#you should be prouder than proud

[autism-corner]

i found this in levi's photo's. wth man?????

[5sospenguinqueen]

Post Tension | Charles Leclerc x McLaren! Reader

Summary: Back in the same country, Charles realises that the most important thing isn't winning; it's that he was wrong.

Warnings: Swearing, female reader, Verstappen! Reader. Tooth-rotting fluff.

This is the final part!

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

Main Masterlist

━━━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━━━

YourUserName just posted

liked by arthur_leclerc, kellypiquet and others

YourUserName something in the orange tells me we're not done

7,956 comments

User 1 excuse me, miss thing?!?!

User 2 not miss verstappen posting this on media day when charles and her were spotted in the background of each other's interviews

francisca.cgomes that silhoutte pic is serving 🔥

User 3 just me or does that bear have a ferrari hoodie on

User 4 he is not the love of your life. he is literally just a guy. hit him with your car

→ User 1 nah 'cause does anyone else think charles would run her off the track if she got ahead of him again

→ User 5 wtf that's his girlfriend? he wouldn't try and hurt her

→ User 6 he did push max in a puddle once

lilymhe @ alex_albon why don't you buy me this stuff

→ alex_albon because you don't support McLaren

→ YourUserName excuse me?!?! what is this betrayal

→ lilymhe @ YourUserName i can explain

━━━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━━━

━━━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━━━

User 7 mum and dad putting those cheating rumours to rest

User 8 y/n a stronger woman than me because i would've keyed his car for implying i was sleeping with my teammate

→ User 9 actually it was arthur who implied that

→ User 10 don't drag baby leclerc into this. he was fighting in the trenches alongside us for his otp

━━━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━━━

scuderiaferrari just posted

liked by pierregasly, carlossainz55 and others

scuderiaferrari P4 and P8. A strong weekend for the tifosi 💪

tagged: charles_leclerc, carlossainz55

6,459 comments

User 9 i can't decide what i want to ride more

User 10 scoring some points in azerbaijan. well done, team

charles_leclerc why are you not posting the photos of me being #1 wag

→ YourUserName because this account doesn't post papaya, liefje

→ charles_leclerc no excuse

→ lilymhe because you are not #1 wag, clearly i am the only wag for @ YourUserName

→ charles_leclerc defamation

→ YourUserName @ lilymhe you tell 'em, bby

→ alex_albon i leave you alone for two seconds and you're stealing my girlfriend again

User 11 be still my beating heart

mclaren just posted

liked by charles_leclerc, georgerussell63 and others

mclaren P3 and P5. roll on the points for team papaya (ft mclaren's #1 wag)

tagged: YourUserName

7,321 comments

mclaren we apologise for interrupting your regularly scheduled papaya posts with a splash of red but you'll never guess who this racer was looking at to make him smile like that

→ maxverstappen1 sickening

→ charles_leclerc i am honoured to be awarded such a prestigious title by team mclaren

→ landonorris does this mean i can stop pretending to like y/n now?

→ charles_ leclerc @ landonorris no

→ YourUserName @ landonorris no. you're my emotional support pookie

User 11 so proud of our papayas. they did so good this weekend

User 12 i'd let y/n hit me with her car

liked by charles_leclerc

victoriaverstappen couldn't be prouder of you! 💕

maxverstappen1 just posted

liked by victoriaverstappen, kellypiquet and others

maxverstappen1 a disappointing dnf but very pleased for the less-famous verstappen 🧡

8,066 comments

redbullracing still made us proud. we'll come back stronger in france

kellypiquet well done y/n. p was cheering you on

→ YourUserName tell her i'm coming over for a pizza party soon! 🥰

YourUserName i swear he loves me really, guys

→ charles_leclerc well he threatened to run me off the track if i didn't fix things so i'd say he does

→ maxverstappen1 for legal reasons, this is a joke

→ YourUserName ah, so that's why you apologised. not because of your undying love for me

landonorris feel like that should say the more talented verstappen

liked by YourUserName, charles_leclerc

danielricciardo don't let this fool you. the man was close to tears when y/n was p1 with just one lap to go

→ danielricciardo and then cried when her tire burst

→ danielricciardo and then cried when she finished p3

→ maxverstappen1 i'll sue you for defemation

→ User13 the Grid seemed to have learned a new word this week

━━━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━━━

YourUserName just posted

liked by landonorris, maxverstappen1 and others

YourUserName ik houd van je

tagged: charles_leclerc

6,124 comments

charles_lecerlc je sais

→ YourUserName never going to let me forget that one, are you

→ charles_leclerc no

→ maxverstappen1 no

→ danielricciardo no

→ landonorris no

→ arthur_leclerc no

→ pierregasly no

→ victoriaverstappen no

→ lilymhe no

YourUserName how about everybody get off my dick

→ YourUserName my only friends here are the lovely ladies thirsting over my hot boyfriend with me

→ User 14 you tell 'em, honey

charles_leclerc just posted

liked by landonorris, redbullracing and others

charles_lecerlc as the people on twitter say, i would let y/n hit me with her car

8,593 comments

maxverstappen1 my eyes 🤮

→ charles_leclerc look away! i was going to block you for this

→ maxverstappen1 block me forever

YourUserName wow, not even a tag.

→ charles_leclerc everyone knows who you belong to, mon amour

→ YourUserName yeah, the guy who invented ice cream

→ landonorris @ charles_leclerc at least you know what to do if the racing thing doesn't work out

━━━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━━━

Thank you for all the support shown on this series. I never expected such a response when I posted my silly little fic.

I've had so much fun making these. I have a few more ideas coming up but not loads so if you have any, please do request and I'll try my best to do them justice! <3

━━━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━━━

Tag list: @mehrmonga @luvsforme @lemon-lav @missenclod @halleest @formula1mount @k4marina @evie-119 @letmeseeyougotowork @sleepybrokenmelle @eiaaasamantha @tinyhrry @janeholt3 @allywthsr @callsignwidow @raizelchrysanderoctavius @prudyhoo @valentinanappipage @leah-also-known-as-creatoronwp @delululeclerc @e-nonsense @scott-mccall-could-lift-mjolnir @butterfliesflyaroundmymind @bloodyymaryyy @kqliie @lifeless-firefly @woozarts @silverxxs-world @personwhoisther @eugene-emt-roe @anthonykatebridgerton @qualitygiantshoepsychic @entr4p3 @carpediem241108 @forevercaffeinated-lee @xyzstar @theendofthematerialgworl @geniusalpaca @chfiosr

[luvrxbunny]

flower

pairing: bf!Miguel O’Hara x f!reader

summary: You won’t let Miggy play.

warnings: 18+ MDNI, sad feelings, clothed sex, cum in pants (lmk if I forgot anything)

wc: 2.2k

a/n: Gwen is 21 just for drinking purposes— everyone say thank u to @naeverse for giving me an alternative to google translate for the spanish!! ily bby!! 🫶🏾

Miguel is like your best artwork, in your opinion. The way you took the hard seed he was and watered, loved, cared and nurtured him so he could bloom into the flower he was today is one of your greatest achievements. 

When you met him he was cold, closed off, and angry. It took months of breaking down his wall before he could even admit his feelings for you, it took even more, to get him to express his feelings for you. It was like luring a stray cat, slowly getting him closer, and more comfortable with you before pushing your physical feelings onto him. You coaxed him out of his cave of isolation, of touch deprivation, and showed him how it felt to have someone love on him. 

You were so proud when he started coming to you for simple little things, like a kiss or a hug. You’d be working and he’d stride in, tall and confident just to ask you, shyly, for a kiss. For a long time you explained to him that he didn’t always need to ask you, you were okay with him just coming in and kissing you. You also had to explain to him that he’s allowed to ask for more than a hug or kiss, he was very resistant on that matter but you managed to break him. 

One day he woke up in the middle of the night, you were asleep next to him and he needed you. He laid there for an hour, debating on whether he should wake you up or not. When he did wake you up, you couldn’t have been prouder. You made sure to let him know that as you rode him. 

At first, he wouldn’t even hold your hand or hug you in public. He got comfortable with PDA much quicker than the others, it only took him a few weeks. He plunged himself into it head first.

He went from barely touching you to being all over you. He started sitting you in his lap, resting his arms over your hips while standing behind you, or laying his head on your stomach whenever you guys were chilling in the lounge.

He even got into the habit of running his fingers over your tummy, going under your shirt or dissipating your suit just to feel you. Or he’ll just grope you through your suit, it doesn’t alway seem sexual for him… more like he enjoys the closeness, the intimacy of touching you, holding you in places no one else can. For example; your boobs, your ass, and his most recent, most consistent obsession… your pussy.. just cupping, your clothed pussy.

He says it’s calming for him, most of the time he does it absently. The goal isn't to make you cum, or prep your for his cock. He just loves touching you. It made you unbelievably happy to see him like that, your secretly sweet boy, loving all over you, not caring who’s around. It was one of the best things to ever happen to you.

Which is what makes this current conversation so awkward. 

Hobie is rambling on and on about how disgusting PDA is. Miguel isn't around, thank god. He went to get a drink and never came back. Hobie has been ranting about how inconsiderate, and inappropriate PDA is as you awkwardly sip on your drink, feeling oddly targeted. Jess and Gwen agree with him, saying that it’s not that serious but definitely annoying. You’re just wishing for them all to just stop before Miguel returns, terrified that he’ll retreat back into his shell. That you’ll loose your sweet flower.

“ ‘M jus sayin’ it’s not like they can’t wait ‘til they get ‘ome. I jus feel like… come off it, y’know? Like you’re in public, right? Jus... keep it in your pants.” You down your drink and decide to finally butt into the conversation. 

“Hobie. I love you but you’re the same guy who doesn’t believe in consistency.” You earn a little chuckle from the table. “Get in a loving, serious, consistent relationship, and tell me you’ll never want to be affectionate outside your house.” The words spit from your mouth with more venom than intended but you stand your ground. 

“Aye, I guess. But like, some people don’t know when to dial it back.” He laughs with Gwen as you get up to leave. Jess is sending you an apologetic look that you smile at briefly before turning to walk away. You’re stopped by a.. wall? 

You open your eyes to see what you ran into and see Miguel smiling down at you. “Where are you going?” You smile back at him, genuinely, and tell him a half-truth. “I was looking for you! Where have you been?”

Miguel looks a little drunk, his face flushed, and his eyes hazy. You guys have been drinking but it usually takes more. He shrugs and sits in your seat, patting his leg for you to sit in his lap.

You start toward him but then Hobie’s words play in your head and you shake your head softly at him. He looks confused but nods at you and falls into the conversation, now talking about the latest mission. 

You’re standing there considering Hobie’s words. If you imagine how you and Miguel act from an outsider's perspective… you can see why they’d find it annoying. Anxiety curls and makes a home in your chest as you flip through all your favorite memories of you and Miguel, all of them now tainted. You head over to the bar silently, needing another drink when you feel someone behind you. 

You feel pressure on the top of your head and know it's Miguel, placing a kiss on your head, another recent habit of his. You do nothing, ignore it as he wraps his arms around your waist and leans into you. “Oh, Peter B. says Hello. He was here earlier for a bit. That’s what took me so long. He made me drink with him too. Puede que haya bebido mucho.” 

(“I may have had too much to drink”)

A smile makes its way onto your face as you listen to him, his accent thicker with his intoxication. He’s leaning on you, not for support but just to feel you against him. You guys stand there in comfortable silence until you feel Miguel’s hand begin to slide from your hip to your pelvis, it slides underneath the band of your skirt and you stop him. “Not now, Miggy. Sorry.” Your drink arrives, you pay, and leave. Miguel follows behind you, slightly deflated by your rejection. Your mind is still on Hobie’s words. 

Are we “too much”? Do we take it “too far”..? Maybe we should just dial it back a little... 

You guys arrive back at the table and Miguel tries again. His hands come to your waist and quickly slide down, trying to get under your skirt. You don’t say anything, you keep talking to Gwen as you pull his hand out.

The night goes well from that point. Miguel makes more advances that are gently rejected or avoided by you. You all gradually get drunk as the night goes on, Miguel drinks a bit more than he usually would and recluses himself to a table next to where you guys are sitting. Jess leaves first, Gwen and Hobie following her not too long after.

You and Miguel decide to leave and Uber home in silence. He usually talks more after hanging out in a group, saying everything he thought but couldn't say, giving his rating on the interaction, and more. This time, however, he’s silent, looking out his window with furrowed brows the whole ride. The silence only breaks once you both are in the apartment and you speak up. 

“Why are you so quiet tonight?” You’re staring at his back as he stands in the living room. He doesn’t answer you at first, he just stands there before sighing and turning around. 

“Why won’t you let me play with you?” His voice is weaker than you’ve ever heard it, his eyes look sad and desperate and his hands are wringing each other. You’ve never seen him like this, nervous and unsure. It breaks your heart. 

You rush over to him and wrap him in a hug. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you wanted to that bad, baby.” You let him go and kiss his cheek. “I—“ You sigh defeatedly. “Hobie got in my head about PDA. I don’t know why I listen to him.” Miguel lets out a sigh of relief at your words, some of the tension leaving his body. 

“That idiot? Yeah, no. Don’t listen to him, amor.” You smile at him and he kisses you softly. When you pull away he still has that nervous look in his eyes. “Do you wanna play with me now?” you ask gently. He nods so timidly that you regret ever rejecting him. You kiss him with a smile as he walks you backward, only stopping once your back hits the wall.

His breath is already speeding up, his chest heaving as his hand slowly slides up your skirt. The moment his fingers come in contact with your clothed pussy he groans out, louder than you. You’re shocked by his reaction as he keeps rubbing your clit, gasping, and moaning with you as if he was touching himself. 

His mouth is open as moans tumble through his lips. He’s not looking at you, just watching his fingers move on your pussy. His eyebrows draw more inward the faster he moves his fingers, his moans turning into whines the faster he goes. 

At some point, his fingers roll over your clit more perfectly than you can handle and your hips buck into his hands. His knees almost buckle at the sight as he lets out a deep, rumbling groan. 

“Santa mierda.” His eyes roll back as he feels your wetness soak through your panties and dampen his fingers. He’s desperately hard in his pants and his hips are thrusting up into the air in time with his movements over your pussy. “Echaba mucho de menos esto, cariño”

(“Holy shit.”)

( “I missed this so much honey”)

You giggle at his apology. He tends to do this a lot when you have him extra worked up. He always feels bad because he knows you can't understand him but the truth is that when he gets you like this… Whining, moaning, and pressing into him.

He cannot function.

He can’t think about anything but breeding you, getting his fat cock into your soft pussy, and painting your cervix. He’s not worried about what language it happens in. His brain can’t focus on things like that, he’s tried.

Your hips thrust up into his hand as you grip his biceps, your nails digging in painfully, making him moan even louder. His fingers move against you perfectly, the Spanish falling from his lips pulls you closer and closer to your orgasm. Your legs start to twitch and tense, your knees weakening as the burning in your stomach grows. Your hands come up around Miguel’s neck to pull him closer to you. 

“You’re making me feel so good, Miggy. Fuck- I love you so much, baby.” He lifts you off your feet, pressing you up against the wall and lifting your legs over his waist. He takes a step forward and buries himself in your neck, his hips come forward, pressing his bulge against your mound with a groan. “Yeah, good. Good, Miggy- shi-it.” You feel his fangs slide out of his mouth and press into your skin as he whimpers. “Holy- Miguel, I- fuck, like that baby please.” 

His whines turn to groans as he thrusts against you like he was actually fucking you. His hips swivel into yours, stuttering as he listens to your moans. “N-nena, estoy tan cerca. Maldita sea, te sientes tan jodidamente bien, mi amor. Siento que no puedo respirar. Mierda, te sientes increíble.” 

(“B-baby, I'm so close. Damn, you feel so fucking good, my love. I feel like I can't breathe. Shit, you feel amazing.”)

You moan louder at his words, the way they roll off of his tongue. You can’t even describe how you feel when he speaks, especially in Spanish. It feels like his words vibrate through your ears, to your stomach, and settle in your core, winding you up as tightly as you can go. “Yeah? Oh, I’m gonna c-cum. Fuck- talk to me, Miggy. T-tell me how it feels, honey.”

Miguel can feel his eyes roll back into his head at your words. You know he can’t speak English right now, and he knows you love it anyway, the thought has him hurtling toward his orgasm. “Te sientes tan perfecta, nena. Voy a correrme tan fuerte por ti. ¿Lo quieres? ¿Quieres que te dé mi leche, miel? Te lo daré, todo por ti, nena. Mierda.” 

(“You feel so perfect, baby. I'm gonna cum so hard for you. Do you want it? Do you want me to give you my milk honey? I'll give it to you, all for you, baby. Shit.")

Your legs crush his waist as you cum, trembling in his arms as his hips keep fucking against you, his moans growing in volume. You bring your hands up to dive into his hair, pulling at it, gripping it as he growls into your neck. He’s trying to hold off until you’re done, he wants to keep going, he wants to make you cum for so long that you can’t breathe but the way you’re grasping his brown locks makes it impossible. His muscles tense, his hands squeezing you into a bruising hold as his groans devolve back into whines, his body shaking as his cock explodes. 

He cums so hard he thinks he blacks out for a moment. His cock pumps out rope after rope of his cum into his pants, he wishes it was inside you for a moment and he’s cumming harder at the thought. His hips continue to buck into you desperately as he moans out your name. You feel one of his hands leave your waist and rest on your cheek shakily, pushing your head in his direction and placing a kiss on your cheek. He grunts as he bucks against you one more time before putting you down. 

You knees give out the moment you touch the ground and Miguel holds you up with a chuckle. “¿Qué? ¿No puedes soportarlo, cariño? ¿Tus piernas ya no funcionan?” He teases you as he carries you to the bedroom, your head rests on his chest, feeling the vibrations as he speaks. 

(“What? You can't stand, honey? Your legs don't work anymore?”)

“You better hush up before I fuck you.” You spit back at him jokingly but you feel his pace falter at the threat. 

“Uh, Qué... ¿Cuál es el dicho? Don’t threaten me with a good time?” He says in a teasing tone but his eyes are already clouding over again, desperate. 

(“what... what's the saying?”)

thank you so much for reading!! please please please give any feedback you may have! I want it all! also if you liked it please take a look at my masterlist!

[slytherinshua]

BOY DAD INTAK

genre. fluff. headcanons. non-idol au but music-related/piwon related stuff is still mentioned!! warnings. pregnancy/parent/baby stuff. sooo messy i'm very sorry abt that. not proofread. pairing. husband!intak x fem!reader. wc. 1.1k. request. for @blue-jisungs <33 a/n. i wanted to finish this quickly esp with everything going on just so maybe u have smth to distract urself axe ☹️☹️☹️ i love u so much <33 net. @kstrucknet

When he finds out you’re pregnant he’s honestly so shocked

But a good shocked of course

Safe to say it wasn’t entirely planned sjdksjs 

You’re both still very young but even though it was unexpected Intak is ready to be a dad and super excited for it :( 

He’s the best at taking care of you during your pregnancy 

He always was when you were dating but he takes extra steps to make sure all your needs are met

He will always make sure you have whatever food you’re craving 

Plus he’s down to try the weird combinations as well

More often than not they taste terrible to him while you’re chowing down 

But he finds it endearing 

He’ll watch you eat from across the table with his head rested on his fist and a smile on his face

He keeps track of what meds you should be taking and reminds you when you forget

Although his work can keep him busy sometimes, he’d drop everything for you if you needed it 

He will always always make it to your appointments 

Just because he’s not the one growing the baby doesn’t mean he can skip out on any of the steps— it’s his child as well after all

And he makes sure to always answer his phone and check his texts even if you’re updating him about your day he’ll take the time to text you back 

He doesn’t announce that you’re pregnant to the other members until you’re well along in your second trimester 

But it’s met with excitement from everyone 

Probably a look from Keeho and a throwaway “aren’t y’all still young?”

But he’s over the moon excited to be an uncle trust he’s going to be present in the baby’s life

Theo would gift you all the practical things you could need like diapers, monitors, and bottles 

Once the baby arrives Jiung will probably meal prep some food for both of you (which you are forever grateful for) 

Soul finds the most interesting baby toys on the market but despite Intak’s slight judgemental look when he receives them, you think they’re all great

Jongseob is fully composing lullaby and nursery rhymes, except you’re a little unsure of how easy they are to follow once he throws in complicated rap rhythms 

Keeho’s proud of Intak and excited for you— he knows you’ll be the best parents

But as the leader, he’s also more than eager to help out wherever you need it, especially with cleaning or just little things to help you destress when you need it, mainly during postpartum :’)

Intak is extra clingy while you’re pregnant, especially when your bump starts to show

Even if it’s only been a few days since it was visible, he is all over you

You probably receive a million kisses a day, and trust his arms are always wrapped around your waist, feeling your bump with that proud dad smile on his face

Always says his son is gonna have the coolest dad ever, and you can’t even argue with him because you do think Intak is gonna be the coolest dad ever

And when your son arrives, Intak couldn’t be prouder

Definitely cries holding him for the first time, and is probably very emotional the first couple of days

But he is also your biggest support

He’s doing absolutely everything he can to make sure you can rest after delivery; seriously won’t let you lift even a finger

He shows you off even more than before, he just thinks you’re so incredible and amazing for everything you’re capable of, and how good of a mom you are

He’s more in love with you than ever

Each milestone your son reaches is so important to Intak, from his first smile, to his first word (which he’s proud to say was “dada”), to his first steps and first day of school

Intak is one of those dads who is constantly giving all his friends and family updates about your little ones and sharing cute moments of his son with him

He’s so close with his son, and you’re always happy to see them spending time together

Of course, he’s gonna raise his son right!!

From an early age, he’s always talking to his son about doing things for mom; whether it be cleaning the house cause you had a long day, planning a surprise date cause it’s been a while, or buying you flowers because it’s mother’s day

Doesn’t matter if your son can’t even talk yet, Intak will still be talking about every occasion that is important to you

And they plan all the special things together <3

Dressed up in matching suits for your first mother’s day, and your heart melted :(

Intak includes your son in everything, and they just make the best duo, you couldn’t be happier to have them in your life

Date nights with Intak used to be a super regular thing in your early marriage, but it becomes pretty tricky with a kid to manage

You rely on Intak’s friends to babysit a lot, especially Keeho and Theo who are more than happy to compete for best uncle award

You can usually sneak in at least 3 dates per month amidst your busy schedule <3

Intak is the best person ever to comfort his son and also to give the best advice

He’ll always wipe his tears and assure him whenever he stumbles, especially as a toddler/little kid around 2-6

He’s always telling his son how proud he is of him and how he can do anything he ever wants to and be backed by his dad

As your son grows older, Intak gets a bit more emotional about it

Because he’s not as small and dependent as he used to be :(

Especially at around age 5-6, he’s really getting out of his shell, and Intak feels bittersweet about it

Of course, he’s beyond proud of his son for making new friends and trying out new things by himself with the introduction of school

But he also misses those more quiet days when it was just you two and your baby doing everything together :(

Your son starts to develop some of Intak’s habits, and you find it so cute how he’s becoming a little carbon copy of his dad

They share the same interests and can always be found playing together

Definitely starts enjoying music with his son really early on and is always dancing and singing/rapping with his kiddo <3

And also loves to get into sports with his son and compete (although he’ll almost always let his son win)

You find it incredible how they can stay entertained together for hours

Of course, Intak doesn’t have endless energy like his son does, but he still somehow keeps up just running off of love and pride for his kid

Best boy dad you could ever ask for !!!

↳ p1harmony taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @eternalgyu,, @kangtaehyunzzz,, @amara-mars,, @nyukyusnz,, @blossominghunnie,,

@wccycc,, @seunghancore,, @sobun1est,, @bananabubble,, @talkingsaxy,,

@cupidslovearrows,, @50-husbands,, @hursheys,, @mjupis,, @stannwjnss,,

@gong-fourz,, @forever-atiny

[mykoreanlove]

fighting with felix be like

“You’re being ridiculous, y/n.”

His words stung, adding onto the heavy pain you were already feeling. “Am I though? Your ex was with us right there tonight. Am I ridiculous for feeling jealous?” He halted abruptly and turned around. “That is what this is about? You were jealous because of my ex?”

Your eyes were glued to the floor. This was your first relationship, and you had no idea how to navigate tough situations like these. Felix’ gaze softened as he understood why you made his night a living hell.

He embraced you in his arms and kissed your forehead, whispering to you softly. ��Sweetums, I had no idea you felt that way. I’m sorry. Please believe me that you have nothing to worry about. My ex is my ex for a reason. Okay?”

His loving eyes pierced through yours and you felt butterflies all over again. You felt stupid for acting like a bitch tonight. Shame flooded your system – you wanted to be a cool girl, not a pathetic one.

You thought about ways to make it up to him. As you fumbled with the zipper of his jeans you looked him deep in the eyes and mumbled your apology. “Let me show you how sorry I am.”

Your boyfriend’s eyes widened in surprise – up to now you hadn’t done something like this before.

Felix was more experienced than you were, he definitely wasn’t timid in bed. But he respected you and gave you all the time you needed. You loved the kissing, licking, groping, or fingering but everything else had been new territory for you.

“Sweetums, are you sure?”

You nodded, biting your lip in anticipation. He sat down on the couch after you slid off his dark jeans. His tight boxers were fighting to contain his dick, the bulge was too prominent to ignore.

You had no idea how to do this. Should you have watched some porn before? Shit.

Your fingers grazed his thighs, leaving him shivering in anticipation. Felix’ noticed you tensing up, so he took your face into his hand and placed a sweet kiss on your lips. “Don’t overthink it, baby. Just let it happen naturally.”

You freed his cock out of his boxers. “Damn”, you admired him. “Lixie, your dick is gorgeous.” He laughed out loud. “Thank you sweetums. My dick thinks you’re gorgeous, too.” Now you laughed. You got on your knees and braided your hair into a ponytail, ready for action.

 “Well, let me introduce myself properly.”

You had been bopping your head on his dick for almost an hour, you couldn’t get enough. Felix was thick – filling you completely. You almost choked a couple times, but you didn’t care, taking him deep was so fulfilling. You felt dirty, like you were doing something wrong. Your tongue glided over his cock, veins popping out left and right. He was close so many times, twitching in your mouth relentlessly. His deep moans filled the whole room and you never felt prouder. “Sweetums, fuck. I’m about to faint, this feels so fucking good.”

You quickened your pace and sucked harder, covering him and yourself in spit. Felix groaned again and sat up straight, taking your ponytail in his hands, pulling tightly. “Look at me, baby. Look at me while you take me like a little slut.”

Oh, you felt your pussy twitch. Fuck, that was hot. Let me be your little slut, Lixie. I’d do anything for you. You held his gaze while you were sucking and massaging his balls.

His pupils dilated; he was loving this so much. You didn’t think it would be possible for him to get even harder, but it was. It was as if you were licking a rock. “Can I.. can I come in your pretty mouth?”

You squeezed his thighs. God yes, let me taste you. Felix understood and rocked his hips forward, his dick shooting right into the back of your throat, making your eyes water. “God, y/n, I…fuck!”

Felix cum tasted like nothing you had ever tasted before. A mixture of sweet and salty, just like he was. You sucked him dry, licking off every droplet of his salvation.

You had no idea if he was satisfied but you were proud of yourself. “Fuck, sweetums – what was that?” Felix smiled from ear to ear and pulled you to him on the couch. You were laying on his chest, very aware of his heavy breathing. “Was that.. okay?”

He looked at you amused. “Are you kidding? That was the best blowjob I ever got. I wasn’t kidding about fainting. That was intense!” He kissed you tenderly. “Thank you, y/n. I loved it.” You smiled back proudly. Felix hugged you even tighter now. “Did you really do that because of our fight?” You looked up at him, smiling shyly. “Yeah. I felt sorry for how I behaved and I.. I wanted to make it up to you.”

You played with his shirt, waiting for his reply. “Well, if that is the case then we should fight more often. Don’t you think?”

[youreverydayfangirl]

the man

pairing: pierre gasly x doctor! reader

summary: after taking over the clinic y/n meets a cute patient, or in which pierre meets a cute doctor

warning: injury

a/n: i might make a pt 2

mathersonclinics has posted

liked by yourusername, yourbsfusername and 3, 985 others

mathersonclinics We are thrilled to introduce our new Chief of Medicine Y/n Y/ln. Doctor L/n first began their journey with our clinic at the young age of 16, displaying and extraordinary dedication to the field of medicine. Over the past ten years, Dr L/n has contributed countless hours of hard work and commitment, shaping the clinic into what it is today. Their experience and passion for patient care is what makes Dr L/n perfect for the role and we look forward to seeing the continued growth and success of our clinic under our new Chief.

tagged: DoctorY/Ln

DoctorY/Ln Very grateful for this opportunity.

yourbsfusername that's my bestie and I'm proud

DoctorY/LN has posted

liked by yourusername, yourbsfusername and 24, 568 others

DoctorY/LN It is such an honor to be presented with this oppurtunity.

yourbsfusername 😭😭

yourbsfusername after seeing how you've put your blood sweat and tears into this i could not be prouder

user1 i still remember when she was a baby 😭

user2 how old is she??

→ user3 shes 26. she finished highschool when she was like 11.

→ user2 OMGG???

→ user3 i know shes like a geniur

yourusername 🔒 has posted

liked by yourbsfusername and 15 others

yourusername 🔒 literally freaking the fuck out

yourbsfusername your so fine

→ yourusername yourbsfusername thx pooks

yourusername 🔒 has posted five stories

caption 1 only way to start your day off is with a healthy meal 🥗

caption 2 morning run + gossip

caption 3 healthy snack ✅

caption 4 beach day

caption soaking in the sun rays

liked by yourbsfusername and 13 others

yourbsfusername never going running with you again

yourbsfusername you aren't human

liked by creator

__________________________

When Y/N and her best friend arrived at the beach, they set up their gear close to a volleyball game. The smell of the ocean brought a sense of calm that Y/N hadn't felt in a while. Although she loved being a doctor, it could be very stressful at times. Her eyes focused on watching the waves, the dark blue that seemed so inviting. Her gaze drifted over to the group of men playing volleyball. They were all very attractive, but one caught her eye in particular.

"You should ask for his number," her best friend whispered, nudging her shoulder. A blush crept up Y/N's cheeks at being caught.

"No, we're here to relax."

"No better way to relax than to flirt with a hot man," her best friend said, shrugging her shoulders. Y/N just chuckled, shaking her head as her eyes drifted over to the group once more. This time, he seemed to catch her stare. She felt her cheeks flush but kept eye contact with him until he got pulled back into the game.

Y/N got up, brushing the sand off as she reached into the cooler she had brought. "Water?" she asked her best friend, but she just shook her head, gesturing to the beer bottle she was holding. Y/N grabbed a water bottle and some of the fruit she had brought before sitting back down, opting to read the book she had brought, her eyes occasionally flickering to the loud group of men.

The group caught her attention when they seemed to give up on volleyball, with a smaller group of them opting to go surfing. Her best friend nudged her, but Y/N ignored her, looking back down at the book she was reading.

A while later, loud shouts caught Y/N's attention. She looked up and saw the group pulling one of their friends out of the water. Shit!

Her best friend nudged her again. "Y/N, go help," she said, tension and worry in her voice.

"Yeah- Yeah, okay," Y/N said, her voice slightly shaking.

She sprinted over to the group. "What happened?" she asked, her eyes focused on the man who she now realized was the attractive one she had been eyeing earlier. She looked up at the man standing closest to her. "Well?"

"Um, not sure, I think he might've hit his head on a surfboard or something," the man said. Y/N could hear a thick accent in his voice, but she was too focused on the injured man to decipher it.

"Okay, okay, shit, where are the lifeguards?" Y/N looked up and around, but the sun had begun to set, and the lifeguards had packed up. She could feel her brain going a million miles an hour, thrown off by the unexpected situation.

The men seemed annoyed, not understanding what she was doing. "Focus, Y/N," her best friend said.

Y/N looked up at her. "Can you get a towel? There should be an emergency first aid kit in my bag." She then turned to the men, the whole group having moved closer. "Can you put him down gently over there, please?"

"I'm sorry, but who the hell are you?" one of them asked.

"I'm a doctor. Just listen to me, okay?" she snapped, her brain suddenly switching on. Her best friend came back, handing her the towel and kit.

Y/N folded the towel and slipped it underneath the barely conscious man's head. "Can you hold his head, please? It's important that he doesn't move too much to protect his spine." She then slipped off her t-shirt and pressed it gently against the wound, trying to minimize the bleeding. She checked his airways to make sure he was breathing properly and that there wasn't anything obstructing his breath. "Can someone keep holding this against his head?"

She went through the kit and grabbed what she needed. "Okay, the bleeding should have slowed down now. I need to clean it, so can you take that off gently?" Once the shirt was peeled back, she gently wiped the wound. "The wound isn't too deep; it should be fine," she noted, more to herself. She then grabbed a gauze pad and placed it against the wound. "Hold this," she said, grabbing the medical tape and securing the gauze with it. The boy was now more awake and aware of his surroundings.

"Does anything else hurt?" she asked the boy, looking down at him. He tried to shake his head, but she quickly stopped him. "Be careful, you might still be concussed," she said. She looked up at the group, who were watching her curiously. "Does anyone know when the ambulance will get here?" she asked.

"Oh shit, forgot to call them," one of them said, a thick Australian accent creeping out. She sighed exasperatedly. "Don't bother now, an ambulance will take too long." Her eyes flickered over to her best friend, who was looking at her expectantly. She sighed.

"Come with me, you still need proper medical care, not just a makeshift gauze," she said, talking to the boy who had first spoken to her. He raised a brow, and she sighed. "Look, I'd rather be relaxing and celebrating than whatever the hell we're doing right now, but your friend needs proper medical care, and I can't do that on the beach, okay?"

Y/N ended up taking the men—who she had found out were named Charles and Pierre—to the clinic in her car while the rest drove in their own. Her best friend couldn't come as she had to work.

"How old are you?" an unfamiliar voice spoke up from the backseat of her jeep. Y/N's eyes flickered up to make eye contact with the injured man. "Hmm?"

"How old are you?" the man repeated.

"Twenty-six," she replied. His brows furrowed in confusion. "You aren't even old enough to graduate med school."

"Special case," she said firmly. He picked up the hint that she no longer wanted to talk about it.

Soon they arrived in front of the clinic. "You two stay here, I'll grab a nurse to help get you inside. I'm not having you walking," she said firmly, about to head in before becoming extremely conscious of the fact that she was only in her bikini. "Here." The boy groaned, passing her a shirt with a logo on it. She smiled softly, muttering a small thanks before heading inside.

"Doctor Y/Ln, what are you doing here?" the receptionist asked, noting her attire. "No time, could you grab a wheelchair, please?" The nurse quickly picked up on the seriousness in her voice and hurried around to where Y/N was. Y/N led her outside to the car.

"Sit down," she said, gesturing to the wheelchair. The boy groaned. "You can't be serious."

"Now," she said firmly. He put his hands up in mock surrender and got into the wheelchair. The group of four then made their way into the clinic.

Everyone looked over at them, and nurses began whispering to each other, which Y/N brushed off. "Greta, can you take them to a spare room while I go get changed?"

Y/N headed back out once she had changed, still picking up on the glances thrown her way. She entered the patient room, tying her hair up. The two men looked up at her as she entered, Pierre's gaze lingering slightly longer, an unusual feeling rising in his chest. "Okay, Charles, I'm gonna get you to fill this form out while I check on our patient here." She passed him the clipboard and then instructed Pierre to sit on the patient bed.

"So, how did you become a doctor?" He sent her a look before focusing back on the bandage on his head. "What? It's a valid question. Okay, when did you become a doctor?" She sighed, knowing that he would continue to press for answers.

"I got my Doctor of Medicine nearly ten years ago, and I've been working here ever since." Pierre's brows furrowed in confusion.

"You must've been-"

"Sixteen? Yeah."

"That means you would've graduated at-"

"Eleven? Also yes," she said, checking for signs of a concussion. Pierre just looked at her in wonder.

"How?"

"Child prodigies do actually happen," she said, taking off his bandage.

They talked for a while longer, mainly Pierre asking her questions and her deflecting or straight-up ignoring him. "So, do you-"

"Done," she remarked, pulling away from him suddenly. Right before he was about to say something, a knock cut him off, Charles jumping from his spot where he had fallen asleep.

"Chief, sorry, I know you're busy, but can I get you to sign off the papers for the Anderson file?" Pierre's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"Yeah, can you just put them down, and I'll have them for you tomorrow," she said, grabbing Pierre's file from the bench.

"So, Chief?" he asked once the nurse had left.

She smiled slightly, turning around to face him. "I guess I never introduced myself. Y/N Y/Ln, Chief of Medicine."

yourusername 🔒 has posted

liked by yourbsfusername and 17 others

yourusername 🔒 not the way i expected the day to go but not complaining

yourbsfusername you look hot in doctor mode

→ yourusername I WAS STRESSIN

friend1 Y/n OMG ANSWER MY TEXTS

→ yourusername bet

yourusername 🔒 has posted three stories

caption 1 getting spoilt rn

caption 2 yummm

caption 3 i was talking about the food guys obviously

liked by yourbsfusername and 9 others

yourbsfusername ditching me for a man 🙄

yourusername youll alway be my number 1

yourbsfusername good

friend2 omg whoo

yourusername thats a secret ill never tell

___________________________________

a/n: a bit short but ill probably make a pt 2 guys. idk if this is good.

[fullfriendnerdclutch]

In collaboration with @malehypnofantasy

"As I said before, son. There's no better blessing other than being enlightened. Your strength came from Him. Your good look came from Him. Your wealth came from Him. Spreading His word is only right as a way for you to thank Him for his blessing. So, if I ask your purpose in life, it is--"

"To serve all His needs,"

"And, my words are--"

"Your words are the extension of His will and desires, so it's only right for me to obey you too as His communicator to the masses,"

"Perfect. Your reformation is a true showcase of His work. Bless Him,"

"Bless Him,"

"Okay, now you are discharged, son. Make me proud,"

---

Looking a bit too proud with himself, but why shouldn't he? He's finally the perfect son his father always wished for, and he's more than happy to oblige to his father's needs and demand. He spent way too much time defying the old man orders throughout his juvenile years until his latest semester in college, it's good to finally conform to his father's traditional patriarchal value rooted in Evangelical Christianity. After all, that's the kind of value needed in the community among its youth if the family-run megachurch wanted to remain flourishing for years to come.

Now, he needed to ensure that the app his father installed to his phone ended in every townies phone, including the upcoming students getting back for summer break so his father can be even more prouder to him for making sure that the community outreach worked well. Maybe he should start with the bartender, he's 21 now after all so he can definitely just slide into the bar with no problems. Make him another followers to the cause and then proceed to use his help as they are working on dual operation to convert everyone to join the megachurch through the app's subtle yet effective impact. The townies love to get wasted with their drinks, must be easy to install the app into their phone when they are not even sober. When it's on their phone, it's going to do its job and they just need to sit back, relax and wait for the stream of proud, strong and devout masses beelining their way into the service every Sunday

----

"I don't know how you did it, but your words really reverberated with me. Truly a blessing to be your converted puppet, you know?"

"I mean, talk about perfect takeover. Like, you, a fat pathetic nerd taking over my mind and make me do your bidding? Blasphemous!"

"But well, I'm just your mic now, but you clearly doing a better job than I do. Only because of you my son can be brought back to the right way like that, all my efforts were futile all these years but with you in control, poof, he's becoming someone that I can proudly call son. Really crazy how effective you are in making me your puppet and delivering all your demand as if it's God's commandment. It really is a perfect revenge for this fucked up townies. Serves them right. I really am pleased to be used by you to achieve your goals,"

[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

[dancinglikebutterflywings]

Christmas Tree | Bang Chan

-> Pairing: Bang Chan x Reader

-> Request: No. This is a repost from my old account.

-> Synopsis: Reader goes Christmas Tree shopping with her boyfriend.

-> Warnings: Established relationship. Christmas themed.

-> Word Count: 648

-> Requests: Open.

Bang Chan Masterlist | Tag List Sign-Up | Requesting Guidelines

©️ 2024 dancinglikebutterflywings - do not copy/modify/repost anywhere. Likes, comments & reblogs are welcomed and appreciated, thank you.

“What colours should we do this year?” Y/N asks Chan as they walk down a row of Christmas Trees, some shorter than them and others at least a foot taller. “We did red and green last year. I was thinking blue, white and silver this year.”   

She looks to her boyfriend who seems to be looking at the trees, but she can see in his eyes that he’s a million miles away. He quickly comes back to reality when she steps in front of him causing him to walk into her, his arms automatically going around her to stop her from falling backwards.    

“Glad to see you’re back with me again,” she teases him, letting him know that she’s not annoyed. 

“I’m sorry, baby,” he apologises and kisses her forehead. “What were you saying?” he asks feeling slightly embarrassed. He didn’t mean to get caught up in thinking about the upcoming schedules him and the guys have over the holidays.   

“I was thinking about decorating the tree blue, white and silver this year,” she says, moving out of his arms and taking his hand as they continue walking through the rows of trees waiting to be picked and taken to their new homes.  

“Sounds good. Have you already got the decorations?” he asks, pulling her closer into his side and wrapping an arm around her shoulders.  

She nods. After spending yesterday morning doing her Christmas shopping, she bought some decorations to decorate her small apartment and the tree. “I bought some while I was doing my Christmas shopping.  

A smirk makes its way on to Chan’s face. “What did you get me for Christmas?” he questions her, his tone light and teasing.   

“Coal,” she returns his teasing and comes to a stop in front of a tree. “This is the one!” she exclaims excitedly.   

Chan looks at her like she’s completely lost her mind as he looks between her and the tree. In front of them was a tree shorter than him, branches sticking out in all different directions, and barely any foliage on it. It’s the most hideous tree he’s ever seen. Even the cheap fake trees looked better than this one.   

“Are you sure you want this one?”   

“I’m positively sure I want this one,” she affirms her decision. “I know it’s ugly, but it still deserves a little love.”  

“Whatever my baby wants, my baby gets,” smiling he pulls her into his side and kisses the top of her head.  

An hour later Chan and Y/N are back at her apartment. The ugly Christmas tree is set up in the corner of her living room with lights draped around it. The young couple have spent the last five minutes placing the baubles on the limited branches the tree has. To finish it off Y/N places a star she decorated with a Bang Chan photo card she had duplicates of.  

It takes Chan a few minutes to realize his face is on the star but when he does, he’s unsure of what to say as his face flushes red.  

“You’re my star,” Y/N grins, looking proud of her handmade creation. She was in no way a creative genius like her boyfriend and 7 children, and it took a few attempts to get the cardboard star the perfect shape and the perfect shade of silver but when she finally did, she couldn’t be happier and prouder of herself.  

“Look what I found?” he says, pulling out the plastic mistletoe decoration from the box that held the old decorations. He raises it above his head and looks at her expectantly.   

“You know you don’t need mistletoe to kiss me,” she says moving closer to him. Holding herself back from kissing him, she keeps at least an inch of distance between them.  

“Just kiss me,” he softly demands, cupping her face and closing the distance between them, kissing her.

 TAGGING: @staytiny2000 - @kpopmenace143 - @treehouse-mouse - @alexxavicry - @jedi-dreea

@rainydayteacups - @tinyelfperson - @yeonjunnie - @laylasbunbunny - @skz1-4-3

@pinkies-things - @kayleefriedchicken - @everythingboutkpop - @dancelikebutterflywings-library

[redtsundere-writes]

Jinx | Sukuna Ryomen

mmafigther!sukuna ryomen x femcoach!reader

Part 13. Last One Before Leaving

Beginning. ← Previous | Next →

Sypnosis: Sukuna is a world champion with anger issues. It's believed by many that he is untrainable. Yeah, you can't train him, but you can dominate him. Contents: Fighting. Female reader being dom. Jinx AU (the BL, not the character from lol) Yuuji, Choso and Sukuna are brothers. Some characters are out of characters. Warnings: Cursed words, I only read it once. Word Count: 4582 words. Author's Note: I am going to edit the shit out of this fanfic after I drop the last chapter. I am not sure if I will post the next chapter next week because I have to work on some commissions, but I'll try my best because it will be a long one. I promise. Thanks for staying tuned!

Back to old habits. The only thing I could see in the middle of the tunnel was Sukuna's gigantic back, I could raise my hand and trace his tattoos with my fingertips. I took a deep breath to assimilate that this was really happening. This was my last fight as the King of the Ring's coach. This was the last time I would wear the Team Black jacket. The last time I would march to the beat of Sukuna's favorite song. This would be the last time I would be able to support Sukuna this close. We emerged from the darkness and the crowd greeted us in a sea of applause and cheers. Gojo was at my side with a big bright smile, Yuuji was on the other holding his brother's bench and Nanami was behind me, holding the strategy notes. 

After the referee took over to check on Sukuna, he hugged everyone quickly before entering the ring. My lips formed a smile involuntarily at his warm touch. I was so proud of him. I was sure he would excel in this fight as in all the others. I already wanted to see him fight in all his glory. I hope I was good enough as a sparring partner for this match. 

"Give a warm welcome to Aoi, the demolisher of champions, Todo!” they announced. “I wonder what song he will enter with this time,” I thought curiously. 

It was true that Todo was a famous fighter because of his skills, strength and beefy body, but there was a reason why he is very popular. While other fighters enter the arena with rap songs with intimidating lyrics, Todo enters with songs of his favorite k-pop idols. Nayeon's POP! started blaring from the speakers. He came in dancing to the choreography of the said song with his team following closely behind. One could debate the fact that he was the best fighter in the UFC, but he was the one who puts on the best shows.

"What the fuck is this? " Sukuna asked as he stretched out near our corner.

"Oh, I love this song,” Yuuji told me excitedly as he danced to the famous choreography that went viral on TikTok. 

It didn't take long for him to get into the ring. In the distance, I could see Yuki waving with a smile as if we were friends. Poor thing, she doesn't know that Sukuna was about to smash her fighter to the ground. Maybe I should give her a sign. I showed her my thumbs down while mouthing the words “he's going down” in an exaggerated way. That was enough to wipe off her smile.

Todo and Sukuna gathered in the center to start the fight. One last fight and we're off. “Come on Sukuna, show me everything I have taught you,” I thought as I watched him excitedly. This would be Sukuna's last fight that I would be able to watch this close. I felt like a little girl again watching her first UFC fight on TV. I still couldn't believe I had come this far in my career. From being a rank-and-file fighter to being the champion of my division to directly training one of the best fighters in the world. I was proud of Sukuna, but I was prouder of myself. 

The bell rang and the fun began. The beasts went straight ahead to try to take each other down with their killing punches. For a giant mass of musclemen, Todo was incredibly faster than before. Yuki must have focused his training on speed since he is already strong. There was a moment where Todo was just lashing out jab after jab without Sukuna being able to return them, but he could get away from him to try to attack him from another angle. My fighter was defending himself very well, but he was eating a punch or two. Plus he wasn't working on his offense like we had practiced before. Something was going on. 

The third round arrived and Sukuna was still not improving, in fact, his body was beginning to lose resistance from all the missiles he was receiving. His movements were getting slower with every minute, his defense was fading little by little and his offense was not working. He was looking for any path that could lead him to victory, but they were all covered by the great wall that was Aoi Todo. If this was going to judges' decision, the odds weren’t on Sukuna’s side. “What the fuck are you doing wrong=!” I asked my fighter as if he could hear me telepathically. 

"Damn, he's getting fucked," Yuuji commented annoyed with the situation. 

Wait, his lucky ritual, is that why Sukuna wasn't in his best shape? Hadn't he had satisfying sex the night before? That couldn't be. Sukuna told me that Gojo had hired him a special prostitute the night before. Did he do something different this time? Whatever it was, luck was not on Sukuna's side. He would have to fight with everything his body could offer to keep his title. And after what seemed like an eternity, the bell announcing the end of the third round rang. There was one last round left that we could not squander.

"What the fuck is wrong with you? Didn't you get a hard-on last night or what the fuck?” I asked him offended while Yuuji put ice on his bumps to reduce the swelling. 

"What the fuck are you talking about, shut up!” Sukuna barked, annoyed. 

"Then what the fuck is wrong with you?!” I yelled in his face. "I'm going to support you until the end, but please, stop fucking around and give him a piece of your fucking mind!” 

"I'm tired,” he sighed as he closed his eyes. I slapped him. Gojo and Yuuji looked at me, baffled. 

"You can rest once you give him a final punch! You're about to lose your title!” I screamed to wake him up from the trance he was in. If his luck wasn’t on his side, his anger would be. I grabbed his face and forced him to look at Yuki. "She's making fun of you, the woman who broke your brother's heart and blamed you for it! Are you going to let her make fun of the king of the ring?! Think about your fans.” 

"Sukuna has fans?” Yuuji scoffed. 

"If Sukuna has a fan, it's me. If Sukuna has no fans, it is because I am dead. If the world is against Sukuna, then I am against the world,” I said seriously, but the brothers started laughing. My cheeks blushed as I realized what a silly thing I had said. In fact, it was the first time I heard Sukuna laugh out loud. He had a cute smile on his face. 

"Stop joking around! We're running out of time,” Gojo scolded us. "Sukuna, you've been boxing all this time. Don't be afraid to use your legs. I know he's a little taller than you, but that's the way you can reach him,” Gojo advised him before they called the fighters back. 

Sukuna and Todo met again in the center of the octagon and the bell rang announcing the last round. This was no time to blink. Now everything was in Sukuna's hands. Aoi went at him, looking for the same knockout he had been unable to achieve in the last 20 minutes of the fight. Sukuna was still maintaining his guard as Todo directs his fists to his face. His feet were moving around the octagon in a tug of war that shortened and distanced them with each transition. My athlete looked more focused than he had in the last few rounds, but he needed something better than that. 

"Come on Todo, let your guard down,” Yuuji prayed out loud beside me. 

There was one minute left on the clock and every second was ticking faster than it should. They were bathed in sweat and blood from open wounds. I wondered what Sukuna was thinking in the midst of the chaos. Todo stepped into Sukuna's space to punch him, but he nimbly evaded it. Taking advantage of Todo being in his space, Sukuna kicked him squarely in the face with a spinning kick. His rival lost his balance, staggered backwards and fell backwards on the canvas. 

"Go for it!” I shouted euphorically to Sukuna, but he didn't need my instruction to know what to do. 

Sukuna pounced on Todo to beat him relentlessly. The crowd went crazy and Todo’s team was just yelling at him to get up. Team Black exclaimed incoherently from the excitement. Todo made no successful attempt to get up or defend himself. The referee stepped between them, announcing the end of the fight. Sukuna had won by technical knockout. The king of the ring got up tired and ran to the fence while the applause invaded his ears. 

"That bastard did it!” I exclaimed excitedly before climbing the fence to meet my champion and hug him. "You're the best, Sukuna!” I sobbed with joy. Tears of happiness cascaded down my cheeks. 

"Are you going to cry again?” Sukuna asked me, annoyed, wiping my tears with his thumbs. 

"Let me enjoy the last time I will cry for you,” I said with a smile. 

Sukuna half opened his lips as if he was about to tell me something, but closed them again. I have no idea what she could have been holding back. I couldn't overthink things like that when the king of the ring had beaten the demolisher of champions. 

I didn't hesitate to sign my letter of resignation. I was going to miss Nanami's office. The mahogany furniture made a nice contrast to the silver machinery in the rest of the gym. It was a little oasis of calm in the middle of a chaotic place. There were pictures of him with Yuuji, Sukuna and Gojo in Malaysia, collectible action figures of the king of the ring and plaques of all the fights won by fighters in Team Black. I handed over my official jacket, Sukuna's important analysis documents and my key to the gym on the desk. 

"It's a pity you have to leave, but we wish you the best of luck in your professional career,” Nanami said to me in her professional voice once he put the papers in their respective folders. 

"Thank you for offering me the job,” I told him. "Uraume will be here in a week. I'm sure it won't take Sukuna long to get used to them.” 

Having to leave for my gym meant that Sukuna would be without a floor technique coach, so I called Uraume to see if they were interested in the position. They were one of my first trainers when I decided to leave the Zenin temple. They were very strict, but that's Sukuna's style anyway. Nanami thanked me for the time and led me out of her office. As soon as she opened the door, I was in for a big surprise. 

"We’ll miss you, snake!” Yuuji, Gojo, Shoko and the rest of the fighters were gathered to bid me farewell. 

"Oh, guys...” I said while trying not to cry at how nice they thought of giving me a surprise goodbye. 

"I hope you like red velvet cake,” Megumi said appearing in the crowd with a cake decorated with a paper Medusa head and the words “bon voyage” in icing. 

"Megumi, you‘re here!” I squealed before hugging him. As soon as he hugged me back, I noticed that his biceps and triceps had grown. The training with his father was working for him. 

"Even though he no longer trains with us, he is still an honorable member of Team Black, just like you,” Yuuji said excitedly. 

"Thank you all for the nice surprise. I said with a smile while memorizing the faces of everyone present, although... someone was missing. "Hey, and Sukuna?” I asked. 

"He went to the CrossFit gym, but you'll see him tonight. Sukuna said you could choose a place to celebrate his victory and your farewell,” Gojo told me. 

A week had passed since the fight. It was a tradition to eat at Sukuna's favorite sports bar after every fight he won, so it had seemed strange to me that he hadn't invited us to lunch as was customary. I was glad to know that this time he wanted to give me the choice. In the end I opted to hold the celebration at a local Korean BBQ restaurant. 

The restaurant was bursting at the seams. Almost all the circular tables were occupied by Team Black members. My sense of smell was permeated by the meat cooking over on the grill in the center and the fermented seasonings. Gojo and Nanami chatted pleasantly while Yuuji and Megumi filled me in on how their father's gym was doing. A waitress brought us the bottle of sake Nanami had ordered to celebrate properly. 

"Come on, have a drink with me,” I asked Sukuna as I poured him a cup. 

"No,” he said before drinking from his glass of water in an attempt to ignore me. 

"Don't be like that, just one,” I begged him as I poured him a drink. He kept ignoring me. "Do it for me, as a parting gift,” I pouted. Sukuna looked at me, tempting to listen to me. 

"Drink, drink, drink!” Yuuji chanted excitedly along with Gojo. Gradually, the rest of the team began to chant for Sukuna to cheer up. 

"Just one,” He agreed before taking the cup that had been poured for him. 

"Here's to a bright future,” I proposed a toast with my glass in hand. 

"To a bright future!” They all exclaimed in unison with their drinks in hand. 

"Cheers!” I exclaimed before Sukuna and I downed the glass in one gulp. 

"Hey, do you like Star Wars?” Sukuna asked me, slurring his words from the effects of the alcohol. 

After he had a second glass of sake, Sukuna was red in the face and started to be funny with everyone. I could see why he had turned me down every time I offered to drink with me. I knew the “he didn't drink alcohol because of the calories and carbohydrates” was some bullshit. The reality is that he has zero tolerance for alcohol. As soon as Sukuna started saying things like “Yuki wishes I would fuck her”, Nanami asked me to bring him home. 

"No, why?” I asked him to keep him awake as I carried him to his room. 

"Because Yoda only one for me!” He answered before deflating like a balloon as if he had told the best joke in the world. I could only roll my eyes, but I still laughed. 

When we got to his room, I threw him on the bed to let my poor body rest. If Sukuna was a big, heavy man when he was sober, when he was drunk he was like carrying 5 bags of cement on my back. While he was telling terrible dad jokes, I took off his shoes so he could rest comfortably. Even though it was wrong for him to get drunk, I was glad to see him so happy. I always see him angry and worried about being the best. Now he didn't have to worry about that, he could be himself. 

"Stay here, I'll get you a glass of water,” I asked him before leaving the room. 

I looked for a glass in the cabinets and took the water pitcher out of the refrigerator. I smiled as I remembered the stupid joke I had made. Was this the Sukuna I didn't know? A joking boy with a cute smile that made me laugh out loud. It was a shame I barely saw this side of him after almost a year of working together, but I was glad I had seen him before I left. I heard some bare footsteps coming towards me, “Oh no way,” I thought before turning around to confront him. 

"Sukuna, I told you to stay in be-” I was about to scold him, but he shut me up in the most unexpected way. 

I didn't even have time to think by the time he had pulled me close to his lips, holding me gently by the nape of my neck. He hugged me to his body around my waist, so I could feel his heart beating like crazy, just like mine. I didn't know what to say, think or do. This was definitely not the Sukuna I had met in Las Vegas, this was a sweet, gentle, romantic man. This was the Sukuna I wanted to meet, why was he showing up here and now? His lips said everything and nothing at the same time. 

"No, you're drunk. You don't know what you're doing,” I told him before pushing him by the chest. 

"I know exactly what I'm doing,” he said with his cheeks still flushed. I wasn't sure if it was the alcohol or the embarrassment. 

Even though his eyes told me he was serious, I didn't believe him. I couldn't believe him. It had taken me so long to fall out of love with him and here I was, about to throw all my hard work away. Sukuna got closer to kiss my forehead softly. He ran down my face leaving little kisses all over, little love bites until he reached my ear. He kissed my ear and then proceeded to suck on my earlobe. A flirtatious tingle ran down my spine. This had gone too far already. 

"I can't, I like your brother,” I said as I pushed him again. 

"Yuuji is Megumi's boyfriend.” He confessed. I already knew that, it was so obvious. 

"I'm talking about Choso. I promised to call him when I stopped being your coach.” I explained. 

"You choose him?” He asked me in a whisper as if he was afraid that someone else would hear our conversation. 

That was the real question. I had spent almost a month mentally debating why Choso was a better match prospect than him. I should have told him “yes” for sure, but something was holding me back, and I didn't know what exactly it was. He grabbed my chin to force me to look into his eyes. Those deep eyes that the Itadori brothers shared, but his could stand out in a large crowd. 

"Yes…” I whispered. He nodded and turned away from me. At last, I could breathe again. "You should drink some water.” I said before passing him the glass I had poured for him. 

“Fine, under one condition.” Was this déjà vu? "You'll sleep with me tonight.” 

"I'm not sleeping with you,” I crossed my arms in offense. 

"I said ‘sleep’, not ‘fuck’,” he clarified. 

"Why do you want to sleep with me?” I asked confused. 

"I want to watch a movie with you.”

After Sukuna drank his glass of water, we sat under the sheets of her bed to watch whatever was on the old movie channel. I was really surprised that he wanted to watch Casablanca, I didn't think he was one of those movie suckers. Sukuna looked so good in his half open black robe, leaving his strong chest exposed, and his thick framed blue filtered glasses. I looked back at the TV as I realized where my thoughts were going. 

Even though we were a considerable distance apart, the atmosphere we had created felt so intimate. We were like a couple who had been married for over 30 years. There may not have been a spark of lust, but we knew for a fact that we were there for each other.

"I didn't know you liked these movies,” I said with my eyes glued to the screen. 

"I don't,” I answered. My brow furrowed on its own at that answer. 

"Then why are we watching it? I asked confused. 

"Because I have insomnia and this helps me sometimes sleep.” 

That explained why he was such a first"rate grump. He doesn't rest well, he can't take sleeping medication because it might show up as drugs on UFC medical tests, and his body has to be active during the day. 

"Why didn't you ever tell me?” I asked him while the scene where Rick and Ilsa say goodbye at the airport after spending a night together. 

"Would anything have changed if I had told you?” Why did I feel he wasn't referring to his insomnia?

"But what about us?” Ilsa cried to Rick. 

"We’ll always have Paris,” he answered with melancholy in his voice. 

SUKUNA POV

“What the fuck is wrong with me, why did I think I was a goddamn romantic movie lead?! Those movies are already affecting me for the worse,” I thought as I took out the fury in myself on the punching bag. I was sweating like a pig and my shoulders were barely holding up to the exercise, but that was my punishment for kissing the girl my brother likes. The same story could not repeat itself. Choso was just coming back into my life, I couldn't do that to him. I'm a big, stupid idiot. 

"Hey, that sack has already suffered enough,” Gojo said, stopping me. "It's 9 o'clock at night, you've been here since 4 am. You ate here, slept on the stretcher and even bought a candy from the vending machine. I know you're a high-performance athlete and all, but this is too much,” Gojo took off my headphones to get my attention. 

Being Sunday night, the gym was practically empty. I was supposed to go home, but I couldn't do that. Y/n was there, I wouldn't know how to see her after I had made her sleep with me. I didn't even want to get out of bed in the morning to see her up close as she slept with her mouth open and her hair matted, but despite that, she looked so adorable. 

"I'm fine,” I said. I tried to go back to the bag, but my coach didn’t let me. 

"This is because she's going to another city, isn't it?” Gojo asked me. Was I being too obvious? "Your surprised face says yes.” 

I sat down on the weight bench behind me and ran a towel over my face to wipe off the sweat. Gojo sat down next to me and patted me on the back a couple of times. 

"Don't worry, you'll see her at other sporting events, maybe we can do a collaboration with her gym in the future. You will have many opportunities to see her.” Gojo comforted me. "Yuuji told me that Choso will ask her to be his boyfriend soon, possibly they will become a family.” 

Y/n getting married in a white dress, lace veil and a beautiful arrangement of white flowers in her hand. I would be at the altar waiting for her with my hand outstretched to live the rest of our lives together, have children and maybe probably a cat named Garfield. Only to wake up from my dream and realize that hand is not mine, but my little brother's. That thought just twisted my stomach and I slammed the water bottle on the floor from the helplessness of not being able to do anything about it. Gojo was startled by the sudden act. 

"I was the one who beat up her ex-boyfriend, I was the one who kept her safe, I was the one who defended her from my mother's aggressive comments! Choso hasn't even done anything for her!” I exclaimed annoyed with the whole situation. I jumped out of the seat to start walking from one side to the other in an attempt to get my anger down. "She doesn't know that Choso stopped wetting the bed until he was 12, that he's afraid of clowns and that he still thinks his ex-fiancée is the love of his life! We slept together twice, I showed her how much of a man I can be, how happy I can make her and still...!” I stopped as I realized that a tear escaped from my right eye and had slid down to my chin.

"Come here, boy,” Gojo said before hugging me. 

"She picked him...”. I cried to the only person I can trust. 

"God, I knew you liked her, but I didn't think it was that serious.” Gojo told me as he hugged me tightly. 

"I can't tell her. If I tell her, Choso will never speak to me again. I can't lose my brother again,” I said as I tried to wipe away my tears, but they wouldn't stop coming. "She was the only one who believed in me. Even when my parents and Yuuji didn't.”

She was the only one who supported me above all things and always made sure I knew that. She was loyal to me, in everything but love. What did it cost her to look at me with those eyes too? She has been the only woman I've ever seen that way, and I was about to lose her forever. I was sure I would never find someone like her ever. They might look alike in appearance like that prostitute in Brazil, but they weren't even close to her heels. 

Boxes kept piling up at the entrance. Boxes of clothes, boxes with decorations, boxes, and more boxes announced Y/n's upcoming departure. I helped her carry them down to the moving truck that Choso had rented to take them to the new apartment she would share with her friend, Nobara, in Nagoya. I told her I would pay for the entire move, but she said Choso would take care of it. 

"I think that would be it,” Y/n said before putting the last box in the back. "This is where we say, ‘I'll see you later.’” She said before shaking my hand.

I shook her hand for a cordial farewell. This would be the last time I would touch her smooth skin and feel her firm grip. I was devastated inside, but I had to fake a smile on the outside. It was for everyone's sake. This was for the best. 

"Thank you for allowing me to work with you. I learned many things. Please watch my fights,” she asked me cordially. I doubted very much that I would see them.

"Thank you for training me, even if you didn't want to at first,” I answered. 

"I always wanted to train you. Didn't I ever tell you the reason?” She asked me, surprised at herself. I didn't know what she was talking about, I thought she thought I was a big asshole from the start. "After your fight with Suguru Geto, my first coach, I was very curious to meet you to know the secret of your skills. Now that I know, I doubt I can replicate it,” she said with a playful wink, referring to my lucky ritual. 

"We have to go now, or it will get dark,” Choso said to Y/n while hugging her by the shoulders. 

"We'll be in touch,” she said excitedly. 

The new couple got into the truck, and they didn’t look back as I waved goodbye to them from the curb. I pulled out my phone to look up Y/n's contact to change her name from “Coach ♥️” to “NO ANSWER.”

Next →

Masterlist.

Order your own fanfic! (Starting price: $5 USD)

Tag list: @maskedpacific @thepurpleempath @mazzd4 @charlie-xo @s0uldarling @sunako-0120 @berranurates @00frenchfries00 @crowned-gemini @alialucille @azuremyst99 @dorck26 @esposadomd

[babydollmarauders]

MEDIA MANAGEMENT — JACK HUGHES (23-24 SZN PART 13)

au masterlist

y/ndevils00

liked by jesperbratt, _quinnhughes, and 316,274 others

y/ndevils00 DOWN WITH THE WILD!!

oh hello, welcome back to y/n’s post-game show! i’m your host, y/n! today i’ll be discussing the New Jersey Devils vs the Minnesota Tame (because they weren’t very “wild” tonight!)

for the first time of the season, the Devils scored first with an opening goal from my sweet “bord och stolar”! (isn’t that cute?! Bratt-man is teaching me swedish nicknames! that one is “angel baby”!)

we didn’t get any more goals in the first, but dig-Doug DID get a penalty for tripping! he was reprimanded thoroughly!

however, we got not one, not two, but THREE goals in second period! giving us a 4-2 lead!! Uncle Tyler the Smiler got our first goal of the period, and less than a minute later, Uncle U-Haula gave us a goal! i love my uncles!! and late into the period, we got ANOTHER goal from my sweet Bratter! I LOVE THIS TEAM SO MUCH!

and no goals for us in the third, but that’s okay because we still won 4-3!!

Lukey assisted TWO goals tonight and was a star of the game for the first time ever!! i couldn’t be prouder of him!! he is NOT proud of me though, because i tripped on the way to the car and knocked him down like a domino… I’M SORRY, SMUSH! PLEASE FORGIVE ME! I’M WEARING HEELS AND YOUR BROTHER WOULDN’T HOLD MY HAND!

p.s. i miss my slut and i need my bestie number 1 to do something so i can be proud of him too

p.p.s. Maraschino Cherry would like me to inform you all that he, too, got an assist tonight and i’m very proud of him… kiss-ass

p.p.p.s. @/vlaroseefleury tell flower that it was nice seeing him again and thanks for not going too hard on us! i did not, however, appreciate him flirting with my boyfriend! please get ahold of your man, Veronique!

tagged jackhughes, john.marino97, dougieham, jesperbratt, tofff73, ehaula, and lhughes_06

Load more comments

user83 aww why wouldn’t Jack hold your hand?!

y/ndevils00 because he was intimidated by my tallness 😪

jackhughes i was not! i wouldn’t hold your hand because you smacked my ass in front of the whole team and then said “it’s okay, my little red m&m, you’ll get a point next game!”

y/ndevils00 @/jackhughes so you decided to blast THAT on my insta comments rather than let people think you were intimidated by me wearing heels that made me your height???

jackhughes i never win this mind game

_quinnhughes is this a show now? i thought it was a recap post

y/ndevils00 please don’t kill my vibe. i don’t wanna be miserable like you

jackhughes you keep saying you wanna get married, but i don’t think you’re realizing there’s only one kind of hughes: miserable

y/ndevils00 @/jackhughes i’ll be the happy hughes! i’ve met your mom plenty, she’s happy! the MEN are miserable, and that’s the way it always should be!

john.marino97 jumping up and down in front of him and trying to kiss his forehead was not “reprimanding”

y/ndevils00 you worry about your punishments and i’ll worry about mine!

john.marino97 it wasn’t a punishment! he was laughing and eventually had to bend down so you could kiss his forehead cause you almost twisted your ankle! then you told him in a creepily happy voice “don’t do it again, hammy! okay?”

y/ndevils00 you’re just jealous that i love him more than you

john.marino97 i already know that’s untrue because you got drunk the other night and wouldn’t let me go and kept crying and saying you loved me and i was your best friend and that you would give up everything in the galaxy for me if i ever “wanted my teeth back”

y/ndevils00 well if i were you, i would want MY teeth back— i’d be pretty pissed if mine got knocked out

john.marino97 well you’re not a hockey player, so i would hope yours never do get knocked out

user02 DID SHE JUST TAG FLEURY’S WIFE AND DISS HIM?! 😭

user27 it seems like she KNOWS them?! HOW DOES SHE KNOW THEM

vlaroseefleury i’ll let him know! wish i could’ve seen you as well! and i apologize on the flirting, i’m working on that!

y/ndevils00 i appreciate it! miss you!

user15 why was jack watering his LEGS?! 😭

y/ndevils00 he’s trying to grow!

tofff73 did i just get a new nickname?

y/ndevils00 you did! do you like it?

jackhughes if you don’t like it, lie to her

tofff73 i love it!

y/ndevils00 oh yay!!

holtz_10 tablespoons and chairs.

y/ndevils00 excuse me?

holtz_10 you just called Jesper your “sweet table and chairs” . “angel baby” is just “ängel baby”

y/ndevils00 I’VE BEEN BETRAYED! @/jesperbratt HOW COULD YOU?!

jesperbratt Jack made me?

jackhughes @/jesperbratt hey! i didn’t do shit this time! this was all you!

jesperbratt yeah, i’m sorry, i couldn’t resist, it was too funny. i love you!

y/ndevils00 @/jesperbratt i’m telling Nicole!

jackhughes i wasn’t even acknowledged but i earned 3 pictures! i love you, pretty dove!

y/ndevils00 that’s what happens when you’re sleeping with the host! aww i love you too, babygirl!

jackhughes and there it is!

nicohischier how do you miss me? you saw me today

y/ndevils00 am i not allowed to miss you being on the ice? jeez! a girl can’t spread love, i guess!

nicohischier fine, i miss you too?

y/ndevils00 you literally saw me today, why are you so obsessed with me?

dawson1417 next game!

y/ndevils00 next game! for sure!

dawson1417 or the game after!

y/ndevils00 no. NEXT GAME!

dawson1417 oh, okay- copy that 🫡

trevorzegras ya know, i got a goal last night

y/ndevils00 nobody asked

trevorzegras actually, you did, last night. you texted me “DID YOU GET A GOAL YET? I COULDN’T WATCH! I WAS BUSY [MAKING OUT WITH] YOUR BEST FRIEND!”

y/ndevils00 i mean, that wasn’t entirely what i said, but sure, i guess i asked

trevorzegras i couldn’t say a direct quote, it was rated R for raunchy

dougieham that was a horrible reprimanding! VERY scary!

y/ndevils00 mhm! that’s how you know i mean business! i’m glad it worked though!

john.marino97 a kiss on his forehead means you mean business?

y/ndevils00 @/john.marino97 GET OUT OF HERE!

lhughes_06 i’ll forgive you, but next time, just hold MY hand if you have to! you almost broke my nose!

y/ndevils00 okay :( i’m sorry

lhughes_06 @/jackhughes go hold her hand, she’s sad

jackhughes i’m eating?

lhughes_06 @/jackhughes so you can’t multitask? what a boyfriend you are

jackhughes shut up, she’s cuddling LSH, she’ll be okay for 5 more minutes

ehaula i love you too, niece!

y/ndevils00 adopt me?

jackhughes once again, you have parents. AND a cousin who would lay me out if i ever let you get adopted by someone

ehaula yeah, i’m sorry, no adoption! we need your boyfriend!

y/ndevils00 why does no one love me?

jackhughes i love you very much! that’s why i cannot, in good conscience, let you get adopted

y/ndevils00 @/jackhughes that sounds a lot like you DON’T love me

jackhughes please just get off instagram and cuddle with the cat

y/ndevils00 @/jackhughes you can’t make me

lhughes_06 he’s coming to your bedroom, hide the phone!

[cazzyf1]

James Hunt with his budgie collection

An article about it under the cut

Last weekend, I found myself at the World Budgerigar Championships, held at Doncaster race course. My guide was James Hunt, world motor racing champion for the 1976 season and of late an ardent breeder of budgerigars: greens, grey- greens, sky blues, dominant pieds and the like. In return for carrying my share of his nine chosen birds in and out of the hall he would transport me from Flood Street to Doncaster and back again. We put our budgies under wraps in the Estate boot and drove north. As we drove, James ex- plained budgies, their infinite variety and perfections of type. Looking straight at a show budgie one should not be able to see the eyes; broad- ness of head is commendable, as is a steep lift to the plumage, a long straight back, sleek body and proud tail. The spots under the neck merit special attention. Usually there are six forming a broken ring but false spot feathers can emerge and these have to be tweezered out. Another area of concern is the head plumage, which can develop waxy quill feathers and blood specks.

Budgies moult in October. Doncaster, the most prestigious show of them all, is held annually in early November. It is therefore a race to bring them back into good condition. Ten days before James had visited a couple of top breeders and found their birds in a shocking state. He doubted that they would be ready in time. I commiserated with him on their behalf. We then moved on to the question of breeding. James only shows birds he has bred himself. His prize accolade so far is second place in the Beginner Breeder class at Blackpool, almost as big an event as the one we were heading for. Pairing takes place in late November, so he was absorbed with the permutations. After this season, his second in the budgie world, he intends to put it all on a computer prog- rammed by an acquaintance in the blood stock industry.

`It's like breeding racehorses, only cheaper,' he explained; 'a good budgie can sell for a thousand pounds, more to a German or Swede, not that I pay anything like that. The most so far is a hundred pounds.' James, like many self-made millionaires, is prouder of his caution about money than its possession. If he gets his pairings right this year, the basis will be laid for a first-class stud. Cock it up and he's back at square one.

The action takes place in his back garden, an acre and a half just off Wimbledon Common. As he travels heavily for the BBC during the motor racing season he has a curator, the correct word, of budgerigars. Indoor and outdoor flight pens give his birds the freedom and communion which he believes are essential to their development. Not all breeders agree, holding that show budgies are as far removed from their cousins who flock in the Australian out- back as those dying generations are to Yeat's artifice of hammered gold and gold enamelling. It was not a simile I tried on James as I wanted him to concentrate on the road.

`Under your feet are some supplies for the journey.' I had already heard the odd crackle and rustle. Sure enough, there were packets of crisps and chocolate, all now washed in a litre of orange juice that had spilt from its plastic bottle and in- formed the road map. I apologised for my ineptness, but there was worse to come. Throughout the journey, which was nearing completion in the Doncaster one-way system, James had fretted about his feather-pulling tweezers, hoping they were buried deep in a trouser pocket. This proved not to be the case. They had fallen between his seat and the doings of the German hydraulic system. His hand could not reach them with ease. I volunteered mine as being slimmer. He warned me that if the tweezers fell any further they would be unsalvageable, lost forever. In went my hand, down went the tweezers. 'That's very naughty, Napier. I told you to be careful and what do you do? Charge at it without any thought.' So my first task on reaching the Danum Hotel, Doncaster, was to ask the lady receptionist — still agog at matching her booking name of J.S.W. Hunt to the reality — for tweezers without which our budgies might as well stay in the boot. Thank God for Allens the all-night chemist and their range of broad-, slant-, and curved-headed tweezers at £1.29p a shot.

By the time I returned, James and the budgies were in my bathroom — smaller than his, so less problematic if one escaped. Two needed their heads washed free of quill wax and blood specks. A sky-blue cock had developed an extra spot feather. The tweezers were presented and found adequate. Deftly he probed to the base of the feather and pulled. Out it came and we both felt relieved. Washed and petted, the budgies, each in a black- enamelled portable showcase, looked their full importance. It was time for us to take them to the show where they would spend the night, be judged in the morning and thereafter open to public view.

A night on the town in Doncaster. In our second pub there was a fight. Three girls, about 18, fell to the ground, two tugging at hair while their friend inevitably paid the higher price for interfering. No one else made the same mistake. A pause for breath and acrimony, then back into the routine. The moment they decided that no man was worth such punishment the bouncers moved in and swept them out. Later in the evening we saw the three of them together enjoying a joke. The pub and club centre of Doncaster is small enough to walk round. We kept on seeing the same faces circling and finally asking for James's autograph with lines like 'I know who you are, at least my father does'. In London he barely incurs a glance. But at the night club, Rotters, we found our entrance barred by a further charm of bouncers. `Where do you come from, please, gentlemen? London? What, may I ask, are you doing in Doncaster?'

`We're up for the budgie show.' The door was flung open. Budgies are great levellers.

Next day, James admitted what I had already begun to suspect, that exhibiting budgies was far more exciting than winning a Grand Prix. 'After the first third of a race you usually know you can win, barring mechanical failure. With budgies the adre- nalin is there right up to the moment you walk in and see how you have done.' We walked in. Stretching the length of the Doncaster Race Hall were showcases in three tiered lines, nearly 6,000 entries in 392 classes. It took adrenalin-pumped minutes to find any class James had entered. The world became a clearer place, full of stewards in purple badges, men last seen in our hotel lift, now turned into awesome judges, serious punters in cloth caps with a jaunty budgie feather. The floor was covered in brown seed, scuffed by the birds out of their cages. We passed the cages of successful champions, surrounded by plush velvet boards and trios with red, blue and green rosettes on them and sometimes extra awards from provincial bodies affiliated to the Budgerigar Society. We passed classes with names like 'Recessive Pied Breeder Hens' and swatches of colour the like of which Scott Crolla only dreams. We overheard snatches of conversation: `That's a big bird, champion,' Not enough feather on the little blighter,' and men rattling bars to get the birds onto their perches for a better look or photograph.

At the far left of the hall we reached the Beginner Breeder section and the end of our quest was bitter disappointment. A fourth, a fifth, and two sixth places. Not one rosette to show for it all, let alone the Best Beginner Breeder trophy that had seemed possible.

`Bad luck, James, it's a bloody high- standard show. Nice looking birds, I must say. Wouldn't swop your one for anything but the winner.'

The commiserations in broad and know- ledgeable Yorkshire were far more effective than my plaintive twittering. James took his disappointment well: 'It's all good experience. I now know how good one's birds have to be, so good that there's no dispute.'

`So you'll be coming back then, James?'

`Certainly.'

[ok555ficideas]

If there is one thing you should know about me is that I’m terrible with coming up with titles. When the time comes that I have to fill that space on ao3 where the title goes I wanna kms.

But there was once a time when the title God had possessed s me and nothing I will ever do will make me prouder of myself than naming the fic, where Kevin accidentally says something homophobic and is faced with no team wanting to sign him and Aaron helps him by fake dating him, “Saving the Day”.

Probably a weird thing to be proud of, but nonetheless, I am.

[true-blue-sonic]

for the ship number game; espilver, number 20? 👀🙏

20. …on a scar.

Silver figures his chest probably doesn't look very good if Espio's distraught face is any indication.

"It doesn't hurt," slips past his lips with practiced ease. "Only right after Infinite sent me flying. My back's hurting worse."

Espio doesn't say anything in return. Instead his hands clasp one of Silver's, and the hedgehog is sure he can feel a tremble in them, for just a moment. Such worrying is not needed, he wants to tell Espio, though he knows his beloved will not listen to that. But if Silver hadn't distracted Infinite in the jungle, who knows what that monster would have done with their forces fighting a losing battle amidst the burning foliage and the relentless explosions? A whack right against his chest with claws as sharp as glass and a crash into a wall and then the ground weigh far less heavy than all the people's lives when it comes to suffering and hurt.

Except the way Sonic had winced when limping back to Silver after losing his battle with Infinite and sending his collapsed body a look clings to Silver's mind still. And the sheer panic from everyone in the Resistance headquarters when Sonic had rushed them both to their hideaway, Silver sprawled out over his back and feeling too feeble to really move much, does too.

Stupid, the hedgehog sighs. He should have just walked the final few hundred meters, or at least through the hallway of their headquarters. Now everyone is panicking about how Infinite managed to injure two of their best fighters, and Espio had been the most distressed of all.

"Those wounds might scar," the chameleon mumbles out after a while. "They're quite deep."

"They won't. I've been through worse and you can hardly see that on me," Silver retorts, shoulders squaring up; to convince Espio and himself alike. "And even if it does, what does it matter? It's just a scar. I'm proud to wear them if it means I saved people."

Espio shakes his head slowly. "I'm... glad you're okay with it. I'm glad you're okay."

"Hmhm. No worrying about me, alright? We're in the middle of a war, we've got way too much other stuff to do."

That earns him a snort, at least, the chameleon leaning closer and Silver gladly nuzzling their faces together. Infinite could never understand this, he's sure: how could the world not be made of hope if people can be together like this, protecting and cherishing each other while never giving up on their dreams? How could there not be love and kindness, if Espio exists and cradles him close like he's the most important person on the planet? "Ever practical, you. But before that you will rest, tenshi. You need it," he gets commanded, Espio's lips pressing against his cheek first. And then, ever so carefully, they move down, to Silver's mane and then the four lines carved into his flesh, a most fleeting kiss pressed just above each. "And you'll give these time time to heal," his beloved adds, pleading seriousness in his gaze. "Please."

"For you," Silver agrees with ease, because he can't say no to Espio. But with his beloved here, he's sure those wounds will recover before he knows it; and any scars that are left after this war is over, Silver won't mind at all, and he knows Espio won't love him less for it either.

They're a sign Infinite is wrong, and that alone could not make Silver prouder to carry them, and he knows Espio feels the same.

[alwritey-aphrodite]

#17 with Jaime tartt pls ❤️

2023 Summer Blurbs

The heatwave in London was no joke. Sure, you’d grown up with hot, humid summers but there was something different about experiencing heat in London that made it ten times more unbearable. Maybe it was because there was limited air conditioning, or maybe it was because you needed to spend the heatwave with the biggest drama queen you’d ever met.

“I think I’m melting,” Jamie declares as he flops back onto the couch, shirtless and with wet hair. He’d just come from the cold pool in the backyard and into the air conditioning, but apparently the twenty steps from pool to couch was the longest distance he’d ever had to walk.

Jamie was tough, willing to play through serious injuries and ignore his emotional struggles until he reached his breaking point, but when he knew you’d always humor him, he really turned up the drama. He’d pout at you until you kissed his forehead when he was feeling sick and would look like a kicked puppy whenever you tried to leave the bed, only to grin at you when you decided to stay for a few more minutes.

Suddenly, Jamie shot straight off the couch and turned to you with a wide grin, “Stay right here.”

“I wasn’t planning on leaving,” you tell him, confused and craning your neck to try and see where he’d run off to. You can hear him opening the freezer and rummaging around inside it before the door slams closed and he comes racing back to the couch.

He’s got a giant grin on his face and looks beyond pleased with himself, and when he reveals what he’d run off for your heart just about stops. He’s holding a box of popsicles, the very same kind your mother used to buy during the summers of your childhood, the very same kind you’d mentioned once to Jamie that you’d missed.

“Where the hell did you find these?” You ask in awe, hands greedily tearing open the packaging and searching for your favorite flavor.

“Just found ‘em,” he shrugs, “Remembered you’d mentioned something about ‘em before.” And you can tell he’s lying for the way he avoids your eyes but you don’t care because he’d gone out of his way to get you a little taste of home.

“C’mon,” you tell him, holding out your hand for him to take with the popsicle sticky in your other. You lead Jamie outside, ignoring his protests and sliding the door open before sitting on the steps that lead to your pool. Despite complaining, Jamie sits next to you and grabs a popsicle of his own, and his little hum of delight makes you prouder than you should be, proud that he likes something you’d loved so fiercely.

The two of you sit there and laugh as the popsicles melt down your arms, creating sticky pools of sugary juice on the stairs. The air doesn’t feel so hot now, it seems almost bearable as you swat at Jamie’s shoulder as he tries to lick the melted popsicle from your arm. The heat’s really not so bad when you’re laughing with your favorite person.

[profounddefendorcrusade-blog]

I feel bad for Starlo. (pt. 2)

Had they just let him get Clover the badge (and literally finish the best day of his life since, again, Clover's gotta go) and then all sat down to chat, everything would have been solved in minutes. Because clearly Starlo's main motivation is making sure other people are happy, right? If they tell him they're not happy, he'd sure as heck care about that. Just look at how he tells the group to have fun with Clover:

btw, this is a human they SHOULD be excited to talk to more since well... they're a human. It's a once in a lifetime opportunity, and they are SUPPOSED to be into the western culture almost as much as Star, or at least that's what Star thought. More on this later

But no, gotta act jealous instead, call Starlo's training lackluster...

Then you make a better one, Ed, instead of complaining, Star's mind was too occupied with everything, as it always is. The town needs to be led by someone every day after all. It's all harder than it looks, you've gotta focus on schedules, new ideas, and most importantly radiating positive energy even in the worst of times

...say he's been throwing them around for human business...

huh Moray?? He didn't force you to do anything, you all just went with it. If you hated the training, y'all never said it. Ed also says how he basically doesn't want to participate in the trolley problem which I found sorta.. weird. I mean, it's not very likely that in all the years they've spent roleplaying here, they've never done this before. And even if they hadn't, it really is logical to assume Ed didn't really mean he was terrified and was just acting to make the scene more "dramatic" The five of them ARE sort of actors anyway (why would he be scared tho? it's not a real train that's coming, no real danger here, just harmless fun)

... and apparently call him a meanie and a big-headed sheriff:

HOW is he a meanie Mooch?? How??? He was just trying to be helpful and got too into everything. It's not the same as being mean on purpose. And even if he DID act prouder than usual, he honestly had every right to do it. After everything he's tried to do for the underground, his friends and family, he had every right to lift himself up. All you guys ever did was tag along with him everywhere apparently, never having to worry about anything but your own hobbies, had a secure AND fun job thanks to your boss, a place to live, nap times, PLUS Star was always a nice leader (Ed himself admits this; from my previous blog). How do I know he was nice? Aside from signs in the game, the gang only argued over trivial matters (IDK what exactly but Dina said this)

And Ace... wdym you're following them??

Why??? Star literally praised you and thanked you! What the heck?? Yeah life dealth him a bad hand but you're not doing anything about this situation aside from leaving.

I love all four of them, but honestly, It's not like Star ditched any of you, he didn't ever act angry (besides when Ed insulted his mission, which IS frustrating because: 1) he tried his best to make it enjoyable for everyone 2) this comment Ed made contradicts everything Starlo wanted to feel that day: genuinely proud, happy, useful, important. He wanted to enjoy himself as much as possible and bring as much joy to others as he could. And he was right to want that... especially after all he's already done. Or tried to do. Even though he's too fiery, too passionate, *too much,* why didn't anyone let him know this? Why didn't they tell him he's NOT been making anyone happy, aside from the tourists? Why keep lying to him until his breaking point?

Better explained down here during a discussion in the messages here on tumblr in case ya'll have the patience to read it ↓

Just... After thinking things through, I've started seeing things from a different pov. Yeah, the Four apologise to Clover in neutral, but Starlo STILL has to be the one to come to THEM for forgiveness. Forgiveness for what exactly? What did he do that was worse than what YOU guys did to HIM? (you too Ceroba, especially you, and I'll talk about this VERY soon, in a few days)

Forgetting to tie them off the rails (Ceroba forgot too) because he was too excited to well... feel like a somebody for the first time, like a real sheriff with a real deputy? Putting his needs and feelings first for once instead of walking outside his house at night and whispering to himself and thinking about every single problem he has on his plate? (I think it isn't the sheriff stuff he thinks about) Thinking he was doing the right thing by doing what he thought would be fun for everyone? Being kind to Clover? Not ditching his posse and just... idk, not running off to have an imaginary adventure with the human kid, with just the two of them? What the heck, guys.

Now, I'd understand if he'd been saying stuff like "Alright y'all, you better listen to everything I say, you understand!? Clover is the greatest thing since sliced bread, while all of you all nothing but a drag! Tch. Losers." Or "If you don't do this and that, you're fired for good! Clover will replace you! You're all lame anyway!" Or "Clover, get over here and join me on this and that! Right. NOW."

Starlo literally never said something even CLOSE to this. Only after Ed left did he let him and everyone else go, then blurted out "I was considering firing y'all anyway!" Honestly what I know about Star is that he's fiery and passionate and just snapped because he didn't understand why they left. He had done everything right.. right? He couldn't, no, wouldn't comprehend that his whole life in the Wild East has been a big fat lie. It hurt emotionally and his coping mechanism were always distractions. So he refused to see what he had (accidentally) caused.

In short, what bothers me is that all blame is put on Starlo and he's the only one who has to say sorry when he genuinely didn't know any better. Some folks just aren't introspective enough to notice people's true feelings and Star's one of them. And even if he's good at that, he's been so foused on this whole Wild East thing to think about that too, on top of everything.

He literally had to just stare off into the distance and rethink all his life choices that led him to this point (based on his letter), when instead he could have been a lone entertainer from the start. I mean, he carried all the comedy and charm on his own anyway (imo). He'd get to live his passion, plus entertain the tourists, plus boost his own confidence, PLUS none of his friends would be stuck at a job they hate! PLUS Ceroba, while still staying at Star's, could have gotten a better night's sleep with only the two of them being roommates! It would have been a win win win win win kinda situation if only they hadn't been lying to him for such a long time and just spoke up openly. Simple as that!