#sam fics

divided by @anemichorizon2

The moment you stepped into the bullpen, your stomach twisted. There she was—as she leaned on the edge of Spencer’s desk, coffee in hand, eyes bright as she giggled at whatever statistic he’d just rattled off. Her laughter rang through the room, light and effortless, like she actually found probability equations charming.

Great. She’s back.

You barely whispered it, but Derek still heard. He leaned in, grinning. “Play nice.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Jealousy doesn’t look good on you,” he added, voice dripping with amusement.

“I’m not jealous,” you muttered, but even you didn’t believe it.

As you passed, she turned to you, all smiles. “Hey!”

Your lips stretched into something resembling a greeting. “Hi.”

It tasted bitter.

You kept walking, but the question burned at the back of your mind.

What did she have that you didn’t?

“Hey, Sweets,” she calls, to Spencer all sunshine and ease. “I’m heading out. Have a great day!”

Spencer gives her a small smile, the kind that makes your stomach twist. “You too.”— he says …

She turns to you, waves like you’re old friends. You force yourself to lift a hand in return.

The second she’s gone, you huff under your breath, “Does she have it out for me or something? Geez.”

You make a beeline for the break room, desperate for a moment alone, but you don’t realize Spencer has followed until the door clicks shut behind him.

“What’s up with you lately?” His voice is calm, but there’s that quiet, analytical edge to it—the one that always cuts straight through people.

Great. How are you supposed to get out of this?

“I’m fine,” you say, reaching for the coffee pot like that’ll somehow sell it.

“You’re not.” His eyes study you, sharp but not unkind. “It’s written all over your face.”

You swallow hard, focusing on pouring your coffee.

“Do you think you could be a little nicer to my girlfriend?”

Ouch. You say .. thanks Spence you thought , trying to fight the tears .

Your grip tightens around the handle. “I thought I was.”

"Talk to me," Spencer says, his voice gentle. "We’re friends."

Friends. The word stings more than it should.

“I’m good, Spence. Honestly.” You force a smile, waving him off. “Please, just stop, okay? It’s not even worth getting into.”

“It isn’t?” He steps closer, studying you the way he studies crime scenes—methodically, like he’s piecing together a puzzle only he can see.

“No, it’s not,” you insist, arms crossing. “You’re happy, and I’m happy for you.” You even manage a smile, hoping it’s convincing.

But Spencer doesn’t buy it. His head tilts slightly, eyes scanning your face. “No, you’re not,” he murmurs. “I can see it.”

Your stomach knots.

“How do I prove it?” you ask, your voice quieter now, almost unsure.

watching you closely.

Your gaze locks with his for a moment before you drop your eyes to the floor. “Look, Spence… I can’t do this.”

“Yes, you can,” he counters, stepping closer. “Because we’re not leaving this room until you tell me what’s going on. Or do I have to spell it out for you?”

Your jaw tightens. “You tell me what you think, then, Spence.”

“Okay. Sit.”

“No.”

“SIT,” he says, his voice calm but firm.

Fine. You pull out a chair and drop into it, arms crossed.

Spencer exhales, studying you like he’s working through a case. “Ready for the truth?”

You don’t respond, but he continues anyway.

“You don’t like her. My girlfriend.”

You scoff. “Please stop.”

“No.” His voice is steady, unwavering. “The reason you don’t like her is because you’re into me. You’re in love with me.”

Your breath catches.

“And you have been for a while,” he says, his tone softer now, but no less certain. “But you can’t admit it—to yourself or to me.”

Silence stretches between you, thick, suffocating.

“But I can’t keep waiting around for you,” he finishes. “For when you decide to.”

“This isn’t fair,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Fair?” Spencer’s eyes narrow. “You don’t think hearing the truth is fair?”

“No,” you murmur, shaking your head. “You—being this way toward me. It’s not fair.”

His brows furrow. “How am I supposed to be toward you?”

You swallow hard. “I’m sorry, Spence,” you admit, your voice breaking. “I’m sorry for not admitting it.”

Spencer stills. When he first said it, he’d only been guessing—poking at the edges of a theory, testing a hypothesis. But now? Now he knows he was right.

You’ve been in love with him this whole time.

“Why couldn’t you just tell me?” he asks, his voice softer now, almost pleading.

Your throat tightens. You look away. “I don’t know,” you whisper. “Because… I don’t deserve you.”

“You deserve her,” you say softly. “Your girlfriend.”

Spencer watches you closely, but you keep your gaze fixed on the floor. “She’s kind, honest. She knows what she wants. She went after it—and she got you.”

You swallow hard, trying to fight the burn behind your eyes.

“I don’t hate her, Spencer,” you admit. “I admire her. She’s everything I’m not.” A shaky breath escapes you. “You deserve to be happy… even if I don’t get to be the one who makes you happy.”

Spencer reaches for your hand, hesitation flickering in his eyes.

“If I had known…” he starts, but you shake your head.

“It wouldn’t have changed things,” you whisper. “It was too late for me the moment you first mentioned her.”

Spencer wasn’t sure what to do next.

“We’re friends, right?” you ask softly.

“The best,” he says without hesitation, but his heart is racing, pounding so hard he wonders if you can hear it.

“I really wish I had known sooner,” he admits.

You offer a small, bittersweet smile. “It’s okay, Spence. Sometimes… we don’t get the person we want.” Your voice is steady, but the weight of the words settles between you like an unspoken truth.

“And sometimes we do,” you add, forcing a lightness into your tone. “Because you got her.”

Spencer watches you, searching for something in your expression, but you just smile a little brighter—like that will be enough to convince him.

“I’ll do my best to be a little nicer. Friendlier,” you say….

He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, she’s not going to be around much. Today was just… um.” He exhales, searching for the right words. “She got an internship at a law firm in New York. And, um… she’s taking it. She just wanted to say goodbye.”

Your breath catches. “Wait—what?” You blink at him, trying to process it. “She’s leaving?”

Spencer nods, his expression unreadable. “Yeah. But… we’re gonna try the long-distance thing.”

Something tightens in your chest, but you force yourself to keep your voice steady. “Oh.” The word slips from your lips before you can stop it.

Spencer’s eyes lock onto yours, searching—analyzing, the way he always does.

“Sorry,” you murmur, forcing a small smile. “I just… wasn’t expecting to hear that.” You inhale sharply, steadying yourself. “I’m happy for her. And I’m happy that you’re gonna try to make it work with her.”

The words taste bitter. You drop your gaze to the floor, focusing on anything but him.

“I should really get back,” you say quickly, desperate for an escape. “We’ve got case files to put away and…” Your throat tightens. “And I don’t think I can sit here any longer without wanting you more—knowing she’s leaving for New York.” The confession slips out, raw and quiet. “I’m sorry.”

You push back your chair, standing too fast, needing to leave before you do something reckless.

But before you can take a step, Spencer speaks.

“You’re sorry?” His voice is softer now, almost disbelieving.

You start walking toward the door, but Spencer steps in front of you, blocking your path.

“Please, Spence,” you whisper, your voice tight. “You’re with someone.” You say it like a reminder—to him, to yourself.

“I know,” he says, but there’s something conflicted in his voice.

“Damn it,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair. “How am I supposed to handle this?”

“I don’t know,” you say, shrugging helplessly.

“You should have told me sooner.”

“Why?” you challenge, crossing your arms.

“Because—for the longest time—”

“No, Spence.” You shake your head, cutting him off. “You don’t get to do this. Because if you do this—”

Before you can finish, he pulls you into his arms, holding you close.

“If I do this?” His voice is low, almost challenging. “What then?”

You inhale sharply, your hands resting against his chest. “We can’t. Not like this. Not when you’re still in a relationship.”

Spencer exhales, frustrated, before pulling out his phone. His brows furrow as he reads a text, his lips parting slightly.

“What is it?” you ask hesitantly.

He doesn’t answer right away, just rereads the message—once, twice, three times. Finally, he turns the screen toward you.

I’m sorry to do this over the phone, Spence, but I’ve been thinking… Maybe long-distance isn’t the best idea. You deserve someone who can be there for you, and that someone isn’t me right now. I’m sorry.

“She… broke things off,” he says, still processing it.

“Spence, I’m so sorry,” you say, and you mean it.

He looks at you for a long moment before stepping closer. Then, without warning, he pulls you back into his arms.

“Spence,” you murmur, but he doesn’t let go.

Instead, he tucks a loose strand of your hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering against your skin.

“I have to do this,” he whispers.

And then he leans in, slow and deliberate.

You weren’t expecting it, he leans in to kiss you with passion like no one’s ever kissed you before ..

What now ? You say pulling back ? …

That was amazing Spencer added , “ maybe we should talk about us he added with a smile maybe over coffee or dinner? — definitely dinner you say holding on to his shirt while he has you in his arms still .. “Great, dinner it is he says .

The clock at the edge of the table read, 3:00 a.m. There was dead silence except for the soft murmuring of leaves against the breeze and occasional yelps and barks of the stray dogs on your street. You could almost hear your own breathing at this silence. Quite comfortable it would be if it weren’t for your exam and the project that you procrastinated for so long tumbling down on you like a huge boulder. You wonder whether Kiyoomi took the vitamin pills before going to sleep. You had barely interacted with him today. This seemed to fuel your sadness and anger even more.

Your annoyance seemed to increase fourfold as you remember the times you procrastinated, thinking that all will be covered by cramming in the few days before exams. You had a fair memory and ability to bear pressure but this is beyond your limits. You run your fingers through your hair, head bent down low as you try to channel some irritation out before getting to work again. 

To your unawareness, Sakusa Kiyoomi was still wide awake. Looking at the ceiling above as he lies stiffly. Despite the physical isolation and the tough demeanor Sakusa shows out in public, the case is fairly opposite when it comes to bedtime with you. You gentle touches and babblings of days helps him to ease down. Nuzzling himself on the crook of your neck, he occasionally hums his answer whenever you rant about your day, falling asleep in the process. His favourite part would be whenever you’d doze off while talking… too tired from Uni and work. He would delicately cradle your head; place it on the soft pillow with one cushion underneath. Just how you like it. A hand always intertwined with yours. A soft smile plays across your lips, he smiles in return, wondering what good dream you must be seeing right now and whether he is a part of that. He kisses the bridge of your nose and lay down. Immersed in the ocean of happiness where you act as the anchor.

 But today that was not the case. You have been glued to the seat since evening, finishing the dinner haphazardly and carelessly, just gulping down the rice. You surely gave him his deserved goodnight kiss but that didn’t stop him from missing your warm presence by his side. But that is not the only thing that is depriving Kiyoomi from his sleep. No. 

He had noticed your anxious expression. The toilsome project as well as the exam had left you to be almost crumbled. Sakusa knew you were prone to procrastinating and this is the end result of all those all movie nights.

 He was confused whether to chide you or just sit by your side as you spend the night studying. He had stayed most of the evening by your side as you studied for the exam. Highlighting notes and making extra ones from reference books. He peeked at your books for a while; those weights of the books had intimidated him as well. A tinge of sadness rose within him for you and he just wanted to hold on to you. He gets up from the bed to check up on you. The hallway is dark and the only light that is spilling is the distant white neon light from the skyscraper few buildings beside theirs. He passes the hallway to turn left and reaches at the threshold of the study room.

 There you were, facing the window where the table is attached. Headphones plugged in and your head bent over the screen in front of you. Hair disheveled and pulled into a messy bun with a pencil running through the strands. The translucent white curtains rustled as the nightly breeze blew through your face. Your brows furrowed in utmost concentration and eyes popping out, little dark tinge under the eyes already visible as light fell from the lamp to your face. Your lips were pursed as you again look back at the book. You may think you look like an unhinged mad person right now but for Kiyoomi, you look beautiful even in the faint light of the dead night. He continues to look at you for a while. You still haven’t noticed his presence. Your headspace too clogged up to take up anything. You feel a blunt pain spreading throughout your back, reaching up to your neck and to your head. You heave out a long sigh as you outstretch your arms above your head. That is when you see him standing by the door still,

 “Hey, Omi…you haven’t slept yet?” you question him. Your eyes glinting with exasperation and fatigue. He crosses his arms as he enters the room.

 “You have been here for hours. Come on, babe” he says. 

“Omi…I…I still need to finish this project and do a light revision for the test. I really can’t slack off. Not now.” you sigh.

 He looks at you for a while before coming over to your side and press a quick kiss on your forehead. “You should go and sleep, Omi babe. You have practice tomorrow.” You say before turning your attention to the bright laptop screen. 

The pain in your neck and back was searing now. You rubbed your knuckles against your temples going down on your neck and rubbing it. Tossing your head back and heaving out yet another breathy sigh. Sakusa notices the weight you feel on your body and how uncomfortable it is to sit in this position for hours. He exits the room and heads to the kitchen rather than the bedroom. Like heck he would go back to sleep with you like this. 

15 minutes later, he returns to the study . You are now tilted sideways with your head leaning against your hand which is propped up on its elbow. He smiles softly, thinking how you look so adorable and beautiful effortlessly or rather in such a messy state. You look back at Kiyoomi.

 Before you can say anything, he places the peppermint tea and light crackers on your table.

 “Drink this, babe. You are almost jittery with so much coffee” he disapprovingly nods towards the three cups. You smile sheepishly at this. He scoffs as he tucks a small strand of loose hair behind your ear as you sip in the tea. 

You continue to make notes when you feel Kiyoomi patting your back to move forward a bit. He places a soft pillow behind your back and the next moment you feel his warm hands rubbing your shoulders and the back of your neck. 

“You really have to quit your horrible habit of procrastination and cramming. See, how much this affects you.” Kiyoomi quietly says as he continues to massage your sore spot. You close your eyes at this relief. Finding solace in his presence and his ever-giving care. 

“Finish this tea and come to bed with me” He prompts. You try to give your rebuttal. “Omi, I need to finish this project. I told you…also I need to revise again…”

 “Y/N, you can. I will wake you up again after three hours when I am going for a run. But now you need to come with me now. You are overworking yourself again” he pats your head gently and you comply. 

Well this is the effect Sakusa Kiyoomi has on you. 

“I shall sit here and wait for you till you finish this, okay?” he says. You nod as you drink the refreshing tea he made. Feeling much better and light weighted.

 He massages your scalp and picks out the ridiculously stuck pencil while you continue making the last of the notes for the time being and shut your laptop.

 “That’s my good girl” he says with a smile. You feel yourself going red as you smack him on the arm and on the…

 “Omi, NO-- Sakusa tackles you in his arms as he heads to the bedroom. He chuckles at your failed attempt of slapping his ass.

 “Not so fast, prettyface.” You huff as you enter the bedroom and to the comfort of your bed. 

Lying down under the comfortable covers, you scoot towards him as he captures you in his grasp and securely holds you while you drift off to sleep. “You know Omi, I probably won’t be able to sleep so let’s talk.” 

“Brat, you need to wake up after 3 hours and so do I. So let us sleep. That is the best idea.” He flicks your forehead while saying this and cradles it like before, trying to ease your brooding tension. 

You look up to Kiyoomi as you guys lock eyes. His eyes reflecting care and worry for you. Your immense gratitude and infinite love. Words might not be exchanged as frequently by Sakusa but the actions he does are more than enough that how much important your are to him to prove to the whole universe. Its a myriad of positive emotions that reflects against both of you. One that effortlessly releases hoards of dopamine in your system.

“Sleeep!” Sakusa says wide eyed as you laugh and close your eyes

You sigh in relief as you feel the home in his arms. The home you are forever grateful for.

Thanks for reading.

Reblogs are appreciated

Please refrain from copying my work on other websites. Reblog for sure but do not plagiarize.

It's not like there's anything going on for him. Days are dull and drinking doesn't do much anymore. Dazai stares at his empty computer screen, wishing something would pop up. Anything.

His stomach growls as he waits hopelessly. He pulls himself up until he remembers there's no food left, he sinks back into the bare floor. Going out is such a pain. He doesn't remember the last time he actually ate and it's not like hunger can kill a human that easily. On average, it takes a person two months to die without food. He's been underground for a month and a half now so he could probably stretch it out for a couple more days.

The gleam of the city lights distracts Dazai from his screen. Through his window, it seems as if stars are dancing along with the buzz of the populated Yokohama streets. The breeze caresses his skin like that of a mother. Oddly enough, it reminds him of Mori. He pushes that thought aside.

Scrambling to his feet, he knocks over several bottles of shochu, almost stumbling over his precious Kierkegaard and losing his balance in the process. Hypnotized by the lights, he totters toward the window. He couldn't care less about Port Mafia members recognizing him, the shoddy view of the city from his 15,000-yen apartment window interests him more than those goons reporting back to the boss.

Dazai takes a breathful of the city's air pollution, he can savor the whiff of car exhausts, cigarettes, and various meals being cooked all mixed up and juggled in the breeze. The city's noise pollution isn't any better - car horns, people shouting in anger or despair, and street fights filled the night. This is the Yokohama he grew up in. It was relieving to know it hasn't changed. He finds it most beautiful in its darkness.

Ah, what a nice night to commit suicide, he thought.

All the waitresses he asked to join him all refused to, he was disheartened by that but he can't let every single rejection get to him, else he can't have a happy and cheerful suicide. He is happy right now, at least he thinks so. As for the cheerful part, a group of thugs just beat up a newbie Mafioso across the street for flaunting his new title so that made him laugh. That serves him right.

His 4th floor room isn't that high up but falling off at this height with a proper position will instantly kill him. The curtain behind him sways happily in the breeze. This time it feels like the wind is cheering him on.

Okay! Let's do this!

Dazai steps over the balustrade, welcoming the strong gush of wind, he inhales. His heartbeat is jumping enthusiastically, his breaths start to become short and quicker, he can't keep a grin off his face. Yeah, this is how I want to feel when I die.

If someone sees him right now, they will see how his eyes sparkle like that of an excited boy who can't sit still until they get their favorite toy. The city lights reflect his eyes. Inhaling a lungful of air, he thinks, I have the power of gravity on my side. There's no way I will lose.

Dazai leans toward the night, his hands on the rail - the only thing preventing him to fall.

He faces the breeze.

He gazes at the Yokohama lights for the last time.

He welcomes his sweet release.

His computer lights up.

The notification bell rains on Dazai's parade. Who the hell would interrupt him in the middle of him taking his own life?!

Glancing in irritation to his computer, his desktop wallpaper welcomes him and he pauses. He should really change that soon. Eyeing over to the corner, the notification reads, 'gravitysensei29 is online'.

Tch, that petit mafioso. Always a pain in my ass.

Stomping over to his computer, he opens Skyrim, shoves his headphones in, and yells out, "Oi chibi, you really have bad timing, don't you!"

It takes him a second to realize his mic is off. Switching it on, Dazai shuts up in embarrassment.

A few seconds later, the RPG world unravels with his character standing lifelessly in front of an abandoned town. From a distance, he notices Chuuya's gamertag getting closer until he sees the hideous of a character skin the chibi chose. Dazai scoffs as it stops feet away front of his.

Chuuya's breathing can be heard through the mic but he's not saying anything. Because of this, neither does Dazai.

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The moment Chuuya finds out Dazai left, he is in the middle of persecuting the enemy. He can just leave it to the Hirotsu to fish out information the enemy has but that night, he feels lively and motivated to finish the job himself so he sends the Black Lizard away. As a candidate for the executive position, they don't question it.

Plain fishing will be a waste of good energy on a lovely night like this one. Chuuya doubts he can get anything useful from these bastards anyway, why not do something worthwhile?

Activating his gravity manipulation, he guides himself and the disabled enemy head above the city. Muted noise arises from the distance, the people look like ants, the streets pack with life.

"Look," Chuuya attempts to communicate, "I don't know about you but I never did find this city appealing."

But tonight is different.

"A moment ago, I felt a surge of emotions and I had to make sure." He gazes down to the city. "This place isn't so bad after all."

Chuuya grins and holds his chin up. Now that that Dazai is gone, he can do whatever he needs to do without that mackarel popping up on his tail like an uninvited whack-a-mole. He couldn't care less what happened, if the damn bastard is dead or alive, he's in ecstasy at the thought that there will never be a troublesome Dazai in the Mafia.

"I wonder what will happen if I try to destroy the city." Will that Dazai come back and stop him?

"Heh, as if I'm insane enough to pull off something like that." Dazai was significantly weaker than him in terms of physical prowess, but he has the insanity and power to decimate this city if he so wants to.

Chuuya puffs a hefty sigh. What a beautiful night. He takes a mental note that this is undoubtedly the most europhic he's ever been since joining the Mafia. "Oi, mob boss, wanna go grab a drink with me?"

Glancing beside him, he frowns to see a limp body lifelessly floating in the air. Dazai would be disappointed. He would say something like, 'What a lucky man, passing on to other side before me.' Chuuya is disgusted. All that bastard ever talks about is suicide, he would have loved to suicide the life out of that Dazai if given the chance to.

A minute after Chuuya dials him, Hirotsu and his men come back and leaving them to clean up the mess, he calls Kouyou to meet him in his place.

"So, what's the occasion that calls for you to open such an expensive label?" Kouyou asks him as soon as she sees the brand on the bottle.

Chuuya sports a vibrant smile.

"Someone looks happy."

"There's no reason to be sad, Onee-san." He offers her a glass and holds his up for a toast. "To Dazai leaving the Port Mafia, Yokohama would never be as pleasant as it is from now on."

Kouyou is aware of the news but she can't comprehend the reason why Chuuya would dedicate a toast to it, however, he looks so delightful as a puppy that she decides to go along with it.

As Chuuya gets ready to retire for the night, he studies himself on the mirror. Looking at the blue ribbon of his hat repulses him. If he can ever describe it, it's like something is trying to claw itself out of his stomach. He ignores the feeling, grabs the hat, and shoves it inside his closet. Mori gave it to him as a gift for the establishment of Twin Dark, likewise he also presented Dazai a maroon ribbon but Chuuya never saw him wear it.

That bastard.

The ecstatic feeling quickly dissipates when Chuuya catches a glimpse of Dazai's gaming icon online on his computer. It seems like he's not dead, after all. Good for him. He deserves to suffer more.

Days pass by idly, it is nothing like Chuuya imagined. He is still celebrating Dazai's departure, it's a celebration that would last a lifetime and he loves the way the Mafia is now but he isn't as energetic as he was the first night. He also can't shake the repulsive feeling in his stomach anymore like he did that night.

It is impossible to think that Chuuya is hung up with this. It's not like there was anything important between him and that Dazai. Sure, they were partners but that was it. And yet, he sits in the darkness of his closet, the only light - shining on one of his favorite hats that flaunted a blue ribbon.

He doesn't wear the hat anymore, Chuuya doesn't question it. For some reason, Dazai tainted that hat. And he owns many other lavish hats to wear anyway so it's not like it bothers him.

With a gruntled sigh, Chuuya walks out of the closet and strides toward the kitchen. On his way, he passes by his computer, he notes through his peripheral that Dazai is online in Skyrim. Again.

He never played the game since Dazai left. He used to play it with him but the reason he didn't anymore was because that damn Dazai is always there, online every time Chuuya wants to play. He never leaves him alone although he officially left the organization that tied both of them to each other. The man is still alive, but he's already starting to haunt him.

If Dazai's idea is to make Chuuya suffer, then two can play at that game.

Chuuya is not logging in solely because he wants to harass Dazai, the bastard doesn't own the game, Chuuya can play Skyrim whenever he wants.

He sees Dazai's character in the meadow in front of an abandoned town, standing tediously as if waiting for someone. There are a lot of things Chuuya wants to say to Dazai. First, he wants to boast how amazing things have been since he left, how ecstatic he felt when he found out, and how he should've left sooner. Then, he wants to berate Dazai for leaving the Mafia like that.

Chuuya breathes heavily. He doesn't say anything, neither does Dazai.

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This setup continues for weeks when they're both online. It's the only thing they have closest to interacting with each other. And once in a while when his grim thoughts try to take over, it's all Dazai needs.

They start playing and going on adventures with each other a month later, but an actual conversation doesn't happen until another two months. It occurs when Chuuya joins the server that day.

"Dazai, you're not dead yet?" Chuuya tries to mask his worry as he speaks.

Knowing this, Dazai laughs heartily. "Oh wow! Chuuya is asking me this, I wonder why is that. Oh! May it be you want to join me, Chuuya-kun?"

"As if. Go to hell already!"

Dazai smiles.

Chuuya exhales a heavy sigh.

For a moment, it was as if Dazai leaving the Mafia never happened. And although they wouldn't admit it, they both felt a sense of relief wash over them. This was good enough.

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tagging people bc i really like how i did this LMAO @jessbeinme15 @confusedinsominiac @k4a @no-brain-just-akutagawa @panic-at-the-gender @chyanakahara @amelia201 @rirk-ke @kei-chaiin @deadmitochondria @justsomeboredgirl @chuuy-a @i-wonder-why-nobody-likes-you @aks3raao1 @lillybet-the-overlord @noticemeakusenpai @fukoronoko @nolongeravalidhuman @beautiful-is-boring @sparkofsummer @flower-of-darkness

Sam Winchester