#did I just draw mind in a dress? yes. anyways.

[purpleleafsyt]

🪼🪼

[captainmalewriter]

Miss Pigwin's Journal

Among the myriad of stereotypes surrounding gay men, Ivan never really fit into any of them. He was never the flamboyant queen nor the circuit party gay. Ivan always considered himself to be more of a lone wolf type. Although many would find the life of a social hermit boring and exhausting, Ivan truly didn’t mind his quiet, solitary lifestyle. Just class, work, gym, rinse and repeat. It was a simple routine, but it was one that Ivan loved. 

One evening, after his engineering classes, Ivan made a quick pit stop at the local store before heading back to his apartment. He needed to buy a new journal after he had filled out the last page the night before. Journaling was a hobby that Ivan took very seriously. For the past five or so years, Ivan would take 10 minutes every night to write his complete, unfiltered thoughts in his journal before bed. It was a therapeutic practice for Ivan, and he did not plan to stop anytime soon. 

Ivan was hoping to find a stylish yet relatively cheap journal but was quickly met with disappointment instead as he made his way down the stationary aisle. The store had completely run out of notebooks! A nearby employee told Ivan that the overnight crew would restock the store and that he should return the next day, but he was too determined to give up after having gone through the trouble of walking to the store. He scoured the store until he finally found one misplaced notebook, although its gaudy design left much to be desired…

It was a bright pink journal with glimmering sequins and came with a large bundle of pink ribbon. The journal had an ugly cartoon drawing of a pig in a princess dress along with her name ‘Miss Pigwin’ written in glitter across the top of the cover page. Ivan pulled out his phone and did a quick internet search to find out more about the Miss Pigwin notebook. Apparently, it was limited edition merchandise for some obscure children’s cartoon that never made it past 5 episodes. The idea behind Miss Pigwin was that kids could better understand their pets by helping them communicate with them. Kids were tie a piece of ribbon around an animal, and with Miss Pigwin's help, they would become their best friends. At least that was what the old advertisements promised anyway.

Obviously, the designers meant it to be used for pets like dogs and cats, so it was no wonder the pink journal was quickly discontinued after kids tried to tie ribbons around dangerous, wild animals instead. All in all, it was just cheap scraps of overly decorated paper for imaginative little girls. 

Ivan didn’t care much for the girly pink notebook. However, it was still a notebook at the end of the day, and the $5 price tag was too enticing to give up. He bought it and promptly returned to his apartment where his roommate Jesse was hosting a few of his frat friends over for beer pong. 

Ivan and Jesse were not friends but they were civil enough as roommates. Jesse wasn’t officially a part of a frat yet, but he already had the wild personality of a frat brother anyway. Jesse’s constant partying and drinking was annoying to Ivan, so he often made himself scarce—  as he did that night. He went about his usual nighttime routine and thankfully, by the time he sat down at his desk to journal, all of Jesse’s guests were gone. But just before he could touch pen to paper, Jesse came stumbling into the room.

“Hey, bro, you got any ribbon or string by any chance?” Jesse asked. Ivan hesitated saying yes right away.

“Maybe, what for?” 

“There’s this stupid Tiktok trend going on right now. Dudes are tying a piece of ribbon around their bicep and flexing until it breaks. The bros are saying I need to do every trend I see if I wanna continue rushing.”

“Cool, makes sense. Here, you can have it all. I don’t need it.”

Ivan took the bundle of ribbon that came with the Miss Pigwin journal and helped Jesse tie a piece around his bicep. Although Ivan did not like Jesse in that way, he couldn’t help but feel a little bit excited as he wrapped the ribbon around his straight roommate’s muscular arm. It was probably the only time he’d be that close to Jesse, so he relished in the moment as much as he could. Once it was tied, Jesse thanked him and left the room to record his Tiktok. Meanwhile, Ivan returned to his journal and began writing. 

March 12th - I am soo fucking h*rny. Sometimes, I wish my roommate would give in to his secret desires and just makeout with me already. 

Just as Ivan finished writing the last letter, a terrifying scream coming from the living room interrupted his journaling session. He quickly ran out with the pink journal in hand and saw Jesse straining himself to break the ribbon. No matter how hard he flexed, the pink ribbon stayed firmly wrapped around his bicep.

Although Ivan was worried about the pink ribbon constricting Jesse's arm, he couldn't help but stare at the massive bulge in his roommate's gray sweatpants. It was huge! Was Jesse hard? Ivan always had a feeling that his straight roommate was packing some serious heat downstairs, but he would've never guessed he'd be that big and thick! Just seeing his bulge was enough to make Ivan's jaw drop!

"Dude is this ribbon made out of fucking titanium or some shit! Where the fuck did you even get this!?" Jesse yelled out in anguish. It was enough to bring Ivan back down to Earth.

"I don't know! It came free with this weird notebook I found."

"Whatever!! Just go get the scissors! This shit's way too tight, my arm's starting to go numb!"

"Right! Hang on, I'll be right back!"

Uh oh!!

Just as Ivan turned around to go get the scissors, a sudden high-pitched voice made him stop dead in his tracks. It was a girl's voice, and it was coming from the notebook in his hands. Ivan looked down and froze from what he saw. The cartoon princess pig had come to life!

Uh oh!! It looks like our new friend isn't being a very good listener! Let's play some music to help clear his mind!

Miss Pigwin began singing a melody while soft piano music played. The music had no effect on Ivan, but it did on Jesse. Jesse suddenly stopped fighting and just laid flat on the floor. Within seconds, he had gone from a pissed off jock trying to rip the ribbon off his arm to eerily calm and relaxed. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and exhaled heavily. Jesse had a dazed look in his eyes once he opened them. He had a dull, almost sleepy-like expression plastered on his face too. It was like he was sedated by simply listening to Miss Pigwin's song! Only once Jesse was fully relaxed did Miss Pigwin finally stop the music.

Yayyy!! No more distracting thoughts! Now what did our best friend tell us?

Ivan watched in awe as Jesse got up from the ground while massaging his protruding bulge. His movements were almost mechanical, like a mindless robot following orders. He then began walking towards Ivan while reciting what Ivan had written inside the Miss Pigwin journal.

"I'm soo h*rny... I just wanna make out with my roommate. I'm soo h*rny... I just wanna make out with my roommate. I'm soo h*rny... I just wanna make out with my roommate."

It was incredible. Despite having never read it, Jesse kept repeating what Ivan had written over and over like a personal mantra!

Once Jesse closed the gap between them, Ivan got a good look how dilated his pupils were. It was quite the sight to see, though Jesse didn't give Ivan any time to react. Instead, he quickly joined his lips with Ivan's and kissed him roughly. Ivan was caught off guard by the surprise kiss but quickly matched Jesse's energy as the two kissed like it was their last night being alive. Ivan could hardly believe it. He had gone from merely tolerating his roommate's existence to making out with him in the same night! He felt himself light up with joy and pleasure as Jesse's hairy chest pressed against his with every kiss.

They continued at it for a while, locking lips until they gradually moved towards the couch. From there, they both discarded any remaining clothes they had on. Ivan hopped into Jesse's strong arms and went in for another deep kiss. He was shuddering with anticipation as he felt Jesse's rock hard boner tap against his butt. Luckily for him, it didn't take them much longer until they decided to get into position. Ivan spit onto Jesse's cock to lube it up, then guided it into his hole. A deep, sensual moan escaped his mouth as Jesse slowly thrusted his hips into him. Inch by inch, his dick disappeared into his ass. The room then filled with the sounds of men grunting and heavy, cum-filled balls clapping against Ivan's cheeks. Ivan was in heaven, while Jesse was in a trance with only one thought in his mind. Give into his desires, and makeout with his roommate.

Ivan woke up the next morning feeling like a brand new man after the amazing pounding he had received from Jesse. To say he was in a state of bliss would be a massive understatement! Even just remembering the feeling of Jesse's massive cock inside of him was enough to make Ivan smile with delight. But his grin quickly faded when he reached out for the Miss Pigwin journal and found it wasn't where he had left it before falling asleep. Even worse, he found a piece of pink ribbon had been tied around his wrist while he was sleeping.

"No... Nononono NOO!!"

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty! Looking for something?"

To Ivan's horror, Jesse was holding the Miss Pigwin journal and he looked furious! Although, despite the present danger, Ivan couldn't help but notice that Jesse still had the same ribbon tied around his bicep.

"Hey man... Let's put down the journal, and have a civilized conversation between adults. I promise it's not what it looks like, just let me ex-"

"Nahh FUCK that. I'm glad I woke up just before you did, otherwise I would've never found out what the fuck you did to me with this weird journal. You always gave me weird vibes but this? I... I don't even know where to start I'm so MAD!"

Jesse slammed a fist against the wall, startling Ivan. He then let out a maniacal chuckle as he pulled out a pen and opened the journal.

"Alright, Ivan, you wanna fuck up my mind so badly? Two can play at that game!"

Loud scribbling filled the room. Once he finished, Jesse read out loud what he wrote.

"Ivan's too serious for his own good. He needs to lighten up and join my frat so we can become best bros forever!!"

"...That's stupid. I'm not gonna do that."

"Are you sure?"

Uh oh!!

"I think Miss Pigwin might disagree with-"

Ivan smacked the book out of Jesse's hands, catching him off guard. The journal landed against the wall with a loud thud. Ivan wasted no time making a break for the journal. He bought himself a few seconds by smacking it away from Jesse. Those few seconds were all he needed to open the journal to a new page and write something down. In the heat of the moment, he could only think of one thing to write.

"Jesse's gay 4 me!"

"YOU FUCKER! ERASE THAT SHIT RIGHT NOW!!"

Jesse grabbed the journal but Ivan had a tight grip on it. The two slammed into the nearby walls and furniture as they tried to wrestle it out of the other's hands. The Miss Pigwin journal was getting torn and crumpled up in the crossfire of their fight, but that didn't stop the princess from carrying out her sole purpose.

It looks- New friend- Good listener! Let's- Some music- clear his mind!

Miss Pigwin began singing her soothing song, forcing both men into a hypnotic trance as they listened. They both fell to the ground screaming as the pink ribbons grew tighter around their bodies. They tried plugging their ears with their fingers, but it was already too late. The second they heard the first few notes of her song, Miss Pigwin was already deep within subconscious- ready to broadcast whatever was written in the journal directly into their brains. However, because the journal had gotten destroyed during the fight, Miss Pigwin's subliminal messaging turned out to be incredibly potent than usual.

Ivan fell back against the ground in a daze. He couldn't believe how discombobulated he was. It was like he was trapped underwater as he felt his mind beginning to clear of any and all thoughts. Ivan let out a heavy sigh as a powerful, cool calm filled his body. Soon enough, the only thing he could think about was how badly he wanted to become a frat bro just like Jesse. Ivan repeated his new life mantra to himself as his mind became hyper focused on only one goal.

"I need to lighten up... I need to join a frat... I need to become best bros with Jesse..."

A lot of his engineering knowledge got wiped away from his mind to make room for his new personality. Mathematics and physics were replaced with workout regimes and a strong, itching need to drink and get laid. The partying lifestyle of the frat bro that once repulsed Ivan became as normal as breathing to the former homebody gay man. Ivan tried resisting against Miss Pigwin's conditioning. He tried reminding himself how much he loved a quiet night at home by himself. He tried recalling how much he hated loud, obnoxious men who did nothing but party and drink all night. But everytime he tried fighting against it, the little voice repeating his mantra grew louder and louder until all opposition was completely stamped out. Ivan had been reborn.

As he rose from the ground with an altered conscience and personality, the only thing on Ivan's mind was how to maximize his gains the next time he hit the gym. After all, how could he even dare to show his face around his frat brothers if he couldn't keep up with them in terms of bodybuilding?

Meanwhile, Jesse laid out sprawled on the ground as a calm stupor washed over his aggravated mind. Soon enough, his mind became a quiet place where only one thought remained.

"I'm gay for Ivan... I'm gay for Ivan... I'm gay... For Ivan..."

Jesse repeated the same sentence to himself until the words no longer felt foreign leaving his mouth. Soon enough, saying he was gay for Ivan felt as natural as saying his name. His desires to sleep with women melted away from his subconscious everytime he recited his new mantra.

Like Ivan, Jesse tried fighting against it. He tried remembering the taste and feel of a woman's touch, but it was no use against Miss Pigwin's powerful conditioning. His memories of being with women were quickly fading. In their place, a deep, profound love for his roommate-turned-loved began to take hold. Within minutes, Jesse wanted nothing more in life than to stand by his boyfriend's side and make sure he felt loved.

Once Ivan and Jesse woke up to their new personalities, Miss Pigwin finished her song, never to be heard from again due to the journal being in tatters. Jesse woke up with a headache and with a grinning Ivan by his side.

"Good morning my handsome boyfriend, how'd you sleep?"

"Amazing because I slept with you, my love." Jesse joined his lips against Ivan's. The two shared a deep kiss filled with passion, ending with a loud smack when they finally pulled apart.

"You ready for today? I can't wait to start the rushing process, then we can join together!" Ivan flashed a wide smile. Jesse wrapped his hands around Ivan's neck.

"The frat can wait till later. Right now, I want you all to myself."

He pulled Ivan in for another kiss. The two men then proceeded to fuck all morning, completely unaware of the strange circumstances that led them to that point. All thanks to a little princess pig on the cover of a bright pink notebook.

[lxkeee]

Hi, could I request a Lucifer morningstar x darkness demon overlord reader? She lurks in the shadows like a boogeyman, she acts like morticia adams from the adams family, how would he meet or act around the gothic queen👁👁✨

LUCIFER X OVERLORD! FEM! READER

Part two

Lucifer was just wandering around hell, unknowingly entering a territory of an overlord.

He doesn't know okay? It's just a forest of dead wilted trees with ominous aura.

His first instinct is to investigate.

This is his first time coming here, he only discovered this area after flying by to return to the palace.

Lucifer was walking around the dense forest, with his guard up.

The forest was quiet. A little too quiet.

He isn't afraid, unfortunately. He knows he can kill any demon who would try to mess with him.

Crack. A twig snapped

His head whipped to the direction of the noise, “Who goes there? Show yourself!” he threatens, wings in full display.

Shadows moving around him and finally stopping in front of him, morphing into a figure.

Lucifer expected a lot of things, but this.

A very tall and gorgeous woman, large deer antlers on her head. Sultry eyes and a smirk on her face.

Oh fuck, she's beautiful. Dangerous. He can sense the power she has.

“Good evening your highness, I didn't expect to see you here wandering around my home.” the woman says with a chuckle, making the man become a little flustered.

“Your home...?” he asked hesitantly and the woman nodded.

“Yes, this is my home or rather my territory. My home is somewhere around here. I just sensed a presence around these grounds and decided to check. I didn't expect to see the king of hell to be here.”

“M-my apologies, my lady. I simply didn't know.” he stammers a bit. Ah, calm yourself Lucifer. You're more powerful so you shouldn't be intimidated, he says to himself internally.

“It is alright, if you don't mind. Do you want to join me for a cup of tea? I just so happen to have finished brewing some.”

Lucifer is cautious around sinners, especially her. He doesn't know why his heart is palpitating this much. The best reason he got is fear loud incorrect buzzer noise

“I don't want to intrud—”

“Nonsense! You're not intruding.”

“But—”

“Do not fret, I am not going to hurt you. I should be the scared one as you are much more powerful than me. I am sure you can obliterate my existence with a flick of your finger.” the woman laughs softly, a kind of laugh that reminds him of the books he's read. The kind of laugh that draws you in.

“How about this, how about we get acquainted with each other? So that you'll be more comfortable?”

Lucifer's eyes narrowed, “Why are you so insistent?”

“Well, I just love making friends and you my dear seem to be an interesting character that I don't mind befriending.”

Lucifer rolls his eyes but eventually nodded, “Fine, My name is Lucifer Morningstar.”

“Wonderful, then... It's a pleasure to meet you Mr. Lucifer, my name is [y/n]” She says before gently holding his hand and placing a small kiss on his knuckles.

With a smirk on her face as her eyes looked at him as she did so.

Lucifer's cheeks reddened, quickly snatching his hand away from the demoness.

“So, about that tea?”

Lucifer is beginning to see a pattern.

A type even.

It's been a few months since he's met the deer demoness.

Surprisingly he managed to get along with her, despite her... Rather questionable actions.

He often visits her mansion at the middle of the forest where he met her or the other way around.

She often surprises him by popping out of the shadows with her presence concealed.

She's playful, mysterious, dangerous, beautiful.

And tall.

He likes his women tall okay?

And he likes them a little deranged.

Anyways.

She keeps teasing him.

Just like the other day, he came to visit at the wrong time and she forced him to help her get dressed.

It was inappropriate! She only asked him to zip the zipper of her dress.

Poor guy was blushing.

She didn't make fun of his obsession with rubber ducks.

She even made ducks out of shadows and made it swim around his room and of course, he made one too with his powers.

The shadows and gold dust ducks swimming around the room and in the air.

It was... Cute...

Lucifer has gotten to know the woman better too, he has gotten the chance to see many sides of her.

Lucifer isn't stupid, he can tell he's developing feelings for her.

He's afraid, he's afraid of getting hurt again or hurting her.

He has issues he needed to fix first.

Though, he is slightly a flustered mess around the woman.

Can you blame him? She calls him endearing nicknames! She calls him sweetheart and it just makes his heart flutter.

He is cautious around her not because he's afraid of her but because he fears his feelings for her would accidentally be known.

And she just appears out of nowhere!

It took awhile for him to sort his emotions and he thinks he is finally ready to confess.

But first, Lucifer needs to find hints if she feels the same way.

“Thanks for the coffee, [y/n]. It tastes amazing as always.” Lucifer says, admiring the duck shaped cream that is floating on his coffee.

“It is a pleasure, sweetheart. Drink to your heart's content. I know you've been stressed lately.” She says with a gentle voice.

“I have a question.” he started, already planning a discreet way to ask her.

“Hmm? Go ahead.”

“What if let's say... You have a close friend and you've only known him for a couple of months but they fell in love with you and now they're planning to confess to you? Would you date him?”

Don't mind him guys, he's trying his best.

[y/n] tilts her head slightly, confused before giggling.

She's not stupid but she kinda wants to tease him.

“Depending on who this friend is.”

“Just answer.” he deadpans.

“Yes, would you confess though?” she asked as she leans forward to reach him across the table, holding his chin. Lips just a few inches away from each other.

Lucifer.exe has stopped working.

“Y-yes...” he stammers, beginning to feel shy as his cheeks heat up.

“Do you want a kiss?” she asked teasingly.

“Please...?”

“Good boy.” she says before finally pressing her lips against his.

It was the most addicting kiss he ever experienced.

“I like you.”

“I like me too.”

“[y/n]!”

“I am just joking, I like you too.”

[blimpintime]

a jar of wind part one

Wynnie Lara is a fairy that was saved from a jar from Amarantha's reign of terror, but is soon figuring out that her time of peace is coming to a end.

warnings: angst, azriel sucks :p and unedited

word count: 1.4k

eventual Eris x OC

“Rhys! You will never believe what I managed to do with my-” I bursted into the kitchen with a warm glow, my green dress flowing around me and headed towards where he was sitting with a cup of tea.

“Wynn, I have been up with Nyx for the past three nights and days with him teething. I would love some silence. Please.” He said with a low voice and eyes closed in annoyance. 

“Oh! Right, yes. Sorry.” I wince, I twirl my finger and use the wind to brush through the mellow sounding wind chimes I have placed around the River House. 

The tension seemed to leave his body, and I placed a sisterly kiss on the top of his head, my ginger bobbed hair layering over his black hair. In doing so I managed to remove the growing headache from him and take it on for myself.

“I didn’t ask you to do that, Wynn.” He said softly.

“I know, but that’s what family is for Rhys.” I respond with a light touch on his shoulder and whisper words of encouragement as I leave. 

As I walked out of the River House where the sun is setting, I ran into Azriel and Cassian. I smile and my subtle pink glow brightens.

“Hello you two!” I say with a wave and notice the grimm look on their body language and my face falls and my glow dims. “What happened, who's hurt?” 

Cassian winces and Azriel gives me a sharp look, “Stay out of it Wynn. You do enough damage as is.” 

I flinch back and the wind around me goes cold, “What is that supposed to mean?” 

He walks closer to me and leans over to get in my face, “It means that whatever magical experiment you tried this time back fired and hurt Elain.”

“What are you talking about?” I whisper back. My mind reels trying to remember if I left a magic trial unattended in the open, but I draw a blank. Unless… 

“She snuck into my cottage?” I question brows furrowing. There was only one trial I left at my house and that was my attempt of getting my wind to play instruments on its own, but wind is finicky and if interrupted incorrectly can cause a spiral of sharp and messy wind.

“Snuck? Wynn, you let everyone into your home all the time, there was no reason to lock your doors.” Cassian responded. I go hot with anger. 

“So just because I host all the time means my house is fair game? There are wards around it for a reason when I am not home. If that is your logic here then allow me to go into your guys home whenever I feel and do what I please.” I snap back.

“You’re being unreasonable Wynn.” Azriel says while rolling his eyes. “It was just Elain. She is harmless.” 

“I do not care who it was Azriel, it is my home. What did she need from me anyway? I just saw her this morning.” I ask him and he storms by me to go inside the house. Cassian and I follow him.

“Rhysand!” Azriel yells. Rhys walks out of the kitchen looking a little better than he did before. 

“Why are we yelling?” He asks.

“Wynn has caused more damage to this court.” Azriel says and I wince back. Rhys turns to look at me with an eyebrow raised. 

I raise my hands in defense.

“Wynn, was it another silly experiment?” Rhys asks. My heart tugs and I nod, and I feel as though I should defend myself. They’re not silly, they are fun.

“Did I do something to personally offend you Azriel?” I ask softly. 

“Yes! Since you’ve shown up to this court all you have done have been attached to the hip with Feyre, surprised she hasn’t told you that you are suffocating. You’re nothing more than an annoying weed.” He spat, “You buzz in and out loudly all the time, you cannot read a room to save your life, your experiments are juvenile and lack actual use, and whenever you shrink down to your pixie form is the only time you're tolerable because we can barely hear you.” He said like a weight has been lifted off his chest. 

I can only stare at him, shock and hurt cover my face. The glow of pink on my body fades down to a low humming blue, and suddenly I am back in that damn jar. 

The jar I am in is hot and stuffy. I do not remember how I got here but I do understand that this is cursed glass and I won’t be able to be let out unless the lid is opened by the one who placed the curse or is killed. 

The jar sits in the middle of a long dinner table as decor, with being alive I always have a glow to me. When I am neutral and healthy it's normally pinkish orange, right now it’s bluish purple relating to my mood and terror. It hasn’t changed in the past decade of being here.

Being small and trapped in a jar and treated as entertainment by those who are desperate to feel power again is something I would never wish upon anybody. They like to cover the oxygen holes on the top and force me to dance or create wind art. Which is borderline impossible with the lack of airflow in here anyway.

“Tell me pretty, what other colors can you turn?”

“Az-” Cassian whispered.

“Fuck you Azriel. You know why I don’t go into that size very often and you of all people should understand why.” I spit at him, and he for just a moment looks guilty. 

“What? You all say this behind her back anyway. Now that I tell her to her face it’s a problem?” He looks at his two brothers. And they both won’t look me in the eye.

“Is that true?” I choke out with silent tears running down my face. Rhys looks at me and takes a breath, “There could have been more tact to how we said this but to put it bluntly yes.”

My wispy iridescent wings pop out of my back. And I start walking backwards towards the door, “I will see myself out then.” 

“Wynn, wait please let's discuss this more maturely.” Rhys says. Azriel scoffs in the background. 

“If it wasn’t for her, Elain wouldn’t be hurt again.” I flinch again feeling sick to my stomach. 

“I am sorry.” I choke out. Cassian reaches for me and I step back curling into myself feeling betrayed by those I called family. 

“No, that was completely uncalled for.” A new voice responds. I turn around to say Nesta and Elain. I look over Elain and all I notice is a few wind burns on her arms. She gives me a soft smile and I look down with a frown.

“Azriel, what is the actual problem here? Because I am fine. I went into her cottage because I forgot my tea recipe book there and completely forgot she was running an experiment.” Elain comes up to me softly and puts her hand on my shoulder. I lean into her warmth. Nesta stares at him with a cold hard glare. 

“He’s jealous.” She observes. Azriel looks shocked for just a moment before he stalks closer into Nesta’s face. To which signals me and Elain to step back and Cassian to intervene. 

“Enough.” Rhys says rubbing his temples again. “Azriel you were out of line with the way you approached this situation and Wynn maybe just be a little less, you.” 

All three girls flinch with the wording. 

“Have you lost your fucking mind Rhysand?” Nesta barks. “Wait until I tell Feyre.” 

By the time the two of them are arguing I shrink down to my pixie size and fly home to my cottage. I arrive at the front stoop back to normal size, and burst into tears against my front door barely making it inside before I collapse into a pile on the floor. 

In a panic I start shoving some of my emergency belongings in a satchel; clothes, my hygiene products, and my magic trials notebook. 

Frantically rushing around my small cottage I see a teacup Elain painted for me, with little orange and pink flowers all over it. I wrap it in one of my shirts and stuff it into my satchel.

By now the sun has completely set, and I take off my porch, my holographic wings sparkling in the moonlight and head towards some place I know will bring me some comfort. 

The Autumn Court. 

a/n: please enjoy! I have been thinking about this idea for a while! Leave comments, like, and share. if you have any questions plz let me know!

I do not own any of the characters that Sarah J Mass has created. but I do own miss Wynnie Lara :p

[yuff7e]

Hii! I have two ideas I don’t mind if only one is written: Could you write head-canons or like anything about Inosuke with a s/o whose love language is physical touch? Or could you write head-canons about Inosuke with an artist gf who maybee has a whole book with drawings of him 🤭🤭? Whatever is easiest tysm!!

⋆˙ inosuke with an artist s/o who loves physical touch !! ⟡♡ headcanons / fluff

gender neutral

omg hi anon !! and yes ofc i can :)) im making this whole thing gender neutral but i can do a separate fic of inosuke with an artist gf and he find out she’s been drawing him since the very start and how he reacts if you’d like ?? anywho, enjoy !! <3

the cuties song -> www.spotify.com

- inosuke and you have a pretty stable relationship tbh

- considering the fact he’s a feral boar man

- since you two have been together, you haven’t noticed inosuke having any hobbies

- like at all besides screaming and challenging people (and sleeping…) (…aaannndddd eating)

- but hey! that’s fine! you have yours and inosuke has… his

- now anywho, you were waking up bright and early for another day of training

- when suddenly you didn’t feel the crushing weight of inosuke on you…

- (he always sleeps on you and waits until you wake up! but today he wasn’t… oh god.)

- “inosuke? inosuke!”

- he had been rummaging around in your things while you were asleep !!!

- you rush over to him and jump on top of him to hide what he might’ve saw

- he lets you take him down and looks at you

- he’s doing that weird gawking giddy thing he does whenever he’s happy

- you just stare back at him

- “what?”

- “WHAT IS THIS BOOK?!”

- he holds up a sketchbook, filled to the brim with drawings of him

- you FREAK OUT

- “inosuke!! this is private stuff!!”

- “so?”

- mans does NOT know privacy

- yalls relationship is a one way street for that matter and he sticks to it.

- so he is veerrryyy adamant about seeing the rest of what’s in that book

- finally, you give in and let him look at it

- he’s amazed by the cool illustrations and doodles you’ve made for him

- “these are me?!”

- “yeah…”

- *cue him flipping through them aggressively*

- “i want this one!”

- “inosuke you can’t just take them! well— i mean maybe you can but i don’t want you to!! i spent a long time drawing these—..”

- “i don’t care!”

- “okay. insouke— seriously..!!”

- once he starts ripping some of the pages you snatch the book

- he tries to fight you but realizes you’re being serious so he stops but is still agitated

- he wants them!!

- now, onto physical touch

- honestly i wouldn’t see him having a problem with it, it’d probably just stroke his ego more knowing he’s got a pretty partner like you by his side caressing his arm while he boasts about how he’s the “king of the mountains”

- a real “i’m on top of the world” moment fr

- but he did kind of freak out when you touched him for the first time

- you were walking through the butterfly mansion, on the way to see inosuke

- you two had planned a little first date type-thing

- (with the help from tanjiro and zenitsu..)

- but you were happy and couldn’t wait to go and see him!!

- once you got there he wasn’t dressed up, just in his casual attire

- no clothes..

- anyway, you walk up to him and touch his shoulder

- he turns around so fast screaming “WHO THE HELL JUST TOUCHED ME?!”

- realized it was you and just stared

- the skin to skin contact got him feeling some typa way

- and ever since then you’ve just been doing the same thing you always do

- “hey inosuke!” you giggle as you hug him and he just freezes

- if he’s in the middle of a screaming fit and you go over and wrap your arms around him he’ll stop IMMEDIATELY

- “er—!! hey!”

—

·˚ ༘ you’re outside training when you hear screaming coming from the inside of the butterfly mansion, and you weren’t too surprised that when you walked in your boyfriend was being quite the sore loser.

kanao had just beat him in one of the training games, and he wasn’t too happy about it. “she was cheating! she’s cheating! let’s do a rematch!! this time i’ll beat you!” we’re all the words you heard from him as he stomped his feet aggressively.

you sigh and look at kanao who’s just staring blankly at inosuke, “i guess we could have a rematch..” she squeaks, inosuke jumping right for her - and of course he loses, again.

he’s defeated, running back over to the side lines and throwing his whole body into the wall - banging his boar mask against it and throwing a few punches. you trot over to him, your arms extending until you fully fall into his side.

he stops what he’s doing and immediately goes to push you off, not realizing it’s you. until he notices your voice, “inosuke! stop screaming! you’ll have another rematch soon.”

he immediately grabs your arms to throw you off (which he could’ve easily done since you didn’t have your guard up) but he just complained while you were practically on top of him. saying things like - “hey! get your hands off of me! i have another match to win!” or “what’s the deal?! can’t you see i’m busy?!”

of course since he hasn’t pushed you off yet you know this is calming him down, and eventually it does. his anger subsides but only for a little bit, the match eventually redos and kanao gets a few good hits in until he wins.

instantly, he’s rushing over to you and tackling you to the ground!! “i did it! ya see that? i knew i could win!” he’s yowling and jumping around and you just smile at him fondly. “congrats inosuke! but i have to go back outside and finish my training—..”

before you could finish inosuke picks you up and twirls you around before setting you back down, patting your head. “alright! don’t be long. i want you to see me beat the rest of these people!” a blush creeps onto your cheeks as you giggle, a little out of breath.

“heh.. alright! i’ll be back.” you kiss his shoulder quickly before jogging away - causing him to freeze and someone catching him off guard and winning another match��

you didn’t hear the end of it later that night!! but it was all okay when you woke up for another day and inosuke was laying on you per usual, not rummaging through your things this time.

—

YAYA I FINISHED !! it’s not as serious as i honestly hoped for but im actually super proud of this i think this is really cute !! hope u enjoy <3

REQUESTS : OPEN

[mrsriddlenott]

CAN U WRITE SOME MATTHEO RIDDLE SMUT?! I GOT AN IDEA!! The (fem) reader obsessed with mattheos abs arms viens hands- anyways- they’re making out in her dorm and she starts dry humping him and eventually c0ckw@arming Mattheo for litteraly hours on end and her skirt covers them up but they’re hanging out with their friends the whole time-

~ Patience ~

[masterlist][Pt2]

Bf!Mattheo Riddle x Fem!reader

Thank you for the idea I’ve been wanting to do something like this so I hope you enjoy it🥰☺️

Warnings:Dom Sub Dynamics, Cockwarming,Orgasm Denial(?),Exhibitionism,Smut.

As soon as the bathroom door opened your eyes started roaming your boyfriend’s beautifully sculpted body as you unknowingly began chewing on your bottom lip, letting your eyes follow the drops of water trailing through the line between his abs.

“See something you like Pretty Girl?” Mattheo chuckled as he strutted out of the bathroom in only a towel. You lightly hummed at his words as your eyes traveled down his prominent veins on his wet biceps and forearms. Your eyes lingered on his large hand holding his towel together as he laughed at your obvious neediness.

“Something you want Princess?” Mattheo asked in a deep, teasing voice as he moved to where you sat cross legged on his bed.

“Yes Sir.” You almost immediately spoke, perking up at his closeness. In any other case you’d be embarrassed at your readiness to respond, but you were far too horny to care.

“Well, you’ll just have to be a good girl and be patient for me, our friends will be here any minute and I need to get dressed Baby,” Mattheo said in a voice laced in false pity before chuckling at your whine as he made his way to his dresser, dropping his towel and showing off his semi-hard dick for you to see. He took his time picking out his clothes as you watched him, squirming and clenching your thighs together. He dressed slowly before pulling you into a passionate kiss by your chin, shoving you to your back and caging you in his arms on his bed.

Mattheo had zero intention of giving you the release you were aching for as he let his fingers trail down your body, fingering the waistband of your skirt before moving back up to your neck, repeating his actions as you whined under him. Your lips moved in sync as his tongue explored your mouth, making you moan lightly and grind on his thigh desperately. He chuckled into your mouth as his door opened, pulling away and eyeing you as you huffed up at him.

“Hey Theo, did you bring it?” Mattheo asked, eyeing you with a smirk before leaving you shocked and frustrated on his bed as he stood to meet Theo and Blaise, walking to the small couch Mattheo had seated next to his bookshelf. You huffed as you sat up and eyed Mattheo who only smirked and sent you a wink before grabbing one of the joints Theo had brought.

“Patience Princess” Mattheo’s voice spoke in your head, making you jump slightly, drawing the attention of the other two boys.

“You okay y/n/n?” Blaise asked through a hit as he lit a joint for himself. You sighed and slightly jumped off the edge of Mattheo’s bed and made your way to his bathroom, feeling his eyes on you as you slammed the door behind you.

“Baby….I know you’re not seriously thinking about finishing alone….?” As you felt Mattheo’s mind searching through your own you pulled yourself up to sit on the counter of his sink, closing your eyes and focusing hard on filling your brain with images of you touching yourself.

It wasn’t even a full minute before Mattheo was rushing into the room and slamming the door behind him, you giggled at his frustration as he eyed you, still clothed and decent on the counter. However, instead of immediately throwing himself at you as you had expected, he roughly grabbed you by your wrist with a whispered growl of “Needy brat”, pulling you from the bathroom as you stumbled to keep up.

When you were dragged into his room you noticed now that Enzo and Draco had joined the others, filling the room with smoke and the smell of alcohol. Mattheo gently shoved you down onto his bed when you got to it, quickly following after you, hands immediately pulling you into his chest.

“Is this what you want? You want to be fucked in front of all our friends Princess?” He spoke in your thoughts, his lips ghosting over your neck, hands gripping your hips and rutting his hard dick against your behind. Your eyes widen as you noticed his hand falling to pull himself discreetly from his boxers and rest himself on the waistband of his grey sweats. Your mind raced with thoughts of him taking you with no care in the world as his mind invaded yours seeking consent.

“Don’t make a sound Baby, you’re gonna hold me while I think on your punishment for being such a needy little brat,” As his words filled your mind, he pushed himself fully inside of you, resting his arm over your waist and his head in your neck, pulling you close under the guise of innocent cuddling as your skirt hid his dick that was lost inside you to the hilt.

Mattheo groaned as you clenched around him, giving you a warning squeeze on your hip as he began conversation with Theo. You were growing more and more impatient as the conversation topic switched from quidditch to parties to holiday plans as you attempted to join in every once in a while, at Mattheo’s orders in your thoughts.

After the first hour you were already drenching the front of his sweats as he pulsed and twitched inside you at every little movement. He could admit, he was growing impatient as well, only he was much better at holding back than you ever were. He began teasing you in your mind as he allowed you to clench around him, ignoring the conversation with his friends as he watched you close your eyes in frustration at his words.

He chuckled at you, conveniently at the same moment Blaise made a joke that went unheard as Mattheo began filling your mind with dirty thoughts. Images of Mattheo pushing you to your stomach and pounding into you had you almost moaning as he warned you of the consequences of making any noise.

“Your pretty sounds are just for me Baby,” He’d speak through the images of the various positions he’d take you in after your friends decide to leave for their own manors.

After the second hour Mattheo began slowly, so slowly it was barley noticeable to even you at first, circling his hips, just as much for his release as yours. Your lips threatened to release moans as his tip rubbed against your g-spot over and over at every one of his movements. He breathed heavily as he restrained himself from destroying you in front of your stoned and drunk group of friends.

Mattheo feared one or all of the boys would see or even hear his actions but it only stirred him on further. The thought of being caught had him aching inside you as he made a mental note to discuss his new discovery with you later on.

As the third hour approached Mattheo decided he’d had enough of his own game. Shocking you as he abruptly pulled out of you, hiding the evidence of your actions as he told your friends you were tired, practically forcing them out the door with no further explanation before leaping back onto the bed.

His hands were immediately pulling your clothes off your body as you tugged at his. He was back inside you before either of you were fully unclothed. You skirt was pushed up your bare torso as he nipped and licked at your chest and neck. You gripped his bare, sweaty shoulders as he pounded into you, finally speaking out loud as he praised your patience.

~~~~

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

🍂🍁🎃

❤️ just some tooth rotting fluff involving Eddie and his not so secret admirer

🎃💌

Eddie was in hell. Who's idea was it to do this stupid shit again?

A banner hung from outside the school that proclaimed today was Boo Day 👻🎃 a day dedicated to your boo (partner) or someone you admired.

Who had came up with this monstrosity you ask? Why that was Miss O'Donnell. She had the idea to have the day before Halloween dedicated to love. Where she had even had an idea like that was anyone's guess but Eddie was pretty certain that the old bat had lost her mind.

Or teaching Eddie for three years had finally driven her crazy.

Everywhere he looked people were cooing over mystery cards that they had gotten from a secret admirer.

This was another thing he hated about this whole day, he had to suffer through Valentine's Day, now he has to go through this shit as well? Who the hell would send him a card like that?

He'd be slightly jealous if he didn't think this was load of bullshit.

He dodges excited students dressed up as ghosts and pumpkins, students who Miss O'Donnell had cajoled into delivering cards and gifts to people who had participated in the card and gift exchange.

Finally there is a hint of escape when he barges into the drama room and breathes a sigh of relief. Jesus h Christ that was a nightmare.

It takes Eddie a second to realise that he's not alone. His heart skips a beat when he realises you're with him.

🎃💌

You're settled on one of the desks with a serene smile on your face that disappears the moment you hear the door open.

Once you see it's just Eddie and no loved up couples looking for a place to make out, you feel yourself relaxing once more.

"Hey Eddie" the haggard look on his face morphs into a genuine smile, all cute dimples and big brown eyes lighting up.

He was so cute and you had the biggest crush on him and you had planned to tell him, today in fact but his loud proclamation that this day was all a bunch of bullshit made you chicken out of handing him the card you made.

You doubted he felt the same anyway, he probably had a crush on one of the cheerleaders or someone like that.

Even if he said he didn't conform to societal standards you still caught him checking out the cheerleaders once or twice. You weren't a cheerleader or popular or anything like that, you just did what you liked and right now that was occasionally joining in on a Hellfire campaign or drawing or writing, honestly anything creative was your thing.

"So do you not have a secret admirer you made a card for?" Eddie teases and you clam up, avoiding his eyes.

"Maybe it's not like he feels the same though" you murmur and notice that Eddie isn't smiling anymore, in fact he looks kinda pissed and a little sad.

"Right, so I guess it's some popular douchebag or something?" He mutters and you try to figure out why his mood has suddenly changed so dramatically.

Was he jealous of who you liked? Didn't he realise that it was him you were smitten by. Shit what if he didn't... Feeling brave you decide to tell him how you feel and hope that he feels the same way or at least things aren't awkward between you after it all.

"It's you. I made a card for you Eddie" shit you wish the ground would swallow you up. The waiting to know how he felt was horrendous, if he laughed in your face you're sure that you'd high tail it out of here.

Instead of laughing he's gawking at you and you're ready to leave and hope to forget this all but something in his expression stops you.

"Maybe I should thank Miss O'Donell after all then" he's grinning widely and looks thrilled. "Can I see the card sweetheart?" flustered you nod and hand him the card.

It has a hand drawn picture of a pumpkin patch and you wrote inside if you were a pumpkin I would pick you 🎃❤️

Cheesy yes but you thought it was cute. Now however you're second guessing that decision and mortification fills you. Shit. This was a bad idea.

The anxiety leaves you when Eddie looks up at you smiling, he hides his face with his hair and it's so adorable.

"Aww shucks sweetheart, that's so cute. Just so you know I feel the same about you, I like you a lot princess and I'm thinking that maybe I could take you on a date"

Beaming you kiss his cheek and nod. "Where were you thinking?" he holds up your card and points to the pumpkin.

"I'm thinking of visiting the Pumpkin patch in town" he suggests and the idea is so perfect that you can't help but giggling.

"Sounds perfect"

🎃❤️

[stormz369]

☕💖 Can I Get Your Number? ☕💖 Ch 9

Jason Todd x (f)Chubby!Reader

written with a female reader in mind, first person pov, no use of Y/N, will probably get NSFW later, let me know if there's anything else I should tag this with!

warnings: some slightly confrontational conversations wc: 1.7k

Chapter Selection

Ding!

I groaned softly, looking over at my phone. 2 unread messages; Jason's daily ‘good morning 😌’ had just come in, but there was also one from Damian. I clicked on Damian's name, blinking groggily, and rubbed the sleep out of my eyes. There was no text, just an attachment; a photo of a page from his sketchbook where he'd drawn a portrait of himself and his friend Jon.

I smiled softly, examining his drawing. It took my sleep-addled mind a moment to realize that what I originally took as a swirly background design was in fact writing. ‘Nice line work! But I'd like to see you branch out a bit’.

Damian: Attachment 4:03am Me: You're a very talented artist! … But, did your teacher write on your work??? 🤨 8:30am Damian: He did. 8:40am Me: … Wtf?????????? That's not cool!  8:41am Damian: It's just a sketchbook … I was considering giving it to Jon, but I can always remake it. The perspective is a bit off anyway. 8:45am Me: …. Oh. Hell. No. 8:46am

I jumped up, calling Jason, and got dressed. Jay answered after the third ring.

“You’re up very early, did I wake you?” He sounded a bit sleepy, and I could picture the little smile on his face.

“Yes, but that's not important right now. Do you know which school Damian goes to?”

“Um … yeah? Why?”

“... I promised him anything he talked to me about would stay between us. But I do need to go to his school. Do you think you can take me there?”

“... I guess? … Just … promise me that everything’s ok?”

“Everything’s fine, I just need to get there.”

“Alright, give me fifteen minutes. I'll be on my bike; wear long pants and closed toed shoes - boots if you've got ’em. … And maybe we can get breakfast after?”

I giggled and nodded; “sounds perfect! You're amazing, Jay!”

He stuttered a bit, mumbling a shy; “I … not really … I … I'll see you soon…” before he hung up.

Damian: What? 8:55am Me: That's just really not ok! What's your teacher's name? 8:56am

I threw on jeans and ran downstairs as Jay arrived on his bike. He held out a helmet for me, smiling softly. “Hey Doll~ … anything you can tell me about why we're going to the school?”

“... Not really. I just need to talk to one of Damian's teachers.”

Jason nodded, opening the bag on the side of his bike and offering me a red leather jacket. “Alright, well, this isn't how I had planned to give you this, but … anyway, here, put this on.”

I blinked a bit, taking it. “... Thank you? … It's really not that cold though…” I put it on anyway, figuring he wouldn't take no for an answer. It fit me perfectly, and had a soft lining on the inside. In the pocket I found a pair of black leather gloves, which I slid on as well.

“It's not for the cold - it's to protect you. If you're gonna be my backpack, you're gonna have proper layers on, in case we get in an accident. … Not that I think we will, I'm an excellent driver, but still. I'm not risking it. Not with you…”

I could feel my heart filling with warmth as I realized why he'd brought the bike today. This wasn’t just a riding jacket, it was my riding jacket. The helmet he gave me was my helmet. He'd gotten these things so we could go riding together... “Ohh, ok~ … What do you mean your backpack?”

He gestured to the seat behind him. “When you’ve got a cute girl riding with you they're called your backpack.”

I giggled softly, climbing on, and wrapped my arms around his waist, just like Red Hood had shown me all those months ago. “I see. Arms here, right?”

He nodded, gently stroking the back of my hand. “Perfect. There's a bluetooth headset in our helmets, so if you need anything just tell me.”

I nodded, leaning against his back, and we took off. Jason was so warm in my arms, and I'd never held him like this before. We'd hugged of course, and cuddled a bit, but this felt different somehow. Maybe because my hands were usually on his back, not his chest or stomach. I quickly started having to consciously remind myself not to fondle his abs, no matter how incredible they felt through his shirt…

All too quickly, we came to a stop in front of a private school. Once our helmets were off, I kissed his cheek. “I'll be right back!”

He blushed a bit and nodded, taking my helmet. “Just don't get kicked out.”

Ding!

Damian: What are you doing? 9:15am Damian: … It's Mr. Jackson. 9:16am Damian: Why aren't you responding??? 9:45am Me: Sorry, was on Jason's bike. Don't worry about what I'm doing. … Shouldn't you be in class? 9:46am

I approached the front office, tucking my gloves into my pocket while I waited for the secretary to get off the phone. When she looked over at me I offered her a warm smile; “hi. I'm here to speak to the principal.”

“Do you have an appointment?”

“No ma'am, but I do need to speak to them.”

She raised an eyebrow and looked me over, getting up and going into the back office. An older man followed her back out and offered me his hand as he introduced himself.

“How can I help you, Miss …?”

I introduced myself. “I'm here on behalf of one of your students. It seems a Mr. Jackson was grading his students' sketches and thought it was appropriate to write his critiques directly on them.”

He blinked, an unamused expression on his face; “I see … are you the mother of a student here … young lady?”

“No, just one of their trusted adults.”

“... I see. Well, I'm afraid we cannot have non-parental figures at school during the day. You'll have to leave now. School policy, you understand.”

I smirked, observing him for a moment. He reminded me of my high school principal; an old, rude man who had no respect for those he viewed as under him. “... Oh, I see. I thought you'd rather speak with me about this matter, but it's fine. I'm sure Bruce will handle it.”

The bell rang as I turned on my heel, heading for the door. Before I got to the main entrance, I heard the man following after me; “excuse me? Young lady, are you saying you're here on behalf of-”

“What are you doing here?” I jumped slightly, turning to face Damian who had seemingly materialized behind me. I put on a pleasant smile.

“Ah, hello Damian. I'm so sorry darling; I tried to handle this matter just between us, but it seems your principal,” I turned to him, putting on my best bored and slightly disdainful expression, “what was it again? … Right, Mr. Cole. Well, Mr. Cole won't speak with me, so I suppose I'll be calling your father instead.”

The principal paled, stuttering out; “the- there's no reason to bother Mr. Wayne at work. I'm sure he's very busy. Why don't we head back into my office and we can discuss this?”

“Oh!” I pretended to be surprised; “well, if you're sure. I would hate for you to break school policy.”

He shook his head, practically pulling me along. “I insist, please.”

Damian followed us, frowning a bit; the principal looked like he was about to argue, but thought better of it. Once his door was closed and we were all seated, he cleared his throat. “Now, … what seems to be the problem with Mr. Johnson?”

“Jackson. The art teacher.” I frowned a bit, sitting back a little. I turned to Damian, smiling gently; “would you like to tell him, Damian, or …?”

He shook his head once, a guarded expression on his face, and I nodded before turning back to the principal. “Mr. Jackson wrote a critique on one of Damian's pieces, and-”

“Art teachers have to critique the students, Miss. I'm sure it wasn't meant to be harsh, but-”

I held my hand up, hoping my expression was as stern as I wanted it to be; “The issue, sir, is not the fact of the critique. The issue is that he wrote it on the piece. Writing on top of any artist's work is just wrong, even, perhaps most especially, when those artists are your students. Your students work hard on their art, and what they do with it after submitting it for their assignment is their business. But they cannot do anything with their art after class if your teachers are writing on their work.”

The man shrunk in his seat as I spoke, looking between me and Damian. “... I … I see. Yes, that is … not ideal. Of course. … I will speak with Mr. Jackson.”

I nodded. “I'm glad to hear that. Well, I think that was everything. For now. Unless Damian would like to add anything?”

The boy shook his head again, getting up, and we left the principal in his office. Damian walked me to the main entrance and out the door before he spoke again; “... You didn't have to do that…”

“Of course I did. What your teacher did broke all the rules of common courtesy. And if he's doing it to you, he's doing it to the others too.”

Jason raised an eyebrow as we approached, nodding to Damian. “He's not coming with, right? I can't take both of you.”

Damian rolled his eyes. “It's not even lunch yet, Todd.” He looked up at me, a curious expression in his eyes; “... You hold your own admirably.”

I chuckled softly. “Well thank you. Let me know if there's any fallout, I'm happy to do an encore performance if they try anything. And I hope you'll send me a picture of the completed piece, when you remake it. It was beautiful.”

His lips curled up ever so slightly and he nodded before heading back into the building. Jason stared at us, offering me my helmet. “... Did he just smile?”

“Yes, the boy knows how to smile, Jay.” I chuckled, pressing a kiss to the side of his helmet above his cheek before slipping my helmet on. Once my gloves were on and I was in my seat, I wrapped my arms around his waist. “So, how about that breakfast?”

Next ->

Divider by: @saradika-graphics

Taglist (open):

@jawdropforkpop @krys0210 @snowy-violets @superthoughts @wordsfromshona @mystic60 @iwannabealocalcryptid @morstuavitamea-a @frosty--giants @arisa191 @prized-jules

[moonferry]

*rubbing hands together like a gremlin* you guys want some stardew headcanons thst have been rotating in my mind like a gas station hotdog? no? well here they are anyway.

* leah has a sketchbook full of candids of people from town. if you choose to romance leah, she has a LOT of sketches of the farmer

* sebastian is trans masculine/nonbinary and uses he/they pronouns

* leah is actually robin's younger sister & moved to pelican town because robin had mentioned how peaceful it was

* sandy is trans feminine (she's also soo wife)

* abby would've absolutely loved among us

* maru secretly has a crush on penny

* jas makes shane play dress up. he acts annoyed but enjoys spending time with jas

* clint is an avid reddit user . do with that what you will.

* i think abby majored in political studies or graphic design

* harvey has a tooth gap and freckles

* elliott has DEFINITELY recreated the fork-hairbrush scene from the little mermaid

* harvey is allergic to cats but he powers through for the farmer

* abby DEFINITELY uses tumblr

* harvey has a little plane nightlight. not because he's scared of the dark but because he thinks it's cool. if you romance him, he puts it in the child(ren)'s bedroom.

* elliott wears hair curlers to bed.

* penny has a collection of drawings that jas and vince made for her. she puts them on her fridge.

* sam is an android user (and yes, it's purely because people kept calling him "samsung")

* wlw haley. that is all.

* haley takes pictures and sometimes lets leah borrow them/use them as a painting reference

* sebby with top scars. ooogh.

* maru has a cluster of freckles on her shoulder shaped like the little dipper.

* abby dyes her hair & once did all rainbow and cosplayed rainbow dash.

* the farmer and haley often call and have late night gossip sessions

* sam's phone wallpaper is a really zoomed in or a 0.5 photo of the farmer / whoever is his partner

* sebastian types in all lower case

* sam types in all caps.

* i think it would be really funny if seb just had sam in his phone as Samson (that grammar and everything) just because it's so unlike his usual typing and he does it to piss sam off

* it's no secret that sam is very forgetful, however i think this helped him become friends with penny. penny is very organized and has every important date (ie birthdays) memorized. --- she NEVER forgets a birthday. --- one day, penny heard sam repeating a phrase to himself so he wouldn't forget what he needed to do. penny encouraged him to write it down and even showed him how to write on a rubber band. sam adopted this and everytime he sees penny he'll smile widely and hold up his wrist (which will have anywhere from 6-10 rubber bands at the time. poor boy).

that's all for now. i may add more later idk. let me know if y'all want me to rack my brain for more of these

[midnight-mourning]

All Aboard

❄️❄️Midnight's DCA December Day 27❄️❄️

Once again, Pom, your brain is massive, this was a LOT of fun, i saw the words 'magic' and 'fae elements' and the pot started boiling over ashjadk, anywho, please enjoy!

Prompt: second request >:3c (but no pressure!!) I havent read all the other folks yet to see if there was a Polar Express/Train ride type oneshot. I feel like train conductor/surrealism vibes would be a delight, with holiday magic and spritely, fae elements sprinkled in. Maybe getting lost on to the destination--or the train getting stopped due to a snowstorm. (Very Nana, if you watched that anime haha) Perhaps, yn is in clear emotional distress bc of smth happening interpersonally leading up. Texting, phones, drama. Do they even want to go home…? … (Will they go back home? >:)) mweheh.)

Word Count: 2811

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

The train whistle blares loudly outside, starting to roll down the tracks. You watch out the window as the station begins to fade away, sighing as snow hits the pane every so often. You check you phone again when it buzzes, another message to add to the pile. Another half-hearted apology you're guessing. 

You're about to look in detail when you stop, cursing yourself and shaking your head. You got on this train for that exact reason, to avoid having to speak to them. You weren't going to give in, you just, needed a break. To go somewhere, anywhere really. 

Your ticket was for home, and the idea of being back in your apartment sounds better and better by the moment. You sink back in the seat again, already liking the sound of being back in your own bed with your own food and your own life. You never should have come here, should've listened to your friends, they'd been right all along. 

You feel a headache coming on, either from the stress, or the exhaustion of crying so much. Or even, the nagging of your friends as they brag and say they told you so. Which, they did, but you didn't need to hear it again. At least you had a day or so. The trip back was long, requiring you to get a sleeper car, where most of your belongings resided currently, save for the book sitting beside you, along with your sketchbook. 

You'd been wanting to do a bit of reading, or drawing, anything to take your mind off things, but after receiving that text you just didn't have the heart for it. 

"Everything alright over here, friend?"

You glance up, seeing a well-dressed man standing to your right. He was tall, blond, and wore a sun-themed mask over his eyes, which are also covered with a white shade. His smile is warm, kind.

You straighten up a bit, feeling self-conscious all the sudden.  "Oh, yeah. Just fine. Sorry, do you need my ticket?"

"Yes please!" 

You hand it over to him, and he punches it, promptly handing it back to you. "There you go! Is there anything else I can get for you? Perhaps a snack, or a drink?"

"No, I'm good, but thank you... Sorry, what's your name?"

The man bows slightly. "You may call me Sun. And you, friend?"

"Oh, my friends call me Nick/N." You smile. 

Sun tilts his head, his smile seems, strained for a moment. Then—"Welcome aboard, then, Nick/N. We hope you enjoy the ride!" For good measure, he takes your hand, pressing his lips to the back of it for a moment before releasing you.

"T-thanks." You say, watching as he walks off, going over to where the other conductor stands. 

You take note that he's wearing a moon mask, with red covering his eyes instead. They exchanged a few hushed words with each other, and when they look over to you, you avert your gaze again. 

You didn't pay attention when you booked this train, just got on the first one you could, you wonder if it's themed in some way. It would make sense anyway, why else for the masks? 

As you settle in for your ride, the conductors come by multiple times each to check on you. During this you find out the other is named 'Moon', which, pretty on the nose you'd say, but you have to guess it's all part of the act. 

Regardless, you find them to be friendly, very chatty, almost too much so. They're constantly offering you something to eat or drink, and if you hadn't brought snacks you'd take them up on the offer. Even then, they try encouraging you to pick something from the train's menu. 

"Surely you deserve something better than that, crumbling thing, Sunshine."

"Or something sweet to wash it down, maybe a glass of wine?"

You take another bite of your granola bar. "Nah, this is good enough for now. And I'm not much of a day drinker." You unscrew your water bottle lid, taking a sip. "Appreciate it though!"

"If you change your mind, simply let us know, Starlight."

That was another thing, the nicknames. At first, they used yours that you'd given, almost constantly addressing you in conversation. It was like they were waiting for something to happen. But when it didn't they'd switched to the celestial-themed ones instead. 

It was all so, incredibly, interesting. 

In the evening, you're sketching in your seat when your phone goes off again. You frown upon hearing it, looking out the window momentarily. It's dark, but you can make out that it's snowing incredibly hard now. You're surprised the train is still able to get through all this—

"What are you drawing, Sunbeam?"

You jump, finding the two of them are across from you. Sun leans over the back of the opposite seat, elbows resting on the top edge, while Moon lounges across the seat itself.

You feel embarrassed now. "Oh, nothing important." You don't want to admit that you're drawing them, that would be utterly humiliating. 

You couldn't help it, despite their, overtly friendly behavior—to the point you'd grown slightly suspicious—you found the two to be alarmingly charming despite it all. There was an air about them that was enticing, drawing you in and making you ever curious. 

Moon tsks. "Now, now. Don't leave us in suspense. I'm sure anything you create would be lovely."

"It's true, though maybe not as lovely as them, wouldn't you say?" Sun rests his head in his hand, small smirk on his lips. 

Moon nods, waving his hand. "Not even a question, of course."

Your ears are burning at this point. And, compelled by their outward flirting you hold out your sketchbook, head ducked to maybe hide some of your awkwardness. 

"Just take it already." You mumble. "And go easy on me, please. It's been awhile..."

Eager hands snatch up your book, and they bicker over who gets to hold it. You giggle at the exchange, and they finally settle on each holding one side as they flip through. 

As they go, Sun whistles, and Moon hums in agreement, it only serves to fluster you more. 

"You made all of these?" Moon asks. 

You laugh. "Well yeah, most of those are from months ago. They're, okay, I guess."

"Okay? You have talent, Starshine!" Sun states, waving his hand to the page. "I've never seen a hu-anyone create like this. It's impressive."

You have to cover up your face then, it's on fire. "Please, stop. They're really not—"

"And you drew us?" Sun exclaims. 

"They drew me better looking."

Sun huffs. "No, look how they got my jaw perfect!"

They delve into arguing again about who is sketched better and you just about can't take it anymore when your phone starts ringing. 

All three of you snap your attention to the device. 

When you see the caller ID, your heart fills with dread. 

Instead of curling up from being flustered, you curl up with fear, groaning. "Why can't they take a hint..."

As the phone continues to ring, you get ready to pick it up from the seat, either to answer or to decline the call. 

You don't get the chance, as Sun asks you a question. "Friend, is this your signature here?" He's pointing to a page of your sketchbook. 

"I, yeah. It is." You don't know why you didn't hesitate with that answer, too stressed to think, currently. 

You don't notice the shared look between the two, slight grins on their faces at this information. 

Your phone is still ringing, so you finally grab it, debating on what to do. 

"Do you want to talk to them?" Moon asks you. 

You sigh, then laugh. "God no. Not at all. But..." You trail off, and shake your head. "Maybe I should hear them out. Even if I really don't want to deal with them right now."

Your thumb hovers over the answer button, ready to press it—

"Y/n. Don't answer the phone." Sun's words are firm, but there's still a softness to them, almost remorseful?

You don't know, because one moment your phone is in your hand, the next it's not. You... aren't sure why but, it's probably fine, right?

The rest of the evening proceeds like everything is normal. Neither of them calls you by your name again, sticking to their nicknames. You're not hungry, so you don't eat dinner despite their pestering about it not being good for you. And you retire to your bed after a late night filled with chatting. The two of them must have very little work to do as conductors, if they can spend so much time with a single passenger like you. 

Speaking of, was the train always so empty, or had people just slowly been getting off without you noticing? You yawn, and as your head hits the pillow decide that you'll worry about it tomorrow. Besides, you should be home by the end of the morning anyhow. 

When you wake up the next day, you notice that there's a distinct lack of movement happening. You must have stopped at a station. You stretch and hop out of bed, deciding that after the day you had yesterday, you deserve to walk around in your pajamas for a bit. 

You go over to the dining car, incredibly hungry, and expecting people to be boarding. What you find is an empty car filled with piping hot food and—

"Is that a hot coco bar?" You ask to the open air, starting to salivate at the thought. 

However, before you even consider food, you decide you need to figure out what's going on. Walking over to the window, you see that the snow is piled high all around the train, almost up to the window. You must have hit a drift in the night, meaning you're stuck until the can clear the tracks. 

Normal people would be concerned about this information. But either because you don't care when you get home—as long as you're not there—or because you've developed a strange lack of care for most time related things, you don't mind in the slightest. 

With a shrug, you go over and grab a plate and start piling it high, someone's got to eat it, right? 

You also grab a large mug of hot chocolate, adding many marshmallows and tons of whipped cream. You sit down, ready to dig in, when you're spooked as you realize Moon is sitting across from you, chin resting in his hand with a smile. 

"Good morning, Starlight. Sleep well?"

You nod. "Yeah. You sure know how to make an entrance, don't you?"

"We pride ourselves on it." Sun says with a chuckle, in the seat behind you, you realize. 

Looking up, you see he's in a similar position to Moon, small smirk on his face as he observes you. 

"Seems so. While you're both here, what's going on with the train?" You raise a piece of toast to your mouth. "Unless I'm wrong and you two aren't good at your job."

You take a bite, and have to sit up again, eyes wide. The bread is perfectly crispy, with just the right amount of butter. It tastes like heaven. 

You're too caught up in taking another bite to catch what Sun says. 

"Oh my god. This is the best toast I've ever had in my life." You finish devouring it, wiping your mouth and looking back up to him. "Sorry, can you repeat that?"

Sun chuckles, hands shifting to hold your face. "I said, we're snowed in. It will take some time for the tracks to be cleared. Potentially several days." 

"Oh, really?" You reach down blindly for more food, and feel your plate be scooted closer to you. You thank Moon briefly and snatch up a piece of bacon, which also tastes divine. "Bummer."

This seems to surprise the masked man, eyebrows shooting up above the mask's edge. "You're not concerned?"

"Nah. To be honest, I don't have much of a place to go back to. A cold apartment in a shitty building on the wrong side of the city." You finish your bacon, grabbing another piece. "Not to mention how my friends are going to be getting on to me about how they were right and I was wrong and on and on and on and, man this food is delicious, like how do you guys have such a good cook for a train?"

Sun looks away from you, and sitting straight you see Moon's looking to him as well. You however, are too busy indulging your gluttony to care. Every single bite is amazing, like, the best breakfast you've ever had. 

You're about to take a drink of your hot coco, when a hand grabs your wrist. 

"Wait." Moon states, then sighs. 

You raise an eyebrow, waiting. 

He looks behind you to Sun, and glancing back you see he's frowning, but nods. 

He comes around the seat, and sits across from you with Moon. After removing the coco from your hands, he clasps one of yours in both his own. 

"We haven't been truthful with you, Sunshine. At least, I believe that's how your people say it." His grip tightens for a moment before relaxing. "It wasn't by accident that you boarded this train."

You furrow your brow. "Well, yeah, I bought the ticket."

"It wasn't the ticket you were supposed to. We, ensured you would board this train specifically." Moon states, sounding, ashamed. 

Sun continues for him. "You see, we're not from your world. We come from somewhere else, somewhere long forgotten to most of your kind. Many of our own like to play tricks on you humans, for entertainment and such. We prefer to help."

"The train is designed to find those in need of it." Moon waves to the rest of the car. "The lost, the lonely, the hurting,"—he glances at you for a moment—"It gives them a place to heal, to learn, to change in some cases. Then, when they're ready, the return home, none the wiser to the time that's past or what's truly occurred."

You notice Sun's cheeks are tinged pink under the mask, up until now you don't think you've seen either of them be so bashful. "Though, we've been, 'keeping tabs' on you for some time. Besides the gloomy aura you had we found you to be—" He bites his cheek, and mutters his next words. "Very attractive."

"Getting you here became a bit of a game for us." Moon admits, also blushing now. "As was getting you to share your name, and eat our food. Most never stay on the train long enough to do so. Or at least, they don't think they do."

Sun finally looks back to you, hands still holding your own. "But we wanted to tell you before you took a drink, as that would, bind you to us. But not to the train! You can leave whenever you like, of course. But, you deserved to know our intentions, regardless of whether you would even consider feeling the same or not."

He releases you finally, folding his now fidgeting hands into his lap. 

You take a moment to take everything in, reviewing in your head to make sure you understood everything they've told you. 

Once you've determined that yes, this is actually happening, you speak. 

"So if I drink this, I'll stay here... forever?" You point down to the cup, still steaming.

"You could still leave whenever you wish, but essentially yes—Oh my stars."

The two can only stare, mouths agape as you chug your hot coco in one go. When your finished you sigh, taking your napkin and dabbing your mouth. 

"Man, that hit the spot. I'll be getting more of that later. Anywho,"—you start to dig in to the rest of your plate—"It might take me a bit, but which one of you wants dibs on first kiss? If that's your thing, that is."

"I-"

"Me." Moon blurts. 

At this, Sun blusters, and you snicker to yourself as they begin to debate back and forth on the subject. You glance out the window at the snowy landscape, taking in how, enchanted it feels now that you fully understand the situation. It's certainly not what you expected to happen when you boarded this train, but you're certainly not complaining about the outcome. 

Maybe you'll change your mind, and one day depart from this place and the two fae you've somehow acquired. But as of this moment, spending your days with two magic beings vying for your attention, a warm bed, good food, and helping others? 

That's a pretty good deal to you. 

Best Christmas present you've ever gotten, by a long shot.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

Thank you @divinit3a for the request! As i said before, VERY big brained and I enjoyed it a good bit hehe ^-^

Thanks for reading!

Masterpost link

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@scarletcowboy @beemyhuneybee @fishm0ther @deviouscrackers @elsajoyagent8 @luckyyyduckyyy @zenkaiankoku @jogimote @local-shrub @milosmantis @robinette-green @everlightreader @sinister-sincerely @starredeclipse @dangerva @juukai @crystalmagpie447 @mothgutz236 @lizyxml @divinit3a @amarynthian-chronicles @crystalfay

[0strawberrysorbet0]

𝐴 ℎ𝑖𝑑𝑑𝑒𝑛 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟

𝐻𝑎𝑧𝑏𝑖𝑛 ℎ𝑜𝑡𝑒𝑙 𝑥 𝑀𝑎𝑙𝑒!𝐴𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑙!𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

This is a series so if you'd like to be tagged simply just comment!

Not too happy with this chapter but hope it's good enough 😕

Please do not use/steal my work on this site or any other! Reblogs and likes are appreciated greatly!!

Part one ← Part two → Part three

Summary: When Charlie is called to heaven for a meeting instead of her father she is ecstatic but she meets a boy with some very familiar features..

Warnings: cursing, Adam mentioned, rlly weird layout, idk what else, probs spelling mistakes and weird grammer

Where am I??" Was the only thought coursing through the boy's mind?

He couldn't hear anything but his thoughts, everything else was muffled as if he was underwater, he strolled mindlessly throughout the forest, there were lush plants and exotic flowers of every tone and shape.

He could see birds and insects, things they did not have in his new home...

As he walked forward, it was like he was being pulled, like he didn't control it...

He heard a voice call for him...

"ƙׁׅյׁׅ݊ꪀյׁׅժׁׅ݊ᝯׁׅ֒꯱ dear?? Where-" was all he heard, voice silencing before he heard a yell...

He couldn't make out words but he heard a male's voice shout, who were they shouting for??

As he stumbled through the thicker, darker patch of forest he reached a tree, an apple, sparkling and juicy, shaped like a heart hung from a branch. Just as he went to grab it,

someone clung to the skin on his leg.. Or something.. Biting down on his flesh.. His pale skin turned pink and oozing a cherry-coloured syrup.

As he turned to see the blood dripping he shot up, dripping in a cold sweat as his face whitened.

That dream. Again.

It had been haunting him, it happened every so often but now more than ever. It was always the same.

He wanders, a woman calling for someone and a man screaming then sees the Apple and tries to grab it before being bitten. Then waking up before being able to see the creature.

But what was it?.. He sat up on his bed, grabbed a yellow shoebox from under his bed, he placed it onto his milky white duvet.

He peeled the lid off the box, revealing a little rubber duck... He didn't know where it was from but he had had it for as long as he could remember, there were a few photos of him and his friends... Mainly Emily.

There were a few random things, buttons and feathers, but he finally found what he was looking for, a folded sheet of parchment. He opened it revealing a drawing of the forest, mainly the path he walked and the paths he could see.

He took out the red pen and drew the figure of a woman, shouting... He couldn't see the figure's face or features but he could tell it was a woman.

His father could never see this, nor Sera. They'd think he was plotting against something.. Which he'd never do. He wasn't a monster.

At the bottom of the box was a small gift from Emily, a little box that had been wrapped with gold ribbon. Inside was an apple... An actual real apple.

He hadn't a clue where she got it but it was gorgeous. So shiny and juicy, plump and red, a delicious bloody red...

He had never understood why they were forbidden anyways, yes because of The Fall but surely the fruit wasn't the problem..

He couldn't blame Eve.

He wouldn't have resisted either.

His silence was broken by knocking on his door. "(M/N)? Son? I'm heading off to my meeting, there's some food on the table, take care!"

It was his dad, it was thoughtful of the man to let him know he was leaving but it scared the boy shitless.

He got himself dressed and got to work on his heavenly duties, he strolled through a building, looking for Emily, he had to tell her about his dream.

As he walked past a meeting room he could hear a familiar screeching voice, Adam.

And a voice he hadn't heard before?.. A young girl? Whatever. It wasn't Emily so it didn't matter, he continued to walk until the voice got louder, almost like it was behind him

"Miss?? Excuse me!? You dropped some feathers!!"

Miss? He turned to see the person who had been shouting, it was a girl.

She had red glowing eyes with the sclera being a strong yellow color.

Her hair was the same straw blonde colour as his hair, it was tied up into a strange ponytail, in circular shapes almost, she was wearing a blood-red suit and her cheeks were rosy and pink.

What a strange angel... She didn't even look like an angel...

He just turned and continued to walk, going to find Emily.

..............................................................................................

"Once upon a time, there was a glowing city protected by golden gates known as Heaven and ruled by beings of Pure light, Angels that worshipped good and shielded all from evil..." A blonde girl read aloud,

As she flicked through the pages she looked at the part in between the section where Lucifer and Lilith tempted Eve and the banishment.

It was burnt, the small gap, unnoticeable at first glance, but with the number of times she had read it, she could tell someone had burnt out a few pages, burning part of the story...

"Charlie?" Her girlfriend said at the doorframe, an extermination had just happened, she looked out the window at the burning city.

She needed to put a stop to this, these sinners surely didn't deserve it. Well at least some of them.

The day seemed to melt away quickly, they had talked about commercials and... Well they all had some unique ideas...

Her phone started to ring, and she jumped up and went to answer it.

It was her father? Strange... He never called.

But he wanted her to go to heaven instead of him? Holy shit... Maybe she could change heaven's mind after all...

Before she knew it she was there, heaven..

When Charlie arrived she noticed how pristine everything was, light, bright, the place was practically blinded by white light.

She now stood before The Adam, or as he called himself (much to her dismay) The original dick. She had put all the ideas she could (before he'd interrupt) onto the table but they smushed it all.

To sum it up... The meeting went horribly. She had not only been turned down but completely ignored. Her whole life she had believed angels to be kind, caring creatures... There was a reason they made it up there after all.

But she wasn't so sure now. She wasn't so sure about anything anymore.

As she was leaving she saw a pair of wings stroll past the door, they were full and stuck out proudly, glowing a bright white. The feathers looked almost like cotton candy as they surfed the breeze, one or two floating off.

One had dropped at her feet. She picked it up before trying to get a look at the angel, they had long blonde hair, and she presumed it was a woman.

"Miss?? Excuse me!? You dropped some feathers!!" She shouted about the feathers, maybe the angel would need them? Or maybe she just wanted to see the angel's face. She couldn't tell but she felt somewhat connected to the being.

The angel turned gracefully, piercing eyes staring through her, beautiful, beautiful eyes, they were the colour of a rich berry, a beautiful purple, like a flower, soft and delicate. Yet the angel's stare could have ripped her in half by that alone.

Charlie stood there, not making a sound so the angel turned around. Bored with her it walked off through the corridor.

She needed to know who this was and why they looked like her mother.

..............................................................................................

"I still dunno what ya mean by 'she looked like my mother' toots, who are ya even talkin' about again?" Angel replied, pouring himself another drink as Charlie told the spider demon bout the meeting and her encounter with the angel.

"I'm telling you!! She looked just like my mom!" She said, waving a picture of her mother in front of Angel's face.

"Jeez, okay calm! I get it!" He slapped the picture away "Why are ya so bothered though?"

"I don't know. I just felt connected to her.. " she said, petting Keekee, who curled into her lap and purred at the affectionate touch.

"For all you know it might've not even been a girl, just let it go toots" he took a big swing of his drink before pouring another drink.

"I'm telling you I feel connected to them, I... I know they looked like my mother." She sighed.

Hopefully, she'd be able to go up to heaven soon, to win them over and to see that angel again.

Tag list - @demstarno @kenny-619 @bunbunboysworld @lovedesperatevampire

@honey-valentin3 @type-ink

[saturnville]

bite, l. hamilton

pairing: he (lewis hamilton) x black best friend oc (anvika dawson) content: in which two friends cross a line people have been waiting for them to cross. warning: 18+ content song: bite by njzoma an: y'all know I don't write smut fr, so ntm. but I hope y'all enjoy it. wc: 2,498 tags: the girlies who were hyping me up to post this @boujiestpoet @mauvecherie-writes @saintslewis @greedyjudge2 @vile-harlot @emjayewrites

“Just because we’re attracted to one another doesn’t mean we need to sleep together. I’m off that. Plus, we’re friends.”

Anvika prided herself on being a woman of self-control and discipline. Though it did not come easy, years of abstinence grew dreary and at times, very lonely, her hard work was not something she was willing to risk. Her decision to step into abstinence wasn’t one she took lightly, nor was it one that she planned, but once Anvika began the journey of healing from a heartbreak, intimacy with another man wasn’t the priority. Though that had been over four years ago and she was well over the situation, she could admit that while it was difficult to maintain her self-control, not having to worry about anyone’s snot-nosed son brought more peace than she could ever imagine. 

“Even more of a reason to let it happen. Everything happens better when you have a solid foundation first. Everybody thinks you two are together anyways. He truly cares for you, in more ways than one.” 

Anvika hummed and rolled her eyes as she brought the slender champagne fluke to her full lips. The liquid went smooth down her throat. She shrugged. “Then let them think that. Lewis is a good man, a good and attractive man, but…”

Her friend, Onyx, sighed and downed her drink with a wave of her hand. “I don’t know how you do it! I would’ve lost my mind by now. I commend you.” Onyx bowed playfully which pulled a light laugh from Anvika. Though she was joking, she couldn’t help but sense the truth behind her words. 

Though swearing off men and intimacy had become a more common practice among women, many people found it taboo and unrealistic. She soon began to ponder--what if she’d never find anyone that could give her what she wanted because of how she chose to navigate her dating life? She shook it off internally. That would be a problem, but none that would be hers. 

Before she got the chance to respond, her phone rang against the glass table that held their expensive lunch on it’s back. LH flashed across the screen. She smiled softly which caught the attention of Onyx, who gave a teasing smirk. For someone who was insistant on keeping a strong boundary between herself and her closest friend, she surely smiled like a fool whenever he called. 

“I told you I have a lunch date with Onyx today,” she reminded the racer lowly, using her index finger to draw doodles in the condensation her water glass sweat off on the table. “Everything alright?” 

“Everything’s fine, angel,” he spoke smoothly. “Just wanted to make sure you were still wanting to join me for the event on Friday.” Anvika hummed and nodded as though he could see her. He was attending a gala in London and of course, offered his plus-one to Anvika, as he had done since their friendship had begun years prior. What was his, was hers, including access to rooms and events that would grant her opportunities to further her career as a branding and marketing consultant. 

“Yes,” she replied excitedly. “I still haven’t found a dress. What color are you wearing?”

There was shuffling in the background before he spoke again. “Blue. Don’t worry about it,  I’ll handle it.” Her heart fluttered. “Enjoy your lunch. Tell Onyx I said hello and call me later, alright?” 

Anvika’s teeth trapped her bottom lip. “Alright. Talk soon.” 

“Bye, love.” 

Anvika turned her phone on its face and looked up, catching Onyx’s playful eyes. Her thick eyebrow touched her forehead. “Friends, right?” Anvika gave her a look. Onyx raised her hands in defense, “My bad, my bad.” 

-

Lewis Hamilton was a gentleman. Sure, this was universal knowledge, but something about him being gentlemanly with her made her heart flutter and her stomach clench with desire. And it almost made her question Onyx’s point, “he truly cares for you; in more ways than one.” It’d typically be something she’d deny, but as she stood in front of the mirror with her hair done by a hairstylist he arranged to come, her nails done by a nail technician he’d flown out, and a dress he arranged to be custom-made to suit her body, how could she deny it any longer? 

“Don’t think too deeply into it,” she scolded herself, slipping out of her robe. She walked toward her dress, pulled it off the hanger, and carefully slipped into it. “You’re friends. Close friends who care for one another. That’s it, that’s all.” 

They met at the paddock six years prior. She was invited to her first Formula One race through her consultant agency, which took her team on an all-expense paid trip for their hard work. She wasn’t aware of Formula One, just of familiar names. Then, at the end of the match, she had the chance to put a face to the infamous name of Lewis Hamilton. 

“You raced well,” Anvika noted, taking in the slightly disheveled appearance of the raceman. “I’ve never been to a Formula One race; good job on giving me a reason to come back one day.” 

The man’s eyebrow raised in interest. He crossed his arms over his chest, his muscular build on display. “Is that so?”

Anvika nodded. 

“We can make that happen whenever you want.” 

It was Anvika’s turn to raise an eyebrow. A smirk played on her lips. “Is that so? Tryna be my friend, Lewis?” 

He shrugged his shoulders. Friends wasn’t too bad. Anything to get to know her. “Any man would be a fool to refuse that opportunity, Anvika.”

That marked the beginning of an inseparable union.

Anvika continued to mumble and grumble, doing whatever she could to keep her mind eased. Her self-conversations were halted by a knock on her door. Lewis. “Coming!” Holding her dress to her chest. She turned the doorknob, and the familiar scent of his cologne filled her nose. “Are you…oh. Oh.”

Closing the door behind him, Lewis’ eyes were trained on her, the most beautiful woman he’d laid eyes on. The dress, complementary to his suit, was perfectly designed and tailored to her. She was a fan of long-sleeved dresses, so that’s what she got. It was constructed with a heavy, luxurious velvet material and it hugged every riff, edge, and curve on her body. The neckline showed the swell of her breasts and her beautiful collarbone. The mermaid-like tail further accentuated her shape. 

Her hair was parted to the side and curled to perfection. The makeup complimented her features--thick eyebrows, full lips, and a round nose. And her scent, goodness, it suffocated him. The jasmine and almond notes filled his nostrils and he wanted to nuzzle his face in her neck and inhale like she was the air he needed to breathe. 

“You look beautiful,” Lewis managed to speak. His voice was so low that she almost didn’t hear his compliment. With a bashful smile, she thanked him and led him to her room where she wandered toward the bathroom, which had a series of jewels across the counter. “Help me pick a necklace?” 

Anvika turned to face the jewelry and fought hard to ignore the heat that radiated from Lewis’ body as he moved to stand behind her. From over her shoulder, his eyes followed the line of jewels the stylists brought. His eyes landed on a silver necklace; a thin chain with a multi-carat teardrop diamond. “This one.” 

Lewis took the necklace in his hands and placed it around her neck. Anvika lifted her hair to grant him easy access and shivered as his cool fingertips brushed against her skin. She inhaled deeply. “Stunning.” His breath was warm against her neck. They locked eyes in the mirror ahead of them. The tension was thick. Suffocating. His brown eyes, usually so full of love and warmth, were filled with something she couldn’t quite identify, but it made her body heat like wildfire. 

“I’m ready,” she announced, careful not to let her voice waver. She turned, purposefully ignoring the groan he released when she brushed against him. Her lips quivered as she tried to give a steady smile. What the hell was happening between them? Anvika placed her hands on his chest and soothed the non-existent wrinkles on his suit jacket. He was so handsome. “You look great, darling.” 

“Thank you…” his words came out as a whisper. He was too distracted by her. Six years of friendship and what he felt from the time he met her at the paddock all those years ago had reached a breaking point. He’d boiled over. 

Anvika tried to smile as she pressed a kiss against his cheek, but with how he reacted, her lips landed at the corner of his lips. She took a step back. “Let’s get ready to go, yeah?” 

Lewis swallowed thickly. He held his arm out for her, which she grabbed instinctively, and together, they were out the door with a million and one thoughts swimming between them. 

-

“And that beauty you’ve brought?” an older man questioned Lewis, who had his eyes on Anvika as she danced through the siloes of people in the room. The gala was nothing short of a popularity function, a random event on a random weekend for the host to flaunt their money and connections, Truthfully, his desire to attend dwindled once he saw her in that dress. She was the only thing on his mind. 

“Anvika Dawson,” Lewis said, nodding in her direction. “One of the best branding and marketing consultants in the industry. She’s amazing at everything she does. You’ve got a business, don’t you?” And that’s why he was a good friend, Anvika noted as she began to walk over, hearing him advocate for her in front of the man. 

“You flatter me,” she said with a smile as she took a position under Lewis’ arm, which slid around her waist. “Anvika Dawson, nice to meet you.” 

The older man, who had went by the nam Eli, shook her hand firmly and nodded in interest. “Well, pardon me, but the two of you would make a wonderful couple.” The young adult chuckled lightly; the comment was nothing new to them, but it seemed to bring them both discomfort given the fact that they had a very intimate moment just an hour before their arrival. Before Lewis could speak up, Anvika thanked the man sweetly then they were whisked in another direction. 

They were joined together at the hip for the remainder of the evening. And, on the rare occasion that they were apart, they stole glances from across the room like teenagers in a romantic sitcom. Soon, the event wrapped up and they were in the backseat of the car, sitting in a thick silence. 

Anvika sat at the right of the car, her knees turned inward and her legs crossed. With every bump in the road and swerve of the car, the tip of her heel brushed against Lewis’ leg. His breath hitched. She said nothing. 

The car came to an abrupt stop and the doors were opened for them. Before her foot could touch the ground, Lewis’ hand was awaiting. “Thank you,” Anvika said softly, and allowed him to guide her into the hotel. 

He still hadn’t said much. The walk to the elevator was quiet, yet, he hadn’t let go of her hand. What was he thinking about? If it was the sudden shift in their interactions, it didn’t go unnoticed by her either. 

The elevator doors peeled open and Lewis guided her in. He pressed the button, 10, that would send them to the floor their rooms were on. The elevator ride seemed slow as each ding indicated they’d entered another floor. 

Anvika cleared her throat and decided to speak up, “I enjoyed tonight. And again, you looked great. I love blue on you.” 

He couldn’t remember what happened between her compliment, her back against the elevator wall, and his lips on hers.  The only thing that forced him to key in was her hands pressing against his abdomen and his name falling from her lips. “Lewis…” What he’d heard time and time again in his dreams had finally become a reality. His stomach churned; could he get her to say it again? “What are you…” She cut herself off when she fell victim to the wonderful feeling of his lips against her jaw. 

“I just…” Lewis settled his face in her neck. “One night, Vi. Let me have one night with you…” Her heart pounded in her ears. What the hell was happening? 

“Lewis…” Her hand slipped and fell just above his belt. She extended her arm just slightly. “We can’t do this. I-I don’t want to mess up our friendship and you know I’m not going all the way with anyone--” 

Lewis hummed. His eyes sat low as he looked at her. She looked completely worn out as if he’d done to her what he truly wanted. Her forehead glistened with sweat, her lipstick was smeared, and her chest heaved. “Nothing will change for the worse, angel. And I don’t want to go there with you, just want to make you feel good…always have.” His left arm circled around her waist and his large hand palmed her backside. She whimpered. “Can I?” 

“Someone might see...” 

He ignored her. “Can I make you feel good?” His tone was stern as he repeated his question. Suddenly, the gala was out of her mind and the only thing that clouded her thoughts was him. Him and him only. Lewis Hamilton had infiltrated her mind and she finally stopped fighting it. 

The elevator dinged. “Yes…” 

-

“Should I…?” her hands reached for the necklace that shone beneath the dim lights of the hotel suite. Lewis shook his head and peeled his jacket off his shoulders, revealing a crisp white wife beater. He shed that too. Anvika’s breath hitched. “Keep it on. Lay back for me, angel.” 

Anvika looked like an angel surrounded by the comforter. Her undergarments were long discarded, save for her underwear which he kept in the pocket of his pants. The pure white of the sheets were a stark contrast to the richness of her complexion. Her hair was sprawled against the pillow with a few strands covering her face lazily. The look on her face was one of comfort, relief in one way or another. 

She welcomed Lewis’ body between her legs as he crawled on the bed and his lips against hers as he hovered above her. For the first time that night, Anvika’s hands didn’t tremble when she touched him. She welcomed the feeling of every ridge of muscle, every raised scar, and every mature tattoo. 

Their hands moved frantically over each other’s body, and it felt amazing. She hadn’t realized how touch deprived she was until she heard his chuckle in her ear. Her face warmed. She felt like a teenager. “It’s okay…” his lips ghosted against the shell of her ear. “Make all the noise you want.” 

Anvika didn’t respond--her mouth wouldn’t allow her to. As Lewis moved down her body, she sat on her elbows, watching and waiting. God, he was so handsome like this. His head was dipped between her thighs and his tattooed glistened under the dim lights. Slowly, he lips created an intentional trail from her belly down to the treasure just centimeters away from his mouth. 

Her fingers clawed at the bedsheets as the anticipation rose. She was becoming impatient. He was giving attention to every other place except where he wanted her. She huffed. “Lewis…” 

He hummed, clearly unbothered by her frustration. He glanced at her, “Yes?” She whimpered. “Talk to me.” He was amused, very amused. She was desperate for him. It was evident by the way her arousal seeped onto the bed. He gathered some on his fingers, using it as a lubricant as he finally began to touch her. 

Anvika gasped. His movements were slow and meticulated but they were enough to set her over the edge. He brought his lips to hers again, which she accepted sloppily. Her jaw fell slack as he continued to work her to her first release of the night. It came quickly, quicker than she would have liked. When his fingers hit that spot within her, her hips jerked and she squeaked his name. 

Lewis chuckled, “That’s it?” He prodded that spot again. “Right there?” Anvika nodded. He removed his fingers. She groaned in frustration, “Lewis, please!”

“Please what?” He brought his fingers to his lips and moaned at the taste of her on his tongue. If this was just the beginning, he couldn’t imagine how mad he’d go in the coming moments. “Tell me what you want.”

She clocked it. He wanted her to beg. Anvika wasn’t the begging type. She may have been far removed from having sex, but she always got her way, especially with Lewis. Her hands trailed down the muscular planes of his stomach. Her fingers hooked in his belt and pulled him forward. Her fingers curled around his neck and her nails toyed with the faded hair there. She brought her smeared lips to his ear, her tongue dancing against the shell of it. He shudder. “I want you to make my legs shake and rock my world. Can you do that, Lewis?” 

Her voice. The way her voice dropped in octave but increased in seduction had his head spinning. There were a few moments of silence as he fought hard to gather himself and the more she spurred him on, the most difficult it became. But then, she heard it, “Yes…”

-

“Right there, right there! Oh my…” He was a lover of music. Being in a studio, creating melodies to go with lyrics, was his favorite pastime. But this took the cake. She created her a song better than he could have ever imagined, and was it addicting. 

Her moans, cries, and screams were melodic and his name was the only lyric she knew. He hated repetition in music, but loved hearing hers. So addicting. So well created. So beautiful. 

Her legs trembled around his head and her hands were buried in his braids. He fought the urge to bend her over when she whispered out the faintest, “Baby, please…” She’d used terms of endearment before, but in this context, it was different. “I’m close!”

Her body, damp with sweat and covered in bruises created by his mouth, jumped and jolted as she grew closer to her peak. Lewis sat up, replacing his tongue with his highly skilled fingers. He used his arm to stabilize his body as he hovered over her. What a sight.

Her hair was completely sweated out, pooped and frizzy at the roots. Her makeup stained the pillows and her lips were swollen from her biting and his intense kisses. Her neck was dark with love bites. Her eyelids were hooded but he could see the fire behind her eyes. If only he could capture her and keep the picture in his pocket forever. 

“Doing so well for me,” he whispered, kissing against her cheek and jaw. His fingers made quick work of the huddle of nerves between her legs. “Taking it like a good girl.” Her moans grew louder, higher in pitch, and full of air. It was becoming too much—her hands pushed against his arm, trying to run. “Don’t run now. Isn’t this what you wanted?” 

“Lewis, I’m—“ she cut herself off with a high pitched scream that seemed to ring on forever. Lewis chuckled lightly and worked her through her orgasm. “That’s it, baby.” Her body shook as she tried to come down calmly.

He spent a few minutes between her legs, caressing her gently as an act of comfort. Her loud noises had diminished to soft whimpers as she came down from cloud nine. When she finally opened her eyes again, he asked, “You okay?” 

She was better than okay. Though they didn’t cross all the lines, Anvika had gotten the best orgasm she’d received in her life from a man’s mouth and hands. She’d deal with the consequences later, but in that moment, she felt amazing. 

She nodded and smiled lazily. “I’m okay. Are you…do you want me to…?” Her eyes fell to the evident bulge that strained against his pants. He shook his head.

“I’m okay. Let’s get you cleaned up…”

-

What was supposed to be a shower to clean her up resulted in her on her knees giving him the most intense release he’d experienced in months. It left him panting, shaking, and whimpering like it was his first time all over again. 

Once again, she looked angelic with her now curly hair flat against her back and big brown eyes staring at him as she worked him like the expert she was. He came in her with with a groan, his fingers in her hair. She stood to her feet, smiling innocently as she showed him there was no remnant of him left in her mouth. 

“You’re nasty,” he announced, grabbing her jaw to place a sloppy kids on her lips. 

“Mhmmm, just the way I like it.” 

They migrated to her bed shortly after, laying together in a comfortable silence. Anvika’s head was against his bare chest and herfingers traced the tattoos on his body. Lewis’ arm was around her waist and his hand massaged her plump bottom. 

They were tired, exhausted even. But, they fought sleep like children, internally afraid of what the morning would bring. All actions had consequences whether good or bad. It was a mutual hope that what they’d done wouldn’t bring on the latter. 

“Lewis?” Anvika called after some time. 

“Yes, angel?” 

“Are we gonna be okay?” Her voice trembled slightly. They’d crossed a line--a big one. She had wobbled on her boundaries. There was a lot to discuss and a lot to consider. It was an amazing experience, she couldn’t lie, but her biggest fear was that she’d lose him as an important person in her life if reality didn’t set in the way they intended. 

Lewis gave her a squeeze and brought his lips to her forehead. Sensing her worry, he reassured, “We’ll always be okay.” And she believed it.

[rubyvhs]

remedy (viii) — sam winchester

> prev, masterlist

summary: you find sam ten years later, or he finds you, and things change forever— tags: major character deaths, 70% angst, i broke my own heart, case-fic, grieving, mourning, slow burn, praying, very long 13k, though it’s extremely fast paced. general surgeon!fem!reader.

ten years later

“Hey, Miss Moseley,” you call out as the older woman smiles at you and Emmy, it’s the same warm gesture every end of the week as you and your daughter pick up the groceries.

“Hey, sugar. How’s my little angel?” She leans down to kiss your daughter's head, seeing as you’d made it clear to every living, breathing person that no one gets to kiss her anywhere but there. “Oh and how’s Mark? I heard about the promotion he got, that’s wonderful, truly.”

It was unexpected, but yes, your husband got the biggest promotion of his career working at the law firm in town. Obviously you’ve never been prouder (except maybe when your oldest said ‘mama’ first) but it has been with its ups and downs. He stays later nights and it’s a lot more pressure, though now you don’t exactly live paycheck by paycheck, even if you haven’t been doing that anyways, but now you really don’t and you’re grateful. 

“He’s great, thank you. You heard right, I'm proud of his hard work.” She shakes her hand around as if to tell you ‘who cares’ and you know the woman well enough to guess what she’s about to say next.

“And the pay?” Yeah, you were right.

“We’re grateful, Miss Moseley. Thank you for checking in.” You reply politely as the last of her things are ringed up and the cashier shops her away. She kisses your cheek as a goodbye as you ring your things up.

“She means well, you know.” The eighteen year old says from behind the counter and you can’t help but laugh. Not exactly at her, but, you know.

“Of course she does, Missouri is a sweetheart, we’re just not too sure about things ourselves. How are you doing in your senior year?” You deflect.

“‘M okay. Just passed my English final and Maths— Biology and Chemistry are what's left.” She replies, waving to Emmy. She laughs, waving back with an enthusiasm she saves especially for teenage girls. “Hopefully I can actually graduate this year.”

“You will, sweetheart,” you reassure, the nickname coming easy to you. It always did. “I’m sure of it. Call me anytime, okay?” She nods with a smile, handing you back your card and you carry the bags to the car. 

Emmy’s holding onto your blue dress, with little white flowers all over it, the one you like to wear most of the time considering how hot it’s been getting. Though your older daughter doesn’t mind the heat (for whatever unholy reason), the rest of you are minding it a whole damn lot, you begged Mark to let you change practically your entire closet and he hadn’t argued much. 

When the bags are in the trunk you strap Emmy in the back and turn on a country playlist Mark had made you a while ago. Though when you listen to it it reminds you of your days in Stanford. 

As you park your jeep, you can feel your throat constrict and the tip of your nose redden. It’s hard not to notice the shiny black impala in your drive way. And it is there. Just there. Who put it there? Why would the universe torture you like this? What the hell even kind of joke is this—

“Mommy?” Emmy whines out, clearly starting to feel the effect of the heat with the A/C working only halfway. 

“Yeah, baby.”

“Wanna show Daddy.” She says as she waves her iPad to show you the drawing she made. You should, in fact, go inside. And find out what the hell he’s doing in your house. 

When you take Emmy’s hand it takes everything in you to control your breathing. You’ve been better than when you were in college. It had been— a rough couple of years to say the least, but you powered through them with a determination you didn’t know you had in you. Then you started your internship and found Mark, you had dated for a year before he proposed and of course you had said yes. Now, he’s coming back and he’ll— God, you just know that he’s going to ruin everything you’ve worked so hard to bring together. 

Emmy runs through the door and straight to her dad with a yell. “Baby, no shouting.” You lecture loosely, shutting the door behind you as the three men in your living room stand up to greet you, Emmy already forgetting about her drawing and running up to her room.

And that’s when you decide how you should approach it. It’s the only way nothing will turn sour. “Hey, what’s wrong?” You eye your husband, leaning in to kiss his cheek. You haven’t even looked at them yet but their presence is all consuming that you actually gulp before Mark puts a hand in your back so you’re facing them.

You find his eyes first. And it looks like he hasn’t taken his eyes off of you the entire time. You don’t hear a single damn thing your husband is saying because you and Sam are staring into the other’s eyes in a way that makes you think you may be cheating right in front of him. 

Sam’s changed so drastically that it brings you to a violent halt. His hair’s the first thing you notice, it’s grown to just above his shoulder, and it’s tamer, no more of that shaggy haircut he had ruffled everywhere. It fits him with the black suit he has on, that and his height. You’ve grown maybe an inch, he looks so much taller. Maybe you’re imagining it, maybe he just looks that good, either way, it’s mesmerizing.

When Mark says your name twice you snap out of it, shaking your head with a hum.

“Agents Plant and Page.” Agents who the fuck now?

“Excuse me— what?” Your husband narrows his eyes at you, but when you don’t budge he lets out a small awkward laugh. 

“I’m sorry, agents, it’s the heat, really bad this week and she gets these migraines.”

Sam nods, completely professional and understanding as he talks to your husband, “We understand. I know how migraines can be,” yeah, ‘cause you used to have them, “it’s no problem. We should get going, we’ve already taken up too much of your time.”

“Oh. I thought you said you wanted to talk to my wife. I can go get the bags from the car, leave y’all to it.”

“That’s really not—”

Dean doesn’t hesitate to cut Sam off, “Yes, that would be good. Thank you.”

Mark kisses your lips this time and you’re stunned for a second before kissing back, but it’s brief and he nods at the gentlemen in politeness before leaving. You’re left with both of them. “Dean,” You announce shakily, “Sam.” 

“Hey, sweetheart.” Dean smiles, like it’s nostalgic to see you, and you suppose it is. You’re not angry with either of them, especially not Dean. Despite his flirty nature, he hadn’t been rude to you and he’d respected you every time you met him. He moves past the coffee table to take your hand but you, to your absolute fucking surprise, pull him in for a hug. 

Dean’s grown up too. He looks it, his voice is way lower, his stubble and those damn suits they're both wearing. He lets out a laugh, hugging back. “Haven't seen you in ages.” 

“Yeah,” he sighs, releasing your grip to place a quick kiss in your hair. When he moves away, Sam’s standing behind him. He looks— all 6 foot something of him— awkward and unsure and it might be the most heartbreaking thing you’ve seen. Sam’s changed in appearance, he’s grown up, sure, but at Stanford he was confident. He wasn’t cocky but he knew his stuff and didn’t back down, this Sam’s curling up into himself the second you came in the room (or when you first bothered to look at him anyway). 

“Hey, Sam.” You smile, repeating the same gesture you had with Dean, except it’s different, so so different with him. His hand’s on your waist, yours wrapped around his neck. The same way you hug everyone else. Then why does his embrace feel more intimate? And his cologne, God. 

He pulls away a few seconds later (maybe, who know, it could have been hours). 

“We didn’t know—”

“Yeah, I figured as much with the whole agents thing.” You’re not stupid, you’ve seen the news, Dean and Sam are wanted in some states, for a long list that you never bothered checking for the sole reason that you never thought you’d see them and you had such an exceptional picture of them in your head that you didn’t want to ruin it.

But the truth is, you also don’t believe that they would do it. Sam and Dean wanted for theft? Murder? you don’t buy it. Sam had told you how dangerous his job was, you know it has to come with consequences. 

“So why are you here?”

“We’re investigating something.” You frown. No animal attacks here as far as you know.

“Investigating what?”

“There was a girl. She died in the neighborhood last year, Carla.” 

Your face falls and you cross your arms in front of your chest. “Get out.” Dean’s eyes widen, clearly taken aback by your sudden change in tone. “Get out, both of you.”

“Hey—”

“No, you’re joking. You came in here to ask my husband about his dead niece. And you made him think you’re fucking FBI, which is illegal by the way, Mr. Stanford Lawyer. And for what? Is this all just for fun?” You’re praying your voice doesn’t get too loud but you can’t help the pit of anger in your stomach. They can’t do this. They can’t.

“That’s not what we’re doing,” Sam speaks up, his eyebrows furrowed together. Sam speaks in a much lower tone than he did in Stanford. It’s less urgent, more patient and understanding. He’s listening more than he is talking. It’s a noticeable change from the man you once knew, “we’re trying to find out what happened to her, I swear. We’re here to help.”

“Well, sorry to break it to you, but there haven’t been any animals around lately so this isn’t up your alley— which by the way, fuck you both.” You don’t remember ever being this immature but damn it, do the Winchesters get a ride out of you. “You’re both lying to my husband and expect me to do what? Welcome you with open arms?” The fact that you did goes unsaid.

There’s a deadly kind of silence that overcomes the three of you. You’re waiting for an explanation, they’re looking at each other like they don’t want to give one, and your oldest daughter just woke up from her nap and is walking down the stairs. She’s on the last step, rubbing the sleep from her eyes when she notices the two big men in suits and frowns. “Mommy…” she mumbles, clearly ready to go back upstairs.

At least the kid has good instincts. “Hey, sweetheart.” You smile slightly, leaving both of them in the living room to walk over to her, kneeling down. “What’s wrong? Why are you up?”

“Sound. Where’s daddy?”

“Outside. You wanna go and play with Emmy or are you gonna go back to sleep?” She shrugs, looks back at Sam and Dean then you, questions written all over her pretty little face. “Those are the police, they’re trying to help us. It’s okay, you can go back upstairs and I’ll bring you a snack, okay?” She nods and you get up, kiss her head, and let her run back upstairs.

When you face them, not moving closer, they both get the message. You want to say it’s easy, watching them walk to the front door, kicking them out, losing Sam again. But it isn’t. And you can’t help what you do next. 

“Sam,” it’s just his name. That’s all you said, but God, you can practically feel how tense he just got, standing in place. He looks at Dean who nods in understanding and walks out of the house. Sam faces you, you’re closer than you think you should be.

“I never wanted to hurt you. Or Mark. And— Dean and I, we had no idea this was your house or that she was your niece—”

“Mark’s niece.”

“Right. We didn’t know. We asked around and they gave us Mark's last name, we thought it was a coincidence. And there’s no pictures—”

“I don’t like hanging pictures in the house.” You cut him off, not sure why you’re confessing like it’s a sin, but the need to explain yourself to Sam has apparently not gone away completely. He nods in understanding and sighs. “I didn’t mean to kick you guys out, I just hate how much you’ve lied to me, and I don’t even know why, I don’t even know what it’s about.”

He slips up, “Baby, I wish I could tell you—”

“You don’t get to call me that.” Maybe it’s Stanford all over again. Have you really grown up? Have you really changed for the better? Will you ever be able to let go of Sam? You haven’t thought about him for a long time, but seeing him in front of you— in fact you haven’t thought of him since you two broke up. Maybe you’re not mentally ready for this.

But more than that, you’re not letting anyone get between you and your husband.

“I know.” He groans, rubbing a hand over his face, “I know. I’m sorry.” 

“Yeah, me too. I hope you guys find out what happened with Carla.” 

Sam’s about to say something. A rebuttal, probably. Maybe then you can both have an actual conversation. But he decides against it and opens the door, walking out. 

Wouldn’t be the first time.

You see him nod at Mark and Dean end the conversation with your husband to get back in the impala. You watch them drive off before shutting your eyes, grounding yourself. You need to calm down. Obviously, you told Mark that you talked to someone before, and had a brief relationship with them, it wasn’t a secret, but you don’t think he knows that it’s the same guy who just pretended to be FBI and talked to him about his niece. 

“What did they ask about?” Your husband asks as he gets inside, Emmy on his right while he's holding two hands full of groceries. 

“Carla. You didn’t tell them she was your niece?” Now that you notice it, they were surprised to find out Carla's in any way related to you and Mark. He shrugs and moves to the kitchen but you follow him with a frown. “Why?”

“‘Cause they wouldn't take it seriously. The police thought I was overreacting since we were related but the FBI actually listened, and they believed me. I don’t want them to think emotions are taking over.” And the mocking way he says the word makes your heart clench.

You fell in love with Mark pretty quickly— or, he fell in love with you. And you eventually did too, with the sweet gestures and the kind comments, he was an incredible man, an even better husband that you’re proud to call yours. But he also had some issues, and trouble when it came to his family. While you guys do live in the same neighborhood as them, he doesn't like them. And for good reason, they're assholes. But he does love them.

He isn’t actually an ‘emotional guy’ and to label him as such— well, Mark is old-school. He won’t do well with that. His manhood and all that— and you’re not even saying it in a condescending way, you know how he was raised, it’s the one thing he’ll never back down from. But he’s been so good to you over the past five years, you’ve had your ups and downs, of course you did, but you couldn’t think of a better husband.

Can you? Can you think of someone you’d love more and want to spend the rest of your life with more than Mark? The man who traveled all the way back to your home country to ask your father for your hand in marriage? 

“I’m— I’ll get started on dinner. They seem like good people, and they’re looking into it.” You smile slightly, leaning up to give him a quick kiss, putting the groceries away, your oldest daughter has come down to even help you and spend time with Emmy.

And maybe you shouldn’t. Maybe you should just take it to the grave, but God, you can’t help but call Gen’s number when it’s ten and you’re on your couch all alone. Mark is out with friends, your kids are in their room and you can’t stop yourself from calling a number you’d left abandoned for a year. An entire year. 

It rings once. Twice. And when you hear her voice through the speaker you bite back tears. “Hello?”

“Hey— hey, Gen.” A relieved sort of laugh comes from the other line and it eases you into the conversation if only a little.

“Hi, sweetie. I haven’t heard from you in a while, how are Mark and the kids?” You were ready for an argument, and maybe that’s why you called in the first place, to get what’s been coming for you. You deserve it after you abandoned her when she needed you the most. You didn’t expect this. You didn’t expect normal with Gen. You don’t deserve it.

“Yeah. They’re okay. How about you and Rue?” As if the universe wanted to make a point, Rue, you guess, stole her mother’s phone from her hand and ran around with it, asking you how you’re doing and that she misses you. Rue’s almost six, but she’s as much of a troublemaker as she was at four.

“Rue’s fine!” She yells across the room, then she takes the phone and you can hear her better. “She’s great, just got into fifth grade, actually.” 

You smile, the tears running down your cheeks without your consent. “That’s— great, Gen.”

She picks up on the crack in your voice and sighs. “Sweetie. Why’d you call now? What’s going on?”

“Nothing. Nothing, I feel so bad I haven’t called and I promise, I’m so sorry, Gen. You know I love her and I didn’t mean to do this.” you cut yourself off, scared you’re talking over her, but she doesn’t speak, letting you continue. “And I miss you and my little niece. I miss Rue and the kids, of course, they also miss her and I’ve been such a—”

“Nuh, uh. None of that here. You were grieving.”

You scoff, a hand slapping the tears away. “No, you were grieving.”

“Jess was as much of my girlfriend as she was your best friend. I’ve known her longer, but she was always your soulmate, and I never, for a second, held that against you.” It hurts knowing that what she’s saying is true. You don’t want to believe her because what have you done for her to love you this way? Unconditionally.

“I know. I wanted to be there for you but I couldn’t even say her name and I’m, I’m so scared. Even now, I’m always so scared, and I think about her all the time.”

“I think about her too…” you want to say you’re imagining the crack in her voice, that it’s a slip up that means nothing. But truthfully, Gen’s only ever cried with you. She’s not close to her parents and despite her multitude of friends, most of them had drifted after college. Not the three of you. Not you, Jess and Gen. 

You wish you could say it stayed the same after Jess passed away, but you did leave her. and you can’t find it in yourself to say that you’d do it differently. Because you used your grief to be a good mother this past year, you spent so much time with the kids. Even with Carla gone too. You and Mark kept it together.

You’re not sure how seeing Sam broke you the most of the events.

“She loves you. I think— we just have to remember her love, right?” Gen sniffles and you imagine her nodding her head, a hand running through her hair like she usually is when she’s sad.

“Yeah. Yeah, sweetie, but—” Gen breathes heavily through her nose. “But why’d you call? You haven’t— it’s been a year, what’s going on?” 

“I, uh, saw someone. Today.”

“Who?”

“Sam Winchester.” 

“The criminal?”

Explaining to Gen about Sam pretending to be FBI and how he came to ‘investigate’ Carla’s death after being ‘wanted’ in a few states almost gives her a heart attack. You want to share her worry about the safety of your family when he’s in proximity, but Sam looked all but broken when he was standing at your doorstep. 

“So I kind of threw them out and now they’re giving Mark hope again that they’ll find out what happened, but just— it sucks. He’s such a liar and I had no idea.” 

“Yeah, but, maybe you should report it to the police, you know?”

You frown, shaking your head. “Police? He isn’t even wanted in here. I think it’s in… I don’t know Tennessee?”

“Still. He could be dangerous and he knows where you live now.” You aren’t sure what to think. Is she right? Is Sam dangerous? He doesn’t look it. 

“Sure. Sure, Gen, I’ll see what I can do. I just, wanted to talk to you and maybe see if we can go out, you know? If you want, if you’re free.” 

“Yeah. Of course. Next Friday? We can go to Lilo’s Diner, if you want.“ Before Jess passed away when you got married, you couldn’t help but find an apartment next to here’s and Gen’s. In hindsight, it was an impulsive decision since Mark told you to choose the location, but you couldn’t help wanting to be next to her. But the real kicker was that before you settled down, you had completely forgotten that where you are right now, Lawrence, Kansas, is Sam’s hometown. 

“Yeah. That’s good, I don’t mind.” You both say your goodbye’s, and it’s a little tear-filled, but it gets the job done. 

You’re not completely convinced that you’ll give Sam in, but you know you need to consider it. If your daughters are ever in danger… you don’t know you’d do. You sigh, getting up and dimming the lights. “God, I wish you could— I need help.” You’re done crying, you just need help, “just— please, i wish I could just— I love him but I don’t even know if he’s it for me, I wish I could think without him in the picture, fuck.”

And if cursing while trying to pray isn’t message enough for you to just go to bed, you don’t know what is.

“Mommy? Mommy!” You stir from your sleep. It’s been forced upon you to be a light sleeper since you’ve had your kids, and one of them shouting your name alerts you. 

Emmy’s jumping on your chest, “Door. Mommy, door.” You groan, running a hand through your untamed hair and getting up groggily. At least she’s in a good mood for whatever reason.

You put on a shirt that you haven’t crumpled in your sleep and take a hair tie with you downstairs as you attempt to make it look decent, swinging the door open before you can ask who it is. 

Oh. “Sam?”

“Good morning.” There’s no Dean this time, just Sam. Just very tall and intimidating Sam looking at your with the most innocent look you’ve ever seen but you still can’t help clutching your daughter to your leg, mumbling about her going upstairs but she doesn’t listen. “I— I’m sorry, I came to tell you about… Mark.”

Your eyes widen, shaking your head in question and confusion because mark is upstairs, right? He’s in your bed, right next to you. You just hadn’t checked, that’s all. “What about him? He’s fine.”

Sam frowns, loosening his tie. Maybe you should loosen the collar around your neck. Where is Mark? He was just out with friends last night and you’d gone to sleep after praying, you must’ve missed his call telling you he’ll spend the night elsewhere. Except he’s never done that. Mark’s never spent the night anywhere other than right next to you since you’ve gotten married.

But it’s fine, you’re overreacting and Sam is here to tell you Mark was found drunk or something. He won’t get arrested. You need him. His kids need him. “Hey, hey, you with me? Mark’s— I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.” 

“What do you mean?” You’re out of breath even if you’ve just gotten out of bed, “what do you mean you’re sorry? What did you do? Where is he?”

Emmy’s tugging on your pants, even if you can hardly feel it, but you do feel Sam stepping into your house, his hands moving closer before you flinch a way from his touch, in a result Emmy’s hands is forced away from your leg. You apologize to your little girl, leaning down to scoop her in your arms. 

“Mark’s—”

“Shut up, Sam. Stop it. Where is he?”

You can see his heart breaking, you can feel it. Maybe from his eyes alone, even. But it doesn’t even register to you, because why is he sad? What does he have to be upset about? 

“They can’t find him. He’s… gone.”

“Gone where? Is he at work? It’s— only eight or something—”

“It’s eleven.” Your breath hitches and you shake your head. What does that even mean coming from a liar? Sam’s nothing but a liar, he always has been he’s— 

“Where are the police?” he says your name, soft and you shout, “Where are the police?” Your daughter flinches at your tone and cuddles her head into your chest. “Don’t— I’ll report you. You and Dean, if you don’t tell me what you did. What did you do?”

It’s futile. They didn’t do anything. Deep down you know that. 

But you’re not sure if you can listen to ‘deep down’ when your husband is not next to you. Calming and comforting you. 

“Sam,” you breathe, putting her down, “Sam, where is he?” He doesn’t step closer, brushes a hand down his face, “Sam.” You try, one last time before you’re sobbing, hitting at his chest. “Where is he? Where is— Mark, where is he! Sam!” 

He doesn’t respond. He doesn’t tell you that everything will be okay and that Mark’s only gone for the day. He holds your body close to his and you bury your head into his chest, your tears wet against your face as you fist your hands in his shirt. Your eyes burn, they’re hard to open. Maybe it’s for the best. 

Your world doesn’t spin often, but when it does, you have Mark. You quit your first job, Mark’s there. You’re low on money, Mark’s there. Your kids seem like they hate you, he’s by your side.

What are you supposed to do now? What are you supposed to do other than pray for him back?

Because you did this. You prayed yesterday and now look what happened, he’s gone. Just like you wished for, even if you’d don’t really mean it then. You mean it now, to have him back.

Sam lets go of you eventually, to get you a glass of water and coax your daughter into her room. You’re not sure what the time is, just that your eyes couldn’t get more swollen if you tried, and you will. 

“Here.” He hands you a cup and you don’t look up at him as he takes the seat next to you again making you briefly wonder if you’re having an out of body experience. You could be. You must be. 

“I should call the police.” You say through sniffles and Sam sighs. “You should… go, I guess. Since you’re not real police.”

“I’ll stay. We talked to them anyways and they think we’re FBI so— ”

“But I’ll tell them.” It’s low. Defeated. Sam doesn’t speak for a second and you don’t want to imagine the look on his face. You can’t. “Just go.”

His scoff shouldn’t be as comforting as it is. “No. You’re not pushing me away when you need me.” He tilts your head up, his finger hooking under your chin, “I’m not leaving you again. Never again.”

“It’s— it’s not like that, right now. Sam, go.”

“Tell them. Call the police, make them come here, and tell them I’m not FBI, tell them my real name, I don’t care, they can arrest me when I know you’re okay.” 

Is it fair to say you never want to be okay if it means Sam leaving? “My kids.” You whisper, as a thought. Something you put out there. 

“Dean can take care of them if you want us to go to the police.” You nod, touching your cheek to check if you’re still crying. Your eyes are so raw you can’t even tell at this point. Sam takes his phone out to call Dean but you hold his wrist. 

“Gen. Call Gen.” He gapes in surprise, is about to argue, but seems to see something on your face because he pulls up her number from your phone. You think she’s not going to respond as the phone starts to run out of rings but when she finally does you collapse with a sigh, one hand on your heart, the other holding Sam’s arm in support. And you’re fucking sat down.

“Gen. Hey, it’s Sam. Sam Winchester.” Shit. Shit. She doesn’t like Sam. Shit. “Yeah— oh. Yeah, she threatened already. Look, Mark’s gone and we can’t find him, she’s asking if you can come over and watch her kids.”

You don’t hear the conversation. You don’t hear except white static as you leave Sam on the couch and go to your kids’ room. Your oldest is on her IPad. The youngest is playing with her blocks. They both look at you expectantly for food and you give them a watery smile. “Aunt Gen is coming over. She’ll get you breakfast, okay?”

They both seem pleased, but your oldest isn’t stupid. She’s only four but Mark had been gifted as a child. Not enough to skip grades, but he was intelligent, both emotionally and academically. And apparently your oldest has inherited that because she walks up to you with a smile.

“You’re okay, Mommy.” You’re not sure if it’s a question or not but you wipe your face in case it’s showing anything other than that fact. “We will have fun with Genny.”

“No, baby, I’m going somewhere and then we’ll have fun with Genny, but you’re staying alone first.”

“I will take care of Emmy.” Your heart clenches as you nod quickly, taking her in for a hug so she doesn’t see the tears. 

“Good job, Jess.” Even saying her name. She’s your daughter, she isn’t even really Jess but saying her name… you can’t do this right now.

When you get back down dressed for the station, Sam’s in the kitchen cooking. “I’m dressed. we should go.”

He looks back to see you are, in fact, dressed. He hands you a cup of water, “drink this and we’ll go.”

You frown but oblige anyway. You’re a doctor, it isn’t hard to tell what he’s doing, with the amount of tears you’ve cried, you’d think you’re dehydrated too. “I’ll text Gen that there’s omelets. She can make sandwiches when she’s here.”

You acknowledge the words, handing him the cup. He locks the door behind him just as Gen parks her car and it’s the calmest you’ve felt all morning. At least your kids will be safe. You give her a hug that lasts about two seconds then walk to the Impala as fast as you can, certain you won’t be driving in this condition.

The police station is a whirlwind of screaming and yelling. No one’s telling you enough, you need to know now, and you might have accidentally called Sam his real name once, though you’re hoping no one caught it. Four hours later you’re crying and shaking your head in the lobby. 

The lady at the desk tries to calm you down while Sam talks to them inside, “Please, Miss, you need to remain calm while we—”

“My husband is gone, just off the face of the earth, how the fuck does that happen?”

“We’re not sure.” You look back hoping it’s Sam but find an older looking guy. Darker skin and maybe even a little taller than Sam? Though that must be impossible, they could be the same height. “His friends all say he was on his way home the last time they saw him and we found his car by a neighborhood next to yours but it was parked. He could have just went somewhere else.”

“I called him a thousand times on my way here and Mark never spends the night out of the house.”

“Have you considered a different possibility?” He asks, taking a step closer and you suddenly get intimidated by the demeanor if not his height, “maybe he did it on purpose. To spend the night somewhere else.”

“What on Earth is wrong with you? Are you all really that bad at your job that the only excuse you can come up with is him cheating? Who the hell gives you the right to—”

“We’re merely covering all our basis.”

“No you’re a bunch of—” Someone clears their throat so loudly it makes you jump. Jump right into their arms— into Sam’s arms.

“She’s worked up, considering.” The police, whoever the fuck that man is nods understandably and you’re ready to elbow Sam as you stare daggers at the one in front of you. “But she doesn’t make a point. It’s not likely Mister Davis is having an affair,” he moves your body out of the way to stand toe-to-toe with the man, “and even if he is, do you think it’s smart to threaten his wife with it?”

“Threaten? You’ve got it wrong, Agent.”

“Please don’t speak to Misses Davis again, it’s clear you can’t handle this case.” Sam places both hands on your shoulders to walk you out of the station and when you’re finally alone you slap his hands away. 

“What the hell? What about Mark—”

“They don’t have anything on him. We called everyone, we tried to track his phone but it’ll take a while. Me and Dean tried tracking it before I came over anyway and we couldn’t find it, they won’t have better luck. They usually put them in warehouses so I told them to check all the ones in the area. Dean is on it too. Look, we need to talk.” 

“Warehouse— what? Does now seem like the time for talking?” You scold. Even Sam's speaking in code.

“Did you… wish for something yesterday?”

Your heart slows. “Like what?”

“Like… wanting him gone.”

Your heart stops.

You tend to run things over in your head a lot.

“Mark? Mark, come back in, the kids don’t need—”

“No way. If my angel says she needs a cookie, we’re getting her a cookie.” You sigh affectionately, a smile threatening to split your face open. He’s been so good since you’ve gotten married, but you thought that would all stop the second you told him you’re pregnant. It couldn’t be further from the truth. He’s been more engaged, beautiful with your kids, even years later. 

He’s the best father you could have dreamed of. He’s a damn good husband too, but Mark is… complicated. His family is complicated. He grew up in such a toxic environment that during the first year of dating him, he’d cursed you out in front of his entire family. You got married anyways, he’s a good man, and you know he is. He’s changing slowly, trying to better himself because he has you. 

And it isn’t even something he’s just ‘saying’, you know that because now? Four years later, Mark would eat up anyone in his family that says one word about you, whether it be one of his sisters or one of his brothers’ wives.

Two hours later Mark comes back with Jess and two boxes of cookies. When you put Jess to bed he hands you a box of your favorite chocolate, the expensive kind. And it isn’t like you’re broke, you’re doing okay to spoil yourselves every once in a while, but you’re also saving up for when the kids grow up since you know they’ll be more demanding than they are now. So while it didn’t put a dent in anything, it was unnecessary. But he did it. He did it and he kissed you and you’re pretty sure that was the night Emmy came into your lives. Or would be coming in nine months.

Sometimes you wish you could stop ruining things over in your head.

“Come back to me, fuck, come back.” Sam’s saying your name over and over as your eyes flutter open. “Can you hear me?” 

“Yeah.” You groan, a hand coming up to touch your head before he stops you. “What happened?”

“You blacked out and fell on the concrete. They did an X-ray, it came back okay but you’re not eating enough. Don’t touch your head though.”

“Why?” you reply stubbornly though you're grateful he cared enough to get you to the emergency room as fake FBI. Speaking of, you guys should probably head out. “Doesn't matter, let's go home. I'll pay the—”

“I already paid, let's go.” you frown as he helps you up. Thankfully, you don't need any assistance walking, not that Sam gets the message, his hand on your lower back as he nods at the receptionist.

The car ride is as silent as you expected it to be with your multitude of questions. About Mark, Sam, your kids. About everything. The most important one is where the hell is Mark, but every time you think of that you're back to crying. The second is where did Sam get the money to cover your bill? Seeing as he's not a lawyer or anything. 

“You okay?” He asks, giving you a glance before his eyes are back on the road. He must realize how stupid the question is because he follows it up with: “We’re going to find him. I promise.”

“Yeah.”

“Dean’s already—”

“How? How are you and Dean— I don’t even know if Dean went to college,” no offense, he just doesn’t look the type, “and you all but dropped out of law. On what earth will the two of you find my husband?”

“Look—”

“Real answers!” You scream, slamming your hand down on your leg, the friction from your jeans sting as you take it back. “Real answers Sam, or I swear God…”

He sighs, parking on the side of the road. “You won’t believe me.”

“Try me.”

“You passed out.”

“Try me, because my husband is missing and I left my kids with Gen who I haven’t seen in almost a year and now I’m sitting next to Sam Winchester from Stanford—”

“It’s a curse.”

“What.”

When someone says something is a curse they usually follow it up with trying to sell you some oils for way too high that will ‘break the curse’. But that’s not what Sam is doing. Sam is talking to you like it’s logical. Like he’s sane. He’s telling you, with a straight fucking face, that monsters are real and that after he was born here a witch placed a curse on the town.

He’s not trying to sell you anything except that this is the truth. To him, this is real. And he’s looking at you like you’d be stupid not to believe that a witch placed a curse on an entire town so that whatever someone wishes, it comes true.

You wished for better mental stability everyday but that never came.

“Sam,” you sigh sympathetically, “look, I don’t know what happened before you graduated, but you’re a good man, you should not let—”

“What? No! What I'm telling you is real! Monsters and werewolves, vampires, witches, they’re all real. Now you need to think before you answer, did you wish for anything yesterday? Anything regarding Mark?”

“Wish? Are you— no! Of course not.”

“Please, you need to level with me here. Anything at all.” You should get out of the car, slam the door right in his face, and tell everyone that Sam Winchester— straight A student in Stanford— has officially gone crazy. And you’re witnessing it first hand. 

You don’t end up doing any of that except for slamming the door in his face. That, he deserves. For lying and for finding you and giving you hope about your husband when he’s obviously gone crazy and for making you leave your daughters when you could be with them right now. 

He gets out of the car, and when you glance over at him he looks like he’s going to try and convince you of something again but his eyes widen. When you face whatever it is that he’s staring at— it’s just Missouri.

“Missouri?” He asks, frowning and you start to notice that this is, in fact, his hometown. He probably knows a lot of the older locals. “What are you doing here? I thought we told you to stay inside ‘till we find whoever cursed the town.”

Now you’re really confused. Where on earth does get off playing with an old lady’s head? “I know you did not just call me old, sweetie.” 

What. The. Hell.

“See!” Sam can’t help but let out with a relieved sigh. As if that actually shows anything other than you’re seriously creeped out.

“No reason to be creeped, darling, but Sam’s right. Monsters exist and a witch did curse this godforsaken town.”

“How did you—”

“I’m psychic.” Right. And you’re Beyoncé. 

“I wouldn’t count on it. I heard you sing early in the morning and even the birds couldn’t take it.”

“Rude— and also how the fuck—”

“I can read minds. Though I don’t usually, it seemed like the only way to get you to believe poor Sam. He’s a good man,“ he seems to be getting told that a bunch, “and he only means to help. Him and Dean are hunters.”

Is the sun too hot? Probably, considering it’s the sun. Maybe you should sit in the shade. Or pass out. Passing out sounds better than finishing this conversation. Missouri sighs, a hand on Sam’s cheek. “It was good seeing you, sweetie. Get her home and tell her everything she needs to know. She gets migraines—”

“I know.”

“Good. Get her anything she needs but especially some cold air.” 

“To sum it up,” you gulp down the rest of your cup before facing Sam, “Monsters are real. You’re a hunter. Your dad died, and Dean never went to college?” 

“Sure, I guess. Is that all you got? That’s a very… random  summary.”

“Right but if Dean’s never went to college and Monsters are real, I think the apocalypse starting really doesn’t sound that far-fetched.” Apparently by monsters he also meant Angels. And prophets. And too many things he just told you— like Lucifer and Micheal the archangels and so so so many things. 

He chuckles, refilling your glass. “What is it with the Dean and college thing with you.”

You shrug, taking the cup with a small thanks. You’re probably going to need to go to the bathroom soon with how much he’s been keeping you hydrated. “I don’t know, he seems smart, I’m surprised ‘s all. can we call him and ask what he found yet?”

Sam’s face falls like you slapped him and he sighs. “The wish— I’ll tell you what I think happened, okay?” Not okay. “You wished for Mark to disappear or to go yesterday while he was coming back from the night out and the witch— the way her curse works is that she has demons working for her. Demons chained to this town to do her dirty work for her—”

“Sam, people wish for a million dollars everyday, they don’t actually get it.”

“These are demons, it isn’t ’you wish for something’, you get it. It’s ‘you curse someone out’, they get it.” You didn’t mean to curse him out. You hadn’t even really wished for anything, just prayed. And the praying wasn’t that serious. It wasn’t like you wanted Mark gone, you just wanted answers for whatever’s going on in your heart. “Carla,” Sam runs a hand over his mouth, like it’s paining him to tell you this, to explain to you why your niece died. “A teacher cursed her out in school the day before she was gone.”

No. No, there’s just no fucking way. Missouri is almost eighty something, why on earth would she lie, though?

“Please, I know it’s scary and it’s hard to believe but I need you to trust me. What did you wish for yesterday?”

“I— I don’t even remember—”

“Anything. Anything at all—”

“I wished he was out of the picture.” His breath hitches. Yours almost comes to a stop. “But— I wasn’t wishing, I was praying. I asked— I prayed that I could think clearly without thinking of him. I didn’t want him to go, Sam, I swear—”

His eyes soften as he pulls you to his chest, “I know. I know, sweetheart.” 

Maybe the crying won’t ever stop.

“Dean found the witch. Or at least he thinks. We can’t kill the demons until the witch breaks the chains so I’m going to go help him follow the lead, are you okay to stay alone?” Sam says when he comes back into the room after a short phone call with his brother.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You’re not fine. You’re nowhere near fucking fine. You’re the furthest point away from ‘fine’. But Sam is going to… go kill demons? Play dress up with Dean? Who knows anymore. So you let him go with a goodbye and ’stay safe’. As you close the front door, you give it your back and Jess is standing there with her school book in hand. 

“Where’s Daddy?”

Oh. God. You don’t even— you can’t possibly think of a way to tell your kids their father is gone. The entire time Sam had explained the supernatural thing, not once had he brought up that Mark might still be out there somewhere. 

How do you tell your daughter you killed her father?

“Jess, dad’s out right now. He’s very sick, and we can’t see him ‘till he gets better.” She frowns, tilting her head in question— you’re sure you have no answers to cover it. “but ‘till then, we’ll…”

Maybe you should be holding yourself together a little more for your children. They shouldn’t see you break apart because who will take care of them? But it hits you. You’ve spent the whole day looking for Mark and being so sure he’s out there somewhere that you believed Sam when he said he was taken by a demon.

But the fact of the matter still stands. Mark is gone. Your husband is gone. 

And maybe it shouldn’t hit you so hard when you killed him.

The next four hours go by in a blur. Your kids are fine, they’re drawing and coloring. They’re happy they get to miss school today and you’re pacing the halls, wishing you’d taken up Gen on her offer to stay with you. How did she get through this? How did she get through this alone? 

You haven’t even called your parents, or Mark’s. His siblings. A funeral. This is so real. It’s happening, you’re losing— you lost your husband. He’s gone and you didn’t even get a warning. Where was your warning? 

Maybe you should lay down for a few hours. Your starting to see things move around in the windows.

It’s officially freak-out-hour. Twelve AM. You call Sam twice before he answers.

“I think my house is haunted.” You’ve never found your voice that shaky in your life.

“You what? Are you okay? Are the kids okay?”

“They’re fine. In their room, but the lights keep flickering and I keep seeing something moving.”

“Shit. Do you have salt? A lot of salt?” 

“Some. Enough for food, I haven’t stocked up for a demon battle.”

“Get as much as you can and make a circle. Ghosts can’t cross salt circles.”

“What if it’s a demon?”

“There are— are you sure? Are you sure there’s something? Did you piss anyone off today?”

You think. Hard. “I don’t—” Oh. “The police station guy.”

“No, no. Fuck! Make the circle, get in it, I’m on my way.” He hangs up and the circle comes out uneven and sloppy. You’re shaking so much by the time you’re done you don’t notice it’s only small enough to fit your kids. When you go check on them, they aren’t in their room.

“Jess? Emmy?” Sam’s voice wakes you up from your nap against the hard wall. That’s why your head is pounding. “Hey, hey, where’s mommy?” That’s all you hear before his heavy steps run up the stairs and he finds you in the hallway. 

“Fuck. Are you okay? Are you hurt?” You shake your head, hoping to ease him, though that’s the least of your concerns. “Are they okay? Are Emmy and Jess okay?”

“Yes, yes,” he breathes out, leaning down to engulf you in a surprising hug that you return with no hesitation. You were hallucinating. You never thought you’d be so thankful for hallucinating. “Are you,” he’s shaking. His words anyways, his hands are too still for your liking. “Are you okay? I tried calling but you didn’t answer, and I came here as fast as I could. I thought something happened to you—”

“I haven’t eaten, and I’m so tired—did, did you kill the witch?” You sound crazy. You sound stupid and twelve.

And yet, the second his soft, “Yes.” Is out, you visibly relax in his arms. He’s holding you, your head on his chest, and it’s the calmest you’ve felt in the past twenty four hours.

“Sam?”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“How do I know you’re real? How do I know you’re not… a monster or possessed.”

“Tests,” he sighs. Sam always looked like he wanted to keep his real life away from you, keep you at a distance, so the more you ask, the more he feels a part of him breaking. He wanted better for you. 

“Shapeshifters burn up in contact with silver, like your ring,” he interlaces your fingers together and his skin doesn’t sizzle. “Demons show themselves if you say ‘Christo’.” You look up but there’s nothing. He’s still there. “Ghosts will leave the person they’re possessing if you hit them with rocksalt.” 

“They can possess people?”

“Only really powerful ones.” 

“There should be a crash course on monsters.” You frown, leaning in closer, like maybe you don’t need a crash course. Just him. Just Sam.

He lets out a small laugh, a polite one, but you feel it against your head and it brings you so much relief, you’re scared what you’re going to do when he’s gone.

Because he will be gone. He will go and he’ll leave you and you’ll have to deal with—

“Hey, hey, calm down for me. What’s wrong?”

You take a deep breath, but all it does is run tears down your cheeks, “I have to tell Jess and Emmy. Emmy’s so young and she wouldn’t understand, she’ll just want Daddy, what am I supposed to say, Sam? And Jess… she asked about him. I killed—.”

“No, stop it, don’t. You were thinking. A thought, that’s all. I bet he thought the same thing a hundred times, it’s normal, you’re married, it’s just unfortunate a demon heard yours.”

You’re still scared, that doesn’t really comfort you. You’re sharing your earth with demons. Demons. That came from hell. Which means hell, heaven, they exist and mark is in one of them right now. 

You end up telling your oldest with tears in your eyes and Jess comforts you instead of crying. She’s telling you ‘it’s okay’ and ‘daddy loves you’. And you’re thinking what you did to get such a beautiful and inspiring daughter. She even brushes your hair out of your face like you do for her when she’s crying. 

You tell her the same. Her daddy loved her, and that she should tell you how she feels when she’s decided. Anytime Emmy asks about Mark you tell her he’s up in heaven and she frowns. It’s fine, you didn’t expect her to get it this young anyways, but… it’s unfair that she has to.

The past 48 hours have been hectic to say the least, devastating, too. Sam hasn’t left your side during them. Despite him being tall and somewhat scary if you look at it from a four-year-old‘s point of view, your kids have only asked a couple of questions. You don’t think they noticed that he went from ‘police’ to ‘mommy’s friend’, and you’re grateful. 

Gen ran over to your house the second you called her to tell her what you know. You don’t get into detail, just that Mark’s gone. He’s— God, you can’t even say it, he passed away. What kind of shit term is that anyway? Passed? To where, heaven? Hell? How are you supposed to know? 

Does Sam know? If Sam told you angels are real it must be because he’s met them… right? And he met the archangels, surely he has connections— what are you saying! You’re talking about Sam having connections with God? Who, by the way, Sam didn’t mention.

Gen holds you as you sob into her arms in your own room, Sam sitting with your children. They’re so innocent and fragile, you don’t want them to see you crying incase they think they have to, but the truth is, you’re severely dehydrated and you’re sure you’re losing your job at the hospital since you haven’t called to say you’re not coming in. 

It’s a gut-wrenching 48 hours. Who knows what the next will bring.

When you sober up from the frenzy you’re in, you call your parents, then Mark’s siblings. His father died years ago and his mother has amnesia so that’s one less conversation you have to go through.

You only call his second oldest sister, she cries before you finish your sentence and promises she’ll tell the others. You can’t. You know you can’t. 

Gen tries to talk to you about Sam, you shut her down pretty quick. “Can you take the kids during the funeral?” 

“Sweetie, I should come with you…” You shrug just as Sam makes his way to the kitchen where you’re both talking. Gen shoots him daggers as he walks over to you, hand on both your shoulders. “What—”

“The kids are asleep, I think. Dean needs me back at the motel so I’ll go check on him then come back, does that sound okay?” You nod absentmindedly. All you heard was that Sam’s leaving, and even if every part of your body doesn’t want that, he’s been your rock through all of this, you know you have to let him go. 

“Okay, I’ll see you in an hour.” He places a kiss on your hair that helps you relax, like most of his touches do, and when he leaves the kitchen, Gen is right on his heel.

You hear them raise their voice and argue before he leaves. All you can think is that you hope the kids don’t wake up.

You hope you wake up from this nightmare.

Who decided black was a good color for funerals? It’s so… depressing. As if you all aren’t already dispiriting the entire house with your tears, now you’re all blending in with the kitchen supplies too. 

You hold his sisters the most, or they hold you, either way there’s some type of holding going on and it’s therapeutic for both of you. The oldest looks like she hasn’t stopped sobbing since yesterday. Since you told them all about it.

The police announced that he’s dead when you went to check again, and said there was a serial killer on the loose, the same guy who killed Carla, and they found a body in one of the warehouses. Which is total bullshit because demons wouldn’t throw a body in a warehouse, they’d probably… take it to hell?

Sam told you that it’s him, since you didn’t want to confirm it yourself, and you told his family that you were the one who confirmed it. You’re not sure how much of a bad person that makes you since none of them offered to check for you instead. 

Sam stayed with the kids in Gen’s house with her kid so maybe they did figure something out when they were screaming at each other, not that you care. You trust Sam. 

He’s the only person you trust.

There’s soft music thrumming out the speakers, though you lower the sound so people in the house can talk. One of the siblings brings their mother and you break down at the sight of her. She knows she has kids, she knows Mark, hell, she talks about him all the time. But more than that she loves you. His parents loved you the most out of their in-laws and while it created a rift in the family, it never did anything but humble you. You loved his dad, you were the first to get to his house when you heard what happened.

But seeing his mum— that you couldn’t take. 

It’s a few hours before they decide to leave. His brothers, both of them, come up to you asking about burying the casket. They’re doing it right next to his other brother and father. It’s family ground, or whatever it’s called.

You tell them you haven’t made any arrangements. They tell you not to worry. You hug both of them even if they did nothing to ease your concerns, at least that’s one less responsibility.

Gen holds your hand as you pace from the kitchen to the living room. There are kids, his family's kids, his friend’s kids, they’re all walking around, and you shouldn’t feel like this, you know that, but you can’t help the apprehensive emotions circling your heart and squeezing tight. 

The brothers leave to make the arrangements and everyone who isn’t immediate family has said their prayers and goodbyes. You’re all alone. Not that alone considering he has seven sisters and each one of them has at least three kids (one of them actually has 5 kids and two grandkids), but alone enough that none of you feel like you should socialize. Everyone’s in their own circle, you’re lying your head on Gen’s chest, hoping this horror show will end if you just close your eyes. Maybe you’ll hear his voice again, but it doesn’t happen. 

Except you hear his voice with every breath you take saying you’re the one who killed him. You’re the one who murdered your husband.

One Week After

“Jess, I swear to God, if you’re not done with your spelling homework—”

“She’s done.” You hear Sam’s voice get closer as he enters the kitchen and you nod softly at him. He frowns at you.

And you know why. 

“I helped her finish it.” He continues, walking up to you to greet you with a kiss to your head, but it’s not genuine. As much as Sam tries, his movements are all strained and it’s your fault. You haven’t stopped wearing black. 

“When did you come in?” You leave your door open most of the time in case one of his sisters comes to check up on you, or… or if Sam does. It gives his sisters comfort that you’re leaving your house open for them. The brothers haven’t spoken to you much since the funeral, but you know they’re grieving. Mark’s older brother lost his daughter and his brother in the span of a year. 

“Just a few minutes ago. Are you cooking?” You nod, looking away to check on the pasta. It’s a simple dinner, most of them have been since last week. You finally called the hospital yesterday and just as you were about to get a lecture from your attending, you told her what happened. She gave you an extra week off and you couldn’t reject it if you wanted to. 

“Pasta and Chicken tenders— it’s stupidly basic. I used to make it when we first got married, you know,” you let out a small humorless laugh, “and he hated me for it. Told me he’s a man and that he would starve if that’s what I thought food was. I learned how to make every dish his mother knew right then and there.”

Sam chuckles at your memory and it gives you a warm fuzzy feeling that you wish you could push away. These feelings aren’t supposed to be for Sam. You suppose in a way they aren’t. A pet of them, the majority, belong to the story, the fondness behind it. Imagining him sitting on the sofa of your old house scolding you half-playfully about the importance of meals the second week of your marriage.

“So why’d you come over?” He shrugs, sits down on the chair in front of the counter that’s facing you. “You’re welcome to stay for dinner. Emmy already likes you. I don’t know about Jess.”

“Right. She’s a hard one to open up.” You smile at the description of your daughter, because it’s the truest thing you’ve heard. With the mention of that— maybe it’s time to address the elephant in the room.

You spin back, hands clasped together and you spit it out, “I didn’t see you at Jess’s funeral.”

His face drops, which makes your stomach drop but whatever. You have to talk about this. He probably has as many questions as you do, since you’re not aware of anyone keeping in contact with Sam.

“I didn’t attend. It was hard for me.” You furrow your eyebrows, unclasping your hands to fold them against your chest. “I mean… I didn’t talk to anyone after Stanford. I mourned. ‘Just didn’t see a point in showing up.” That’s a shitty excuse. And you hope he knows it too because you looked for him.

You searched for Sam at that funeral, you even asked about him when a few students came. God, even Brady came. How fucked up is it that Brady showed up and not her best friend. “Did you even keep in contact with Jess when you left?”

“She didn’t tell you?”

No. You were heartbroken when you and Sam split up. “We didn't really bring you up.”

“Right. We did, for a couple of years, but I moved around a lot and I got a new phone every few months. Eventually she got a kid and we just lost contact.”

“What about when you… you know, got convicted and stuff.” 

“I— not exactly, you know what Dean and I do, we’re trying to help people, but we can’t just walk around telling them we think there’s a vampire in the neighborhood. FBI, police officers, they trust those people.” You nod. It’s still not an answer. He notices. “Yeah, she still talked to me after, I’m not sure she even knew. I mean, you had to really be up to date with the news to hear our names.”

“No, you just had to live in Lawrence and give two shits about your surroundings. We’d be lucky if Jess even opened her phone to check for something productive, ‘s probably why she never found out. Gen got scared when Jess died, really paranoid for Rue, so she took it upon herself to stay informed. Your name came up a time or two.”

He sighs, scrubs his hand down his face and gives you his back to rest his elbows on the counter. You don’t mind, liking the silence as you stir this, taste that. Cooking’s been an excellent distraction for life lately. Even if it’s the most basic thing to exist.

Sam ends up staying for dinner but Jess stares at him with questions as she sticks to your side. She also has the biggest look of betrayal when Emmy asks him to hold her. She enjoys how tall he is and he doesn’t seem to mind it. By bedtime, you decide to talk to Jess about him.

“Why don’t you like Sam?”

“He’s a giant, and he made daddy sad.” 

Oh. “When he was here with the other police?”

She nods.

“He didn’t make daddy sad, sweetheart, he asked about Carla.” Who is also in heaven. Seems like they have a couple of slots open.

You speak to her a little more, about Sam, about school tomorrow, about daddy and how she misses him, you miss him too. He probably misses you two the most. You kiss her head before shutting the lights off and running downstairs to wish Sam a goodnight.

Until you notice him half asleep on your couch, his head resting on his own shoulder in a way that could never look comfortable. You bite your lip in anxiety. 

On one hand, you care for Sam and you don’t want him to drive tired. On the other, what if someone sees him spending the night?

What if one of Mark’s sisters comes unannounced? 

You decide to suck it up and be a good person, patting him lightly. “Sam, Sam,” he suddenly sits up straighter, slightly disoriented, “C’mon, let’s get you on a bed.” 

He pouts his lips like has more to say but ends up listening to you anyways. Halfway up the stairs he remembers his manners. “Oh. Oh, no, no—”

“You’re already halfway up the stairs, let’s just go.”

“I won’t intrude, I’ll just get back to the motel, I don’t know why I crashed like that.” You put a hand on his shoulders, looking him in the eyes intensely to give your best ‘no bullshit’ look.

“Sam Winchester, if I have to convince you not to drive half asleep, I will force feed you sleeping pills. Got it?” He lets out a laugh before pulling you in a hug. And he’s one step below you so your head fits perfectly in as you tuck it in his neck.

“Thank you.” You shouldn’t cry again. It’s already been one hell of a week without adding non-Mark related crying. You shouldn’t. But you cry yourself to sleep anyways. 

Two Weeks After 

“So, how have you been holding up?” You look up from the papers you’re filling to your co-worker. One of the interns that started the same time as you. You’ve gotten quite close with Sage, he’s been a great friend, no matter how little you both talk.

“‘M okay. Thank you for asking.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.” You smile tightly before nodding and giving the papers to the nurse. 

“Thank you.” You walk away but he follows after you, considering you’re both heading to the same destination, the parking lot. Your first shift back finally  in over a week you couldn’t be more grateful.

“Do you want a ride home? I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to the funeral.” 

“No, thank you.” He’s being polite, you know that, but you’re not going to act the part of the widower. You’re fine. Your head’s still above water as much as anyone’s concerned. (Except Sam and Gen.)

Three Weeks After

Your mother is calling again. She won’t stop calling, and you can’t keep canceling. “Good morning, mum.”

There’s no one in the entire world that you love more than your mother. She’s your soulmate, she’s your best friend, she’s your biggest supporter. She’s everything you need and want in a person. She’s the only person who pulled you back from sinking when Jess died.

“Morning, baby girl. How are you?”

“I’m good, how about you and dad?”

She laughs as your father greets you, asking you where you’ve been. That you should call more often. That they’re there for you.

Yeah, that’s the problem.

Five Weeks After

“You’re… self-sabotaging. You don’t want to be happy, you don’t want to be okay.” The second the words leave Sam’s mouth, you try to kick him out with yelling. When that doesn’t work, you hit his chest with your fists, when that does nothing but make him barely stumble, you push  yourselves onto him in an attempt to throw him off his balance, instead he holds you as you cry.

What does he know? You’re grieving! You’re mourning. You miss him every single day and second and when his siblings gave you his inheritance you broke down so hard they were scared they’ll have to bring you to a hospital. 

He’s right. You’re going through the motions. Your kids ask you why they don’t go to the park on Friday. Your co-workers are worried for you. Gen cooks for you as much as she can. You killed him. You’re not— are you? You are.

“I don’t— want to. I don’t…” he shushes you, with reassuring ‘i know’ and ‘don’t worry, sweetheart’. When you’re calm enough to speak, you apologize for his tear-drenched shirt. And he gives you numbers for different therapists.

Later that week you tell Sam you won’t be doing therapy, but if he wants to help you, you’ll try. He says it’s enough compromise and he gives you a list of things to do. 

Make food that’s actually food. Work extra hours (you’ve been going under your normal hours the past three weeks). Friday park dates for the kids. Saturday lunch dates for you and Gen. 

Seven Weeks After 

You start wearing blue. Your favorite dress with small white flowers on it. You like how you look and it forces you to shave everything you’ve been neglecting lately. 

It’s time for you and Gen’s lunch date when you get a call from Sam. “I’m outside.”

You tell him you’ll be right down, spraying on perfume before running down to get your kids. “Hey, Jess, Emmy.” You capture their attention and they put down the iPad to stare at you. Maybe it’s your dress. “Sammy’s outside.” It’s the nickname Emmy’s given him and it makes your heart absolutely melt. “He’s going to drive you.” 

On your lunch dates you opt to leave your kids with your sister-in-law, the one you're closest to, anyways. She’s the youngest brother’s wife. But you’re running late and Sam offered to drive them himself. You’ve never left your kids alone with Sam anywhere other than in your house, where they’re comfortable. 

His car… It's worrying. 

You trust Sam completely and he’s been by your side every day for the past seven weeks but these are your children there’s just no way you’d neglect their feelings like that. But he convinced you that he’ll let them call you the entire time so they’re relaxed and you agreed.

You started locking your door.

Six Months After

“When’s Sammy coming?” You shrug, plating the Mac n’ cheese Jess requested. Today, Emmy is two whole years old.

It’s the first birthday you’re celebrating without Mark. And Sam offered to bring Gen and keep you both company. You’re still close to his family, you’re there once a week, if you can, but you’re slowly falling back to your routine, so you’re about to limit it to once every two weeks. The way Mark liked it.

The way you like it.

You’re picking up more shifts and making more elaborate dishes. One of your attendings told you if you keep putting in the work, he’s thinking of taking you in Cardiovascular. Your first choice would’ve been OBG-YN but if Cardio is what you’re the best in, you’ll take it.

Once all three of you are done and putting your plates away, the doorbell rings and you smile when Emmy runs over. You keep an eye on her as she waits for Jess to open the door. Sam and Gen are loud as they enter your house, hugging the kids. Sam picks Emmy up, teasing her about being two as they make it to the kitchen.

You lean in to hug Gen. Then Sam greets you like he always does, a kiss to your head. Emmy, being the adorable two year old, drops her face to do the same and Sam has to bring her back up with a smile to both your faces.

“Mommy they got velvet! My favorite!” Jess squeals, peeking at the cake and you look at both of your friends with a grateful look. 

Mark’s inheritance wasn’t even split upon you and anyone else, it’s all for you. And you’d been saving for a while too, so you’re set. Including your work, it’s going great, but they still insisted on being the ones to bring the cake. 

“Okay, we watch frozen first then cake, right, baby girl?” Sam asks Emmy and she smiles, hollering  in excitement. He puts her down so she, Gen and Jess can all go put the movie on, he holds you in place. “How are you?”

“I’m okay. Thank you for doing this, you really didn’t have to.” He shakes his head, taking a step closer to you, brushing a strand of your hair away from your face. And it’s weird that you know exactly what that means. “I’m better, I guess. Jess and Emmy still talk about him and— I made Mac n’ cheese today— but only because Jess wanted to—”

“Sweetheart, cooking was never about making it big, it was about what made you happy. And you’re happier when you make a big meal, I want you to feel that happiness again.” Maybe. Whatever. You still failed today, but it’s fine. “You did amazing today.” He tilts your chin up and you're forced to focus on his hazel-green eyes, “I’m proud of you. And you look beautiful.” He gestures to the pink top you have on, intricate lace design at your chest then it’s silk down till you tuck it into your jeans. 

A little dressing up was in order if you’re having a mini party. Even your kids and Rue are all in dresses. 

Sam walks you out to the couch, settles in next to you on one side and Jess on your other. Emmy alternated between all three of your laps.

Maybe you did amazing today.

One Year After

You call your mum as you practically bounce off the walls of your house, biting your lip so you don’t squeal like a five year old (no offense to Jess). 

“Mommy?” You jump the second she answers, “I got a job with Doctor Mendez!” And because you speak to her at least four times a week about him, she’s aware of who he is, the Cardiovascular Attending at your hospital. The one who’s due to retire any day now and is looking for a replacement. While he didn’t say it exactly, you’re the only student he picked to teach!

“Really? Oh, that’s wonderful, honey. Oh my God!” You gush over the entire thing to her in a phone call that lasts a little over an hour. Your dad congratulates you too and you run to pick up Jess from football practice so you can tell her too. 

She hugs you, although she doesn’t seem to care, and tells you all about her new coach. 

You pick up Emmy from the nursery and one of the moms with a son who’s taking an internship at your hospital congratulates you.

For some reason, you break down the second you’re home. “Thank you for— not hating me.” You smile through tears. “I don’t think I would’ve even cared to get this far if I thought you hated me. I love you, Mark, I love you so much and I can’t wait to see you and tell you everything.” 

But for once while you’re talking to him, they’re not hostile tears or sorrowful. You’re content. 

And not to some extent either. You’re fully content. 

Especially when Sam knocks on your door. Your Saturday dinner with him and Gen is tomorrow and you mentioned that you need new clothes to which he decided to make a day of it. Jess decides she wants to hang out with Rue and Emmy follows her sister wherever she goes. 

You dust yourself off and open the door. You don’t expect this many emotions when you see him. But they’re there. And they’re really really there.

“Hey.” He smiles, walking in. “Are the girls ready? I parked in the driveway but if they’re gonna take a while I can park it—”

“Why are you still here?” You see his face drop before you scramble to correct yourself, “I meant, you kept saying you move a lot and with Dean, hunting, whatever— but you’re here. It’s been a year and you’re still living in a motel, Sam.”

“I’ve actually, uh, bought an apartment. A while ago.” You can hear your heartbeat In your ears, “It seemed cheaper to just rent an apartment since… since I’m living here.”

“You’re living here— since when? What about Dean?”

“He’s settling down, too. Cicero, he’s living with his girlfriend and her kid.” You’re not supposed to cry again. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong? I’ll stop coming over if you—”

“No,” you smile, “no, that’s just. I’m so happy for Dean, he deserves it, you know? Sam, look, I don’t know him well, I barely knew you before you both showed up as cops on my doorstep, but you’re not the same men that I hung out with in Stanford, you guys look so— and I mean this in the most loving way possible— exhausted. I wanted to ask, but it never seems like the time, you know? Just know I want to know about everything. Anything you want to tell me, I want to know. You mean a lot more to me than I ever let on.”

Sam’s eyes are watery but you don’t think you’ve ever seen the man cry and he doesn’t start today, but he does bring you in for a kiss that you don’t expect. He’s slow as he brings you in, like he’s reassuring you you can pull away at any moment, but you don’t.

You let it consume you. You move in, standing taller with your hands on his biceps. It’s a strong hold, like you’re scared he’ll disappear, and maybe he will, who knows? 

It won’t stop you. 

Because losing people is the way of the universe and not getting close won’t stop Sam from leaving, it won’t stop your kids from hating you, and it won’t stop your friends from moving away. 

And maybe it took you a damn long time to get there, but you’re not stupid enough to keep repeating the cycle at twenty eight, especially not with Sam. Never with Sam.

You just hope Mark’s proud of you. You hope he supports you. Because he pushed you here. He’s the only reason you’re able to stand tall and put yourself out there, his love, his worry for you, it changed you.

Or maybe he’s half the reason, you’re pretty strong yourself.

End.

this was super new to me in terms of I did coloring??? on the pics?? look at me beating the non creative allegations (insecurities), and different writing style that I honestly really liked. thank you for reading if you've made it this far.

tag list:

@angzls @chxrrybomb22 @pinkpantheris @ang3ldool @iloveragdollcats 

@oohjana18294 @user-2538484747490203746579403 @wattpaduser200 @s0urw00lf @ashlynyyyyy

@strabarrybat @anu-piyakya97 @tranquilitybasegrunge @consistentreader578

[low-budget-korra]

Let's talk about the kidnap scene

Yes, the one in season 1 where Jinx kidnapped Caitlyn

First of all, the main reason Jinx hates Caitlyn is because she is jealous of Vi. The fear of losing her sister again, the fear of being left behind...In Jinx mind at the point, she and Caitlyn couldn't co-exist in Vi's life. Sure, the fact that Cait was an enforcer plays its part, but mainly I believe it was just jealousy..

So, I've seen people arguing about Jinx having more reasons to hate Caitlyn than Caitlyn has to hate Jinx and I disagree.

Jinx has no reason other than jealousy to hate Caitlyn, her beef is with Piltover and everything she thinks Cait represents and not Caitlyn the person. Similar to the Equalist and Amon beef against the Avatar, where he hated the symbol but couldn't care less abt the girl behind it. In this case, both Amon and Jinx dehumanize their enemy, seeing them just something that needs to be destroyed.

However, Caitlyn has all the reasons to hate Jinx. Jinx was responsible for a terrorist act that killed several enforcers and almost killed her, Jinx stole from Jayce (someone Cait sure loves like a brother) something that could be turned into a weapon, Jinx invaded Caitlyn's home and kidnapped her when she was the most vulnerable, Cait also spend hours at Jinx mercy where Jinx did/say God knows what to her, she was bound and gagged, she was victim of Jinx light emotional torture, she was knocked out by Jinx and Jinx killed her mom. So yes...I think she has tons of reasons to hate her.

But let's focus on the kidnap scene because the trauma Caitlyn suffers here is overlooked and probably something she didn't process right, since she was busy mourning the death of her mom.

1. Jinx invades her safe place. Caitlyn was literally coming out of the bath, totally vulnerable. Imagine someone sneaking into your room like that? It's terrifying. It makes the safe place not be safe anymore

2. Caitlyn was naked. Imagine you, naked, in the hands of some unhinged criminal? I know some people hc or question if Jinx did something against Caitlyn at the moment, but I doubt it, Jinx is unhinged but she wouldn't do such a thing. The maximum thing she would do is mock. Idk, say something like "so that's what you use to seduce Vi" just to make Cait feel uncomfortable but nothing more aggressive than this.

Even still, being naked, possibly mocked and being forced to dress at gun point is already traumatic enough.

3. We don't know what happened when Cait was being held hostage by Jinx. If Jinx used some help to bring Cait to Zaun, which I think she did, she prob off them once they got where she wanted. And if this happened Cait prob saw these murder.

Anyway this is all hc but what we know, bc ain't hard to deduct, is that Jinx played mind games with Cait. Drawing a smile in her gag, maybe invading her personal space by acting the same way she acted around Silco and Sevika - being all touchy and over the place. And maybe saying things like "you will die today" "she will choose me"

Which again, is traumatic enough.

And if she just knocked her out and dressed the unconscious Cait, imagine being Caitlyn: One moment you're out of bath, saw Jinx and boom, you're out and when you wake up you're dressed and helpless, tied to a chair.

I would be terrified by the idea of what happened when I was out. Jinx could have done nothing but cover her body, but Cait doesn't know this. She doesn't know what Jinx did and if someone else saw her like that.

4. The "Family Dinner" scene.

Caitlyn was there with Silco before Vi's came. So I think the fact that she was sitting next to the most dangerous man in the under city, was something that brought shivers into her spine, even tho he was in the same position as her. If somehow he gets free or Jinx changes his mind about what she would do to him, she would be gone.

Vi came, brought by Jinx and the emotional torture begin. Sure, Cait and Vi were already in love but Jinx was Vi's sister, the one she already knew Vi loved deeply and would do anything to have it back so she was probably scared that Vi would play into Jinx game and choose her sister. Something that didn't happen and is the reason why Caitlyn didn't shoot Jinx when she gets the chance.

Vi saved her life by putting her own on the line, Vi proved she loved Caitlyn right there (even without knowing it). And Caitlyn proved she loved Vi when she didn't shoot the Jinx (again, even without knowing it)

And all that, all those strong feelings and traumatic events were crushed because of the even more traumatic event that was Caitlyn's mom dying because of Jinx's attack.

[storiesforallfandoms]

in the dressing room ~ eminem

word count: 3020

request?: yes!

“Hi there! Can I request a Eminem x reader fic? There’s so little of them 😩😩. So the reader and eminem are on tour (the reader is a singer) and they kinda have a sexual relationship going, not like friends with benefits, there’s feelings involved on both sides just nobody will admit it, and they kinda get hot and heavy and someone walks in on them, and they get caught having sex (someone like porter or skylar walks in on them) and eminem is like really protective (I find that hot idk why) and basically they confess feelings after. This is a lot and I’m sorry. You don’t have to do this either, I just thought about it on the toilet.”

description: in which they get caught going at it in his dressing room and, after he gets very protective of her, they’re forced to admit their feelings for one another

pairing: eminem x female!reader

warnings: swearing, smut (fingering, unprotected p in v), maybe a little angst?

masterlist (one, two, three)

He gave you The Look as you passed him backstage. It was a look you had become very familiar with; the “I need you right now” look. You had been on your way to meet up with Denaun to talk before the soundcheck, but The Look caused you to completely change course to follow him back to his dressing room.

The minute you were in the room and the door was shut before you, Marshall was on you. He had you shoved up against the door, his lips pressed roughly against yours. His tongue licked across your bottom lip, asking for permission. You parted your lips to allow his tongue to explore your mouth. You whimpered as he pressed his growing erection against you.

“I’m supposed to be getting ready for soundcheck,” you panted.

“You’ll be late,” he responded.

“Porter will have questions.”

“Fuck him.”

His hands grabbed at you hungrily. His hand unbuttoned your jeans and slipped beneath the waistband. You gasped as his fingers ran over your clothed core. He pressed two fingers against your clit and rubbed harsh circles. You bit your lip to muffle the moans that were coming up your throat.

“You’re so wet already,” he said. “Just from us making out? You must be eager.”

You nodded. You didn’t trust yourself to try and speak right now. You were sure that if you opened your mouth you would let out a loud noise and draw attention to the two of you.

He pushed your panties aside to run his fingers through your soaked folds. It was becoming harder to contain your moans as he started kissing your neck, his beard tickling your sweet spot as he sucked and nipped at the one spot. You knew he would likely leave a mark that would be hard to explain, but that was far from your mind right now.

“Fuck!” you exclaimed as you felt Marshall’s fingers slip into your cunt. His other hand quickly jumped to cover your mouth. You could feel him smirking against your neck.

He curled his fingers to perfectly hit your g-spot with every thrust inwards. With his hand over your mouth you felt free to moan to your heart’s desire. Not that you’d be able to control yourself anyways. It was like Marshall was pressing all the right buttons in order to make you lose complete control of your body.

Your eyes rolled back in your skull as you could feel your climax nearing already. Your body trembled from the merciless pumping of his fingers until a muffled shout escaped your lips and your walls clenched around him. It never ceased to amaze you how Marshall could make you see stars just be using his fingers, let alone what he could do with his dick.

You nearly whimpered when he slipped his fingers out of you. Your walls clenched around nothing, feeling empty. You knew that wouldn’t last for long, though.

“On the vanity,” he ordered. “Take the pants and underwear off first.”

You did as he said, quickly pulling your jeans and panties off in one motion and kicking them onto the floor. You sat yourself up on the vanity as Marshall undid his pants and pulled them down just enough for his cock to spring free. You couldn't help but gaze at it for a few moments as he pumped it a couple times, pre-cum already dripping from the tip. He ran the tip through your folds, collecting your slick. When he pushed into you, you let out a moan that he quickly muffled by kissing you.

You took every inch of him until he bottomed out inside of you. He groaned against your lips at the feeling of you stretching around him. He didn’t give much time to adjust to his size before he started to thrust into you. He found a rough, almost needy pace immediately. The vanity shook so violent underneath you that you were sure that it was going to break. Not that it mattered too much in the moment. All you could think of was how good it felt to have him side of you, abusing your g-spot again, easily dragging out another orgasm from you.

Neither of you heard the knock at the door, or the door opening, until you heard shouting behind Marshall. You opened your eyes to see Denaun looking at you both with wide eyes like a deer in headlights.

“Shit, Marshall stop!” you said.

He looked over his shoulder and hissed, “Shit.”

He pulled out of you and quickly pulled up his pants. Your jeans and underwear were still on the floor, leaving you bare. Marshall stood in front of you to hide you while you clenched your legs shut to really make sure Denaun couldn’t see anything.

“What the fuck, man?” Marshall said. “You don’t knock?”

“I did! Y’all were too busy to hear, I guess,” Denaun retorted.

“You don’t just walk in, man. Is this what you do even when I’m not in my dressing room?”

“Hey, don’t get mad at me because your horny ass forgot to lock the door!”

Luckily, he left and ended the awkward encounter. Marshall sighed and ran his hand through his hair. You sat in awkward silence, wishing you could melt into the floor and completely disappear. The rest of this tour was going to be incredibly awkward, you realized.

Marshall noticed your embarrassed state. He picked up your clothes from the floor and passed them to you. You couldn’t look at him as you took the clothes from him, still frozen from the embarrassment.

“Hey.” He placed a finger under your chin and gently coaxed your head back to look at him. “Don’t worry about it. Porter’s not going to say anything.”

You wished he would say something. Maybe other people knowing about your...situation would finally push something to actually happen between you.

The way he was looking at you just made you want to kiss him, and not just in a sexual way.

You pulled your pants back on and sighed. You knew you’d have to face Denaun eventually, but you were really debating on dropping out of the tour entirely and going MIA where Denaun, and no one from the touring crew if they ever found out, would never find you. Maybe where Marshall would never find you, too.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you exited the dressing room. You felt like all eyes were on you even though no one was even paying much attention as you and Marshall walked down the hallway towards the stage. You jumped when you felt Marshall’s hand against yours, his fingers interlacing between yours and giving you a reassuring squeeze. You didn’t dare look up at him when he did this. You weren’t sure if him holding your hand was making everything better or worse.

Denaun was already at the stage, testing his mic when you both arrived. He noticed the two of you and started to approach. You felt your stomach churning with nausea. You were so sure you were going to throw up right there in front of both men. Wouldn’t that just be the cherry on top of this embarrassing sundae?

“So,” Denaun started once he reached the two of you, “how long has this been going on between the two of you?”

You couldn’t speak. You could not will your mouth to move or words to come from it. You were completely frozen. You looked at Marshall, hoping he would take over for you. He was much cooler in this situation than you were, which you were grateful for. One of you needed to be levelheaded in this moment, and it certainly was not going to be you.

“A few days after the tour started,” Marshall responded for you.

“Days?!” Denaun asked in disbelief. “You guys have been together for months now and none of us have known about it? You haven’t been caught by paparazzi or anything even?”

“We’re not together.”

You felt your heart fall from your chest at Marshall’s choice of words. It shouldn’t be a surprise that he was saying that. You knew that you both weren’t “together”. It was purely a sexual thing, you had both agreed on that when it all started. But there was something about that constant reminder that just hurt to hear out loud.

You wanted to be with Marshall. Like actually with him. You had had a crush on him since the day you two met years ago, but you knew he didn’t feel the same way. You weren’t about to admit your feelings for him, either, and ruin your entire friendship. You’d rather live in unrequited hell than to not have him in your life at all.

Denaun looked at you both skeptically. “Oh really? Because what I witnessed in the dressing room, and the hand holding right now, says otherwise.”

You had forgotten Marshall was still holding your hand. You quickly jerked your hand out of his grasp and shoved it into your pocket. You looked down at the ground so that neither of the men saw the tears that were welling in your eyes.

“It’s not like that, man,” Marshall said. “It’s...we’re just fucking around. That’s it.”

“Really? There’s nothing else going on here? For real, man, you know I won’t say anything if there is. I know how you like your privacy.”

“There’s nothing, Porter, okay?”

Do I have to stand here and listen to this? you thought to yourself. It seems like Marshall has this situation all handled. Maybe I can just go back to the bus and skip soundcheck today.

Denaun scoffed, catching you off guard. “Well, if that’s the case, then the two of you are the stupidest motherfuckers I’ve ever met.”

You finally dared to lift your head so you could give him a confused look. “What do you mean?”

“I know you’re not asking me that question when you’re here with that sad look on your face over hearing Marshall say the two of you aren’t together,” he quipped.

You felt your face heat up, but tried not to look away again and prove his point. “I’m just embarrassed, dude. You walked in on us fucking, that’s embarrassing as fuck.”

“No, embarrassment is what’s on your face now because I called you out. Before was sadness.” He turned to Marshall to add, “And don’t think I haven’t seen how protective you are over (Y/N). You looked like you were ready to kill me the minute I walked into the room, and don’t say it’s because I caught you guys fucking because I know that angry, protective look you get. I’ve seen it plenty of times when shit has gone down with your daughters.”

You looked over at Marshall, who was giving nothing away on his face. You cursed him for having perfected this stone cold expression when you really wanted to know if what Denaun was saying was true.

“Man, we can all see the way you two look at each other,” Denaun continued. “You’re like two love sick teenagers getting in their first relationship, except you’re both just too stubborn to admit there’s feelings involved here.”

“That’s cause there’s not,” you defended. “Marshall doesn’t like me that way, and I would really appreciate if we all just forgot all of this happened and we go back to our original setups where I’m just the opening act and y’all are the main show.”

For the first time during the entire encounter, an actual look of emotion crossed Marshall’s face; hurt. He turned to look at you, his brows pulled together. “Wait...are you sure?”

You nodded. “Yes, I’m sure. It’s best for everyone that way. I’m gonna go to the bathroom.”

You needed a quick escape, so you turned on your heel and quickly walked off stage again. When you were sure you were far enough out of sight, you let the tears start to fall and broke out into a run to get to the nearest bathroom. You were in the process of closing the door and locking it when someone else turned the handle.

“Occupied!” you said, your voice breaking as you tried against to force the door shut.

“It’s me.”

You almost let out a laugh at the irony of the fact that he was the last person you wanted to see right now.

“Leave me alone, Marshall,” you said. “I just need a minute then I’ll be fine.”

“No offense, (Y/N), but I don’t give a shit. Let me in or else I’ll just stand out here until you come out.”

You sighed and let go of the door, stepping back so Marshall could open it and let himself in. He closed the door and locked it, which caused you to let out a bitter laugh. “So you do know how to lock a door. That would’ve been much more beneficial earlier so that this whole situation wasn’t happening.”

“Do not take an attitude with me when I don’t even know what I fucking did wrong,” he said. “Is it because Porter walked in on us? He just said he’s not going to tell anyone, and we both know we can trust him on that.”

“God, you’re so fucking stupid sometimes,” you said, shaking your head in disbelief. “What does it matter to you if I wanna end this whole arrangement anyways? It’s not like it’s a big deal or anything. It was just sex. You can go outside the arena right now and find hundreds of women who are more than willing to fuck you. It doesn’t need to be me.”

“But I don’t want anyone else, I want you,” he said.

“But why?”

“Maybe because I fucking love you, (Y/N).”

His confession took you back. A tense silence hung in the air as you looked at him in disbelief. You weren’t sure if you had even heard him right.

“No you don’t,” you finally said. “Don’t say that to me.”

“Why? Because you can’t bare to hear the truth? Well, I don’t give two shits, I’m telling you anyways. Ever since the day I met you I have thought the world of you, (Y/N). I thought it was just because we had become friends so quickly and because we were such a good team together, but I came to realize it’s because I love you more than just a friend. I just didn’t know how to tell you that without scaring you off.”

“But...” you said, still trying to wrap your head around his confession, “but when we started fucking, you said it was just for sex. No feelings involved, no strings attached. You said that, Marshall, not me!”

“Because that first night after we fucked you looked like you were going to pass out!” he argued. “You looked like you had seen a fucking ghost. I thought it was because you had regretted what had happened, so I tried to save it by saying that it was just a sexual situation we were going to be in. I thought that’s what you wanted.”

“I looked like that because I thought that you were going to tell me that you regretted it!”

You both looked at each other for a moment before a small smile tugged at Marshall’s lips. He let out a laugh, which caused you to laugh as well.

“We’re really bad at communicating,” he concluded.

“The fucking worst, apparently.”

Once your laughter had died down you were silent again. You weren’t sure what to say, and it seemed like Marshall was trying to figure out where to go with this conversation, too. It didn’t feel as tense anymore, but there was still some unanswered questions between the two of you.

“So, what do we do now?” you asked. “What happens with this whole...situation we’re in?”

“Well, it sounds like both of us want more than just friendship and sex,” he said. “So I think where we go from here is pretty obvious.”

You couldn’t help the wide smile that broke out on your face. “I wanna hear you say it, though.”

Marshall smiled at you and took a step forward, closing the small space between you. He was so close that you could smell his familiar cologne, a scent that become so precious to you that you couldn’t bare to smell it from anyone else. You looked into his eyes, waiting to hear him say the words that you had only dreamt of hearing for so long.

“(Y/N), will you be my girlfriend?”

You couldn’t contain yourself. As a response, you threw your arms around him and kissed him. For the first time, it wasn’t just a kiss of passion or lust. It was a real kiss, something to finally signify that the one thing you had wanted for so long was finally actually happening.

The sudden reaction caused Marshall to stumble backwards and the two of you almost completely fell over. You both chuckled as you straightened up and decided to try again. Marshall cupped your face in his hands and pulled you for another kiss. Butterflies exploded in your stomach as if it were the first time you had kissed all over again.

When he pulled away, he asked, “Was that a yes?”

You rolled your eyes. “Of course it was, you fucking idiot.”

He smiled and kissed you once more before you both finally managed to untangle yourself from one another. “Come on, we’re definitely very late to soundcheck.”

“Denaun is going to cream himself when we tell him what just happened.”

“Speaking of which.” Before you could walk out the door, Marshall took hold of your arm and moved very close to whisper in your ear, “We have some unfinished business that was interrupted earlier. You better be in my hotel room after soundcheck with no clothes on.”

You felt the heat between your legs reignite as Marshall walked on, pretending like he hadn’t just made you significantly teased for the rest of this soundcheck.

[meo-eiru]

oooHHH- Meru, my dear, I was going to wait until I had time to draw something before talking about it since I normally do that. But you guys have been talking about it so l can't hold back anymore.

Spoilers ahead for anyone who hasn’t played the game~

(And talk about dark themes. 🫶✨)

Inserting my live reaction here to keep others from accidentally looking at spoilers like I do sometimes:

SO!!!

Based on what I saw in the game, yeah. Starling definitely loved Maelyn. Or at least felt an affection for her. An approximation of those feelings for her. Ultimately, Starling isn’t a human and doesn’t seem to operate quite the way that we would emotionally or mentally (wow that sounds so BAD I SWEAR I DIDN’T MEAN IT IN A BAD WAY-).

Like you said, Starling goes out of his way to dress Maelyn up and even remembers what she said about the “collar” in order to keep her while making sure it isn’t hurting her.

The whole thing didn’t feel malicious, really. Even the drowning. It just felt like he didn’t really understand the consequences of that one action. I hesitate to make the comparison, but Starling kinda feels childlike somehow. I don’t mean this in a way to infantilize the character at all, I swear. It’s just the way he reacts to things. Very dangerous baby with big pointy claws and teeth, lololol.

And you’re definitely right about him being able to make you forget that he’s very capable of violence. Because even when he does things that could be considered violent, it’s in such a way that it doesn’t come off as such. I feel that this aspect of him was reflected pretty well in the game as it is from Maelyn’s perspective and she kinda just goes “well there goes my fingers oh well-“ It was to the point that I was like “wait wait wait rewind and lemme move my bang so I can read that again- her FINGERS??? JUST??? GONE??? LIKE THAT???” But, then again, you could argue that it was partially because of her mental state as well. And I think the whole almost childlike feeling I got from Starling only plays into this whole thing about him feeling almost safe at times even with his glaringly obvious “otherness”.

It doesn’t help that he was so amicable for the most part. But that was likely because he was getting everything he wanted up until Maelyn said she would only come back after four days.

Onto a few other things… This game reminded me of things about myself that I forgot about for a while LOLOLOL-

It was funny because. I got the marriage ending first. But while playing the first time and getting to the part where we first see him open himself up… I was like “what if I just crawled in there- no I shouldn’t think that,,,” THEN LOW AND BEHOLD. WHEN I GOT THE OTHER ENDING- 😂😭

Great minds think alike. ✨

His ribcage the perfect cradle and his heart singing the best of lullabies… Or it would have been were it still beating-/j

SJDJDJ-

Honestly, when I got that ending I was like nOOOOO STARLING- WHAT HAPPENED??? I still don’t think I quite get how it happened.

Also hmMMMMmmmm let’s not talk about how my first thought when he opened himself up that one time and reacts when we touch (I chose to give in to my impulses) was to be like, “What if I… licked…? Insi-“

LOLLL-

Listen one reason I liked Beastars was because of the theming around the inherent connection between… eating (canniba-//shot) and intimacy- Like… yeah… Two carnal needs/instincts… ANYWAYS-

I love how the game turned out! You guys did great! So a belated congratulations for finishing the development and releasing it!!! 🎉✨

And of course amazing artwork as always, Meru~

Will draw something in celebration of it later when I have time. And just because I wish to draw the funny tongue-fish man. 🫶💫

Will probably also yap about this more later.

Another amazing ask I'm sure @celerifleuri will love as well

This is such a good analyses honestly, and yes you are right, Starling is quite childish. It's not that he has the mind or mental capacity of a child but it's in a bit of a "pure" state if you will. It really makes me want to talk about his backstory but that's why we are making bonus episodes.

Maelyn as a character definitely effects our perception of the events as well. Honestly if that happened to my fingers I'd pass out right then and there.

It's so funny how you mind aligned with Maelyn's, I'm sure she would love to try licking his insides (he did kiss his heart)

I'm glad you liked the art!!! And for the drawing, I can't wait to see what you'll come up with :D Good luck with all his tongues