#Tw: grief

[bleedingichorhearts]

𝐄𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐲 & 𝐈𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐲

|°ᴛᴀɢ ʟɪꜱᴛ ᴀᴘᴘʟɪᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ°|

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗: Careful on this one, was not feeling nice.

𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖌𝖊𝖉: @kit-williams, @egrets-not-regrets, @bispecsual, @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan, @sleepyfan-blog.

TW // Death Of Child, Death Of Spouse, Grief, Depression, Car Accident.

Zadkiel carefully observes this woman viewing the settling landscape from the glass window of the human medical wing. Warm colors of the sun turning cold across the city’s rooftop’s for the moon to rise. The back of her still form turning into a black silhouette.

He worry’s the resting sun would be too bright for her to look at, but she sits still upon her chair with wheels. Her eyes never looking away from the sun, never blinking at it. It was like she wasn’t affected by it at all. He would have thought her blind if he couldn’t see how her eyes were not the white of blindness, but… dull. Not glazed with life.

Now he worries about what had happened to this woman. To make her loose such sentience on this Ancient Terra that was way better than future Terra where billions would loose their sanity the moment they step out of a Hive City. Where on this Ancient Terra it was more… free and lasting. Happy, some might say.

Why wasn’t this woman happy? Shining like the brightest star in the universe? He was sure she would look radiant with a bright smile on her face, he can envision it. How her body would glow like gold with a simple smile, or how her laugh would gracefully flow through the strings of time. Little dimples on her cheeks visible against her giggles.

Yet, here she is. Her glowing star long burnt out, exploded into dust and rock. Her smile nothing but a flatline on those soft lips of hers. Distraught by something that he wants to know. That he wants to avenge, to heal.

Such beauty should never look so dull. They should be polished, enriched for a better shine. They should be carefully cared for and cleaned with the softest cloth to be set as the finest jewelry upon the galaxies. Not that she already was; a diamond in creation. Set against the suns glow, but this one in particular had not been cared for in a long while. She had not been cherished.

Oh, how he wants to decorate her body with the finest treasures he can find: rubies, diamonds, gold and silver. She would look absolutely remarkable in them. To have them wrapped around her precious neck as a necklace, or around her petite wrists like a bracelet. Perhaps have them pierced into her skin?

Ah, but he doesn’t want to ruin the natural beauty of her. Not matter how much she is doused in his gifts, her organic beauty could never compare to any loyal material worthy of her skin. She was simply too elegant for a simple diamond to be place onto her skin. For copper to stain her skin green. Something that he makes a quick note to himself of not giving her such a low quality metal.

He then stops himself for a moment, his helmet tilting to the side. Questioning himself now. Since when did he want to know of this woman? To adore her with gifts? To make sure she was properly cared for and thriving once more? As far as he’s concerned he shouldn’t even be here at this human medical wing right now. It was way past the “visiting times,” and he has no reason to be here.

Yet, the simple thought of leaving the side of this woman chips at his heart’s like a chisel. Squeezing so unnecessarily at him for thinking about anything negative on her behalf. Which was just leaving her side and nothing harmful like some others would snide about. Almost humiliating it. Wishing they could cut them down with ease but they never could. Finding a calming solstice in their small and aging humanity.

Zadkiel then realizes this was the work of the Warp testing him. Calling out to him to be here or else he wouldn’t be here in the first place, admiring a hidden jewel behind laminated glass. A “bond” his cousins and brethren had told him about it, in more ways than one. How some were blessed with it or downright cursed, refusing that bond that sounded… very hurtful to do.

He stands there behind the woman now confused on… what to do. Should he accept this bond and cherish the woman like he wants to? Craves to do? Or hurtfully reject it? Leave the woman to continue looking out the glass window with him feeling ever more regrettable the more he walks away?

He heard stories were most tried to reject their bond naturally, only to get very “sick” when too long without them. Forcing them to become bonded if they wanted to be primed back into their original state. Some would actually kill their bonded, but suffer severe consequences after it. Having its price to pay. Not a lot come back from that one, but he doesn’t want to live in fear of a bond. It’s not what he wants. What he wants to do is admire the bond, be attentive to bond. Protect the bond with his life. He wants to adore this woman.

He knows he is younger than his older battle-brother’s, but he wasn’t that young to be a cocky scout. He definitely had his experiences and medals in war to have a will of choosing his own decisions, but this one seemed more… prominent. It was not something he could kill and forget or walk off on, no. It was… more than that. Nothing that he had experience on.

“She won’t move, no matter how long you stare.” He hears the masculine voice of the human approaching behind him. Hearing him a few, beeping floors down before making it to him. The nerves of his spine tickling to move him so he can put the male nurse a little less close to the silent woman, but he doesn’t move. Finding it… indecisive to do so. He wants to move the man away, but at the same time he thinks it’s unreasonable for him to do so. This man was barely a threat to him, nor anyone else around him. An apprentice of a human Apothecary at most.

His head tilts to his other side when he puts more thought into the apprentices’ words rather than pursuing his instincts to throw him out the window for taking another step forward into what he deems the women’s bubble. She… won’t move? Why won’t she move? He doesn’t smell anything on her that tells him she is injured? More like… nothingness.

That alarms him when he realizes he can’t smell anything on her. No natural scent, no family, no spouse, nor children, not even a shift in emotion, nothing. There was nothing on this woman for him to recognize her, and that hurts him in a way. How is he to protect her if he doesn’t recognize her? How is he supposed to keep her safe if he doesn’t know what she smells like? What made her aura and scent feel so… empty? That last thought made him straighten up his form, righting his posture.

“She used to be a mother.” The nurse talks to him in a sudden, smaller voice. Zedkiels’ black helm turning to look down at the apprentice with his red visor that turned to glow once the sun fully went over the city’s rooftops, turning the ending day to the beginning of night.

Zadkiel feels like he should get this start of the conversion from the woman herself. Not wanting to get information that maybe untruthful, but this could be a way for him to start recognizing her. He doesn’t have to recognize her by scent or kin. He can do it the more… classy way. He could learn about her to have a more better feel of the bond. To try and connect with her through her soul.

The apprentice with short, messy, brown hair glances up at him before glancing back at the woman. Unable to handle being under the red hue of his visor staring him down. His hands tucking his clipboard to his chest as Zedkiel gives him a small but questioning head tilt, wanting to learn more on this tragic woman that he has a pull to.

“She… she lost the child however, due to a car crash.” The man continues, tightening his arms around his clipboard. Clearly indicating this was a wide and saddening event that had happened here with this woman. “A son it was going to be.”

Zadkiel gets a hit of anger through his systems at that, shuffling his weight. He knows these… car crashes are quite common in this world; having it world wide count of deaths, but an unborn son involved in it? He believes that is heresy itself! Just where was the father in all of this?! Did he abandon her just because she lost a heir?!

“Her husband couldn’t be found in the process of her recovery.” The apprentice sighs heavily. “Yet, once he was found, it hurt to tell the already grieving patient that he wasn’t alive himself. Either by suicide or murder. I do not know, just started working that day, and everyone was not the same that day.”

The heatwaves of his anger cool off at that information of her… husband being in the afterlife, something that most can’t prevent, but Zedkiel can’t help but be put off by it. How could one lose a mate that wasn’t in the car crash? The mate couldn’t have known in time if he lost had lost his youngling to make a suicide attempt.

“She wasn’t the same.” The apprentice adds, gesturing his head towards the woman making his helmet turn back to her. His reflection bouncing off the dark window just as hers did. Her dull eyes never leaving her own reflection. “Never moved much unless it was necessary or when we gently push her to walk around the halls. Never stoped staring through blank walls and windows. Started eating less and less. Never responded again either; all signs of a Major Depression Disorder.”

Depression Disorder? He had heard of this… disorder before by his Apothecary. The head smaller medic giving a lecture when a few of his younger brethren questioned the older Apothecary about it while he was getting his wings preened. He learned that day, just as his brethren did. That disorder is something that could potentially cause death to a bond if not treated, nor cared for correctly. That’s when some of his bonded brethren butt in with some questions of their own if anything such comes to their bonded. Wanting to know how to treat it and prevent it from happening which the medic agreeably responds with some symptoms and how to treat it. Though, he gives on extra warning to stay close to their bonded, wherever they may go when the disorder had deeply affected the bonded.

Zadkiel instincts overboard him when he suddenly takes a cautious step forward. Not wanting to crack the floor underneath him or scare his bonded away as her eyes make contact with his visor reflection in the window, her awareness sending a surprising shiver down his spine.

She reminds him of a mute swan: a large, white, water bird he seen in a younglings book and at many bodies of water he’s flown across, or even flown with a bevy of them. Squawking at him for taking up their V formation, not afraid to take his own feathers off. Despite their…intent to get him off his own flight path, they were a beautiful creature to see; just like this grief stricken woman.

He take another and another step despite the apprentice telling him he wouldn’t be able to do much, they have already tried, but Zadkiel just won’t except that as an excuse for him not to approach who he has and is being pulled to, his little swan.

The closer that he gets to his swan the more his instincts impatiently urge him on, but he does hesitate a little when her eyes narrow a little on him in the reflection. Making him briefly think he should get closer to her at a slower rate, but his instincts flare up again. Pushing him forward to kneel in front of his swan with a thunk to the ground, cracking the flooring anyways.

His instincts tell him to get a move on and touch his swan already! Coo at her! But he doesn’t. He stays still kneeling in front of her, looking down at her, waiting for her. His Apothecary words running through his mind to keep him absolutely still. He needs to wait on his fragile swan to make a move before he does.

A long, seamless moment pass by with the apprentice threatening to call security in the background for evading a patient’s privacy. Yet he doesn’t move at the wasteful threat, gaining a reward instead when his little swans eyes finally turn away from his reflection in the window and look up at him. Getting the man to shut up about his boring threats of rules.

He waits a few moments longer as the apprentice sucks in air between his teeth, forgetting how to breathe as his swan slowly lifts up her delicate hand up to his helm. Her nails briefly, brushing up the ceramite of his helmet before resting on the cheek of it. Cooling his raging instincts at her touch.

Her hand stays there where he breaks from his own will to coo, purr and very gently nuzzle into her hand. Keeping an eye on her when he does, watching how she seemed to relax at his actions. His heart’s beating at her acception as he vows to never leave her side until the day he is slain.

Let’s get you to fly once more, little swan.

[mournfulroses]

Miguel Hernández, tr. by Robert Bly, from The Selected Poems; "I Have Plenty of Heart,"

[tvuniverse]

BOBBY NASH and AMIR CASEY | 9-1-1 → 7x08 Step Nine

[norrisleclercf1]

hi, it me again with another request 💜

Would love to read something about Fernando and wife!reader who've been trying for years to have a baby and his reaction to finding out he's finally going to be a dad 🥺

A/N: I love writing fics like these, just cause I struggle with fertility/hormonal issues due to PCOS and just it makes me happy writing these little things

Warnings: talk of past miscarriages, fertility issues, loss of children and grief

Covering your mouth, you hide the laugh almost sob as you stare at the ultrasound. You hated having kept this from your husband, but you wanted to make it past the safety mark, but you also wanted to make it past where you've lost your past babies.

It was finally the 3 month mark, and you made sure you were okay, okay enough to tell Fernando. You didn't want to tell anyone until you were close to your due date, just wanting to make sure the baby was okay and nothing would go wrong.

Taking a deep breath, you calm yourself down as you look at the little race suit, the positive pregnancy test, and the ultrasound marking the 3 month period. Fernando would be hurt that you kept it from him for so long, but he was a wonderful husband and father and knew that you did this as a way to protect him from more grief.

You had 3 gorgeous babies, your eldest, your pride and joy Annamari would be turning 5 on May 20th, then there was your second baby, Lorenzo, who would be 3 and probably the apple of his father's eye, then your youngest, or soon to be middle child, Aurelio, would be 1 and have his father's gorgeous locks.

You weren't sure if you were having a boy or girl, but you knew they were loved by you, and their 3 eldest siblings. Smiling you get the little box together, smiling as you get to do it for a fourth time, and you loved it so much.

Placing Annamari's little bear that Fernando first got, with the race suit, as you used it for your other babies. Taking a deep breath you control your tears, as the grief hits you but you stop and picture what they'd look like, and how happy and loved they are, and how Fernando's loud laugh would boom through the house with the kids greeting him.

You smile at the 3 other sonograms on the wall with each child's name and moving kissing them as you hear the garage door open, quickly you bolt to the living room and sit down, acting like you weren't doing anything other than waiting. Fernando walks in, hair messy and with spots of grey, something you loved.

"Hello, gorgeous," He mummers, kissing your cheek as you hum and he heads straight to the bedroom. The sound of his bag falling has you jumping up and standing on the couch as he walks back in, tears in his eyes. "Really? You're really pregnant?" Fernando whispers, with so much love and joy, your smile matching it as you nod your head.

"But, the doctors, they said it'd be impossible, that after Aurelio, it wouldn't be smart, are, are you okay? Is the baby okay?" And you nearly melt seeing the worry and love in your husband's eyes. "I'm perfectly healthy, I'll be a risk case, but I'll have doctor's appointments for three times a month to make sure everything is going to plan, but I'm really pregnant." You whisper, covering your mouth.

Fernando walks forward and hugs you gently, like you were a china doll, worried that one little nick would cause you to break. "I love you, I love you both," He whispers and squeezes just slightly tighter as he buries his face into your small bump.

"Well, I can't wait to meet them, neither can the others," Fernando whispers and you laugh with your tears running down. "They've already met Fernando, they're watching over their baby sibling, I know it." Fernando smiles as your fingers card through his hair. "See you in 6 months, little Alonso," You giggle as Fernando brings you down, kissing you softly.

[offhanddesign]

We need to talk about Oliver and the grave scene. (spoilers)

Barry Keoghan's improvisation in that scene completely changed Oliver's character and the film as a whole. It encapsulates a critical moment of emotional catharsis for Oliver, marking the first and only time in the film where he completely lets down his guard.

Throughout the film, Oliver maintains a distance from Felix, constantly holding back parts of himself, standing in front of the bathroom door but not allowing himself to enter. At first glance, it appears almost masochistic, but it's critical to understand that Oliver's feelings for Felix go beyond love. He's obsessed. It's as if he fears that getting too close to Felix could expose his true, empty self. And deeper than that, Oliver perceives Felix as something ethereal, akin to a living god. How could you even begin to approach such a being?

His confession in one of the last scenes with Felix where he admits that everything he did was to meet Felix's desires, underscores this guarded nature. Even in this moment of apparent honesty, Oliver is totally incapable of being fully vulnerable with Felix, as evidenced by his backup plan involving the drink.

In stark contrast, the grave scene is where Oliver's walls finally come crashing down. His open weeping, undressing, and act of penetration with the grave soil are profoundly powerful symbols of his extreme vulnerability and his unfiltered emotional state, now finally free of all societal pressures. As disturbing as this act may be, it symbolizes his intense longing for a deep, unfulfilled connection with Felix. In death, where Felix can no longer see or judge him, Oliver finally finds the freedom to express his true self and desires.

The act of penetration can be seen as a desperate, symbolic attempt to maintain a bond with Felix, a way to bridge the unbridgeable gap between life and death. It's a poignant and tragic manifestation of his grief, the complex emotions of longing and obsession he silently harbors throughout the film.

The grave scene is a turning point in Oliver's character arc, perfectly complimented by the finality of the grave beneath him.

Oliver loved Felix in the only way Oliver knew how to love Felix.

[cerealbishh]

"Hey, we found you."

"I guess you did!"

[dilemmaontwolegs]

The Aftermath || LN4 {1}

Pairing: Lando Norris x widow!reader Summary: A year after losing your husband to an F1 crash, his teammate comes by and regrets never coming to check in on you. Warnings: 18+ only, grief and loss, depression, mentions of blood, alcohol WC: 2.2k

F1 Masterlist || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine || Ten || Eleven || Twelve || Thirteen || Epilogue

It doesn’t matter how long the night may seem, dawn will find a way to fight the darkness and break in a new day. Another day without him. 

365. It had been 365 days since he left this world for an eternity among the stars. Even now, a year later, you struggled to say his name without spiraling into the abyss where you wished you could join him. 

“Racing is my oxygen, I need it to survive.” That is what he had said whenever someone asked him if he was thinking about retiring.

“I hate you,” you murmured to the picture of your wedding day, the bright smiles something that hadn’t been seen inside these four walls for a year. 

You could almost hear his mocking laugh and you sighed at the truth, you could never hate him. He was your other half, he completed you. You hated that he had left you and the emptiness that had remained in his absence.

“I miss you.”

A knock sounded at your door and you dragged yourself through the silent house to see what had been delivered. You didn’t want to have to interact with anyone, let alone on a day like this one. “Just leave it on the step.”

“Y/N?”

You stumbled at the voice and froze, wondering if it was too late to climb back into bed and pull the covers up over your head and hide from the world. 

“Please, Y/N, open the door,” Lando called out.

They had been teammates. They had been friends. The three of you had spent so much time together the media joked Lando wasn’t third wheeling but a part of a throuple. 

Your hand trembled as you reached for the stiff deadbolt, the harsh scrape evidence of how long it had been since it was last opened for a grocery delivery almost two weeks ago. 

After the funeral, everyone else moved on with their lives while you were left with dozens of decaying bouquets and sympathy cards that could never replace your husband. For a while there were phone calls and invitations but leaving the house had become daunting and eventually those had stopped entirely. You couldn’t blame them.

“Jesus,” Lando muttered as you opened the door. “Are you alright?”

“What are you doing here?” you asked as you pointedly ignored his question. 

He shuffled on the doorstep as he shifted his balance about. “It’s the memorial unveiling today, I thought you might want someone to drive you.”

If you could feel anything, you might have felt angry. “I didn’t know there was an unveiling.”

“Shit, seriously?” He ran a hand through his curls that had grown longer than he used to keep them. “You should be there.”

He carefully stepped around you and into the house, his nostrils flaring as he inhaled the stale air before he frowned. You couldn’t remember when you last opened the curtains, preferring the dark where you could sit in his shirt and pretend he was still with you even after his scent faded from the material.

Lando stepped into the kitchen next, opening the fridge and cupboards to find them almost empty before slamming them closed. 

“I know what you’re thinking,” you said lamely as he stormed across the room to grab your shoulders. “I’m fine. I was going to order groceries today.”

“This isn’t fine, Y/N!” He sighed and released his grip so he could pull you into his arms. “I should have come by sooner.”

You froze as you felt the first human contact in months and felt his heartbeat against you, the rhythmic thump enough to jolt you back into control and you pulled away, wrapping your arms around yourself protectively.

“I’m not your problem, Lando.” You turned to the door that was still open, his comical Fiat Jolly parked in the drive. “You should go.”

His head dropped as he slowly walked past, pausing only a moment to say something before he thought better of it and shook his head, closing the door behind him. 

The road noise in the retro pastel blue car was too loud to hear anything when Lando’s phone rang so he pulled over into the next parking lot off the busy streets and found Oscar’s name on the caller ID. 

“Hey mate, what’s up?” 

“Where are you?” his teammate asked in a hushed tone. “The ceremony starts in five minutes and you’re the one who actually drove with the guy.”

Lando stared out ahead at the shop space he had pulled into and saw it was a food mart. “I’m not going to make it.”

“What could possibly be more important than this?”

“I’ll talk to you later, tell them to start without me.” Lando hung up without a goodbye and rushed out of his car, an apology sent to his friend in heaven. 

There was no knock at your door this time, there was just the quiet scratch of the pot plant moving across the concrete step before it was unlocked and swinging open. 

You didn’t even have the energy to rise from the bed you had crawled back into, there was only one person who knew where the spare key was hidden. He pottered around in the kitchen and you heard the doors opening and closing before his bare feet padded softly down the hallway. 

“Coming in,” Lando warned as the door creaked open and he stepped into your room. “I hope you’re wearing something.”

Before you could ask why he gave you the answer and ripped the blankets off the bed. Cold air rushed in and you shivered as you pulled the hem of your husband’s shirt further down your thighs. The orange and grey pattern on the shirt caught Lando’s attention and his eyes turned down before he turned away and opened the closet.

You weren’t sure if he was expecting to see one half empty but you hadn’t been able to box up a single item. You were clinging onto them, and the memory they represented, for dear life. 

He grabbed a casual dress he had seen you wear before and tossed it over, the soft cotton covering your legs. “Get dressed.”

“Lando!” He had already disappeared back down the hall and you groaned as you rolled off the bed and onto your feet. The material hung loose around your body in a way it hadn't before and the dress was no longer flattering as you stood in front of the mirror. 

It was the first real time you had looked in the mirror and you barely recognised yourself. Your skin no longer glowed, your hair was knotted and unkempt and your eyes held no life where they were sunken into your face.

Needing to try salvage something of your dignity, you tried to brush out the knots but the handle snapped and you stared at it in disbelief. Sudden rage hit you as you failed at such a simple task and you threw what remained of the brush at the mirror, shattering the image but somehow making your reflection more true to how you were feeling.

“Y/N?” Lando skidded to a stop, barely missing the shards of glass on the carpet. “Are you alright?”

“No,” you admitted aloud for the first time and your legs gave out as reality crashed into you. “I miss him so much.”

You didn’t feel the glass slash your legs or the sharp pain as they stabbed your knees. You didn’t feel the warm blood seeping into the carpet or Lando’s arms as he picked you up. You didn’t feel anything but the overwhelming sense of loss like a fist squeezing your heart from inside your chest.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you,” Lando murmured as he sat you on the kitchen side and cupped your face. “I’m sorry I wasn't here.”

“I’m not your problem,” you reminded him as you shook his hands off your face. “You were his friend and I’m not an inheritance.”

“I’m your friend too. A shitty friend, but I’m going to fix that,” he said as he looked down at your bleeding knees, “starting with this.”

He went to the cupboard above the fridge to find nothing had changed and the first aid kit was still on the shelf you struggled to reach, but he easily did. You tried to get a bandaid from it as he placed it on the benchtop beside you but he moved your hands back and gave you a warning look.

“This might hurt,” he apologised as he broke the top off a saline bottle and started to rinse the blood away. “There’s some glass stuck in there - maybe we should go to the hospital.”

“I’m not going back there, especially not today,” you said with a lick of venom and a shake of your head. “There’s whiskey in the back of the pantry, just give me some of that.”

He seemed dubious about the idea but knew how stubborn you could be and exhaled a resigned sigh before getting the half empty bottle. He looked at you through the clear glass, above the sloshing amber, and you could feel the judgement in that stare.

“I have trouble sleeping.”

He didn’t give you a response as he handed it over before getting a chair to sit on, placing your foot on his knee so he could try to get the glass out with a pair of tweezers. To be honest, you were numb to everything and didn’t even need the alcohol but you gulped greedily at the spiced whiskey. 

“What’s that?” you asked as you noticed a pot on the stove, steam softly billowing up, and then you noticed the mouthwatering scent. 

“Vegetable soup. You need to eat.”

“When did you get so mature?” The joke fell flat as he looked up and you saw the depth of his own grief that he let escape from where he had buried it.

“A lot has changed in a year.”

There was no appropriate response to be said so you took another swig and felt the warmth of the alcohol hitting your empty stomach while he continued to pull shards of glass out.

“All done,” he said as he gathered the rubbish and left you to inspect the bandaids plastered all over your knees and skins too.

“If you ever look for a change in career, nursing isn't the answer.”

His lips curled up with a small laugh as he checked the pot and gave the soup a stir. “You’re meant to say thank you.”

“Thank you, Nurse Norris.”

Lando returned to where you were sitting after lowering the heat on the stove and tapped his finger on the stack of mail beside you. He picked up an envelope with the F1 symbol beside the return address and flipped it over before seeing almost a dozen others just like it. 

“Your invitation is probably in one of these.”

“Did you know there’s a clause in the contracts for ‘surviving spouses’?” You laughed bitterly and tipped the bottle back, no longer feeling the burn of the alcohol rushing down your throat. “They send a cheque every month, the very people who killed him and I want nothing to do with, and if it wasn’t already bad enough, they send it in his name.”

Lando looked at the envelopes and frowned. “Seriously?”

You took the top one and ripped through the seal to show him the cheque address to René Gauthier. On and on, you tore them all open and Lando swallowed deeply as the mess grew.

“Do they think €10,000 a month is going to make everything better? Nothing they do can bring back my husband.”

“Nothing can fix what happened,” he said as he wiped your cheeks that you hadn’t noticed were damp with tears. “I know it doesn’t make it any easier but they brought in new regulations this year, so it doesn’t happen again.”

“Sometimes I wish he hit those officials,” your voice broke at the whispered confession. “He would have had to live with that guilt, but at least he would be alive. Oh god, I’m a terrible person.”

René had been labelled a hero for the manoeuvre he had done to save the lives of the officials that were in the wrong place. He had put himself into a wall swerving away from them and while they had walked away unscathed for their mistake, your husband had died for his. It wasn’t fair.

“You’re not a terrible person, Y/N,” Lando reassured you as he pulled your hands away from where you had hidden your face in shame. 

The alcohol had hit your system and you closed your eyes as the room swayed, your words falling unfiltered as your head spun. “Racing was his life, Lando, but he was mine. I don’t know how to live without him.”

The bottle disappeared from your fingers and you lifted your heavy eyelids to see Lando putting it on top of the cupboards out of your reach. 

“You find a way to live because it's what he would want.” He scooped you up off the counter and your head fell into the crook of his neck without resistance. “You find a way to live because we’ve already lost too much. I’m not going to lose you too.”

Click here for part two.

[tiya-minuscule]

can we see the university gang as their in game canon (older) selves but dressed as in their university clothes/outfits? :>

(tbh i just wanna see hot punk old man don pauly wolly my beloved)

Never forget that I'm here to rip your heart.

For real, I got a bit over excited with this one... But thank you so much Anon for the ask, it gaves me the opportunity to draw adult Clark and... Well... He's hot.

Hope you all enjoyed this little bonus :)

[oh-katsuki]

yk when someone dies and you just have to... sit with it.. and you're like... how do i tell people something is wrong. how do i tell people who never met them or knew them or spoke to them that something happened. and it feels selfish somehow to even talk about it out loud but at the same time for some reason you feel like you have to. like somehow you're telling a lie or being disrespectful or being self-indulgent. when the reality is that you just don't want to be alone in grief. but they didn't know them and even after saying something, you're alone anyway.

[happy-lemon]

THEY TELL ME

They tell me that anxiety and stress are what caused his heart to stop beating. They tell me that it was sudden and fast, and that he didn't suffer. They tell me there was nothing they could have done to save him. But they can't tell me how I'm supposed to go on without him.

[peachsukii]

Hello! I was wondering if I could request a balugou or Todoroki x reader helping reader grieve their father. Their father died unexpectedly, and even years later they haven’t processed grief a lot yet. Like some days they’ll be fine, then something will remind them of their dad, or randomly in the middle of the night they’ll cry when they realize they lost their father. If not, totally okay! Love your work so so much!

omg anon, absolutely! i (unfortunately) have a lot of feelings about grief and have no problem talking/writing about it as i find it therapeutic. i super appreciate the respectful approach and thank you for reading my work! supporting my little fleeting thoughts brings me more warmth than you know. 😭💗 i am gonna choose bakugo over the two of them since i don’t think i could do todoroki well enough, hope that’s okay!!

lost in the echo 『 ♡ 』 bakugo x fem!reader ⇢ it all happened so fast - one moment, your family is happy and healthy. the next? it's broken and in disarray, loss shattering your whole world. in a world of super heroes, people often forget just how painfully human they are when sickness strikes.

꒰ tags & content ꒱ heavy talks of grief (parent's passing), talks of self harm/substance abuse (drugs/alcohol), talks of cancer/illness & hospitals | major emotional hurt/comfort, eventual fluff, sprinkles of angst about being perceived while grieving, soft bakugo, reader’s best friends are bakugo and mina, bakugo’s secretly crushing on reader, “happy ending,” characters are 18+ ꒰ cross posted to ao3 | wc; -1.5k ꒱ -`✧ katsuki bakugo masterlist 

☆ inspired by "neon grave" by dayseeker ☆

⋆ ˚ʚɞ — just a general note to please, please mind the tags for this fic. it's not dark content, per se, but it deals with heavy subject matter (descriptive self destructive habits & harm) and could be upsetting for some. much love for you all! ♡

───

“This party sucks,” you whine, leaning on Mina’s shoulder. “Monoma’s drinks are weak as hell.”

Mina pats your head and exhales dramatically. “Might be time to call it a night, babe. It’s almost midnight, and they’re weak cause you’ve downed six cups.”

You roll your eyes. “Whatever.”

The two of you had been invited by some of the class 3B students to hang out in their dorms over the weekend, AKA drink and bullshit the night away. Months ago, you wouldn’t have been caught dead at any of these parties, but nowadays? You were looking for any way to silence the nagging voice in your head. Mina tagged along, mostly to keep an eye on you since none of your other classmates attended said parties. She’d been on her phone most of the night, texting and scrolling in the corner as you knocked back drinks.

“Who the fuck are you texting?” Your words came out acidic, but that wasn’t your intention. The alcohol was beginning to sink in, stirring the emotions in your chest. It was Russian Roulette, you never knew which one would be loaded in the chamber and ready to fire.

Mina clicked her tongue at your tone, raising her eyebrows. “Why do you care?”

Ah, that was code for “I’m texting Bakugo updates on how you’re doing because we’re worried for your wellbeing.”

Logically, you knew they just cared about you. You’d had a tough couple of months - nothing crazy, just that your dad fucking died and tragically lost his battle against cancer.

The news wasn’t easy to hear, let alone digest, the longer it sat with you back when your mom first broke the news. Cancer. One of the most gut churning words in any language. The sheer mention of the term is enough to make anyone’s hairs stand on end, especially when it’s applied to someone you love and care about.

Fluorescent orange bottles lined your kitchen counter back home, multitudes of medication prescribed to keep your dad in a haze while his body decayed. They taunted you, a constant reminder of the grim reality your family was stuck in. You’ve memorized the smell of the hospital, too - that faint stench of death mixed with cleaning supplies. Late nights in the glow of vending machines of the ER lobby and long days spent listening to nurses drone on about hope and miracles. They even had the gall to give you and your mom false hope, declaring he was in remission one week before he died.

You shake your head to rid yourself of the memories, pissed off that even in your buzzed state of mind, all of it was crystal clear. Mina gives you a quizzical stare, realizing that you haven’t heard hear her talking to you the last few minutes.

“We’re leaving,” she exclaims, grabbing your wrist. You tug it from her grasp and chug the rest of the drink in your hand, tossing the now empty cup to the floor.

“Fuck off, Mina! I know you’ve been talking with Katsuki all night. You two treat me like I’m a fragile little bitch!” You yell, waving your arms for dramatic effect. At this point, she’s used to your combative outbursts. She knows you’re grieving, but goddamn, she wanted to smack the shit out of you when you got like this.

“Suit yourself, I’m goin’ to bed.” And with that, she leaves.

Mina actually walks out and leaves you.

You storm to the door, throwing it open and pursuing her down the hallway of the Class B dorms.

“Minaaa!” You call after her, slurring the latter half of her name. She’s got her phone to her ear as she cocks her head to the side, acknowledging she heard you but isn’t listening.

You’re not proud of what you’re about to do.

Sprinting to catch up to her, you take the phone out of her hand from behind, the screen blinking the caller ID briefly - Bakugo. A sinister cackle escapes you while bringing the phone to your ear.

“Katsuki fuckin’ Bakugo. You and Mina are the fucking worst. Why can’t you just let me self destruct, huh?!” The rage bubbling in your guts was too strong to ignore. The metaphorical gun was loaded, and unfortunately for Bakugo, he was the target.

“You treat me like I’m some weak-ass bitch. Just ‘cause my dad fuckin’ died doesn’t mean shit! I’m not a goddamn child, Katsuki!” Your voice cracks over the word ‘child.’

“Treating me like a kid is rich coming from you, ya know. Hah!”

Mina attempts to grab the phone from you, but fails when you duck out of her reach, dancing down the hall away from her. Bakugo still hasn’t said a word back to you.

“The guy who treated sweet little Midoriya like shit for no reason, bullied him over a fuckin’ non-existent grudge. You’re the goddamn poster child of a shitty friend.”

“Y/N, ENOUGH!” Mina screeches, ripping the phone from your hand. She turns away from you while raising the phone to her ear once more.

“I’m sorry Baku-“ Mina’s interrupted by soft snivels. She could tell he tried to hide it - you made him cry.

“Hey, she’s just drunk and being an asshole. She doesn’t mean it,” she whispers. “Get to bed, I’ve kept you up long enough.” Mina hangs up the phone and turns her attention back to you. She doesn’t say a word - her eyes tell you how disappointed she is with your actions.

You quietly sulk behind her back to the Class A dorms, reveling in the guilt of your actions.

───

Monday comes along and you still haven't said two words to Bakugo. Admittedly, you're ashamed of yourself and don't have the courage to apologize right now. It wasn’t the first time you’ve gotten into a small tiff, it always goes back to normal. You’re sure this’ll pass and he’ll just talk to you again…right?

But he doesn’t.

Classes wrap for the day and he leaves homeroom without looking your way.

───

The silence in your dorm room is starting to drive you mad, not having a decent enough distraction for the endless loop of thoughts circling in your mind. You wander into the bathroom and lazily open your medicine cabinet. A set of translucent orange bottles occupied the bottom shelf - you’d taken them from home, stealing your dead dad’s various medications. A pang of guilt stabs you in the gut while you shuffle through them. You had zero idea what most of these pills even did, but if it got you high? Who fucking cares.

You’re about to dump a few in your hand when something stops you, dropping the tablets onto the floor.

What the fuck?

“Dad…?” You speak aloud, knowing full well how fucking insane you sound for thinking your father’s ghost smacked the medicine out of your hand. As expected, there is no response, just dead air. You scurry back to your bed, grabbing for your phone. Instinctively, you’re about to click Bakugo’s name when your eyes fall on the time: 11:56PM.

You call him anyways.

After a few rings, the line picks up and you hear shuffling before he verbally answers.

“…Hey.”

“Uhh, hi. Sorry for waking you.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Can you come to my room?”

There’s a pause.

“Yeah.”

“Thank you. Door's open.”

The line ends with a click.

A minute or two later, your dorm room door cracks open, Bakugo stepping inside and closing it quietly behind him. He hesitantly makes his way over to the bed and sits beside you.

“Y’okay?”

“I almost took some pills. Something stopped me, though and I didn’t.” Shame creeps through you as you're acknowledging the destructive behavior for the first time in months.

“…I’m glad you ditched ‘em.”

Another pause.

“I’m sorry for the other night.”

Bakugo inhales deeply before shifting his gaze to the floor. “Yeah. ‘S fine.”

Obviously, it was not fine.

“Katsuki, seriously. I’m sorry for being an asshole.” You place a hand on his shoulder. “I don’t deserve to have you here right now.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t say shit like that. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t wanna be.”

The two of you sit in silence for what feels like an eternity.

Bakugo speaks up first. “Why’d you call me over? Y’coulda told me about the pills over the phone.”

Your eyes begin to well with tears, overcome with emotions that you'd been withholding for too long.

"I miss my dad," You say between hiccupped sobs. "I don't know what to do...it fucking hurts."

Bakugo doesn't hesitate to pull you close, awkwardly throwing his arms around you. "I know."

Everything comes pouring out of you, every single emotion that you've shoved away into the imaginary closet in your head since the funeral. No matter how many times you tell him that he can leave, he doesn't. He stays with you the entire night, laying beside you as you cry yourself to sleep.

───

When you stir awake the next morning, Bakugo's arm is securely hooked around your waist as he's peacefully resting behind you. You give him a light shake to wake him up.

"Mornin'," he grunts, sleepily opening one eye. "How ya feelin'?"

Honestly? You felt...okay.

"Good, I think. Better than I have in awhile," you say, rolling over to face him. "Thank you. I'm sorry again for-"

Unexpectedly, his lips are on yours, silencing your apology. You let out a squeak before melting into the warmth he offers, tugging on your waist to pull you closer to him. He breaks the kiss long enough to mumble, “Forget about all that. Just shut up and kiss me, dammit.”

You can’t help but feel guilty about his affection, how you didn’t think you deserved it after treating him so horribly. All Bakugo wanted to do was be there for you when you pushed him, and Mina, away.

“But…why now?” You ask while pulling away, perplexed at how casual he’s being about all of this.

He just shakes his head, grin plastered on his smug face. “Cause I don’t like seein’ you cry. And Mina may or may not have blabbed about a certain drunken rant ya went on about me.”

What the hell was he…oh. Ohhhh.

Dammit Mina!

“What did she tell you?!” You blurt out, covering your face with your hands. Bakugo grabs your wrists, pulling your hands away from your flared cheeks as he laughs.

“She didn’t say shit, but now I wanna hear it.”

You smack him playfully in the arm, huffing as you turn over. He scoots up and lays his head behind yours on the pillow.

“I care about you, idiot. That’s why. Do I need another reason?”

You close your eyes, a smile settling on your lips as you grab his hand, moving back to snuggle closer to him.

“No. That’s good enough for me.”

The pain in your heart momentarily subsides and offers you a glimpse of hope.

Things will get easier, no matter how dark it is.

💥 tags; @slayfics

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

Healing, WA style 💙

I’m recovering well physically. I’m staying out of the water on doctor’s orders, I’ve been taking all my meds, I’ve only needed painkillers twice. Sleep is a bit patchy, but I’m rested on the whole.

The guilt is there. Guilt that I’m taking joy from being in such a beautiful place, so soon after. Guilt when I’m ordering breakfast and I think, I can have runny poached eggs now. Guilt that it’s been so busy I didn’t even realize it’s one week today.

I’m slowly getting back to your very kind messages. Forgive me if I miss any. Thank you again for everyone who’s checking on me ❤️

[mournfulroses]

Rita Dove, from On the bus with Rosa Parks; Poems; "Nightwatch. The Son,"

[scottishaccentsareawesome]

Rooster: Do you think there's someone out there you could love as much as Ice? Maverick: Well, Bradley, that's hard to imagine. Rooster: What're you gonna do? Maverick: Well, I'm gonna get out of bed every morning... breathe in and out all day long. Then, after a while I won't have to remind myself to get out of bed every morning and breathe in and out... and, then after a while, I won't have to think about how I had it great and perfect for a while. Rooster: What was special to you about Ice? Maverick: Oh, kid...how much time you got? Well, it was a million tiny little things that, when you added them all up, they meant we were supposed to be together... and I knew it. I knew it the very first time I touched him. It was like coming home... only to no home I'd ever known... I was giving him a hug on the tarmac, with a hundred people around, and I knew. It was like...magic.

[pink-sparkly-witch]

The Widow - Chapter Eight (Finale)

Chapter Eight

Summary: Sam and Y/N are happily married, but everything changes after a fatal car accident leaves her a widow. The Winchester motto: "Family Don't End with Blood," takes on a whole new meaning for Y/N as she navigates her new normal with the help of her brother-in-law, Dean. But what no one can tell her, is what happens when she falls in love again?   

Pairing: Sam Winchester x F!Reader (past) | Dean Winchester x F!Reader

Warnings: angst, language, feelings, heart-to-heart, fluff, kissing 

Words: 2,641

A/N: That's all folks! Thank you all for reading and for coming on this journey with me. I appreciate all of you more than you know! 💖 I'm sure going to miss these two, but it was fun getting them to where they needed to go.

Huge thank you again to my gorgeous beta: @negans-lucille-tblr I’m not sure this would’ve even been posted without your encouragement, and thank you doesn’t seem like enough 😘

Now… go and grab those tissues!!

You can catch up here!

My Masterlist     AO3    Ko-Fi

Y/N’s POV

The first few minutes in the car are spent in awkward silence and it kills you. The relationship you have with Dean has always been easy and to think it’s been damaged beyond repair makes you sad.

“So…” Dean finally breaks the silence between you when you stop at a red light. “Good lunch?” He glances over at you and you scoff.

“That’s where you wanna go here? How was lunch?” You laugh, but it’s not the humourous kind.

“If you don’t mind, I’d much rather we get to the point and just agree that last night was a mistake and won’t happen again. So let’s do that, let’s pretend it never happened, not talk about it ever again and try to go back to the way things were.” You finish and turn your head to look out the car window.

“Before we do that, I need to say something. Last night meant everything to me,” he looks over at you and waits until you turn back towards him and meet his gaze. “Everything, Y/N. I don’t know when it happened, but I do know when I realised I was in love with you.”

“Dean…” you mutter. His words shock you, that’s about as much as you know right now, and you’re glad Dean ignores the interruption and continues talking, because you have no idea how to respond.

“It was when your car broke down on the hottest damn day of the year,” he chuckles at the memory, “and you called me for a tow. I was driving down the road you were stopped on, and I saw you sitting on the hood of your car, and you looked so beautiful. I swear you were glowing in the sunlight. It was like you had a goddamn halo or something! And my heart just stopped, and I thought ‘shit, I’m in trouble here,’ since then, I can’t stop thinking about you. You’re the first thing I think of when I open my eyes in the morning and the last before I fall asleep. Fuck… I tried to stop, I swear I did…

“I know this is hard for you to hear and it’s probably the last thing you want to deal with right now and that’s okay. But, I need you to know you were not a mistake, sweetheart. I don’t regret what we did and I never will. I know we have something that could work if you give us a chance, because you can’t fake the kinda connection we had last night. But if you want to pretend last night never happened and go back to how things were, then I’ll do that for you… but if I’m right and you feel something more for me, please, tell me.”

You remain silent and take in his confession. He’s right, you do have feelings for him, the trouble is, you don’t know if you can trust yourself. Are they real feelings, or are you mistaking them for the comfort and familiarity Dean gives you?

And then you ask yourself where this can even go. He’s your husband’s brother; people will talk. And it’s not that you care what they’ll say necessarily, there are other factors involved here. Including how John will feel, and the impact such a “scandal” could have on the family business. More importantly, though, you don’t know if you can do that to Sam.

“You know what? Forget I said anything. Your silence says it all, Y/N. Let’s just sweep last night under the carpet and chalk it down to bad judgement,” you know Dean is hurt because his voice comes out weak and defeated and you despise yourself for it.

“It wasn’t,” it’s barely audible, but at least you got something out.

“Wasn’t what?” Dean asks.

“Bad judgement,” you clarify. “And I do feel something for you, I just…” you sigh, and let your thoughts hang in the air as you try and decipher what this all means and what the best thing to do is.

“Alright,” Dean nods his head. “When we get home, we’re going to talk about all of this, okay?” Dean fixes his gaze on you and you nod in agreement. “We need to lay our cards on the table and hear each other out. It’s the only way we’ll be able to get past this, whatever this is, or ends up being.”

Again, you know he’s right. You need to get it all out in the open and be completely honest with each other because it’s the only way you’ll be able to keep Dean in your life.

“Okay,” you agree with a nod.

You go back to spending the journey in silence, but it’s not quite as heavy and suffocating as before, and you have the tiniest glimmer of hope that everything will work out just fine.

Sitting on your sofa next to Dean, you hand him a tumbler with a decent measure of whiskey and untuck the bottle from under your arm to place it on the table. In a bid for more time, you take a long sip from your wine glass as you desperately try to figure out what the hell just happened and how you ended up in this position. Dean speaks first and you sigh in relief as you’re at a complete loss for words.

“I just wanna start by saying I meant what I said,” Dean begins. “All of it,” he adds before you can question him. “I have fallen in love with you, and last night did mean the world to me.” With that, he downs the whiskey in one gulp and refills his glass. Now, at least you have your first question.

“So why didn’t you stay with me? Why did you get up and drink all night?” you ask quietly.

“We got so caught up in the moment, and neither of us even stopped to think,” he looks down at the floor and you can see and feel the shame radiating from him in waves.

“When we were finished and you were sleeping in my arms, it was like everything came crashing back to reality. I felt guilty for doing that to Sam, I felt ashamed for taking advantage of you when you were upset, I knew I’d ruined things between us and I knew I had no one to blame but myself.

“I didn’t mean to stay away all night,” Dean says, looking at you for the first time since he’d started to explain himself. “I only intended to have one or two to help me sleep, but I got upset and… two became four, and well… you saw me this morning.”

“You know you didn’t take advantage of me, right? That if I didn’t want it to happen, it wouldn’t have?” you ask him, reaching a hand out to cup his cheek and pushing gently to make him look at you. “Dean, I swear to you, I wanted it too…” you begin, but a scoff from the green-eyed man next to makes you frown.

“So this morning was what?” He looks at you pleadingly, like he was silently asking you to tell him that he hadn’t been a mistake.

“One big miscommunication, apparently,” you chuckle sadly. “Dean, when I woke up this morning, the first thing I felt was guilt for doing that to Sam. And when I turned over to seek you out, to get some comfort and to be told we didn’t do anything wrong, I was met with a cold bed.

“Fine, I thought, maybe he feels some of the guilt I do and was awake early, or couldn’t sleep… but when I came downstairs and saw the empty bottle and the bloodshot eyes, I went to the worst thing I could think of. Regret. And I went on the defensive, and for that I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left without talking to you.”

“And I should’ve never left you alone. I’m truly sorry, sweetheart. Not once did it cross my mind that you’d feel the way you did. You know, knowing that makes me feel worse than the guilt ever could.” Dean’s words are full of sincerity and you nod, believing everything he’s told you tonight.

“Okay, so we both agree we did nothing wrong and that it wasn’t a mistake, but I still feel like we haven’t resolved this,” you say looking up at him. Dean nods his head in agreement, but remains silent, staring at you intently. You know this part is up to you–he’s already told you how he feels–but you stall by taking a few more sips of wine.

“I know Sam is gone, and no matter how much I want it, he’s never coming back. I know he’d want me to be happy and to find someone to love and who loves me,” you glance up at Dean and see hope in his expression. “But I feel like I’d be cheating on him or something if that person is you. And,” you continue quickly, wanting to get everything out at once, “I don’t know if I really feel what I feel for you, or if I’m confusing your familiarity with Sam for real feelings.”

Dean nods and reaches his hand out to stroke your cheek. “I understand that, sweetheart. I feel the same way, but you’re right, he’d want you to be happy, and if that ends up being with me, then we’ll get through it together. And if it isn’t with me, then I’ll help you get through it.”

You think about what Dean said, your heart filling with hope that no matter what, he’d still have your back. “How do I know if what I feel is real?”

“Well, sweetheart,” he chuckles, “I can’t help with that, that’s gotta be all you. Only you know how you feel and what’s real or not.”

Placing your wine glass on the coffee table, you shift closer to Dean and tentatively place your head on his shoulder. You smile as you hear him sigh happily.

“C’mere,” he opens his arms and lets you cuddle into his chest before putting his arms around you and kissing your forehead. The warmth and safety of Dean’s embrace spreads over you like you’ve just lay down in a hot bath, and it makes you hum in pure contentment.

His arms squeeze you tighter into his body and you find yourself raising your head to look at him. Really look at him. His bright green eyes show you nothing but tenderness. You scan your eyes over the freckles that dust his face like a beautiful, undiscovered constellation; he truly is a stunning man.

Dean licks his lips, bringing your attention to them and your memories drift to last night and how those lips felt on yours and your body. Slowly, you tilt your head and move closer to him, gently pressing your lips to his.

Hesitantly, Dean opens his mouth and you take him up on his invitation, deepening the kiss and moaning as your tongues meet. The kiss is gentle and slow, neither of you in a rush to be anywhere but right here at this moment.

With your lips still attached to his, you straddle him and settle down in his lap. Feeling the beginnings of a bulge in his jeans, you grind your core into it, smirking at his groan.

“Y/N, sweetheart.” Dean is breathless, and you find the effect you have on him intoxicating. “If you want a repeat of last night, I’m all yours, but I need to hear you say it.”

“I want you, Dean.”

Six Weeks Later

“Hey, handsome,” you smile. “It’s been a while and I’m sorry for that,” you say as you sit cross-legged at Sam’s grave. “I’ve had some things going on that I needed to work out,” you pause and pick at the strands of grass around you. 

“Something happened that I never thought would. I fell in love again. He makes me happy, Sammy. And I know he’s a good man and he’ll treat me right. If he doesn’t I’ll kick his ass,” you chuckle. “Then I’ll come here and beg you to haunt him!” your smile quickly turns to a sob.

“It’s Dean, Sam. I fell in love with Dean but I didn’t mean to. It just happened. And I need you to know that I never…” you need to stop talking to make way for the tears that won’t stop falling.

“I never felt that way about him when you were here. And I need you to know that. This is new and unexpected for both of us. I’ll always love you, Sammy, and I miss you. So fucking much every goddamn day! It’s just that I love him too. And I hope you can forgive me.”

You sit in silence for a while, just being. You know you should leave soon. Dean and John are waiting and you know they’ll be starting to worry about you. Movement catches your eye and you turn your head to see a butterfly fluttering nearby.

It lands on Sam’s gravestone and you smile, feeling a childlike joy at seeing the red admiral so close and so late in the year, even with the mild fall.

It remains perched and unmoving for a while longer before it flies over and lands on your knee. That’s when you know that this beautiful creature is a sign, and that Sam is with you.

You can feel him next to you, and you have the overwhelming feeling that everything is going to be alright and that he approves of you and Dean. The red admiral takes flight once again and circles your body.

You don’t know if it’s a laugh that erupts or if it’s a sob–maybe it’s a mixture of both–but it’s something, and you feel at peace with yourself and everything around you as you sit by his grave.

All too quickly, the butterfly takes off and flutters back into the nearby shrubs.

“I love you, Sam. Always and forever,” you say as you kiss your fingers and place them on his headstone before standing up and brushing the dirt from your jeans.“I’ll be back soon. I promise not to leave it so long next time.” 

Walking away, you feel lighter than you have in a long time, and you know that finally, you’re at peace with your husband's death and with the path that has led you to looking forward to a life with Dean.

“Hey, sweetheart, you good?” Dean asks as you wrap your arms around his waist and hug him tight. You can’t bring yourself to speak, so you nod against his chest and once more you let the tears fall, knowing that this time, they’re happy tears.

“You’re alright, Y/N, I’m right here.” Dean murmurs, and you feel another hand stroking your back.

“Sam would be happy, you know that, don’t you darlin’?” John asks. “For both of you.”

Pulling away from Dean’s embrace, you wipe your tears away and smile, “I know he is.”

You saw a red admiral at every big life moment after that day at his grave. You saw one the day Dean proposed, and again at your small, intimate wedding. One flew in the kitchen window on the day you found out you were expecting your first child, and one appeared on the day you found out about the two that came next! On every birthday and holiday, on the day you gave birth to each of your children, and on their first days at school.

It gave you immense comfort, and though at first Dean, John, and Jody put it down to coincidence, after the first few times it happened, they started looking for the butterfly on the special days too.

THE END

@deans-spinster-witch @muchamusedaboutnothing @kazsrm67 @twinkleinadiamondsky @waters-2567 @leigh70 @waynes-multiverse @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld @chriszgirl92 @stoneyggirl2 @marilynnlew @ilovedean-spn2 @deans-baby-momma @acitygrownwillow @xxsovereignsarayaxx @frozenhuntress67 @lacilou @rach5ive @iprobablyshipit91

[cerealbishh]

"Live..."