#'sometthing else happened too' i know but i really wanted this too

[kitsquared]

I'm really happy about this

[hauntedotherworld]

i cant take it anymore. its too painful and i have nothing but suffering thats all i feel and its always been hopeless

i have NOTHING, no one at all to live for .. the one i lost i dont even .. i dont even know if i want her back, although i know we will never meet or talk ever agaib. its already been years. its hard when the person is your fp or.. ex fp.. the feelings that are overwhelming stay but at the same time i have so much anger and despair for what she did. i wish it never happened i had no control over it and i hate it, i HATE HER . SHES THE WORST and never cared like i did, even though we had such a strong bond.. to her it was normal friendship which by the end disapeared.. not for me. because my fucking fucked up head isnt like everyone elses and so im left all alome all i have is suffering, nothing will ever be good enough anymore. i doubt i could even feel that ever again.. i hate her too. i wish i never met her, because otherwise atleast i couldve not known what that felt like. to have an fp. someone who is the entire world for me and i couldnt do shit about it . all i can think of is memories and mourn it . but i also hate her and in one way do not care or wish to EVER meet her again- which again will never happen anyway.. i just feel so fucking empty and have forever but it gets worse the older i get. i cant feel ANYTHING FOR LIFE let alone others now. im living for no reason at all. every part of the day is just empty, void depression and deep bored and loneliness. nothing and no one can fill that anymire either, i knew that when i had gone to college (for a few months until i dropped out and left those great friends id made) because it didnt make me feel ok and i couldnt handle it , i left as always. so i never have anybody. and when i try and form a conmection with stra gers , just to feel sometthing - i feel absolutely nothing at all . nothing now. all i do id hate myself and stuck in my head.

i never want a family i dont care about love anymore or anything and all i feel is that deep empty, despairing feeling and its unBEARABLE .. every fucking day. all i can do is repeat that in my mind and breakdown because what else am i able to do except die? but aside from my anxiety about that, even dying doesnt sound good anymore.. because what will happen? i feel i wont go to heaven because i quit church because of the horrible _thing there. i dont really care abput anything.. except my dog but that isnt enough to make me able to get through when everythings missing and IT ALWAYS WILL BECAUSE I HAVE TO BE LIKE THIS. HAVE THIS MENTAL ILLNESS, BPD, AND MAJOR DEPRESSION WITH ANXIETY AND OTHER SHIT THAT RUINED EVERYTHING. ive tried SO hard. so fuckinh hard everyday its torture it always has been but its gotten worse to the point i can hardly think i just feel like an empty shell and the pain is like nothing else. i dont know whatll happen if i die, but whatever happens it should be better than this.. if not, i cant escape it itll come on its own if i dont. so i should just do it. no one cares anyway and i dont either

im just so heartbroken and what i fucking had to be and what my life hd to be. its not fair and nobody except others like me know what this is like.

i cant do it guys its harder and harder and i cant carry on i swear to god

[deans-baby-momma]

AFFLICTED-Part 8

A/N: Here it is....the last part to Afflicted. Enjoy!

The first day of Dean’s ‘vacation’ he busies himself with changing the oil in Baby and replacing the brake pads and fluids in my car, a 2015 Dodge Charger. He had told me they were both overdue on maintenance. So while he is in the garage I do a couple loads of laundry and take care of our daughter.

When I had become pregnant with Mavelin, Dean had insisted we get rid of the car I had been driving, an old hunk of junk Honda Civic hatchback, and get a more dependable vehicle. At the time, the Civic was all I could afford. That was way before I’d even heard of the Winchsters. To say I wouldn’t miss my car was a bold and inaccurate statement. That car held many memories for me but I had to agree with my husband, it wasn’t the safest option.

I am just hanging the last of his never-ending abundance of flannels when he walks into our bedroom, grease covered and dirty. Dean Winchester with grease splatters and stains is a sight that I can’t help but squeeze my thighs together at. The man is always sex on bowed-legs but with specks of oil and grime makes him even sensual.

“Hey baby,” he says as he spots me walking out of the closet. “How about after I take a shower and we have lunch we take Mav over to that park on 9th? Let her watch all the wildlife.”

“Yea, that sounds good,” I answer with a smile. “Do you need help getting those hard to reach areas?”

“Fuck yea! Is she asleep?”

I nod and follow Dean into the bathroom, where we quickly strip and step into the shower stall. Dean immediately steps under the stream, grabbing the soap and lathering it up to wash his hair.

After a couple of minutes he rinses by running his hands up over his face and hair and turns toward me. As sexy and lustful he is when he is dirty, Dean Winchester wet and naked is downright titillating! He is standing there, the water hitting his head and shoulders and rolling down his body.

“Like what you see?” he asks with a smirk when he catches me watching the water slide down his body.

“Duh.” I answer and he pulls me into his arms, hugging me close to his body and allowing the water to cascade over both of us. I can feel his cock grow against my hip. His head lowers until his lips meet mine and I instantly open for him.

The water runs frigid by the time we exit it and wrap ourselves in towels. Dean used to complain that shower sex was complicated but over time he and I have figured out the logistics of it and have used needing a shower as an excuse to get some quality alone time with one another. Especially when the Bunker was overrun by the people he and Sam had saved from the apocalypse world. 

Sam and Mary return three days later, with tales of how the ghost almost got the upperhand by jumping from location to location until they realized that the great-granddaughter of the woman was carrying around a broach that she was linked to. 

The next few weeks, it is quiet. No one calling for help with cases, the supernatural seems to be taking Dean’s lead and enjoying a vacation themselves. Life in the Bunker is mundane and normal. It is eerily comforting, not having to worry about where the next threat is going to come from and just being a normal-well as normal as the Winchesters could be-family.

But as with all things, the good times must end too. Dean is into his fifth week of his break when the call comes in. Donna Hanscum, sheriff in Stillwater, Minnesota calls early one morning, profusely apologizing for interrupting but in major urgency for some help. After both Sam and Dean speak to her on the phone, you find Dean in your bedroom packing a duffel. 

“So,” I begin as I sit on the edge of the bed. “Guess vacation is over huh?”

“Yea, sounds like Donna has sometthing on her hands,” he explains as he rolls up the dress shirt to his suit and places it in the bag. “Are you okay with this? I know you weren’t feeling the best this morning.”

I look up at him, confused. “I heard you in the bathroom. Sounded like you were hacking up a lung. I can send Mom and Sam if you think I need to stay back and take care of you; if you’re coming down with something.”

“No I’m fine,” I assure him. “It’s probably just something I ate or maybe too many whiskeys. I think you were trying to get me wasted last night so you could take advantage.” I finish, smiling up at him. 

“Nah, I don’t need you wasted to do that,” he jokes and he cups my cheek in his palm. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Dean, I’ll be fine. We’ll be fine. It was just an upset stomach. I am allowed to not feel well all the time you know?” I tell him, laughing at his mother hen tendencies that he denies.

He goes back to packing and within an hour, the three oldest Winchesters pull out of the garage in Baby, headed to Minnesota. Adam stands beside me while we wave them off. 

“Why didn’t you go?” I ask as the Impala disappears. 

“Dean asked me to stay back and keep an eye on you. Said you weren’t feeling well,” Adam says. “Are you alright?”

“God, that man! Yes, Adam I am fine. Got a little drunk last night and it didn’t settle on my stomach well so I woke up nauseous.”

I stalk back toward the entrance of our home, leaving him standing there.

I am not about to tell my brother-in-law or anyone else that this has been going on for almost a week; waking up nauseated and rushing to the bathroom to puke up whatever is in my system. There could only be one reason for that and I do not want to even consider it.

As I’m going to bed that night, my phone vibrates and lights up on the nightstand. It’s a text from Dean.

D: Hey babe. We made it. Got to catch up with Donna and introduce her to Mom. This case has really taken a toll on her though. 

Y/N: Hey. I’m glad you got there in one piece. I had no doubt you would. What does your mom think of our lovely sheriff friend? Her and Donna hit it off? And why do you think that?

D: That’s because I’m an awesome driver. :) Mom is like Sammy and me. Even though she just met the woman, she says Donna is acting strange.

Y/N: Really? Strange how? I mean Donna is kind of strange anyway. So it’s more than usual?

D: Like she was surprised when we walked into the station. I mean she covered it well, but I saw a brief look of shock. I don’t know maybe it’s just been too long and I can’t get a good read on her. 

D: So what are you wearing?

The next morning I am met with the same queasiness that has been tormenting all week. Before I could even tend to Mavelin, I was bent over the toilet puking my guts up until I was dry heaving. Knowing that what I have been worried about is more than likely happening, I decide to find out for sure during Mav’s morning nap.

I brush my teeth and rinse my face off before heading toward her room. When I get to the door, I hear Adam talking to her. I push the door open to see my brother-in-law with my daughter on the changing table and he was changing her diaper.

“Who’s a good girl? You’re a good girl. Just like your Mother.” 

Mavelin coos and Adam laughs. “Yea your mom likes being called a good girl too.”

I finally make my presence known by walking into the room and standing beside him, pretending not to have heard what he said.

“Good morning, sweet face,” I sing to Mavelin. “Is uncle Adam changing you? Yea, then you’re almost ready for breakfast aren’t you.”

I turn and head toward the rocking chair. Once I am seated I pull the flap of the nursing bra down and reach for Adam to hand her to me.

He turns with her in his arms and stops in his tracks.

“Uh….”

“Oh come on Adam. It’s a boob,” I tell him as I take the baby from him. “It’s not like you haven’t seen them before.”

I help Mavelin latch on and look back up to see that my brother-in-law has left the room. I shrug it off and continue feeding her.

That afternoon while Mavelin is finally down for a nap-she fought her morning siesta- I head to the bathroom where I know the extra pregnancy test is.

The wait for the timer on my phone to go off seems excruciatingly lengthy. When the buzzer finally rings, I take a breath and turn the stick over. Two blue lines. I’m pregnant again! There is a human growing inside me and I am not 100% sure who the father is.

My heart is pounding in my chest as I get rid of the evidence and walk out of the bathroom. So many emotions are running through me; so many thoughts in my head. Mavelin is only 4 months old and is already going to be a big sister. I always knew I wanted more kids, Dean and I had discussed that when I was pregnant with her and he was on board to have one or two more. 

But now that it’s actually happening, I can’t be happy; I can’t be excited to be adding another member to our family. Because it might not even be his.

I sit on the end of our bed and contemplate everything. How will I tell him? Do I tell him? Do I just pretend that there is no other possibility that he isn’t the father? That would destroy him, destroy us. 

I stand and take a breath before I head out into the hallway and into the kitchen.

Adam is sitting at the table, reading a lore book.

“Adam,” I say to get his attention. “Can we talk?”

A/N2: Did you really think this story was going to be over? SIKE! Ha! Watch for an announcement on Tumblr today at 3PM EDT. <wink wink>

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