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rizsu · 6 months

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professional guide on how to boyfriend jujutsu kaisen ( men ).

⤹ list ﹢ gojō satoru, sukuna ryōmen, chōsō.

﹙ syn ﹚ having near-to-zero experience with serious romantic relationships, it's time to teach them how to romance. the journey won't be easy, but the results will hopefully be fruitful.

extra. songs: betcha (bbh), seven (jk), very nice (svt).

week one : how to flirt as if you were shakespeare. note. refrain from using big words because they sound ‘cool’.

GOJO SATORU — "you're hating on my vocabulary?"

slowly, but very surely, you can feel your stress-meter rise to its peak. if someone were to animate your current expression, there will be three veins protruding out on your forehead to show your stress. it's almost as if it's second-nature for satoru to be annoying. he isn't doing it on purpose, unfortunately, it's just the way he is.

i should've ignored his call, a voice in your head speaks, i really should've. you were enjoying your own presence, simply lazing around during your off-day when three rings disrupted the peace. groaning, you reluctantly picked it up.

"hello—"

"come to enha's bakery, PLEASE," satoru's rushed voice spoke, immediately ending the call after his request-demand.

annoyance dawned and slowly transitioned into confusion. first, he needs to fix his habit of cutting you off. second, with the tone of his voice, maybe you should go.

big mistake.

not only was he chewing your ears off with talking, he also ate half of your pastry. you weren't able to get a full sentence in, he just kept going. dressed in suit and tie, hair styled and gelled up, satoru looked handsomely professional. according to what you've gathered from his rambling, he's been set up with one of the higher ups' daughter for business purposes. he needs to woo her or he's gonna lose a significant amount of pay. the problem? well, his flirting skills aren't all that. his confidence can help him, but it'll only help for a fraction of the date.

"what's the issue? you're handsome," you started, sliding your pastry back to you. "you should be able to woo her with your face alone."

"you are not wrong—"

"i'm never wrong," you cut him off.

"let me speak. anyway, i was informed that she isn't one for looks alone. i don't care about her, but she's the daughter of some high fucker," his voice reeked of defeat.

you weren't well-knowledged in satoru's field of work, but you knew he had it against the "higher ups." well, you had no choice but to know. satoru often thought of you as someone he can be free with — so, in conclusion, you were the victim of his word-vomit moments.

the two of you fell silent, thinking about solutions to save satoru. eyeing the pastry, you pondered your brain. there has to be a way to help satoru. perhaps some walkie-talkies? no, those are too loud. follow him into the restaurant and monitor his behaviour? no, that's too much work. crash his date and ask him why he's cheating on you? no, that'll probably end in your death.

satoru himself is deep in thought, already annoyed at the date that's going to become the bane of his existence in eight hours from now. should he bring you with him? maybe, but you'll deny his offer. should he ask you to pretend to be his girlfriend? no, he'd rather ask without the "pretend."

oh he's fucked.

i'm so fucked.

"wait," you leaned into the table, sporting an expression that says 'i have an idea'.

"yes?" satoru mirrors you, eyes speaking 'tell me'.

"what if i teach you how to flirt? we should have enough time to teach you how to boyfriend, right?" your idea was good. it turned the gears in both minds.

satoru opens his mouth but presses it into a thin line. there's an obstacle in the way of making this idea perfect.

"sounds good but.. the date's... tonight."

"you are fucked."

he nods at your response, feeling the salt rubbing in his wound. i guess i should just—

"but, if we go now we'll have enough time. it's 11AM, we can do it," you tapped your index finger twice on your phone's screen, showing satoru the time. if you move now, success is evident.

"let's go then," agreeing, he stands up, stuffing his car keys into his pocket and opening his wallet.

—

you've run out of pillows and whiteboard markers. the last two hours were spent either scribbling nonsense on a mini-whiteboard or throwing objects at satoru. the teaching isn't working. every lesson you've gone through ended in satoru's failure. is it on purpose? you hope it isn't.

"satoru, for the last time, that does not sound like a real word!" your hand slapped the table, physically showing your frustration.

groaning, satoru throws his head back, "you said use poetic words!"

"what part of scrumdiddlyumptious sounds poetic to you?!" you deadpanned at him.

he slouches further down the couch, grabbing his phone to search the word on google. it took him only one minute to find the word and its definition. raising up from slouching, he leans over the coffee table, stretching an arm out to show you the word.

"scrumdiddlyumptious — adjective · informal 1. (of food) extremely tasty; delicious. 2. (of a person) very attractive."

reluctant to admit defeat, you weaponized the word being informal against him, "it's not formal! you will not use it."

satoru's high of being right dies down immediately. his mouth twitches, eyes looking at you with disbelief.

"babe, you cannot be serious right now."

"babe, i am so serious right now," you mocked him, not thinking too deep into his nickname. there's no meaning behind it anyway. you, too, use babe as platonic name.

eventually, satoru tuned out your voice. he returned back to his previous slouching position, staring at you blankly as your words go in one ear and out the other.

it didn't take long for you to notice his dejected aura. does he hate it that much? you wondered, feeling a slight pity for him.

"don't worry, satoru. it's just one date."

"i will be worrying," satoru counters you, already sour at the date-to-come.

if he were to be honest, the date isn't the problem, nor is the flirting. he believes his flirting skills to be at a decent level. he also doesn't mind spending money on others. it's just that he doesn't want to entertain her. maybe, just maybe, if it were you, he'd be more excited.

you didn't say anything after him, only shooting him an annoying smile. seriously, you don't know what's worrying him. he's basically every girl's eye candy — not to mention, he looks so much like a boyfriend right now. that doesn't make a lot of sense, but if others can see what you're seeing, they'll understand. his white fitted tee accentuates his upper body's muscles, the black sweatpants do its job, his hair that's still styled, and the silver wristwatch on his hand. simple, yet sexy.

SUKUNA RYOMEN — "i'm too old for this shit."

sukuna, your sweet sukuna. your sukuna who's most likely weighing out which option is the better one to shut you up. he doesn't know why he agreed to listen to your rambles at midnight, but he's too far in to call it quitsies.

according to what you told him, you gained the idea of teaching him how to update his romance. it all came crashing to you when you were in the third-quarter of an episode of some random dating show. you blanked out most of the episode, not paying attention as the main objective of watching it was to not stare into nothing while eating.

the show itself didn't interest you, but the concept did. the participants were blindfolded, being told to use their judgement of character to choose their date. they'd have to rely on their personalities and voices to attract someone — a pretty neat idea. looks aren't everything. unfortunately, they might just be for sukuna if he doesn't work on his attitude.

often does sukuna act like he's a fifty-five-years-old office worker named penelope in the management department: old, easily annoyed, and always has something to complain about. you're probably the only human on earth who can handle sukuna for more than a day. of course, this is due to you being similar to him — if not then exactly like him. your attitudes fit together like jigsaw puzzle pieces.

sukuna's hands are clasped together behind his head, one leg raised on the bed, and torso out in the open for everyone to view. he's actively listening to you, giving his judgement here and there.

you're sitting with your legs criss-crossed, a pillow in the middle of your thighs, and hands speaking their own language. the habit of using your hands expressively when talking will never leave you.

"...so, if you were to find a girl, you neeed to be kind! no one likes a man with a stick up his ass," you warned sukuna, moving your index finger side-to-side.

"you do," sukuna says, raising an eyebrow at you.

unfortunately, he left you speechless — but not for long! you soon regained your speaking skills after realizing you don't have a good comeback.

coughing two times, you started your lesson again, "anyyyway, always tell her she's beautiful, gorgeous, breathless, or whatever. everyone loves a little compliment about their appearance!"

almost as if it's an automatic setting, sukuna replies, "what if she's facially challenged?"

"OH—" your jaw dropped. "sukuna, you can't just say that!"

he re-positions himself, this time laying on his side with his arm supporting his head.

"if someone's visually impaired i'm telling them."

you sighed, feeling disappointed at his brutual honesty, "what do you even mean by visually impaired?"

"they're ugly," he shrugs.

his tone isn't serious, implying that he's joking but you know he isn't. sukuna's a man of his word; the truth is what leaves his mouth every time. you shouldn't worry — you really, really shouldn't, but what if that's what he thinks about you? are you facially challenged in his eyes? you've gone silent, allowing yourself to drown in the thoughts.

sukuna notices your silence, sighs, and jabs your side with his foot.

"if you're thinking that i believe you're ugly, then stop," he begins, continuing the foot-jabbing-at-your-side-movement when you don't respond. "you're beautiful, believe me. you know i don't lie."

that catches your attention. you feel a sudden heat creeping up the back of your neck. keeping your voice low, you questioned him, still unsure of whether he's being truthful or not, "are you lying?"

"i swear," his voice is firm, reaching his free hand out to your thigh. physical contact to him is very important!

you return to the silence, only this time you lock your eyes in sukuna's. it's up to you to believe whether he's lying or not, and honestly, you don't care. you know he never lies, and you rather enjoy your fantasy instead of the harsh reality ( if he's truly lying ).

CHOSO — "man, fuck all that."

throughout your entire life you never expected to meet someone like choso. he is, in your words, a bitch boy. acts like a bitch, very expressive with his facial expressions, sarcastic, a male, and the worst of all, a little thief.

you humbly thought baking with choso would've been a good idea for celebrating the end of your finals. oh you were so wrong. he's messy, ate half the chocolate chips, and has been stealing spoons of cookie batter. when you confronted him, he simply said, "we can always make more," and shrugged. the audacity!

there's only so much choso someone can handle before they explode.

"you dumb fuck, how can you get a wife with this behaviour?!" you scolded, slapping his hand away from the freshly baked batch of cookies with a whisk.

he immediately retreats his hand, looking at you with an expression that says 'have you gone insane?'

"don't look at me like that," you warned, raising an eyebrow at his very well-hidden annoyance at you.

choso rolls his eyes, this time reaching the uninjured hand for the sprinkles. he sneakily slides the packet to him, intensely watching you to make sure you don't happen to see him committing such a crime. mouthing a little "yes!" at his victory, he empties half the sprinkles in his hand and throws it into his mouth.

"an’ wha’ if i ‘on't care about a wife," his words are muffled due to his mouth being filled with the sprinkles. he tries his best to hide the crunch sound, lowering his head each time he needs to crunch on some.

your back's still turned to him, simply too busy with monitoring sugar-soon-to-be-caramel on the stove.

"you're gonna have to care soon. you don't wanna die alone!" you nagged, making a point to him.

his right eyebrow raises at your words, lips ready to move at your hypocrisy, "you yourself said you don't want a partner!"

"at this point," you stopped, turning around to face choso. "i'm gonna have to teach you how to be a romantic young man."

"what are you implying...?"

"it's time for dating lessons."

"no, thank you."

unfortunately, choso has no say in this household. he had to listen. you sat him down on the chair, making sure he focuses with all his attention and doesn't steal any of the desserts. believe choso when he said he tried to take you seriously. he really did, but your messy apron along with vigorously hand-mixing batter with a serious expression as you talked his ear off caught him off-guard.

"sometimes you even have to get on your knees, choso! i'm telling you."

"i'm not doing all of that," he disagrees.

"oh, trust me. when you're in love you will," you spoke, resting the hand-mixer down to draw an invisible heart in the air.

he doesn't give you a verbal response. instead, he squints his eyes at you. when one's gone, another is born. when one stress is gone, another is born ( your nagging ). he doesn't like it one bit, but at least it's coming from you. he'd rather have you down his ears — whether it's by using your vocals or channeling your inner mother and scolding him.

#+ rizsu: jujutsu kaisen.#jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk fluff #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru fluff #sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna fluff #choso x reader #choso fluff #choso x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x you #sukuna x you #jjk x fem!reader

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nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos · 8 months

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Here, have a casual glimpse into my thought patterns and creative process:

*just scrolling about Tumblr and vibing to "Too Much Wine" by The Fratellis*

Too much wine?

Mihawk?

Mihawk drunk??

Wait wait wait WAIT what are they all like drunk?

GASP s h i n y h e a d c a n o n s

BLANK DOCUMENT HERE I FCKEN COME—

So anyway here's some headcanons about drinking too much (insert adult beverage of choice) with the OPLA boyos.

Implied that Reader is already in a relationship with each character in question.

I shall call it.......

HAMMERED

OPLA!Zoro, Sanji, Shanks, Mihawk, Buggy X AFAB!Reader

NSFW Headcanons

Kinda Kinktober I guess? Borderline shitpost, I had way too much fun with this.

♫♬♫ Too Much Wine - The Fratellis ♫♬♫

I'll take the mead from the table

Talk straight while I'm able

Until I'm nothin' less than a crime

Zoro

"Y'know, I actually have four swords, but we're gonna have to go somewhere more private if you wanna see the other one."

Rum, sake, beer, wine, whatever you're down for drinking so is he.

Zoro's got incredibly high endurance and stamina—it's going to take a while for him to show that it's affecting him at all, but once it does, he goes from zero to one hundred faster than you can say "onigiri."

Literally no in between, no tipsy or buzzed. Just sober and then stumbling over his own feet and swearing he absolutely is not drunk the whole time.

All those repressed emotions that he hides behind a mask of dry sarcasm on a day to day basis are coming out in full effect.

That means you're getting one of two Zoros—goofy Zoro or sad Zoro.

Goofy Zoro's going to have his arm around your shoulders, laughing his ass off about that time he caught that idiot Marine brat swinging his sword around bare-ass naked so he chopped off half his hair.

He's likely to get pretty flirty in this state, even downright playful, especially if you initiate it, and it's almost definitely going to end in him dragging you somewhere private to fuck your brains out, because his restraint is totally out the window at this point.

If you end up with sad Zoro, he'll be laying his head in your lap and slurringly asking whether or not you think he's ever really going to be the best swordsman in the world, probably still beating himself up over losing to Mihawk.

Just comb your fingers through his hair and do your best to reassure him that you love him and genuinely believe in him. Whether it works or not, he's going ti end up falling asleep in your lap, so be prepared to be stuck there for a while.

"But like...you really think, like, I can beat that bird-eyed bastard? I mean he fucked me up with a goddamn butterknife."

Sanji

"There we are—a beautiful drink for a beautiful woman."

Turbo Flirt Mode: activated.

Sanji is all for pairing wine with food, but if you're looking to get a little sideways, he's going to want to show off his mixology skills to impress you—and he's going to be making some dangerous concoctions, the kind that taste like there's not a drop of booze in them.

The more lit he gets, the less subtle the flirting. If you thought he was clingy sober, you are in for a surprise, because that's just the tip of the iceberg.

Head on your shoulder, puppy dog eyes, telling you how pretty you are and how much he adores you every thirty seconds, with a big silly grin like you're the most amazing thing he's ever seen.

Brushing his lips along your neck and murmuring all the things he's going to do to you once the two of you are behind closed doors later—and he means every one of them, because you're utterly irresistible to him in this state.

He wants you giggling and blushing just as much as he wants you moaning and trembling under his touch.

Super playful once you are alone, even moreso than usual. He's definitely going to suggest doing body shots, he will beg if he has to, but honestly who in their right mind is going to turn him down?

"You're just...just so—so beautiful—honestly, it should be illegal."

Shanks

"Hold—hold my rum—no, no, just for a moment, I wanna see if I can do a backflip off the railing—"

Spoiler alert: he can't. Now he's lying on the quarterdeck alternating between hysterical laughter and "Oh God that hurt—"

Probably the most fun drunk in the world, but he can be a hazard to his own health as his judgement begins to lapse so someone's going to have to keep an eye on him.

If you're at a tavern or otherwise public location, do not under any circumstances let the man out of your sight for more than two seconds. He turns into a straight-up child, he can and will wander off, and you'll find him a mile away on top of a building, likely half-naked and singing sea shanties at the top of his lungs, with no clue as to how he got up there...or how to get back down.

He's developed quite a high tolerance over the years and tends mostly toward dark rum, though he won't turn down a stein of ale or beer.

Total life of the party energy—telling jokes and stories, he just wants to see everyone laughing and having the absolute best time.

Super, super flirty, he may as well have written the book on pick-up lines; and he doesn't care that you're already together, he's going to drop every single one of them on you just to see how much he can make you giggle or roll your eyes.

He's very likely to pull you onto his lap at some point and make out with you like no one's watching—he already doesn't really care who sees when you're both sober, but he really doesn't care after a little too much rum, so it's probably best to coax him to bed at this point.

He's perfectly happy with cuddling up, laying his head on your chest and draping his arm over you, just humming in contentment and falling asleep together...but if you want more, don't expect to get much sleep, because he wants you lasciviously.

To taste every inch of you, to suffocate between your thighs until you're screaming, to pull you onto his cock and watch you ride him until you're both too breathless and exhausted to do anything but tangle yourselves together in the sheets and drift off to sleep between slow, sensual kisses.

"Oh, princess, just when I catch my breath, you make me lose it all over again."

Mihawk

"If you insist on being such a brat about this, you're going to get what's coming to you."

Mihawk has a strong drive to be in total control of himself and everything happening around him at all times, which means he doesn't tend toward getting drunk.

But...he also has this wee little problem with his ego being larger than the entire volume of every combined ocean in the world. If you imply that you could drink him under the table...he's probably going to sneer and tell you to quit being a brat, but he's also going to be quite driven to prove you wrong.

He does love his wine, but it's generally only a glass or two to wind down and relax—he's definitely got a nice bottle of aged bourbon or eau de vie tucked away somewhere that's going to be coming out, because he's got something to prove now.

Unfortunately for him, due to the fact that he so rarely drinks heavily...he's a bit of a lightweight. Which he won't admit even to himself.

But it barely takes a single lowball of harder liquor to get that pale complexion of his a little flushed.

Perhaps just over three for him to start blinking a bit harder than normal in a futile attempt to get his vision to focus, to start speaking a bit slower to attempt to hide the slight slur in his words as you taunt him about it—which honestly only makes it more pronounced, and more amusing.

You had best enjoy it, because it's probably the only time you're going to hear the words, "Fine, you win," come out of his mouth—as well as perhaps the only time he won't be miffed about conceding. The alcohol in his system has him loosened up just enough that he can't pretend he doesn't find your boldness and sass at least a bit endearing...and even more alluring.

That being said, you're still getting punished for it, teased within an inch of your sanity, and he's going to enjoy every single second of it.

Setting his glass aside, plucking yours from your hand, pinning your hands above your head with a devilish smirk and slowly undressing you, his eyes on yours the entire time.

Trailing his fingertips across your bare skin, drawing closer and closer but never quite giving you want you want, his lips barely brushing against your neck, reminding you in an amused murmur in your ear that he could easily do this all night.

You did have the audacity to challenge him, after all—he has no choice but to remind you who's in charge.

"What is it, my little bird? Did you think you were going to get a consolation prize? You're still going to have to beg."

Buggy

"Bet you two thousand Berries I can shotgun two beers at once, watch this—"

And he basically ends up halfway drowning himself, but hey, you're two thousand Berries richer!

Honestly, there's no party like a Buggy party, because a Buggy party doesn't stop until someone loses a limb—probably him.

No, really. Don't let him use his devil fruit abilities. Keep a bucket of sea water on hand if you have to, because he may literally misplace one of his limbs and you're going to have to go on a Chop Chop Scavenger Hunt to help him find it while you're both completely smashed.

If Buggy's drinking, everybody's drinking, and everybody is getting completely fucked up. This is non-negotiable, he thrives on chaos and that's what he's intent on creating.

Anybody who passes out before him is getting something obscene drawn on their face in permanent ink. He can definitely hold his liquor, so if you can keep up with him then you can expect to be the last two living souls left conscious on the whole ship.

That being said, he doesn't care who's awake—things are going to get kinky, and he's really not bothered about anybody watching. Or joining in, for that matter. This whole operation very well may devolve into a drunken orgy if he has any say in the matter.

Then again, it may also devolve into him flopping dramatically across your lap and divulging absolutely all of his trauma in an emotionally-charged alcohol-induced rant. He won't remember it in the morning, so please do him a favor and don't remind him.

"Hey, uhh...I los—I lost my foot again. .....Sor—*hiccup* sorry."

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shangsclaws · 8 months

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F for Rain and Sub-Zero if you don't mind for your mortal kombat headcanons please.

F - Flirting: How do they flirt?

𝑹𝑨𝑰𝑵

Being high mage, Rain has both the skill and resources to make his gestures as grand as his position in court. And as ambitious as he is, there’s no doubt he’s putting his power to very good use.

His interest should expect near outrageous amounts of Outworld flowers every day, highly exaggerated gestures when casting spells if they’re around, inviting them to late night dinners tucked away in some private garden of his, and perhaps an invite to a grand ball or two. Everyone in court will know that he is interested, and equally will they know that they’ll stand no chance against him if they should vie for his interest’s attention. Just the way he likes it.

“Are you joining us tonight at the empress’ ball?” He’d ask, one eyebrow quirking upwards as his eyes trailed up and down your figure curiously. “It’d be a pleasure to see you. My pleasure.”

𝑩𝑰 𝑯𝑨𝑵

His version of flirting is as good as platonically patting someone on the back for doing a good job. And even his compliments are stiff. He just doesn’t know how to string up sentences betraying his attraction, especially given that he’s probably fighting himself for wanting something — someone — more than he wants to uphold his duties as grandmaster.

The grandest gesture he can do without having to overthink it is touching his interest when training. To calm his nerves he’s convinced himself it’s for ‘educational purposes’ only, for the greater good. Bi Han’s touch lingers for longer than it should, at least longer than he thinks necessary, but if his interest does not have a keen eye, it could all go unseen.

“Your strikes are impressive,” the grandmaster nods, the hand on your extended arm surprisingly warm to the touch. He holds it a moment, his gaze awfully pensive, before tilting your fist upwards slightly. “Next time, though, you must aim for the head.”

𝑴𝑨𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻

#yknow what’s strange? writing rain like i’m writing mk11 shang tsung. never thought i’d see the day.#mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat imagines #mortal kombat 1 #rain #rain x reader #subzero #subzero x reader #bi han #bi han x reader #x reader #headcanons #alphabet request

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batfambrainrotbeloved · 14 days

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hi!!! I was just thinking of your amazing trash drake fic, and I was wondering if you had any headcanons for Tim’s “trash” identity?

Just little or big things that separate him from Tim, like mannerisms or how he acts?

AHHH YES- SO MANY HOLY FUCK- Okay okay SO-

Body language wise-

Tim closes his eyes when he laughs, Timothy doesn't

Tim grabs at his hair when stressed, Timothy grabs at his clothes

Tim maybe accepts affection but rarely asks for it, Timothy is a hugger or pat on the shoulder kinda guy (handshakes/hand kiss at the very least are a MUST)

Tim smacks his lips, Timothy sneers

Tim is always at least a little slouched, Timothy has perfect posture

Tim smirks, Timothy shows all his teeth

Tim goes for a fist bump, Timothy prefers high five

Preferences-

Timothy wears gold, Tim prefers silver

Timothy is always wearing jewelry, Tim hates anything more than some earrings.

Timothy adores opera, Tim is a basic fan- but prefers photography

Timothy likes layers and buttons, Tim prefers loose and slip on

Timothy loves Sushi, Tim cant stand anything that isn't a california roll

Timothy prefers his coffee sweet, Tim prefers it just creamy

Skills-

Timothy knows Spanish, Arabic, and French, Tim knows WAYYY more- (including League dilect Arabic and Romani)

Timothy is a child prodigy in tech who graduated early then burned out, Tim is a literal genius and tech mastermind hasn't hit burnout yet tho

Timothy is amazing at chess, Tim fucking hates it but learned out of spite/nessesity

Timothy is charming and a good flirt, Tim has zero rizz for anyone that isn't "morosexual" (he's smart and a dumbass)

Timothy is pretty athletic, Tim has the kind of endurance that is so outrageously good its concerning (he is a persistance predator)

Timothys thumb is double jointed, Tim can fold himself in half

Timothy is useless in the kitchen, Tim can make basics by himself

Timothy doesn't know the first thing about mending?? Tim hand made his entire costume and has re-sewn half his wardrobe at least once

I made up half of these on the spot- but this is the general headcanon distinctions I have between them <33

#the drakes spoiled brat #tim drake #trash tim au #AHH I LOVE ASKS #So many headcanons #seriously so so many #working on the chapter rn!!#might incorporate some of these #once again ty!!!

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adamstnheights · 1 year

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Stitches - Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader

Summary: You’re the newest recruit to 141 and still trying to figure out your intimidating, mysterious lieutenant. Being assigned as his partner on the field for the first time on a sniper mission, you’re unsure exactly how to act around him, especially when he has such an… effect on you. But when you both get caught in the crossfire, you’re forced to take cover with him and mend his wounds, much to his (begrudging) appreciation.

An alternative take on the Recon by Fire mission in MWII. Also based loosely around the Simon Riley ASMR video by Jim ASMR on YouTube because it was just so cute :)

Reader’s callsign is Zero (iykyk)

Content: Reader uses she/her pronouns, Sniper Reader, Reader used to want to be a medic, Military Inaccuracies, Medical Inaccuracies, Gunshot Wounds, Ghost being super soft, You taking care of Ghost, Ghost taking care of you, Gentle touches, Needles, Bandages, Stitches, Developing feelings, Ghost trusting you, Flirting, Fluff, Ghost is a cat person (REAL)

Word Count: 7.4k

“Ghost and Zero, you’ll station up at the top of the hill and see if you can take any of the cartel guards out from a distance,” Price ordered over comms. “When the path is clear, Gaz and I will move into the hatchery and clear them out, looking for any evidence of the missiles. Laswell will be out on the water on overwatch. If we need her, she can get to shore and join us in the hatchery.”

Usually, you would be standing in the debriefing room to hear your instructions for a mission, but because of the short notice and urgency, you were listening to Price’s voice over comms in the back of one of the task force’s vans. While Price continued to speak, you slowly let your gaze move over to where Ghost was sitting across from you in the back of the van, only for your whole body to seize up when you realized that he was already staring at you. And of course, you couldn’t tell what the hell he was thinking—basically his whole expression was covered by his mask. It frustrated you to no end. It felt like he always had the upper hand, not allowing the enemy or opposition to get a read on his face, which was understandable, but you wanted to know. You wanted to be able to know what he was thinking. In comparison, it made you feel extremely vulnerable. Maybe you’d look into getting your own mask.

Being the rookie made you feel extremely out of place. It didn’t matter you had five years of being a sniper under your belt; you’ve only been with them for six months, so to the rest of Task Force 141, you were still the newbie. Talk about your skill had been passed around by word of mouth, and soon Captain John Price had approached your former unit and proposed a deal to you that was too good to pass up. So a few months and a location change later, you were the newest addition to 141, thus securing your label as “the rookie.” There wasn’t really anything you could do about it.

Luckily, the guys in the unit welcomed you with open arms, although the kindness did come along with a fair share of humorous and flirtatious remarks. Soap and Gaz basically took you under their wing immediately, taking pride in teaching you new things and showing you the ropes of 141. They urged you to join in on their game nights and when they would go out to the bar after a hard day of training or a rough mission. You felt at ease around the other men, too, for the most part.

Ghost was another story. From the first time you met him, you were intimidated. He had a towering, large figure that could speak for itself, but also his voice was deep and gruff, especially when he was barking out orders. You weren’t scared of him, per se, but you were cautious. From the interactions you’ve had with him and the way you’ve observed him on missions, you definitely wouldn’t want to get on his bad side. He was mysterious—the mask and skull cover showed that the most, but on top of that, you noticed the way he expertly dodged any prying questions that Soap would ask him over comms during a mission. When you and the rest of the crew got drunk and began spewing out stories from your former lives, you noticed how Ghost would simply sit back and listen, observe, but not provide any stories of his own. You were sure he had his reasons for being closed off, but you couldn’t help but wish that he were… more approachable. Especially now that you were on your first mission with just him by your side, you felt like you knew him the least out of the other members of 141.

The van slowly and quietly came to a stop towards the top of the hill. Ghost opened the back doors and jumped out onto the ground and you followed, rifle in hand.

“Zero, on me,” Ghost said, nodding his head his way.

The fog along the coastline was thick—good for the enemies not spotting you, but not as good for you spotting the enemies. You stationed yourself about forty yards away from the edge of the uppermost hill, where the grass was thick and high. The outline of the hatchery could be seen far, far in the distance, right along the edge of the land. From where you and Ghost were crouching, you could see below where a dirt path winded slowly down the hills. It would take some time and patience to fully push forward and make it safe enough for Price and Gaz to breach the buildings down below. But you were ready; more importantly, you were counting on this mission to prove your worthiness to Ghost. It was kind of pathetic. You knew you were a damn good sniper out on the battlefield, and yet, ever since Ghost’s intense, unreadable gaze landed on you, you’d felt determined to do whatever it took to get his approval. It didn’t help that the way he looked at you kind of really made your heart race, in the most confusing way, and the periodic sarcastic jokes he would make over comms made him more endearing.

Still, you didn’t want to push your luck. The last thing you wanted was for this mission to bring you back to square one in terms of your reputation on the team. In front of you, Ghost crouched even lower to the ground, pointing his rifle outward and looking through the scope. You fell back slightly behind him, also crouching in the grass. After a few moments of silence, you furrowed your brow at him, unsure whether he was going to say something or if he was just trying to act like you weren’t even there. Maybe he was annoyed by you, annoyed that out of everyone else on 141, he was stuck with the rookie.

Finally, he nodded his head forwards, motioning you to follow him. Both of you crawled through the grass until you reached closer to the edge of the hill. You both got down, fully lying on the dirt. Through the fog, you could now make out the wire fences around the hatchery, where cartel were guarding the entrances and walking along the dirt paths surrounding it.

“I can see about ten of ’em, all ’round the entrance fence,” Ghost finally broke the silence.

“We need to take our time,” you said, “They’ll spread out, into groups of two or three. Then we can take them out.”

“I’ll follow your lead,” he replied, “Let me know who to take out.” Normally, he would be argumentative to a new recruit taking the initiative, but there was something about you that fascinated him. He didn’t mind hearing your voice walking through the plan and telling him what to do. Price had told him about your skill; he knew that you knew what you were doing.

You readjusted your rifle just so, looking through the scope.

“On top of the building, two snipers,” you announced, “Do you see my laser on your thermal?”

You could hear Ghost repositioning his rifle a couple feet away from you in the grass. “Affirmative.”

“Go.”

You pulled the trigger, hitting the sniper on the right. Mere seconds afterwards, you heard Ghost’s rifle go off and through the scope you could see the second sniper’s body fall over.

“Got ’im,” he said. “On the right side of the fence, near the blue shipping container, there’s two.”

“I’m on him,” you said, lining up your shot next to his.

Ghost shot first this time, you followed him. The two men by the shipping container dropped to the ground. You continued scanning the area.

“Three more, below, closer to us, walking by that white van,” you flexed your hand and regripped the trigger.

“I’ll get the stray,” Ghost said.

“Copy that.”

You lined up your shot to the guy furthest to the right, watching as Ghost’s laser appeared over the man next to him. Again, seconds after you shot, Ghost followed, taking out the other. He quickly readjusted his hold on the rifle to focus in on the third one of the group. As you watched through the scope, the third man immediately went onto high alert, pointing his gun around him. Ghost wasn’t worried though as he lined up his shot. Poor bloke; unlike the first two men, this one would spend his last living seconds in panic mode.

Unfortunately, in the few seconds in between, the third man shouted and seemingly alerted someone else. Immediately after Ghost shot him down, two more men came running into view, shooting upwards towards the two of you. With a few uncoordinated shots, you and Ghost took them down quickly, but the not-so-subtle gunfire from your direction gave away your position. Before you could even think about moving, a bullet sped right past your view and into Ghost’s arm.

“Fuckin’ hell!” Ghost grunted, sucking in his breath in pain. “Where the fuck—?”

You were frantically scanning the area for where the shot could have come from when another bullet came speeding towards you, and you felt a sharp pain searing through your own arm. Furrowing your brow, you struggled to look even harder through the scope. “Shit—!” You winced.

“Got ’im,” Ghost announced, pulling the trigger, “To your left, on top of that small shed. There was another one.”

“Fuck.” You noticed two more men emerging from behind the shed. Both of you quickly took them down. “We– We need to push forward, we don’t have the best view from here. I can’t tell if we cleared the whole area.”

“Copy that.”

You began to crawl forward, the pressure of leaning on your right arm not helping the gash there. Before you could crawl even a foot you felt an unfamiliar touch on your forearm. Ghost had placed his gloved hand there, and you turned to look at him.

“You okay?” He asked lowly. You nodded your head, too shocked to speak.

You and Ghost quickly moved forward, onto an area of grass a bit lower down the hill than where you were before. You could see a bit closer now, and from the new angle, you could make out the rest of the area below. There were a handful more men on guard around the building, and you gripped your rifle hard in an attempt to distract your body from the pain. You monitored Ghost’s laser and helped him take out the men accordingly. Barely any more gunfire was exchanged.

“Price, Gaz—we cleared the outside surroundings of the buildings. You should be good to go in now,” he directed over comms.

“Copy. Good work, you two,” Price replied.

You met Ghost’s eyes from between the blades of grass and you could tell that he was intentionally not letting Price know that you two got hit. You could have spoken up yourself but you had successfully eliminated everyone and neither bullet seemed to have hit anything critical. Giving the lieutenant a knowing nod, you scanned the area and noticed a stream of water by a small stone building. It wasn’t really a building, more like a small hut. Ghost saw where you were looking and nodded his head towards it, giving you the go ahead.

Crouching slightly, you both quickly snuck towards the stone shack. Ghost positioned himself to cover the rickety wooden door, which you kicked in, instantly holding your rifle up to clear the inside. He followed you close behind, checking all corners of the worn-over room. Everything inside was covered in moss or other overgrown plants.

“Clear.” Ghost stated, lowering his gun. You were already sliding down against the stone wall towards the corner of the room, grasping the side of your arm. Ghost rushed to your side, sitting next to you. “Here,” he went to look at your arm, but you expertly reached for him first.

“Show me yours first,” you whispered, “Mine’s just a graze. Yours is worse.”

“Are you defying your superior?” He asked. You couldn’t tell if he was joking or not.

“Yours is worse,” you repeated, shaking your head, “The bullet lodged in there. I need to take a look.” You were staring at his left bicep, where the layers of jacket and shirts were ripped into by the bullet. The hole in Ghost’s skin was large, bleeding profusely.

“It’s nothing,” he grumbled, “I’m more worried about you, Zero.”

Your eyebrow raised and you tilted your head up to look at him. Behind the mask, you could see his eyes clearly. They were hazel, and for probably one of the first times since you’ve known him, they looked soft and genuine. Up close, you could see little spots where the black paint smudged and his skin was peeking through. His eyelashes were blonde, slightly covered by some black face paint, but definitely blonde. Suddenly, you were trying to picture Ghost’s blonde hair under the mask and balaclava. You weren’t as intimidated by him anymore as you were intrigued—deep down, you wished you could see more of him.

From what you’ve observed of him (plus things Soap and Gaz have said), you knew he wasn’t really as big and scary as he seemed to be. He cracked jokes over comms during missions. During downtime on base he’d join the rest of the group playing cards or drinking, still wearing his balaclava obviously, but without the skull cover and only minimal black eye black on, so you could see more of his face clearly. You would never admit it to the rest of the guys, certainly not Soap, but you found Ghost to be quite handsome. (You could just hear Soap teasing you: You don’t even know what he looks like! He could be ugly!) Between his deep voice, towering figure, and the way his hands worked around his rifle (you have stared too many times to admit), he was… hot. What more could you say? It felt like a silly high school crush; he was your superior and you barely knew anything about him. But… you wished you could learn more. You would, if he’d let you. You would.

And now, with his face only inches away from yours, his eyes looking at you intently, you felt determined to take care of him. You wanted to see that softer side of him, and you also wanted an excuse to dote on him. Already, he was acting a bit more flustered than usual with you trying to defy him. You wondered how long you’d be able to keep it up for.

“I’m not taking that for an answer,” you insisted. “Yours is worse, so we’re taking care of you first.”

Ghost raised his eyebrows, his mouth partly open in shock of your defiance, but his lips spread into a smirk, amused by your determined edge. He was intrigued by you, so he’d let you win this argument. He didn’t say anything more as you inched closer to him. He sat with his entire back against the wall, facing forward. You turned your body towards him, sitting cross-legged as you placed a hand on his arm where the bullet wound was.

“I… think you’re going to have to take this off. The jacket, at least. Sorry, Lieutenant,” you said.

“You can call me Ghost, you know,” he said as he leaned forward to unclip his tactical vest and shuck the jacket off.

“Sorry,” you said quietly, “I was just trying to be polite, I guess.”

“Don’t need to be polite with me,” he smirked.

“Okay… Ghost,” you smiled. You took off your own tactical vest and rummaged through the back pockets, pulling out your first aid kit. You opened the kit and took out the tweezers. “Sorry if this hurts.”

“S’alright, not the worst thing I’ve endured. And I haven’t had the privilege of such an… assertive patching up,” Ghost could feel himself blushing behind the mask. He was glad you couldn’t see.

First, you inspected the bullet. It had implanted inside his arm, making it impossible for any kind of extraction, especially under conditions like these. With only minimal shattering, the pieces embedded into the muscle, there were no critical places hit or at risk. Your main goal was to stop the bleeding so you could stitch the wound closed.

“It seems like… most of your muscle absorbed the bullet. No bone damage or critical areas hit, so… all I’m gonna do is stitch you up,” you explained. You held back a giggle, pushing away the urge to squeeze his arm; you weren’t entirely sure if he’d like that very much (you were almost positive he’d kill you). “When we get back to base, the nurses at the infirmary can keep an eye on it to make sure it doesn’t get infected or anything, and if not, then it’ll just heal over.”

“Aw, no trophy for me to take home?” Ghost asked.

“You still get to take it home,” you replied, taking your two fingers and tapping his arm above the wound, “just in here. Hey, now it’ll always be with you.” He shuddered at your touch.

You began cleaning around and in the wound, earning a sharp hiss from Ghost’s mouth as you wiped the area off with a small rag and some water from your hydration bladder. You poured some water slowly onto the wound, trying to flush out any dirt or debris, before placing some gauze over it and applying pressure to slow the bleeding. While your one hand was pushing against his arm, you reached your other hand back into the first aid kit, fishing around for your stitching tools. You took out a needle with thread, along with a needle driver. You placed the needle driver on your leg for the time being.

You dug into one of your pockets, brandishing a small square alcohol wipe package, which you promptly ripped open with your teeth so you wouldn’t have to set the needle down. Ghost practically had to hold back from choking on his own breath, the way you were so focused and determined was certainly making him feel some unfamiliar type of way. He had barely gotten a chance to hesitate or argue against you patching him up, he was too mesmerized in watching you and you were already grabbing a hold of his arm again, sending a tingle down his spine as you cleaned his wound.

Then, with one hand, you pierced the skin on one side of the open wound with the needle, then the other side. Your other hand held the needle driver, which you used to grip onto the end of the needle, pulling the thread through the newly made holes. With an even amount of thread left on either side of the wound, you wrapped the thread from the left side around the needle driver twice, then grabbed the other end of the thread with the driver. You pulled from both ends gently, making a first throw of the stitch. You did it again, looping the one side of the thread around the driver, grasping the other end, and pulling it tightly to make the knot. Ghost watched, almost in awe, at your expert handiwork. You made it look so easy.

“I... wanted to be a nurse, or a medic, or whatever, you know,” you rambled as you moved up the wound a few centimeters, piercing the skin to start another stitch, “I made it through undergrad and then… shit just didn’t really work out. But hey, I found out I was a pretty good sniper. So I’m good for somethin’, at least.”

Simon felt his whole body heating up from the way both of your hands were making contact with his upper arm. One hand was gently pressing down on his bicep around the wound while your other had the needle held in between your fingers. The gash you were closing up on him was large; it was certainly going to leave Ghost with a jagged scar. But for once, he felt at ease.

In all his years in the military, the marks and scars that have riddled his body only brought him more shame and discomfort. Sure, there were a few scars that were his “go-to” to talk about when the other guys began showing off about past endeavors (This one here, knife fight. I grabbed the bloke from behind and stabbed’im in the neck, but not before he got one in my side). Other than that, most of the bullet holes and jagged lines where his skin couldn’t fully heal only reminded him of the horrors and the pain. Now, though, the thought of having a scar on his arm from a wound that you took care of, he couldn’t be more elated. A mark on his body, stitched together carefully and gracefully by you. A secret moment—a memory—that only the two of you shared, forever imprinted into his arm; a scar that no one else would know the backstory to, unless he decided to tell it (he wouldn’t—he didn’t want to share this moment with anyone else).

Okay, so maybe some sort of feelings were blossoming in the cold, cold heart of Simon Riley. You didn’t have much of an idea about it, and honestly, neither did Ghost himself. Soap had teased him multiple times about a supposed “crush” that Ghost didn’t fully realize he had. But the sergeant certainly had. Soap teased him about how he always insisted he didn’t want to play cards with the rest of the team, only to grab a seat next to you and strategize how to beat everyone else. Was it an excuse to sit real close to you and exchange whispers and laughter? Soap would never get an answer because Ghost would tell him to fuck off, but he already knew the answer anyways.

Ghost’s heart was racing, suddenly and somehow nervous in your presence.

“Why do they call you Zero?” He asked abruptly, a random question spilling from his lips. He just wanted to keep hearing you talk to him.

“Isn’t that like, impolite to ask?” You smirked.

He laughed—a genuine, full out laugh. Your eyes brightened. “I’m only curious,” he said softly. “Jus’ tryin’ to make conversation.”

“Well, why do they call you Ghost?” You shot back playfully.

“Now that’s classified, love.” His eyes immediately widened as the endearing term slipped from his lips. He hoped you didn’t catch it; meanwhile, you were going to think about it for the rest of the week. You grinned to yourself, and he looked down at his hands and focused on how your needle pierced his skin—a certain amount of discomfort, but something that felt good knowing that you were right there next to him. He didn’t want to get into his callsign; however, he was willing to give you something else. “My name—my real name, I mean… It’s Simon.”

You stared at him, wide eyed. You almost couldn’t believe that he told you, you hadn’t expected him to want you to know something like that. “Simon,” you repeated, watching as he nodded his head. “That’s a nice name. Simon. So… am I allowed to call you Simon now?”

Ghost looked past you at the wall for a brief moment, thinking. “Not on the field,” he stated, “But… when we’re back on base… sure. Yeah. Call me Simon.”

You shivered at his deep voice. Simon, Simon, Simon. You wanted to say it again and again. And he wanted to hear you say it. He would like his name a thousand times better if it was coming from your mouth.

“Simon—”

“Hey.”

“Sorry. Ghost,” you giggled.

Three stitches down. You kept working, quickly and efficiently. Ghost kept watching you, wondering why Price hadn’t brought you onto the team as a medic. Not that your sniping abilities weren’t needed and greatly appreciated, but Ghost selfishly thought about how from now on, if he got so much as a small scrape, he’d go to you for help. Soon enough, you were finishing the last throw on the fourth stitch. You moved onto the next one, lacing the thread through the needle to start again.

“Don’t know how to use half the shit in the first aid kit,” now it was Ghost’s turn to ramble, “Usually just slap a bandage on ’n hope for the best. I mean, I’m not stupid, I don’t leave my shit untouched to get infected or anything. I just… don’t really follow up on any of my doctor’s appointments. But I’ve made it alright so far.”

“You should let yourself be taken care of more often,” you said softly. Your face grew hot when you realized the way that could have sounded and you added, “When you get hurt like this. You don’t have to always put on a brave face and grit through the pain. You need to take care of yourself.”

Ghost scoffed almost instinctively, but his heart swelled at your concern for him. He admired you for being so caring, not just to him, but to everyone on the team. Despite not always showing it, he cared deeply about all of the other guys on 141, he would die for any of them. He didn’t have a family, but 141 was the closest he had to one. The way his team interacted with each other was important to him, and watching how you melded with everyone else over the past couple of months, he felt happy, content. Your kindness only intrigued him more; he wished that he could be the only recipient of your sweet words and attention.

“Well, I– I don’t usually trust anyone to patch me up,” he attempted at some sort of compliment. Your eyebrow raised and you looked up at him.

“Hmm. So… you trust me then?” You asked cautiously. You heard stories about how Ghost hardly trusted anyone, and your heart began to beat faster at the implication that you had somehow made it on the list of those he did.

“You could say that,” he said. He cursed himself in his mind for not knowing how to properly talk to you, how to make you feel cared about the way you made everyone else feel cared about.

“And what’s that supposed to mean exactly?” A smirk spread across your face.

“Fuck’s sake, just take the compliment, will ya?” Ghost practically grumbled, sounding like an annoyed child.

You let out a soft laugh. Ghost put the sound of your laugh into the back of his mind, for safekeeping. “That’s your way of giving me a compliment, huh?” You teased.

“M’not very good at it, am I?” He sighed into a small laugh.

“Just a bit rusty,” you tilted your head up at him, your faces somehow closer than you had remembered, “But you can get better with practice.”

“Practice, hm?”

“Uh-huh. You can feel free to practice your compliments and pick up lines on me anytime.” You were too shy to make eye contact with him after that; you began to focus extremely on his wound.

Ghost’s right eyebrow raised slightly, unable to properly register whether you were genuinely insinuating that you would enjoy it if he flirted with you. As if he even knew how to. Suddenly, he felt embarrassed that he had no idea what to say. He thought about Johnny, and how his downright stupid pick up lines he used on people at the bar usually actually worked. There was no way Johnny would let him hear the end of it if he approached him for help with flirting, but Ghost wondered who else he would want to confide in when they returned to base.

“Almost finished,” you announced, finishing another suture. The skin was carefully pulled back together, only needing one or two more stitches. “I am fairly confident that this will heal very quickly and very nicely. Well, granted that you go back to the infirmary and get yourself followed up on.” You raised your eyebrows at him expectantly.

“Do I have to go to the infirmary when we get back?” He complained. You laughed at the way he practically whined.

You looped the thread again with the needle driver and began the last suture. In a matter of moments, you’d knotted the thread three times over and secured the suture flat to the skin. You moved your head closer to inspect your work, nodding and looking up at him.

“Well, I’m done stitching you up. And yes, you do, because you need to make sure your wound doesn’t get infected,” you said, half sternly. Soap told you probably hundreds of stories about Ghost refusing to get proper medical help after returning from a mission, and your fleeting former life as an almost-nurse made you feel very strongly on the topic. “Please, after all I did to stitch you together, won’t you make sure that it heals alright?”

His heart swelled. As much as he tried to push down feelings like this, he knew that he’d do anything for you. And you asked so nicely. However, he had a negotiation in mind.

“Well… What if I get checked up on by you? When we get back to base? You know, instead of going to the infirmary?” He raised his eyebrow and watched the gears turn in your mind. He prayed that his message would come across properly: I’d rather see you. I trust you more.

“Don’t go getting too attached to your medic, now,” you fake tsk-ed at him, but you were smiling, too. Ghost laughed. Too late for that.

“You can give me a once over when we get back. Vouch for me so I don’t have to go deal with the other doctors,” he pushed.

“You’re very difficult, Ghost,” you tutted. “But… I’d rather be the one to make sure you’re alright. That way I can ensure you’re following the proper recovery routine.” You reached into your kit again and got out a bandage roll. You reached out for his arm again, beginning to wrap the bandage gauze around his arm.

“And what kind of recovery routine would you want me to follow?”

You clicked your tongue, thinking. “You have to let me eat dinner with you in your room. And then after, I can check your wound,” you decided. Luckily, the words coming out of your mouth were far from Go on a date with me, but it was certainly the closest you’d get. Ghost hardly ever ate dinner in the common area with the rest of the task force, you assumed mostly because eating would involve him having to pull his mask up. Remembering this fact, you quickly added, “I won’t even look at you while you eat. I just… thought maybe you’d like some company.”

He stopped himself from blurting out something inappropriate, a dumb teasing line about you just trying to make up an excuse to get into his bedroom. His usual confidence to say whatever dumb, crass joke he wanted disappeared with you so close to him. He was more nervous than anything to scare you away, to say something that would make you not want to be around him.

“I’d accept that,” he finally said. “And… you wouldn’t need to do that.” He could feel his heart pounding out of his chest. “You’re allowed to take a look at me while I’m eating.” He smirked as he saw your cheeks grow red.

“I— I mean, I didn’t mean I wanted to like, stare at you while you’re—” you tripped over your words, stopping to take a breath and collect your thoughts. Slowly, you opened your mouth again, “Well, I mean, I am curious… I guess…”

Ghost was smiling proudly under his mask, finding it incredibly endearing the way you admitted your curiosity. He always stuck to his secrecy behind the mask for the most part; he was sure that the other guys had seen his jawline and mouth from the times he ate or drank around them, but they never made too big of a deal (besides Soap, who would use the mask as a prime source for his teasing). More often than not, on base, he’d retreat to his room to eat simply to avoid any annoyances around lifting the mask up and back down over and over. But now, really thinking about it, he realized he wouldn’t mind at all if you saw him eating. Maybe, just maybe, he would enjoy your company for dinner on a daily basis. He wouldn’t jump to that conclusion just yet, but in the back of his mind, he already knew.

“I wouldn’t mind,” Ghost said, “I’d rather be able to look at you and talk to you while we eat.”

“So you’re taking my offer,” you beamed.

“That I am. Now let me look at you.”

The lacerations along your own arm were stinging and bleeding, but somehow the high of the lieutenant caring about you overrode that pain. Still, you weren’t going to pass up the opportunity to have Ghost dote on you, although you had a feeling he wouldn’t be as gentle as you were with him. Either way, you let him help you take your jacket off and you shuddered at the few moments his bare hand brushed against you. He placed his hands on either side of you, on your shoulders, turning you more towards him, closer to him. He looked at your arm.

“Look, we have matching wounds,” he said, raising his own arm up next to yours. You let out a small laugh, not expecting him to say something like that. It was sweet.

“We both have something to remember this day by.”

“You want to remember this?” He asked, as if he weren’t going to think about the way you gently stitched him up and took care of him for the rest of his life.

“Of course,” you replied, “We completed our mission, quite well, I might add, and I think we make a good team. Plus, you told me your name. So of course I want to remember this.”

Ghost blinked at you, trying to decipher any evidence of disingenuousness in your face, only to be met with the exact opposite. Your expression was soft and genuine. Your eyes shimmered for him. Ghost wasn’t used to hearing such nice, kind things towards himself, and you could tell he wasn’t used to it by the way he remained silent, not even coming up with a dry joke to change the subject. You wondered how many times you would have to compliment him before you could really get through to him.

“You’re staring, Zero,” Ghost’s deep voice brought you out of your thoughts.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, “Can’t help that you’re nice to look at.”

He rolled his eyes and shook his head, trying to ignore the way his cheeks were flushing again. His hands were slightly shaky as he took your arm, closer to him this time. He shifted his whole body so he was completely facing you, ready to patch you up.

You had only been grazed by the bullet, but it still hurt like hell. Your whole right arm was burning up with a searing pain, not the worst you’ve ever felt, but it definitely wasn’t comfortable. The skin on your arm wasn’t torn open the same way Ghost’s was, with the bullet embedding inside, but it was like the edge of the bullet tried to scoop into your skin like a shovel into dirt. It didn’t go through or below the skin, but it was deep enough that blood was trickling down your arm. You were so focused on taking care of Ghost that you had barely noticed it.

“Fuckin’ hell, Zero,” Ghost said, his eyes widening in concern from seeing your wound more clearly. “You’re lucky the bullet didn’t lodge in ya.”

He reached next to him and grabbed a wad of gauze, dampening it with some water and placing it over you. His large hand placed pressure on you to stop the bleeding. You tried not to think about his hand pushing against you in a different context. His hands were warm on you and you couldn’t help but shiver. You hoped he didn’t notice the goosebumps along your arm.

After a few minutes of applying pressure to your wound, Ghost lifted up the gauze, inspecting you.

“Looks like the blood mostly stopped,” he told you, putting the wad of gauze next to him on the ground. He took out his own alcohol wipes, holding them up first as if to warn you This might hurt. He held your arm with one hand and wiped the wound with the other. The alcohol stung but it didn’t matter. Ghost was taking care of you. “Hold still.”

As he sanitized your wound, Ghost would wince whenever he heard you suck in a breath or make a small, pained sound from the alcohol. He didn’t want to hurt you. He wanted to be gentle with you like you were with him. Sure, maybe he wasn’t very good at all that, but he’d like to try, for you. His fingers brushed against your skin as he ran the alcohol wipe over the scrapes a few times, sanitizing the area and wiping away the blood.

“Don’t have any antiseptic,” he mumbled.

“Wait, I do,” you speak up, taking out a small tube of antiseptic ointment from your kit. Handing it to him, he put some on his pointer and middle fingers, gently making contact with your skin. He patted the ointment into the wound and the skin around it, his expression deeply focused to make sure he wasn’t hurting you. He wiped the excess on a small square of gauze and looked at you, as if waiting for approval. You blinked at him, smiling sweetly, and he turned away, always nervous when you smile at him, to reach for the bandage roll.

“I, uh, used to have a dog. German Shepherd. He got his back paw caught in a chain fence once and I had to bandage his leg and everythin’... Guess that’s the closest I ever got to bein’ a medic,” Ghost chuckled softly, unraveling the bandage and holding the end of it in place over your arm, using his other hand to begin wrapping it around you.

“A dog, hm?” Now that piqued your interest. “I wouldn’t have guessed you’d be a dog person.”

He shook his head. “Not really. More of a cat person, actually.”

“You’re joking,” you gasped. You tried to imagine Ghost with a cat cuddled up on his lap or chest.

“Cats get a bad rep,” he said. “I like that they’re independent and do their own thing most of the time. But they’re still sweet, they’ll still rub against you when you pet them and curl up next to you on the couch. They’re more stand-offish and brooding than dogs, I guess. But what’s so bad about that?”

“Sounds like someone else I know,” you whispered. Ghost locked eyes with you, and you could tell that his eyebrows were raised. He wasn’t sure whether to be offended or not. You continued, “But don’t worry. I really like cats, too. Misunderstood creatures. And cute.” You smiled at him, hoping to God he understood that you were trying to flirt with him. It was hard to tell, but you assumed by the way he chuckled softly and moved even closer to you to continue patching you up that he got it.

He placed his hand on your arm and ripped the bandage, placing the rest of the roll back into his kit. He repositioned the ending of the bandage so that it stuck on top of itself, keeping the wrapping in place without any need for medical tape. When his hands left your arm, you had to hold yourself back from frowning, already missing the skin-to-skin contact.

“Well, I think tha’ll do ya good, a’least until we get back, yeah?” Ghost said, leaning back from you a bit. Still, you noticed that the way you were sitting, your legs were still touching.

“Thank you,” you placed your hand over the bandage, moving and flexing your arm to see how it felt.

Ghost got up from the ground and began putting his jacket and tactical vest back on. He walked a few steps across the room where he had leaned his rifle up against a dusty table. Rummaging through his vest for some ammo, he began reloading his gun and humming ever so softly to himself. You watched him, your cheeks tingling with warmth. As much as you wanted to get back to base, you also didn’t want to leave this moment. You doubted that anyone else had the privilege to see him like this. In Ghost’s world, watching him reloading his gun was probably the most domestic thing you would ever be able to watch him do. When he finished, he turned and looked at you, completely catching you staring. You saw slight motion under the mask—he had to be smiling. The thought made your heart race. But you cleared your throat and scrambled to your feet, turning around to pick up your jacket and tactical vest off of the ground. You zipped up your jacket, half turned away from Ghost, but feeling his eyes on you.

“Zero.” His gruff voice sent shivers down your spine. You turned around and met his gaze. Those hazel eyes.

“Yeah?”

“Glad you’re safe.”

Your heart raced. Ghost’s heart softened.

———

The flight back to the base landed in the early hours of the morning. The sun had barely started to rise, the sky a deep pinkish red as you and the rest of 141 walked back into the building. Gaz and Price had successfully breached the hatchery, clearing it out and finding evidence of tunnels underneath the lighthouse on the island. Laswell would talk to Shepherd and figure out a game plan, but at least for one night, you would be able to relax.

As soon as everyone reached back to the barracks, everyone scattered into their rooms to clean up, unpack, and get some shut eye. Despite it being early in the morning, everyone on 141 hadn’t slept for at least 24 hours. You took a quick shower and changed into something warm and comfy, falling asleep in your bed without any tossing and turning. You awoke later in the afternoon, around four o’clock, stomach grumbling. Your face lit up, remembering your arrangement with Ghost—Simon.

You put some shoes on and freshened yourself up in the mirror, suddenly feeling nervous and yet you were so excited. Walking into the common area, you opened one of the fridges and took out a pasta dish you had made the other day. You split the leftovers in half, putting it into two bowls and microwaving them. Humming to yourself, you realized that you were actually getting the thing you’d been wanting ever since you met him: true, one-on-one time with the brooding lieutenant. Since yesterday, your feelings towards him had only blossomed further, and from the way he had looked at you and leaned close to you, you had a little bit of hope that maybe he could feel the same. You felt like a giddy highschooler as you took the bowls out of the microwave and quickly grabbed some utensils from one of the drawers. When you spun around, you almost crashed into Price who was entering the kitchen area with Gaz.

“Oh, sorry, Captain! Didn’t see you there,” you apologized but swiftly moved past them, barely paying either of them any mind.

“Where’s she going in such a hurry?” Gaz asked, raising his eyebrow as you continued down the hall. Price gave him the same puzzled look back.

“Hey, Zero!” Price called. You spun around. “Where are you off to?”

“Oh, I’m just bringing some dinner to Simon’s room!” you lifted up your hands with the two bowls of food to show them. Price and Gaz nodded slowly, and you were clearly in a hurry because you hardly waited for either of them to reply before you turned back around.

You turned the corner at the end of the hall out of their view. Both men were still staring at where you were standing seconds before.

“I didn’t know he let people into his room,” Price said, grinning ear to ear.

Gaz stood frozen in place, “I… Did she just call him Simon?”

Price choked out in laughter.

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x you #simon riley #simon ghost riley #call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty #simon riley fic #mwii #my stuff

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madphantom · 9 months

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I love how earnestly pathetic China Sorrows is when it comes to having a crush. Girlie has zero communication skills. The guy broke up with her and the natural consequence for her was to murder him and his entire family but then he CAME BACK and she doomed herself to years and years of awkward interactions, so she got a literal self destruct button in case he gets confrontational. In the first scene in which she interacts with him in the series she tries to flirt with him and it doesn't work the slightest bit and this is apparently a regular occurrence. They have a big falling out and instead of making it up in some big dramatic way he just hits her up with a text like "hi hello I kinda hate you but you're useful, come back". She thinks she's going to die a dramatic death fighting side by side with him and he'll at least tell her he needs her and he DOES but he just needs her because she can help him save his best friend. She has wet dreams about a man 300 years after he broke up with her. The entire time there's thousands of other people of all genders throwing themselves at her feet. She's doing all this because of a man who has an entire room in his house dedicated to his hat collection and whose social skills consist of either calling people ugly or straight up threatening to shoot them because he's book smart but a dumb fuck in conversation. Truly the woman of all time.

#personal post #skulduggery pleasant #china sorrows

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venusxstars · 1 year

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𝐋𝐔𝐕 𝐌𝐄! 𝐋𝐔𝐕 𝐌𝐄! ⸻ sfw.

blue lock boys having a crush on you

( nagi seishiro & mikage reo )

keynotes ⸻ crush head-canons. fluff.

venus' note ⸻ this is how i think the blue lock boys would be like having a crush. i made it as realistic as possible based on their canon personalities.

nagi seishiro

based on nagi's personality and way of thinking, i think that even he himself wouldn't notice that he had actually started liking someone.

he just finds himself looking at you whenever you're around, just wordlessly and openly staring with that expressionless look. but on the other hand, his mind is in a slight buzz. he's wondering to himself as to why he was looking at you.

sometimes when he'd be playing games, his thoughts would suddenly just lead back to you. the way you looked today, or the way you acted, or the way you spoke and what you said. he'd think about that and he's suddenly groaning to himself about how it's so annoying that you're in his head. ( then he's silently groaning again when he realizes that he's died in the game he's playing )

he consults reo about this and his friend makes him realize that he likes you. and with this realization, thoughts of you become even more rampant and he wishes that he never even realized it in the first place. it's troublesome and it seems insincere if he's suddenly doing something so out of the ordinary for him.

after thinking about it so much, it gets troublesome for him to the point that he just talks to you out of nowhere and so randomly just to try and settle down his thoughts. he tries to be casual.

it's awkward between the two of you if you're introverted but he makes the effort to ask questions because he wants to get you out of his head as soon as possible. this plan back-fires when he thinks about the conversation between the two of you even after days have past since the event took place. he's also subconsciously berating himself for having zero social skills to lead the conversation and thought that the way he went about it was cringey.

if you're extroverted, he finds himself listening to whatever you have to say. his mind strangely doesn't drift off or his eyes don't droop sleepily unlike when he's listening to other people talk. he doesn't ask much questions; just a quiet "mhm" or "and then?" from time to time to let you know that he's listening. doesn't laugh or likely wouldn't understand if you made a joke, so it gets awkward. ( but days after, as he realizes that you actually made a joke, he's subconsciously berating himself for being slow and "cringey" )

he'd ask for advice from reo, but he probably wouldn't even try to do whatever reo told him to do. he's simulating the techniques that reo told him and he thinks that it'd be cringey for him to do. he can't even imagine himself flirting without wrinkling his face in disgust.

he'd probably confess to you out of nowhere. when he thinks that his mind's going to burst from thinking of you, you'll find him suddenly blurting out that he likes you. you could be entering the washroom that time, or drinking water, or opening the door. then he'll tell you that it was troublesome to try and keep it hidden while also trying to get close with you.

he sucks at dealing with feelings, but hey, it's part of his charm.

mikage reo

he's a confident guy. he's aware of the things that he has—money, power, academic prowess, and interpersonal skills—and he's not afraid to use it especially getting his crush to like him back.

based on his personality, i think that when he likes someone, he'd view it as some sort of challenge. he's making it his goal to make you fall for him just as much as he's fallen for you. he's using his money to buy you gifts that he knows you like. he's sweet-talking you; praising you even for the smallest achievements.

i wouldn't say that he thinks about you so much. he's much more emotionally-intelligent compared to nagi, so i'd say that you wouldn't be the center of his world. he likes you a lot, but he also pays attention to his own goals as well. he knows how to manage the thoughts of having a crush, basically.

if you're introverted, he'd be more careful in approaching you. he's making sure to take the lead in conversations if you don't know what to say. he cracks jokes here and there to get you to relax and he's bringing up topics that he knows you have an interest in.

if you're extroverted, he's going along with your vibe since he's quite extroverted himself. he listens to whatever stories you have to say and he's adding comments here and there based on what you're telling him.

i bet he talks about his crush on you to nagi. nagi's just humming mindlessly here and there, pretending to listen to reo while he's playing games, while reo's telling him about the conversation he had with you earlier in complete detail.

he has a plan for making you fall for him and it's pretty simple: be your special friend that you can rely on even with the toughest things. relationships thrive in trust and reo abides by this, so he firstly would want to be your closest friend more than anything.

once you're friends, he would flirt with you sometimes. he'd notice even the slightest shifts in styles that you have and he's complimenting you for it. he's basically sending you subtle romantic signals that he thinks will have your heart and head in a buzz.

he'd probably consult romance books. he'd nitpick at the scenes that he thinks are subtle and romantic enough but also not cringey. he'd be placing emphasis on pulling you towards the safer side of the sidewalk, or he's holding your arm when you're crossing the street together, or he's placing his palm on the edge of the table in case you're picking up something on the floor that you dropped.

he's very careful about when he'll be confessing. once he sees concrete signs of you liking him back, then that's the time he'd be confessing.

ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* hi, darlings! any requests on who i should do next?

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miguel-owhora · 6 months

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miguel has zero game. he is one of the most dense, awkward, ??? man ever. you flirt with him and it'll go over his head, or he'll point out the flaws in someone's shitty pickup line and completely miss the memo. i imagine jess n peter have tried to set him up, keyword try, as in, them pushing people to flirt with miguel. but miguel either 1. doesnt care at all, 2. he misses the memo, or 3. he's too scary.

and then the biggest plot twist comes when someone, idk who, is all like you're gonna be single forever or whatever, n miguel just goes ...? he gives them the flattest look ever, eyebrow raised, and quite literally says 'i have a husband'

and miguel has zero rizz, zero flirting skills, he's fucking dense when it comes to people crushing on him - but he managed to pull you. usually it's the other way around, with people pulling miguel, but nah, not with you. miguel's the one that bagged you and goes so warm when he sees the matching wedding band on your finger.

you probably met miguel during college in one of your classes, and he probably was crushing on you big time. and he won't flirt... not, normally at least. you get paired together and you realize he's hot and nerdy, and it makes your heart swell affectionately.

you notice a poster in his dormroom and ask him about it, and he'll infodump on it. probably tries to quote flirt unquote w you by showing off his intelligence.... and it works.

that and he's also a complete sweetie to you. a little sarcastic, a little sassy, a little snarky, but he's sweet n lets you inside his walls.

homeboy gets so flustered when you decide to flirt w him... which by now you have to be blunt with it. so whenever he rolls out of bed, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers, you'll watch him n be like 'whete you goin' handsome?' or some variation of the pet name, and he'll fold

kiss him on his neck and he'll start sweating n smiling, rub his shoulders or give him a massage and he'll melt. scratch his scalp n he'll literally wiggle onto your lap so you're forced to keeping scratching it

point is, he's downbad for you n utterly in love, n soon the entire spider society knows this n make fun of him for it. but just bc he's sweet w you does not mean he's sweet w everyone else n quickly reminds them of this, which quickly shuts them up

#I LOVE MIGUEL O'HARA !!!!!#MY WIFE FR

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whinesandwhimpers · 8 months

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rodolfo parra x f!reader headcanons (sfw & nsfw)

SFW

he loves to cook!! esp for u, loves when u praise his cooking and tells him how the meal he made tastes, hes deff cocky about his cooking tho like he knows hes good but hearing u say it!!

honestly u giving him any type of compliment about anything about him not just his cooking skills is like music to his ears

he is a romantic because i said so and we know its true anyway

gives u flowers, not just on the first date

kisses ur forehead, wrist, palm, everywhere, every fucking inch of u

big on physical touch with u

actually listens to what u tell him!! and remembers!! remembers what u like, dislike, if u have been wanting something for a while he'll surprise u with it before u can get it urself

breakfast in bed providing typa guy, doesnt even have to be a special day

a perfect fucking gentlemen. boundaries? respected. hand? held. home? safely. (hotel trivago)

if a bad guy kidnaps/hurts u, he is seeing red and the bad guy is not walking outta there alive, might even torture him a lil if rudys got time?? no one hurts his girl

will absolutely teach u spanish if u dont know it, gets so happy once u start understanding whatever he says in spanish to/around u, when u respond in spanish hes beaming :)

if hes jealous of someone talking/flirting to u he'll silently watch, knowing u can handle it/trusting u, until he spots any discomfort coming from u then hes coming over, putting an arm around ur waist, making it known to this person that ur his and they have zero fucking chance with u

when he proposes, he gets Alejandro's help, makes it perfect, pulls together all your fav things, fav flowers, fav drinks, fav food - its a priv dinner, not at some fancy restaurant, because he wants it to be personal - fav ring, he either already knows what u wanted or he got Alejandro to pretend he needed ur opinions and outright asked u which one ur fav is before he reported that info back to rudy

NSFW

hes not vanilla because i said so

he'd deff be down to try whatever u wanna try, he'd make sure ur never in pain or discomfort tho

switch

soft dom, wouldnt want to see u in pain or degrade u, ur his whole fucking life, his heart, his sun and moon, he is cherishing u and worshipping the ground u walk on

"look at you, mi amor, taking me so well"

"have i told you how beautiful you look lately?" he asks, his hand on your cheek.

you giggle, smiling softly at him and leaning into his hand, "you tell me at least once a day, my love."

"hm, not nearly enough then, hermosa." he replies, leaning in to kiss you.

orgasm denial tho if ur bratty, asking "are you gonna be a good girl for me, amor?"

...or edging until ur a pathetic blubbering mess pleading with him that u will be good and to let u cum - rare tho because ur normally such a good girl for ur sweet rudy and he hates seeing u cry no matter the situation - afterwards he's taking care of u, kissing any tears off ur face, spooning u

unintentionally leaves bruises on ur hips from gripping u too tightly, he just gets carried away with how good it feels holding on and thrusting into u :(

kisses any bruises the next morning, mumbling apologies between each kiss

likes leaving hickeys on u tho and spotting them later peaking over ur shirt, or the fully obvious ones that everyone can see, loves knowing everyone knows ur taken, ur his

his fav positions are ones where he can see ur face, ur eyes, kiss ur lips, its not just fucking to him, its intimacy, its special, its love

likes cockwarming because it means he gets to be physically close with u, u cradled against him, ur arms wrapped around him - while he's working, he has a strong will so if u shift a lil on his cock he wont let it bother him, "stay still, amor, im not finished with this paperwork", but it will bother u and when u get impatient and needy and start begging in his ear he'll take a break from his work to make u cum

hes the wide eyed, pouty, pathetic, whimpering and begging type mess of a sub, he just wants u so badly :( wants to please u, wants to cum in u :(

if u haven't cum before him he'll beg u to let him help u

if hes tied up he will be pulling at those bonds trying to get free just to touch u

if u tell him "no touching" he'll try so hard to be good but then his will snaps at a particular noise u make or how u work urself on his cock and he WILL desperately beg u whining out a "por favor, i want to touch you, mi vida"

his fucking wide doe eyes looking up at u (i cant-), if ur strong enough to resist that look good 4 u

dom or sub his focus is on u and making u feel good

king of aftercare ofc, hes bringing u some water, cleaning u up, cuddling u, etc, whatever! u! need! after the first few times hes got u figured out and doesnt even need to ask anymore

#rudy parra x reader #rodolfo parra x reader #rodolfo parra headcanons #wrote w the idea of a gf in mind but like u can ignore the girl mentions idk #ive never wrote headcanons before is that obvious LOL #my writing

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wonyrs · 8 months

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𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐃 ꨄ

pairing maknae line x fem reader genre fluff , established relationship warnings cursing , food mentions, english isnt my first language

? school life w/ ur enha bf

kim sunoo

somehow u two manage to make the uniforms a tad cuter than anyone else

never getting ur work done in any class fs (but u still pass? its the dawg in u) u two sit in the back of the room and have a whole station just for cute instagram posts

"aww babe u look so pretty today" "really? i should say that to u, love :3" cue the deadpanning from anyone in a mile radius of u

LITERAL GODS OF PHYSICAL TOUCH AND EVERYONE HATES IT. on the way to lunch? holding hands. dodgeball in pe? holding on to each other like ur lives depend on it. the weather a little chilly? "let me warm u up schnookums :>"

half of ur friendgroup think of u two as an ideal couple while the other half is done w ur shit (dw they love u)

when exams are coming up, u two hang out at each others houses to help each other with whatever u guys are struggling with

he has full faith in u passing the exams but still offers to calm u down by singing a song, giving u a massage, ordering ur favourite takeout, or anything that eases ur nerves :(

"don't be scared, y/n. ure the smartest girl i know, so theres absolutely zero chances of u failing this test, believe me!"

yang jungwon

ur boyfriend being a former class president and u being the current class president is either a blessing or karma for something u did in ur past life

"oh my gosh there's so many papers to send off, wonnie can you help me?" "nope, i stopped doing this type of work 3 years ago" before getting up and carrying all the stacks himself

when u mess up during a speech, be prepared for endless teasing while being reassured that u still deserve a spot in the council (thank u for fake tears and ur bf's soft heart)

if u have to stay after school to work on council duties, jungwon stays behind w u and uses the excuse that he needs help on his hw to be by ur side

he still takes the chance to lovingly bully ur ass

"u know, if u just refused the offer of being class prez we could be in my room rn watching the mlb movie" "babe be quiet before i actually lose it and start crying"

however, the longer he's with u, the more concerned he gets when he realizes that u leave school (alone) around 7 pm when the sky is getting dark and all sorts of creeps are walking around

he knows ure capable of protecting urself but his 'spiderman' bf instincts tell him to walk u home everyday no matter how late it is and tune out the fact that he'll get spanked by his mama for returning so late at night

"u forgot something, love. i need 10 kisses minimum for walking u this late, uberjungwon needs his payment!"

nishimura riki

fully believing in the 'hates almost everyone at school but has a soft spot for u' + the rest of enha trope for u two

yes he acts nonchalant to anyone's attempts at flirting w him but the moment u compliment his skills in soccer bro startings twirling his hair and encourages u to say more

"ki u did so good! ure like blue lock fr" "really? i did so good guarding right? and making that goal? and dribbling? right?" yappa yappa yapping /j

during free period, he drags u to the court and has u play a 1v1 with him

uses the excuse of 'fixing ur form' to get as close to u as possible and hes not ashamed of it

"yeah so u just position ur arm right here and-" "ok but can u loosen ur grip on my hips please, focus on the training babe " "shhhh"

OMFG i imagine him asking u out after winning a really important game with enha cheering him on at the back (big bros)

it'll be when u congratulate the team outside of the locker rooms when he just grabs u by the shoulders and professes a whole shakespeare typa love confession

his fangirls drop down sobbing the next day when u two walk in holding hands and he's carrying ur bag for u with the dopiest smile on his face

@ wonyrs 2023

NOTE ✃ me when i dissappear for a month after my first post, come back with the trashiest post ever and a new layout LESGOOO anyways i hope u guys enjoy this and REMEMBER my requests are open so feel free to ask anything :>

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dianawinchester03 · 1 month

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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.

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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!🫶

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