see that" Dean adds. Sam looks at the both of us like we're crazy, "You know, for people who can see when others are into each other, you're really blind when it comes to yourselves" Sam mutters. "Huh?" Dean and I say in unison, confused. "Nothing" Sam sighs exasperatedly shaking his head.

My eyes scan a statement on the paper and I grin happily at the fact that I was right. "Hey, I think I got something here" I tell them. Dean puts his knife and sharpener aside and comes behind us. I hand them the papers as Dean reads aloud. "Portrait of Isaiah Merchants family, painted 1910" Dean reads aloud.

"Now compare the names of the owners with your dads journal" I point out to them. Realization dawns on Sam, he quickly grabs the journal on the table and opens it as Dean takes a seat across from us. "First purchased in 1912 to Peter Simms." Dean reads from the paper. "Peter Simms murdered in 1912" Sam reads from the journal.

The boys share looks of disbelief as they look through the book and papers. "Same thing in 1945. Oh, same thing in 1970" Dean reads aloud. "Then it was stored until it was donated to a charity auction last month, till the Telescas bought it" Sam tells us. "Damn, you were right, princess. screw the EMF. We're using Ms. ESP here for everything now" Dean smirks.

I snort, shaking my head. My heart skips a beat when he praised me. "Shut up charming" I chuckle. "Hey! I'm the one that did the digging" Sam exclaims defensively. A smirk takes my face over, "Oh how terrible of us for not giving you credit. Thank you Sammy for your service of going out with a hot girl who wants to jump your bones to a fancy restaurant. It was so brave of you." I say dramatically, placing a hand over my heart. This makes Dean belt out laughing.

Sam tosses a pillow at me jokingly, a tinge of pink on his face. I dodge the pillow quickly, laughing. "Bite me" He retorts, flipping me the bird. Me and Dean laugh loudly. "So what do you think? Is the painting haunted or cursed?" Sam asks us after we sober up. Dean shrugs, putting the pen in his hand down. "Either way, it's toast" He says with a smug grin.

________________________________

Later that night, the boys and I scale the large metal gate into the auction warehouse, running towards the entrance before the alarms go off. Sam expertly disarms, gloves on our hands, the alarm system so that when we break in, it doesn't go off. My lock pick in my hand, awaiting the signal to pick the lock. "Go ahead" Sam whispers. I nod and begin the pick the lock.

Within seconds we're in. We turn on our flash lights to guide our way into the dark house, gently locking the door behind us as we search the auction house for the painting. Dean flashes his light up the stairs, finding the painting. We all share a look before running up the spiral stairs, Dean holds the light up as I pull my new butterfly knife from out my boots, flicking it open to cut the painting out.

I rip it out of its frame and hand it to Dean, we then made our way out to the Impala. Driving a little further down the stretch, Dean then pulls into a empty lot. The three of us get out as Dean rests the painting on the ground. I go around to baby's trunk to get the light fluid, then drenching the painting with the accelerant.

"Ugly ass thing" I mutter grimacing as Sam shines the light on the painting. "If you ask me, we're doing the art world a favor" Dean mutters back snorting as I flick my lighter, the flame bursting through the mouth. "Ain't that the truth" Sam agrees, I toss the lit lighter onto the painting, the entire canvas bursts into flames.

________________________________

"We got a problem, I can't find my wallet" Dean says panicked as me and Sam pack our clothes the next morning, ready to leave town. "How is that our problem?" Sam asks him sarcastically. "Because I think I dropped it in the warehouse last night" Dean responds shakily. My eyes snap over to him, "You're kidding, right?" I ask him shocked, praying he's joking. Sams expression mirrors mine.

Dean shakes his head, putting on his jacket quickly. "No. I mean, it's got my prints and my ID- Well, my fake ID anyway" He points out. "But, we gotta get it before somebody else finds it. Come on" Dean adds urgently. Me and Sam share a look of disbelief as we throw our jackets on quickly, rushing out of the motel room.

Now back at the auction warehouse, the boys and I search around the areas we were last night. Making sure not to draw too much attention to ourselves. "How do you lose your wallet, Dean?" I grumble at him annoyed. Dean just shrugs as we look around. "Hey guys" We hear a familiar voice behind us, startling us all.

We turn around to see Sarah, Sam with a box in his hand, rests it down quickly. "Sarah, hey" Sam smiles as me and Dean try to act casual. I feel something below my right boot when I turn around, I look down to see it's Deans wallet. I kneel down and pretend I'm tying my shoelaces, picking it up in a swift motion.

"What are you doing here?" She asks us sweetly. "Oh. Uh-" Sam turns and looks at us when I stand back up, a pleading look on his face that says, 'Help me out here'. We just shrug, not knowing what to say. I nudge Dean with my elbow, his eyes snapping to me. I hand the wallet behind my back and he smirks. "We- We are leaving town. And, you know, we came to say goodbye." Sam lies terribly.

Me and Dean groan at this, "Oh. What're you talking about Sam? We're sticking around for at least another day or two" Dean chimes in, I nod agreeing. Sam looks at us confused. "Sam, by the way, I'm gonna go ahead and give you that 20 bucks I owe you" Dean pulls out his wallet and digging into it, indicating we found the wallet

"He always forgets, you know. He wouldn't know the difference between his head and his ass sometimes if it weren't for me" I add jokingly smiling, looping my arm through his, to aid into the whole act of us being a couple. Realization dawns on Sam's face as Dean pulls out the twenty dollar bill. "True that" Dean agrees chuckling. "There you go" He hands Sam the bill, which he snatches.

"Well, we'll leave you two crazy kids alone. We gotta do something...somewhere..." Dean tries to lie our way out of this lamely. I chuckle, flashing Sarah a wink, my eyes darting between her and Sam suggestively. She returns the wink, a blush prominent on her face. "Come on, sweetheart" Dean wraps his arm around my waist as we walk out of the room.

"You are so not slick" I whisper to Dean as we walk to Baby. "I can be, gotta make him feel awkward" He retorts smirking. I shake my head laughing, my eyes flicking down to his hand that's still around my waist and back up to his eyes. "Oh, sorry" He chuckles awkwardly, removing his arm from around my waist, scratching the back of his neck.

"It's fine" I assure him, smiling. He smiles back, clearing his throat. We both lean against Baby and my mind plays back to the other night when we almost kissed, my heart pounding through my chest. "So um...about the other n-" Dean goes to start talking about what I presume is about the night we almost kissed but Sam comes running out of the house, almost tripping over himself, "GUYS!" He yells urgently.

This makes Dean groan in annoyance, "What? What's wrong?" I ask him concerned at the way he sounded. "The painting, it's still in the building!" He says urgently. We all share a stunned look, jumping into baby so we can talk in private. "I don't understand, guys. We burned the damn thing" Sam says. "Yeah, thank you Captain Obvious" Dean huffs sarcastically, making Sam roll his eyes.

"Alright, we just need to figgier out another way to get rid of it....Any ideas fellas?" I try to defuse the panic. "Okay, alright. Well, I'm, in almost all the lore about haunted paintings, it's always the paintings subject that haunts them." Sam tells us. "Yeah? We need to figure out everything there is to know about that creepy ass family in that creepy ass painting" Dean says. "What were their names again?" I ask Sam.

________________________________

We decide to hit the local library and dig up any information we can find on the Merchant family. The librarian, an old balding man with Harry Potter like glasses, sets down a dusty old book on the table, "You said the Isaiah Merchant family, right?" He asks us to be sure. "Yeah, that's right" Sam confirms. "I dug up every scrap of local history I could find" He tells us excitedly as Dean walks towards us.

Reading a graphic novel, chuckling to himself. "So, uh, are you kids crime buffs?" He asks us curiously. "Kind of" I respond vaguely, looking at both of the boys. "Yeah, why do you ask?" Dean asks him. "Well..." The librarian begins, holding up an old news paper from 1904 with the Headline being,

'New Titanic Sinks. 1304 Persons Go To A Watery Grave' with a article next to it saying.

'Father Slaughters Family, Kills Self'.

"Yes. Yeah, that sounds about right" Dean says as squint my eyes to read the article. "The whole family was killed?" Sam asks him surprised. "It seems this Isaiah, he slits his kids' throats, then his wife, then himself. Now, he was a barber by trade. Used a straight razor" The man explains the case to us in a fascinated tone.

"Why'd he do it?" I ask him curiously. "Well, let's look" He says, turning the paper around to read the article. "People who knew him described Isaiah as having stern and harsh temperament." He begins to read, the boys and I share a look as he continues to read.

"Controlled his family with an iron fist. Wife, two sons, adopted daughter. There were whispers that the wife was gonna take the kids and leave. Uh, you know, which, of course, in that day and age- Um, so instead, old man Isaiah, well, he gave them all a shave" The man explains in a funny manner, laughing at his last comment.

Dean chuckles at his comment as me and Sam look at him blankly. His smile drops and he clears his throat, "Did he say what happened to the bodies?" Dean asks him. "Just that they were cremated" The librarian says. Well shit. The boys and I sigh disappointed because this is gonna be much harder than we I initially thought. "Anything else?" Sam asks him.

"Yeah, actually. I found a picture of the family. It's right here somewhere" He says, digging through the old book. "Right. Here it is." He says, opening the book to reveal the almost identical picture as the portrait. My breath hitches when I see the picture.

Me and Sam share a look when we stare at the picture.I'm pretty sure the painting back at the house, the dad was looking down at the little girl in it, but this one, the dad is looking out.

"Hey, could we get a copy of this, please?" I ask the old man kindly. "Hmm, sure" He says a bit confused but does so.

________________________________

Now back at the motel room, Sam sitting next to me at the table while Dean sits across from us. I turn to copy of the picture towards Dean. "I'm telling you, guys. I'm sure of it. Painting at the auction house. Dad is looking down. Painting here, Dads looking out. The painting has changed fellas" I try to convince Dean, Sam taking my side.

"I saw it too man. We're not crazy" Sam agrees. So you guys think Daddy Dearest is trapped in the painting and is handing out Colombian neckties like he did with his family?" Dean says questionable. "Yeah, it seems like it" Sam says as I nod. "But if his bones are already dusted, how are we gonna stop him?" I ask them.

Dean takes the picture up to look at it, "Alright, well if Isaiah's position changed, then maybe some other things in the painting changed as well. You know, it could give us some clues" Dean suggests. "What, like a Da Vinci Code deal?" Sam asks. Dean looks up at us confused.

"I don't know. I'm just still waiting for the movie on that one" He says sheepishly. We shake our heads. "Anyway, we gotta get back in tomorrow and see that painting" I say, getting up and going over to the bed. I plop myself on it, ready to hit the sack. Dean follows behind me, "Which is a good thing because you can get some more time to crush on your girlfriend" He teases his brother, plopping next to me.

I chuckle as he mocks Sam. "Dude, enough already" Sam groans exasperated. "What?" Dean says innocently, crossing his arms over his chest as I push myself up to brace against the headboard. "What? Ever since we got here, you two have been trying to pimp me out to Sarah" Sam says annoyed, his voice raising.

"Just back off, all right?" He huffs. "Well, you like her, don't you?" I ask him. He sighs, looking up at the ceiling in annoyance, not answering. "Alright, you like her, she likes you, you're consenting adults" I grin widely, nodding my head suggestively. "What's the point, Y/N? We'll just leave. We always leave" Sam snaps, becoming more agitated.

"We're not talking about marriage, Sam" Dean says, chuckling along with me at Sam's outburst. Dean closes his eyes and leans his head against the headboard. "You know what, I don't get it. Why do you guys care if I hook up?" Sam defends, his tone sounding a little sad. "Because then you wouldn't be so cranky all the time" Dean shoots back calmly, opening one eye to look at Sam.

Sam huffs in frustration and lets out a scoff. My mouth is agape when he says this, "Dude!" I smack his arm. "Ow! What?" Dean groans, clutching his arm. "Too far man" I grumble lowly, shooting him a warning look. Deans eyes flicker to Sam, he then sighs and gets up, leaning forward on the edge of the bed when he notices Sam's expression.

"You know, seriously Sam, this isn't about just hooking up, okay? I mean, I think that this Sarah girl could be good for you" Dean says. Sam shakes his head, scratching it. "And I don't mean any disrespect, but I'm sure that this is about Jessica, right?" Dean says calmly. Sams eyes snap over to us at the mention of Jessica.

"Now, I don't know what it's like to lose somebody like that...but I would think that she would want you to be happy" I say in a calm respectful genuine manner. Tears welling up in Sam's eyes. My heart pangs, knowing that he's holding back because of how he lost Jessica. I sigh sadly. "And god forbid, have fun once in a while, wouldn't she?" I say softly, resting my hand on his shoulder.

He smiles softly at what I assume is probably a memory of Jess, "Yeah, I know she would" He says softly. I offer him a small smile which he returns. Sighing he admits, "Yeah you guys are right, part of this is about Jessica. But not the main parts". Sam says. "What's it about?" Dean asks. Sam looks down and doesn't answer.

"Yeah, alright" Dean scoffs, laying back down on the bed, crossing his arms over his chest as he closes his eyes. "We still gotta get that painting, which means you still gotta call Sarah, so..." I say to Sam, he nods understandably, picking up his phone to dial Sarah's number.

He clears his throat as he puts the phone to his ear, "Sarah, hey, it's Sam." Sam begins awkwardly, Dean opens one of his eyes to look at Sam, keeping one closed. "Hey, Hi....Good. Good, yeah. Um, what about you?" He smiles. I chuckle at his stuttering, "Smooth" Dean whispers sarcastically to his brother. I shake my head smiling as Sam glares at Dean.

"So, uh...So listen, me, my brother and his girlfriend were, uh, thinking.." He stutters again, me and Dean roll our eyes at his awkwardness. "...that maybe we'd like to come back in and look at the painting again. I think maybe we are interested in buying it" Sam says, he then gets up from his chair suddenly.

Me and Dean push ourselves up when we see the urgency in his face, "Wait. What? Who'd you sell it to?" He asks her. "Sarah, I need an address right now" Sam says in a serious tone as we all look at each other panicked.

________________________________

We pull up across the street from the house that Sarah gave us the address to. All rushing out of the car, we see Sarah jump out of hers. "Sam, what's happening?" She asks Sam in a panicked tone. "I told you, you shouldn't have come" He said in a warning tone as we all run up the stairs to the porch, Sarah running behind.

"Hello. Anybody home?" I yell as I bang the door with my fist. "You said Evelyn might be in danger. What kind do danger?" Sarah asks us. Dean tries to kick the door down but it's too strong. "I can't knock this down" Dean groans. "You gotta pick it" He says turning to me. I nod, pulling my lock pick out of my wallet.

I kneel down and begin picking the door as Sam goes over to the window. "What are you guys, burglars?" Sarah says fearfully, going over to Sam. "I wish it's that simple. Look, you really should wait in the car. It's for your own good" Sam says to her. I finally get the door unlocked and push it in.

"The hell I will. Evelyn's a friend" Sarah growls running in behind us. In any other situation I would've laughed at this and cheered her on for standing her ground. But nows not the time. "Evelyn?" Sarah calls out for her. "Evelyn" Sam calls out. We walk in to see a woman sat at the couch in the large living room, her back to us.

She isn't moving and doesn't respond. "Evelyn?" Sarah calls for her again but no response. We look up to see the creepy ass portrait sat at the top of the fireplace, the father looking down at the daughter. The boys and I share a skeptical look as we walk towards her. "Evelyn? It's Sarah Blake. Are you alright?" Sarah goes to put her hand on her shoulder.

"Sarah, no. Sarah don't!" I try to warn her but it's too late. Evelyn's head comes rolling back, her throat slit to the point she's nearly decapitated. Sarah lets out a terrified scream as Sam hold her, trying to pull her out of the room. "Oh my god! Oh my god!" She screams, gasping in terror as Sam takes her out. I look back up at the painting to see the father move his head, now looking back out at us.

________________________________

The next morning, we're back at our motel room. Sam is pacing nervously as we wait for Sarah to get back from the police station. "She wont sell us out, Sam" I try to assure him. "How're you so sure?" He huffs. "Call it intuition" I shrug. We hear a knocking at the door. Sam quickly opens it and in walks a angry Sarah, "Hey, you alright?" Sam asks her concerned.

"No, actually. I just lied to the cops and told them I went to Evelyn's ALONE and found her like that" She says annoyed. "Thank you" Sam says gratefully. "Don't thank me. I'm about to call em right back if you don't tell me what the hells going on. Who's killing these people?" She threatens. Sam sighs, looking over at me and Dean, sat at the table.

We both give him a look that says, 'Give her the talk'. "What" Sam says plainly. "What?" Sarah asks confused. "It's not 'who'. It's 'what' is killing those people" Sam says vaguely. She looks still confused. "Sarah, you saw that painting move." Sam says. Sarah scoffs, shaking her head. "No. No. I was- I was seeing things. It's impossible" She denies.

"Yeah, well welcome to our world" Dean says to her, flashing her a small smug smile. Her face contorted with disbelief. "Sarah, I know this sounds crazy...but we think that that painting is haunted" Sam tells her honestly. Tears wells in her eyes but she cries to smile it away, "You're joking" She says to us.

The seriousness of the situation didn't leave our faces and her smile dropped. "You're not joking" She sighs, terrified. "God, the guys I go out with" She shakes her head. "I get it, hun." I snort, agreeing with her. Dean cocks his eyebrow at me and I shrug innocently. He smirks, shaking his head. "Sarah, think about it. Evelyn, the Telescas, they both had the painting. And there have been others before that. Where ever this thing goes, people die." Sam tries to reason with her, her gaze down at her shoes.

"We're just trying to stop it. And that's the truth" Sam adds genuinely. She nods, looking back up at Sam. "Well, then I guess you better show me. I'm coming with you" She insists, "What? No, Sarah. No. You should just go home. This stuff could get dangerous" Sam tries to warn her. "...and I don't want you to get hurt" He admits lowly, a awkward smile on his face.

Me and Dean share an amused look when he says this, small smirks on our faces. "Look, you guys are probably crazy, but I'd you're right about this. Well, me and my dad sold that painting. We might've gotten these people killed" She says. "I'm not saying I'm not scared because I am scared as hell, but I'm not gonna run and hide either" She admits determined, walking over to the door.

"So are we going or what?" Sarah asks us, walking out the door. Me and Dean smirk at her clap back to Sam. I smile a little at her fearlessness, admitting she's scared but willing to do whatever it takes to make sure other people don't get hurt. It's admirable. "Sam" Dean calls out to Sam. He turns to us.

"Marry that girl" He says firmly, pointing at the door, an amused look on his face. I chuckle, "If you don't, I will" I add jokingly, punching Sam lightly on his shoulder, making Dean laugh. He scoffs, rolling his eyes at our untimely humor.

________________________________

Now back at Evelyn's house, Sam begins picking the lock. "Uh, isn't this a crime scene?" Sarah asks us fearfully. "Well, you already lied to the cops. What's another infraction?" I say, giving her a smile. She smiles back mc shaking her head as Dean flicks his knife open and glides it along the door, cutting the police tape.

When we get into the house, Sam dismounts the painting from the fireplaces placing it on the couch infront of us to get a proper look at it as I compare the differences using the picture from the library. "Aren't you worried that it's gonna, you know, kill us?" Sarah asks us cautiously. "No, it seems to do it's thing at night. I think we're all right in the daylight" Sam tells her.

I notice that the razor in the picture is closed but in the portrait it's opened. I point to it to show Dean, "Fellas, check it out. The razor, it's, uh, it's closed but it's open in that one" I tell them, handing Dean the picture. Dean shows Sam, "What are you guys talking about?" Sarah asks us.

"Well if the spirit's changing aspects of the painting, maybe it's doing so for a reason" Dean explains. "Hey, hey. Look at this. The painting in the painting" Sam points out, holding up the picture to the painting. The painting in the picture from the library was a simple landscape but the portrait was different.

"It's like a crypt or a mausoleum or something" Dean says. I squint and take a closer look. "There's something written on the crypt" I say, taking up an ashtray from the table and using the bottom of it to magnify the painting of the painting in the portrait. "Merchant" I read aloud that's written on the crypt, looking up at the boys.

________________________________

Later that evening, we tried every cemetery in town looking for that crypt. "This is the third boneyard we've checked" Dean says annoyed. "Yeah. I think this ghost is jerking us around" I scoff as Dean nods in agreement. "So, this is what you guys do for a living?" I hear Sarah ask Sam.

"Not exactly. We don't get paid" He responds jokingly. "Well, mazel tov" She says back. As we walk through, I see a crypt like the one from the painting. "Over there" Dean notices it, we all walk towards the old crypt, 'Merchant' written on the top in capital letters. I hand Dean the bolt cutters and he gets to work.

He cuts the bolts and kicks the gate in, dust rattling off the gate. We all cough as we walk in, headstones on the wall with names from the Merchant family. "Okay, that right there is the creepiest thing I've seen" Sarah says, pointing to the doll and stuffed animal that's in a glass case in the wall. "It was, uh, sort of a tradition at the time" I point out to her.

"Yeah, whenever a child dies, sometimes they preserve the kids' favorite toy in a glass case. Put it next to the headstone or crypt" He further explains. I notice there's only four urns when there should be five. "You guys notice anything strange here?" I ask them. "Uhh, where do I start" Sarah says sarcastically, making Sam smile.

"I don't think that's what she means. Look at the urns" Dean says, realizing where I'm coming from. "Yeah, there are only four" Realization dawns on Sam, his smile dropping. "Yeah, mom and the three kids" I say nodding. "Daddy dearest isn't here" Dean adds. "So where is he?" Sam asks.

________________________________

"So what exactly is your boyfriend doing in there?" Sarah asks me as we wait outside of the police station for Dean to get back. "Searching county deaths certificates. To learn what happened to Isaiah's body" I tell her as I take a drag from my cigarette. "Dean's not my boyfriend by the way" I inform her. "Really?" She asks surprised. "Mhhhmm" I respond, blowing the smoke out the corner of my lip.

"Could've sworn he was by the way he looks at you" Sarah says still surprised. My heart skips a beat at this but I chuckle, shaking my head, "Ha, please. It was probably the food he was shoveling down his mouth" I joke. Sam rolls his eyes at my comment. "Yeah, right. 'The food' " He snorts air quoting, I flip him the bird glaring at him as he smirks.

Sarah laughs at this. "How'd he even get in the door?" She asks curiously, me and Sam share a amused look. "Lying and subterfuge, mostly" Sam jokes. He looks at her studying her face. "You have, a, um..." He says, pointing to his face. "You have an eyelash on your...." Her face drops as he tries to wipe her face. "Uh, no, your right- You know what?" He says awkwardly.

They both laugh, a genuine smile on Sams face. "Do you mind if I-?" He asks her gently. I chuckle and shake my head at their awkwardness. "No" She smiles as Sam takes the eyelash off her face. "Okay. Okay I got it" He says, smiling and laughing. He puts his finger infront of her lips and says, "Make a wish" She laughs, looking deeply into Sam's eyes before blowing the eyelash off his finger.

I smirk proudly at their cute interaction, my little Sammy is moving on slowly but surely. Their body language tells me that Sarah wants to talk to him privately. I clear my throat awkwardly, breaking their heated eye-contact, their gazes snapping to me. "I'm gonna, go wait in the car" I say, flicking my cigarette in the trash. I smile at Sarah, flashing her a wink and she gives me a grateful smile.

I jump in the drivers seat of the Impala, opening the glove compartment to look through Deans cassette tapes to play some tunes. "Jesus Dean, I love classic rock too but this is just the greatest hits of the mullet rock" I mutter to myself as I rummage through the tapes. My heart stops when I pull out a personalized cassette tape from the box with a crown doodled in on top, labeled, 'Princess' Hits".

I place the rest of the tapes back inside of the glove compartment and push the tape into the deck cassette player. I thought my cheeks were gonna burst from smiling when 'Livin On A Prayer' by Bon Jovi started to play on his tape.

'Once upon a time

Not so long ago'

'Tommy used to work on the docks'

'Unions been on strike'

'He's down on his luck... it's tough, so tough'

'Gina works the diner all day'

'Working for her man, she brings home her pay'

'For love - for love'

He hates Bon Jovi, sure there are some choice songs he doesn't mind from the band but I always loved Bon Jovi, which he constantly nagged me about. Always said I have 'Questionable taste in music'. Fuck, he made a tape with some of my favorite songs. Jesus, I think I'm gonna cry. I chuckle as I start singing along to the song,

'She says we've got to hold on to what we've got'

'Cause it doesn't make a difference'

'If we make it or not'

'We've got each other and that's a lot'

'For love - well give it a shot'

________________________________

Third Person POV

When Y/N walks off and makes her way to the Impala, Sarah turns back to Sam. "I like her. She's sweet" She chuckles as Sam nods smiling, "Yeah, Y/N's like my sister. She's a character by herself" He compliments in a good way, chuckling and shaking his head. Sarah sighs, "Sam, can I ask you something?" She asks him.

"Yeah, sure" Sam says. "I don't mean to be forward, but a girl could wait here forever" She says laughing. Sam looks down shyly, "Is there something here between us? Or am I delusional?" Sarah asks Sam. "You're not delusional" He assures her. "But there's a 'but' coming" She points out knowingly. "But...I don't think this would be a good idea" He says.

Sarah heart pangs, "Can I ask why?" She questions. "Because I like you" Sam sighs. Her face contorts in confusion at this. "Wait, you lost me" She says smiling. Sam chuckles, looking down, "Look, it's hard to explain. I-. It's just that when people are around me. I don't know, they get hurt" Sam says honestly.

"What do you mean?" She asks. "I mean, like, physically hurt. With what my brother, y/n and I do, it's....." He trails off, looking down before sighing, his mind flashing to Jessica. "Sarah...I had a girlfriend" He admits, his voice low. Sarah nods encouragingly, "But she died. And my mom died too. And y/n's mom" He opens up.

Sarah has sympathy in her eyes as Sam explains, "I don't know, it's like....It's like I'm cursed or something. Like death just follows me around" He sighs as Sarah listens, "Look, I'm not scared of much. But if I let myself have feelings for anybody-" He begins but Sarah cuts him off.

"You're scared they get hurt too" She finishes. Sam nods, "That's very sweet. And very archaic" She adds, Sams head snapping in her direction. "I'm sorry?" He asks confused. "Look, I'm a big girl, Sam. It's not your job to make decisions for me. There's always a chance of getting hurt" She says firmly.

"I'm not talking about a broken heart and a gun of Hagen Dazs. I'm talking life or death" Sam defends. "And tomorrow I can get hit by a bus. That's what life is" She counters. Sarah sighs, "Look, I know losing somebody you love, it's terrible. You shut yourself off. Believe me, I know." She says comfortingly.

"But when you shut out pain, you shut out everything else too" She adds. "Sarah, you don't understand, the pain that I went through..." Sam says scoffing, "I can't go through it again. I can't" He finishes, tears welling up in both of their eyes.

"Am I interrupting something?" Dean pops in. They didn't notice Dean walking out of the station in the midst of their deep conversation. "No" "Not at all" Sam and Sarah say in unison, trying to cover up their expressions. "Huh. Apparently." He says ironically, knowing they're full of crap.

"Where's Y/N?" He asks them, looking around for her. "She went to wait in the car." Sarah tells him, pointing to the Impala across the street where Y/N is currently listening to the cassette Dean made with her favorite songs. "So, what'd you get?" Sam asks him. "Pay dirt." Dean begins, holding up a paper with the information of Isaiah Merchants disposal.

"Apparently the surviving relatives of the Merchant Family were so ashamed of Isaiah that they didn't want him interred with the rest family. So they handed him over to the county. Counry gave him a paupers funeral. Economy style. Turns out he wasn't cremated. He was buried in a pine box" Dean explains smirking.

"So there are bones to burn" Sam says. "There are bones to burn" Dean repeats in confirmation. "Tell me you know where" Sam says, Dean smiles cheekily as he looks between them.

They all walk over to the Impala to see Y/N banging her head along to the beat of 'Dream On' by Aerosmith. Dean knocks on the window making her jump. She huffs, holding her hand over her chest and turns off the music. "Don't do that dude!" She exclaims rolling down the window as Dean laughs, jumping into the passenger seat while Sam and Sarah jump in the back.

________________________________

It's now nightfall. They explained everything to Y/N who was relieved at the fact. Sam, Dean and Y/N are digging up Isaiah Merchant grave as Sarah holds a flashlight down the hole for them to see. The trio grunting as they shovel out the dirt. Sam pants as he pushes himself out of the hall, back onto the ground next to Sarah.

"You guys seems to be uncomfortably comfortable with this" Sarah says as Sam lets out a breath. "Well, this isn't exactly the first grave we've dug" He admits as Sarah shakes her head. "Still think I'm a catch?" He asks her ironically. Y/N knocks her shovel into the dirt when she hits something hard, "I think I got something, fellas" She calls out to them.

"On three" Dean says panting, she nods. Both counting to three before striking their shovels into the pine box, breaking it open to reveal the skeleton of Isaiah Merchant. They push themselves up back above ground. Dean then grabs the salt, matches and accelerant from his duffel bag, handing Y/N the matches and Sam the accelerant.

He salts the corpse as Sam douses it in fluid. Sarah looks on in horror as they do this. "You been a real pain in the ass, Isaiah" Y/N says, sticking the match. "Good riddance" Dean adds. Y/N snorts as she throws the lit match onto the corpse, igniting it into flames. The four watch as the corpse burns in the dark cemetery.

________________________________

"Keep the motor running" Sam tells Dean as they pull up to Evelyn's house. "I thought the painting was harmless now" Sarah says when Sam moves to get out of the car. He turns to her in the backseat, "Better safe than sorry. We're gonna bury the sucker" He tells her, "I'm wanna come with you" She says, moving to get out with Sam. "You sure?" He asks her. "Yeah" She nods, jumping out and walking up the porch.

Dean and Y/N share a look, "Hey, hey, hey" Y/N calls out to Sam. "We'll stay here. You go make your move" She whispers to him. Sam scoffs, rolling his eyes and getting out of the car. "Sam. We're serious" Dean mutters but Sam ignores him. They chuckle as Dean puts on the music from the cassette tape that Y/N found, 'Dream On' by Aerosmith blurring from the deck.

Sam, who's up on the porch, turns with an annoyed expression in his face towards his brother. He opens his arms in a, 'What the hell man?!' motion. He makes a signal for Dean to cut the song off. Dean rolls his eyes, taking the tape out. He felt caught red handed when he realized that the tape Y/N was banging her head along to earlier was the one he made of her favorite songs.

"You found the tape" Dean turns to Y/N, a tinge of pink on his cheeks. Her heart skips a beat when he says this, a guilty look on her face. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snoop. I just wanted Sam and Sarah to have a moment alone and I-" She goes to explain but he laughs, cutting her off.

"Relax princess. I meant to show it to you. I thought maybe you'd think it was cheesy." He admits, looking down sheepishly at the tape in his hand. "It's a sweet gesture" She smiles, taking it from his hand and sliding the tape back into the deck. All of this really making Y/N wonder if Dean did reciprocate the feelings she had for him. Was it really possible? She couldn't fathom the fact of him feeling that way about her.

Meanwhile Dean was embarrassed that Y/N found his tape he made. Scared she'd think it was weird, not realizing that it actually touched her heart. No one has really done something so thoughtful for her, even though he didn't show it to her directly yet, he still had the intent but was too afraid of what she might think. Y/N suddenly begins to feel the familiar chills at the back of her neck.

"Oh no" She gasps, holding her neck. "What? What's wrong?" Dean turns to her concerned, resting a hand on her shoulder. Their gazes snap to the house when the front door was slammed shut in a loud manner, both sharing a panicked look before practically running out of the car and up the porch. They both try to knock the door down.

"Dean! Y/N! Hey, is that you?!" They hear Sam yell. "Sammy, you alright?!" Dean yells concerned through the door. Y/N's phone rings, she fishes it out of her pocket and answers it, putting it on speaker. "Tell us you slammed the front door" Y/N says fearfully into the phone. "It wasn't me. I think it was the little girl" Sam tells them, looking around inside in panic.

"Girl? What girl?" Dean asks confused. "Yeah, she's out of the painting. I think it might've been her all along" Sam tells them. "Wasn't the dad looking down at her?" Dean asks him as Y/N kneels down, beginning to pick the lock. "Maybe he was trying to warn us." Y/N suggests, jiggling the lock pick in the doorknob. "Hey hey hey, let's recap later, alright? J-just get us out of here" Sam says panicked.

"Well, I'm trying to pick the lock. The door won't budge" Y/N tells Dean fearfully. "The break it down!" Sam tells him. "Okay, genius. Let me grab my battering ram!" Dean retorts. "Guys, the damn thing is coming!" Sam yells. "Well, then you're gonna have to hold it off until we figure something out" Dean tells him. "Get some salt or iron" Y/N instructs him.

Back inside the house, Sam grabs Sarah, "Come on". They begin to search the house in a hurry, "What kind of house doesn't have salt? Low-sodium freaks!" Sam mutters, huffing in irritation. "Hey, you guys find any iron?" He asks Sarah who's rummaging through drawers. "No, what's it for?" She asks him fearfully. "Iron repels evil. But it's got to be pure. Hurry!" He explains, urging her to find something.

"Uh, guys. Give me a sec. Don't go anywhere" Sam says to Dean and Y/N over the phone who are still outside, trying to break any door or window down with no success. Sam rests the phone down and begins to rummage through drawers. "Look in the chair. Sometimes the seats" He instructs Sarah who does so. They hear a loud crash outside, both gasp in shock when the door begin slamming shut in their own.

The room begins to get windy, papers from the desk flying all about. Sarah's face drops when she notices a little girl in a white puffy dress, dragging a doll like the one in the crypt in one hand, a razor in the other. "Sam..." She says fearfully. Sam shields Sarah as the little girl walks closer and closer to them, the wind escalating.

"That is just so wrong" Sarah says, her voice cracking with fear when the little girl disapparates and apparates closer to them. They back into a fireplace, not noticing the hot iron poker sticks behind them. Sams foot knocks against it. When he realizes it's a poker stick, he quickly picks it up and goes charging to the ghost of the little girl who's roaring at them.

The second the iron hits her, she disapparates. Panting in relief, "Iron?" Sarah asks him, nodding towards the poker. "Yeah" He breaths out. Meanwhile, Dean and Y/N who are still unsuccessful at getting in. Y/N snatches the phone from Deans hand, "Sammy, you okay?" She asks Sam shakily, the call still running.

"Yeah, for now" Sam tells her, she and Dean sigh in relief. "How are we gonna waste her?" Dean asks. "I don't know, she was already cremated. There's nothing left to burn" Sam points out. "Then how's she still around?" Y/N asks frustrated. "There must be something else" Sam sighs. A thought runs across Sarah's mind.

"Sam, wait. We used to handle antique dolls at the auction" She tells Sam. "Well that's fascinating, Sarah, but important right now?" He mutters back sarcastically. She rolls her eyes, "Well, back then, they used to make the dolls in the kids image. I mean, everything. Like they use the kids real hair" She explains to him. Sams eyes goes wide.

"Guys, Sarah says the doll might have the girl's hair" Sam tells Dean and Y/N over the phone. "Human remains. Same as bones" He adds, Dean and Y/N share a look. "The mausoleum" The three hunters say in unison. Dean and Y/N jump in the Impala, racing to the mausoleum. Dean wastes no time in ramming Baby's headlights through the gate into the cemetery.

Meanwhile Sam yields the poker in hand, only to be knocked down by a wooden desk that comes charging from one side of the room. He grunts in pain when it does this, Sarah bolting into action. Shaking with fear, she kneels to Sam's side, "Sam! Come on, push! Come on!" She tries to pull the heavy desktop that's crushing him off, not seeing the little girl behind him.

Dean and Y/N pull up to the mausoleum, rushing out of the Impala they pry the doors open to the crypt. They trying banging on the glass case with their fists but it's no use. And idea flashes in Deans mind. "Guns!" He says, pulling out his pistol. Y/N does the same, using the butts on their weapons to knock the glass in but it doesn't work.

Huffing in frustration, Y/N looks down at her gun. Feeling idiotic that they didn't think of just shooting it, "Come on, Dean" She says exasperated, shaking her head. They shield their faces, both shooting a bullet into the glass case. Smiling in victory, they now use the butts of their guns to finish breaking the glass.

Back at the house, Sarah's is thrown across the room by the spirit, both her and Sam groaning in pain. The little girl moving eerily closer to her with the razor in hand as Sarah backs into a corner, terrified. Sam tries to move but a force is keeping him held down, he grunts in pain from the pressure of the force.

Dean is holding up the doll in the crypt as Y/N tries to flick her lighter on nervously. "Come on! Come on!" Dean bellows frustrated. Y/N finally gets the lighter lit, she begins to burn the doll from its hair, the whole doll lighting aflame. Dean tosses it aside the burning doll.

The spirit inches towards Sarah, ready to slash her throat. Sam finally breaks out of its hold, throwing himself onto Sarah to shield her. Before the little girl could slash either of them, she bursts into flames, disapparating into a ball of fire, reappearing back into the painting mounted on the fireplace. They both smile satisfied that Dean and Y/N were successful.

After the two hunters burn the doll, still in the crypt, Y/N pulls out her phone and quickly dials Sams number. Sam answers his phone back at the house, "Sam, you good?" Dean asks him through the speaker. Sam looks at Sarah who's heaving for breath, "Not bad" He responds, sighing he hangs up the phone.

________________________________

The next day, they're all back at the auction house. Looking on as two men put the painting into a box. "This was archived in the county records" Dean says, holding up a paper he and Y/N got from the county department. "The Merchants adopted daughter, Melanie" Dean states, reading from the paper. "You know why she was up for adoption? Because her real family was murdered in their beds" Y/N informs them.

Sam scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief. "She killed them?" Sarah asked stunned. "Yeah. Who's suspect her? Sweet little girl" Dean points out. "So then she kills Isaiah and his family. The old man takes the blame. His spirits been trying to warn people every since" Dean pieces the story together for them. "Where's this one go?" One of the men asks Sarah.

"Take it out back and burn it" She tells them plainly. The three hunters look her her surprised, a bit impressed. The men look at her confused, "I'm serious guys. Thanks" She adds, they both shrug, both lifted the painting in the box out of the room. "So why'd the girl do it?" She asks the hunters. "Killing others? Killing herself? Some people are just born tortured, so when they die, their spirits are just as dark" Sam explains.

"Maybe, I don't really care. It's over. We move on" Dean shrugs, Y/N shakes her head at this. "I guess this means you're leaving" Sarah turns to Sam who sighs nodding. He gives his brother and best friend a look that says, 'Beat it'. They both nod, smug smiles on their faces, "We'll go wait in the car." Dean says awkwardly, smiling sheepishly at Sarah. "See you, Sarah" Y/N says sweetly to her.

Sarah returns the smile, reaching over to hug her. Y/N returns the hug, "You stay stunning, Y/N" Sarah tells Y/N sincerely who's smile widens. "Stay gorgeous" She compliments back, giving her a wink. Dean and Y/N walk over to the car, "We're the ones who burnt the doll, destroyed the spirit. Don't thank us or anything" Dean mutters childishly. Y/N nudges him, chuckling. "Don't be a sourpuss, Winchester" She laughs.

As they walk out to the car, "You think he'll do it?" Dean asks Y/N. "What?" She responds cocking her eyebrow in confusion. "Make his move" He states. Y/N snorts, "As much as I'd like to think I know your brother well enough, sometimes he's a wild card" She chuckles, shaking her head as they lean back on the Impala.

Meanwhile, "There are a million things that I want to say to you but for the life of me, I can't think of one" Sarah blurts honestly, causing Sam to chuckle shyly. "Yeah, I'll miss you too" He responds sincerely. "You know, there's a lesson in all of this" Sarah points out. "What's that?" Sam asks curiously. "We all got through this in one piece" She shrugs smiling, he chuckles shaking his head.

"I didn't get hurt" She adds. Sam smiles nodding, "Yeah, I'm glad for that" He says genuinely. "So, maybe you're not cursed....Maybe...." Sarah says suggestively? Her smile dropping when she notices Sam's pitiful expression. Every fiber in Sam wants to be with Sarah, genuinely getting to like her.

But the logical part knows it can never happen with his line of work. He believes can't give her what she deserves. "Maybe you'll come back and see me" She sighs. He nods, "I will" He says genuinely, his tone soft.

Sam exits the auction house, looking a bit troubled. "Guess he didn't" Dean grumbles disappointed, they turn to jump in the Impala. They look back to see Sam hesitantly knocking on the door. Sarah opens the door, a smile on her face, Sam grabs her gently by the neck of her head, locking his lips with hers in a passionate kiss.

Grins spread across their faces as this happens, "That's our boy" Dean says proudly, looking over at Y/N, his mind swirling with remnants of the night they almost kissed recently. "Told you. Wild card" Y/N says, smiling proudly. She locks eyes with Dean, a slight blush rising to her face. Clearing their throats, they jump into the Impala.

________________________________

Authors Note: Happy Birthday Sam Winchester! I hurried up and finished this chapter in love of Sammy’s 41st birthday. RIP Sam Winchester, you would’ve loved Misha’s recent comment on Destiel XD. I absolutely LOVED writing this episode. Sarah has a place in my heart, I truly believe she and Sam would've been happy. Reminder that this chapter is unedited. Hope everyone enjoyed!🫶

Comment to be added to the tag list:

@hjgdhghoe @rach5ive

Xoxo

#dean winchester #sam winchester #supernatural #spn #sam and dean #dean and sam #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #supernatural reader insert #supernatural fandom #supernatural tv show #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester x female!reader #supernatural series rewrite

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dervaaas · 6 months

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He will light up the star even if it goes out.

Character: Boothill

wn: It implies the death of the reader at the end. It was written before the release of 2.2. OOC Boothill.

I think Boothill is too soft, but why not?

F!Reader!

P.S. I came back to post this. I must say right away that I translated it through a translator, since I stopped learning English because of a not very pleasant situation. Therefore, I apologize if there are any problems with the translation.

Even if these stars were once close, now it's just dust that decorates the ceiling. An interesting idea with a projector. To look at the stars at least for the last time, when a girl does not have the opportunity to get out of bed. And all this is only because it was out of the kindness of someone she doesn't know.

This guy, Boothill, as he introduced himself, decided to show her the stars. In its supine position, it can neither be lifted nor brought out. Forever within four walls. Well, let it be. No one really comes anyway. Irresponsible, isn't it?

Unfortunately, this is the fate of the planet and its life. Almost a dead land. There are few cities that can live in prosperity. Unfortunately, she doesn't live like this. Therefore, she has to suffer only because nurses can visit her once a week, and it is difficult to find a nurse: you will have to pay three times for her. There is no such money.

Her very position raises a lot of questions. If she finds it difficult to move, how does she eat and move at all? Well, thank you for setting up her house for this. And now she doesn't have to do everything by force, as it was before. It made life easier, but now it has become a more recumbent lifestyle.

As for that guy... It's a rather strange acquaintance. After all, according to him, he had data in which it was said that the girl's house had what they were looking for, but in the end it was not. And he just decided that he would spend the rest of his time here at her house.

— Everything here is primitive, so don't think you'll see anything worthwhile. Boothill scooped the girl up in his arms and put her on the floor, where a place had already been prepared for her.

— Is it necessary? — The girl was a little worried, because she doesn't really understand the point of putting her on the floor if she can look from the bed.

— Take my word for it, it will be better. I don't know what stars they're talking about here, but I think it won't be boring.

— You don't know? Then why did you take it?

— How can I view them for you if I didn't have the opportunity? It doesn't matter. I'll turn it on now. Buthill gets up from his seat and walks over to the projector. Why did he decide to arrange a small planetarium for her? Apparently, he was very struck by her words when she said that she did not know who the Galactic Rangers were. He doesn't know why he's doing this.

Maybe it's really out of pity after all. She doesn't know what it's like to move around calmly, and she doesn't know what the world looks like at all. Yes, it was a pity. He, who lost his body, but got the opportunity to come back to life again, feels sorry for someone who found himself in the same situation, but does not have a second chance.

He turns on the projector and lies down next to her. Noticing that he guessed right and from this place everything is clearly visible. There is no sound, and nothing can be done about it. I would have to search additionally or even manually assemble it. There is no time for this. So that's what it is. However, he is familiar with all this, so he will even tell you himself.

— The Asdan system. There is a Penacony there. It used to be a prison for IPC, but now it's a celebration planet. Do you know what's special about her?

— No, — the girl looks at him questioningly, asking him to continue.

— You could live a normal life there. Immersed in the Bowl of Dreams, you would live a normal life. And don't worry about how to move around.

— Why are you telling me this? The girl was even more interested in his words. He seems to be someone who is not interested in this at all. It doesn't seem like someone who is going to take care of anyone at all.

— I don't know. In a way.. We have a similar problem. Was. Buthill continued to stare at the ceiling full of stars and galaxies. He doesn't even know if it's worth saying something. What if it doesn't sound too encouraging? Will not be. Giving her a second chance would be too difficult. And will she give up this body? Moreover, according to the papers, she does not have so long left.

— Can you tell me?

— Should I tell you that I lost almost all my body and was given a second chance? There's nothing to tell. And I don't want to remember.

— I see. So why are you doing this?

— There are reasons for this. People sell their bodies, give up on them, bully them. But when other people really need a body, they don't get it at all. You're out of luck with that. You could travel all over the universe, but instead you're tied to a bed. His voice was strained, apparently remembering that day.

The day he sat and looked at his new body. Bending and unbending metal limbs. Realizing that the body he once had can no longer be returned. He won't be able to feel the warmth anymore. Normal human heat, not from heating metal. His blood is not red at all now. The feeling of being new and trusted is eaten away from the inside. At that moment, he didn't know what to do, what to think. Perhaps he was too arrogant to do such a thing. But the final decision: not to live for yourself became the end result.

It was his actions that led to this outcome. Then why would he repeat his mistakes? A second chance. "Welcome to this world, once again." A meaningless phrase. But there's nothing else to do about it. To live not for oneself, but for the cause. There's a simple reason why he started following the Hunt.

That's the reason. That's why he wants to show her the stars. She would never be able to see them, but he could show them, even in such a primitive way. Yes, it's far from ideal, but it doesn't make sense. He will tell you himself what kind of stars they are, what kind of planets they are and what they are famous for. Everything he remembers will be told, even if the words are turned to nowhere.

He met a man with a similar problem, it seems to him. In fact, their bodies do not "belong" to them. They no longer obey them. So does it even make any sense to continue living? There must be some small knot that you want to hold on to and hope that everything will be all right, even if it's not.

Although very soon. This is one of the brightest stars that will fade in the sky. Someone will light it up again. Let it be like a memory of her, but she will burn as brightly as when she was alive.

— It's Fate. That's all.

— Sweet Fate.

— Honey?

— Eons, forget about it.

Even this moment will end someday. And it happened. It was too fast for her to feel. The doctors said it wouldn't be for at least half a year. Although they have such a medicine. What was she really hoping for? But it's so unpleasant to leave a person who has been uplifting and brightening up another boring day for at least a few days. It's so strange to realize that you're leaving your dead body to this person.

He doesn't owe her anything and shouldn't be doing this at all. But at least he can do something. Defined. The girl didn't deserve to die like that, so he was the only one who was at her funeral. Arranged by the standards of the planet in luxury.

#boothill x reader #hedcanon #oneshot #x reader #hsr #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail #hsr x you #hsr x y/n #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr boothill #honkai star rail boothill #hsr boothill x reader

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forthegoob · 2 months

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The background we have on Luke so far : (Based on my - not so good - memory, wiki and the board in s17x09)

Raised in Bronx.

Twelve years in catholic school.

He served in the 75th Ranger Regiment in Iraq. (Emily seems concerned when he said it to her. There was a scandal, but I didn't dig. And they didn't neither.). Discharge.

Father served in US army (that why he joined US army himself). Grandmother and mother have strong personality (according to him. So, he is used to strong female representation. We're talking to you Penelope.)

worked in the fugitive task force before he joined the BAU.

The first one who need to have a training to fully join the BAU (Special Agent to SSA, I guess ?). And the first one temporary demoted.

He knows English, Spanish, ASL, Latin and Morse code.

Brilliant at geo-profiling. (The wiki notice : skills in animal training ? French wiki says he trains dogs for combat ?).

He is a terrible cook. (from his friend Phil. Friend he lost in a terrible way.)

He adopt Roxy, a Belgian shepherd, to helps him returning in civilian life. (He feeds her better than he feeds himself btw)

Walks Roxy before sunrise.

He is allergic to cats.

One relationship known with Lisa Douglas. (But he was clearly already into Penelope at the time.). They break up (and the reason is not so clear.)

Have a house with garden and a second floor. (Poorly decorated before Lisa moves in. Does he still have Penelope's masterpiece ?)

Had a terrible date with Penelope.

But loves Penelope.

He plays video games and flight simulator.

Into action and war movies (I bet he can quote them by heart, nerd.)

Parades around in towel after shower (if they can prove that to us, to be sure about that piece of info... It's really important to us).

SIX SEASONS. SIX. AND THAT ALL WE HAVE.

Oh sorry, I forget : he made lasagna once.

#i don't talk about his personality traits because the way i see him it's possibly not the way you see him #like headcanons yk #luke alvez #criminal minds #criminal minds evolution #cme #cm

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weaveandwood · 2 months

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Weave and Woods Chapter 14: Electricity

Gale/Named Tav | Slow Burn | Fluff | Read on AO3 | Entire Work

Summary:

In the deepest hours of the night in a makeshift camp, Auroria finds sleep elusive. Unwilling to disturb Gale, she leaves to do something useful. Gale wakes up to find her gone.

She pulled back and looked at him. Even in the dim light shining from the orb, she was radiant. The first day he saw her when she pulled him out of that portal he thought she was one of the most beautiful people he had ever seen. Now, looking at her after all their trials, all their hardships so far? No one could ever hope to compare to her. She was so beautiful, yes - but also strong, courageous, and open. He never thought he could love someone as much as he loved her right now, and he knew he could never love someone this much ever again. “I thought of you,” she said with a smile. “Of me?” He let out a laugh. That wasn’t what he was expecting to hear.

AN: A nice, sweet fluffy chapter! I hope you all enjoy it after the last two chapters of really hard, heavy stuff. Comments or reblogs are greatly appreciated, they let me know what you like!

Auroria couldn’t sleep. The night was pitch black inside the makeshift campsite, the space now an admittedly tighter fit with everyone here instead of split up. She looked over at Gale, sleeping deeply beside her. At that moment, she was thankful for her darkvision. He looked so peaceful as he slept, all the worry erased from his handsome face. The deep lines between his brows softened, a trace of a smile played on his lips. He must be having a nice dream - she wondered what it was about. She listened to the rhythmic sound of his breathing, focused on the warmth of his body next to hers, trying to will herself to fall back asleep.

No luck.

She thought she might as well do something useful instead of just laying around staring at the top of her tent. As gently and silently as she could, she crept out of the bedroll, thankful this time that her light movements and stealth training allowed her to easily sneak out of places. She had found it to be a very useful ability when she had too much to drink at taverns across the Sword Coast and needed to make a hasty exit from the bed of whichever person she chose to go home with that night. Now, it was useful for making sure she didn’t wake up the love of her life from a deep sleep and a pleasant dream. How things could change.

She grabbed her sleeping tunic and leggings, silently stepping outside her tent and slipping them on. She looked around and luckily everyone else was still in their tents. Probably should have checked that before walking out of my tent naked , she laughed to herself before going into Gale’s tent, which was conveniently placed next to hers, on a mission. She looked through the stacks and stacks of books for what seemed like endless minutes before she found it on top of a pile - a small spellbook with vines embossed on it. Spells for Rangers.

This was the book Gale always referenced when they were training together. The one that helped her learn Ensnaring Strike and Spike Growth. She had felt the tug of a desire to learn a new spell, something special. She had flipped through the book ages ago while in the Underdark when Gale had stepped out to check on the stew that was simmering for dinner and saw the spell that had now been at the back of her mind ever since - Lightning Arrow. Inspiration had come to her at that moment but she felt it was too advanced, that practicing magic was too new for her, that it was out of reach.

But now? Maybe not.

When Gale cast lightning spells, electricity jolted through her own body at how attractive it was - so dangerous, so devastating, so destructive. He wielded it like it was second nature, the bright light shooting from his practiced hand movements at his targets, the damage immense. She shot arrows as if it was her own second nature, the feel of the bowstring against her calloused fingers, the relaxing breath to focus, all her training coming to fruition as she loosed her arrows into the hearts of her targets. It felt poetic - a combination of both of their powers. A perfect way to begin to thank him for so many things. For always having her back in battles, for seeing when she is going down dark paths, for pulling her back to the light. For helping her chip away at the roiling agony inside her, for not letting her spiteful words tear them apart. For teaching her magic again, for helping her get back in touch with that side of herself. It wasn’t enough - nothing would ever be, but it would be a start.

She went to a long room to the right of the campsite that had been discovered during a scouting mission with Shadowheart once the rest of the party arrived at the mausoleum. They had determined during this outing that this building was also the entrance to Shar’s Gauntlet - another item to add to the list of things to do, but just as important to Shadowheart as the deal with Raphael was to Astarion. And it was also a worry for the morning. She needed to focus on the task at hand.

Relying on her darkvision, she read the passage and practiced the verbal components for pronunciation. She remembered all of Gale’s teachings and centered herself, taking deep breaths to usher the lingering anxiety out of her mind. She thought of the look on his face earlier that night after they had made love and the darkness within her was held at bay by hope. The look on his face when she finally cracked every spell he helped her with. Wondered what the look on his would be when she pulled out this spell as a surprise. She drew back her arrow and made her first attempt. The arrow shot cleanly through the air, but no lightning. That’s ok, you never get it on the first try. It’s fine, you’re fine, this is a difficult spell. You got this, Ora, she thought to herself.

The second, third, fifth, ninth tries were similar. On the tenth try, she thought she saw a few sparks of electricity surrounding the arrow, sending a surge of pride through her. She was close, she could feel it.

She drew back the eleventh arrow.

******

It was a sunny day in Waterdeep. He was walking along the docks toward the beach, a basket in his hand. The twinkling melody of laughter sounded to his right and he looked over. Coppery hair, golden green eyes, and a bright smile met him as she reached over to the basket and placed something in it. He moved it to his outside arm and grabbed her hand. The sun was starting to set, the gentle breeze bringing the smell of salt in from the sea. He was instantly at peace.

Gale rolled over to his side, his arm instinctively going to wrap itself around Ora’s waist, its favorite resting place when they slept. He felt nothing but air and a cooled bedroll. He jolted awake, whispering her name. No answer - she wasn’t here. As his eyes began to adjust to the darkness, he noticed her clothes had been removed from where they had been discarded next to the bedroll. Panic started to fill his heart. Where was she?

He had never gotten dressed so quickly in his life. He grabbed his robes and didn’t bother with anything else, sliding them on over his naked body and fastening them tightly. Everyone else was fast asleep - his modesty didn’t matter right at this moment. He grabbed a small glass orb, a cracked piece of detritus that was left in the room from whoever had previously occupied this space and cast Light on it, helping to guide his way to the long hallway outside the room the party had claimed for their campsite.

Left or right? He looked both ways, thinking to himself that if only he were a tracker he could tell which way she went with no issues. He started to turn to the left.

There was a pull at his back, urging him to turn around. A gentle hum of magic emanating from down the hall to the right. He furrowed his brow and went to investigate, trying to avoid stepping on anything that would announce his presence. At least there won’t be a godsforsaken twig here , he thought to himself with a slight chuckle, knowing exactly how Ora would respond - You shouldn’t be so cocky, you would be the one person to find a twig to snap deep within the halls of a mausoleum .

He followed the feeling of magic. It was not strong like he would have expected from a foe, but it was getting more and more palpable the further he moved down the hall. He suddenly found himself wishing he had had the foresight to at least put some pants on should this be an encounter that ends with fighting. Still, he pressed onwards. What if Ora had found herself in trouble? He would never forgive himself if she came to harm just because he ran back to the tent to grab clothing. He covered the glowing orb of glass with his other hand, dimming the light as he peered into a long, windowless room and crouched to hide behind an overturned table near the entrance despite his knees’ protestations.

He heard the unmistakable sound of a bowstring being pulled but couldn’t make out the person pulling it - they were too far away, it was too dark for his eyes. He would remain hidden for now.

That’s when he saw it - a brilliant crack of energy surrounding what he now knew to be an arrow, or rather, what used to be an arrow. It quickly became a bolt of lightning as it sailed across the room, and he heard loud cheering from the archer. Wait - he recognized that cheer! Ora! She was practicing a new spell and got it on her own. Pride filled his heart as he watched the lightning arrow pierce a makeshift target…and watched as the target exploded upon impact. His pride quickly turned to horror when he realized that he was way too close to the target to escape impact with both the lightning and the destruction of the target. He threw up a quick Shield to block the majority of the blast but was still hit with a small tendril of lightning across his shin. Not enough to do major damage, but it stung like the hells.

The cheering stopped abruptly. The orb he used to light his path had rolled away from him in the blast, giving him away as it came to a halt a couple feet away from him.

“Who is there?” She called out. She was now so close, he hadn’t even heard her move. Gods, she was amazing. He was sure her darkvision would be able to easily pick him out of the darkness now, so he raised his hand in an awkward wave.

“Just me,” he said.

“Gale! What are you - why are you here? Why aren’t you wearing pants? Are you hurt?” She grabbed his orb of light and crouched down in front of him, running her hands over him, checking for injuries. Realization crossed her face, replaced quickly by guilt. “You woke up and I wasn’t there. You thought I went off alone to fight - that I was taken over with my dark thoughts again.”

She grimaced when she saw the burned skin on his leg. “And I managed to hurt you.”

“Ora it’s ok! It’s nothing really, just a little lightning. I’ll be fine - I don’t even want to use a potion for it.” He smiled, overcome by emotion as he placed both hands on her cheeks, looking into her eyes. “I’m so proud of you. You cast a spell on your own! When this injury scars, it will be a constant reminder of your strength, your determination, your abilities, my love.”

He pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her for a tight hug. “Your spellcasting was beautiful. Though I have to ask, as a scholar of course,” he added as a quick aside, “What do you think made this spell so much easier for you to get on your own? You haven’t been working on it outside of tonight, have you?”

“I thought of you,” she said with a smile.

“Of me?” He let out a laugh. That wasn’t what he was expecting to hear. Spellwork took study and careful practice, clearing the mind, and focusing on the Weave itself. At least, for wizards it did.

She laughed and poked him in the ribs playfully. “Is that so hard to believe? I am not a wizard, obviously, and I don’t get what little magic I am able to command directly from the Weave. I took everything you’ve taught me - practicing the incantations, centering myself, clearing my mind. Just as usual. It wasn’t working, just as usual. And then I thought of you, and I could feel the magic in the air around me, waiting for me to reach out and use it. The first time was weak, just a few sparks. The second time…well you saw it. And then got the brunt of it,” she laughed, leaning back into his chest, wrapping her arms around his waist.

He smiled softly at that. “Wrong place, absolutely the right time. I am so, so proud of you. I cannot overstate that. You have come so far since our conversation on that overlook all those weeks ago, before we even entered the Underdark,” he said, placing a gentle kiss on the top of her head.

“Would you like to practice some more, or do you feel like you could get back to sleep for a few hours? Morning is still a ways away,” he asked, lacing his fingers between hers.

“I think I’m awake for the day. I’m too excited to go to sleep now,” she smiled up at him, lightly running her thumb across his knuckles. “You should get more sleep though. I’ll go back with you to camp to help bandage your leg. I should have a salve for burns in my pack in my tent…but first, do you want to see me shoot a couple more lightning arrows?” She stood up, holding out her hand for him.

“I would love to.” He took her outstretched hand, standing up and dusting off the rubble that had landed on him during the explosion. “From a safe distance of course,” he laughed.

#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 #baldur’s gate 3 #bg3 fanfiction #gale fanfiction #gale x tav #gale x f!tav #gale x auroria #woodweave #weave and woods fic #weave and woods #bg3 ao3 #my writing #baldurs gate 3

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