#but lets be real id cry if they cancelled it

[kitconnor]

cb its mid august, literally almost six months to the DAY shadow and bone s2 was released and STILL no clear yes or no to the spin-off or a s3 like that's just criminal 😭

[the-record]

ICU

SUMMARY: ellies lost her keys…again… luckily dina’s pretty friend has an empty bed

PAIRING: ellie williams x reader

WARNINGS: none?

A/N: i missed these and yall!! not fully back but i miss writing also if u see stranger things content don’t be alarmed! still v much in love with ellie and abs

‘ I FEEL SOMETHING WHEN I SEE YOU NOW ‘

elliewilliams

elliewilliams LET ME INNNNNNNN. JOEL PLEASE LET ME INNNNNNNN

tagged: joelmmm

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dina_nolastname BAAHHAHA IMAGIWN 

   elliewilliams i HATE you CRY URSELF TO SLEEP

joelmmm 💤💤💤

   elliewilliams JOEL PLEASE UTS COLD

   elliewilliams IM TIRED AND IM VERY SORRY 

   elliewilliams JOELLLLLLLLLLLLLLL

jessesucks go to tommy and marias stupid

   elliewilliams why didnt i think of that? oh wait I DID ITS 2 AM AND THEY HAVE A BABY STUPJD HOW DID YOU EVEN GRADUATE??!!?!?!

yourusername did u lose ur key again

   elliewilliams …no… also HOW DO U KNOW AB THAT?!?!

      yourusername dina talks a LOT when shes drunk

angel: ellie come to mine

ellie: huh?

a: ur locked out, im not, my beds made, urs probably isnt, come over.

e: u barely know me?!?!?

a: dina trusts u idc, come over rn or ill pick u up.

e: send me ur address.

“this was really nice of you.” ellies voice breaks the silence as make room for her beside you. you wave your hand, no worries, but she insists. “no seriously, you could’ve let me die. freeze. starve even.”

when you laugh she doesn’t think she’s ever heard a better sound. “ellie i don’t think any of those things would’ve happened.” you smile and lean on an elbow to look at her. “and i really don’t mind, gets lonely anyways. need a loser dork to fill the silence.” you tease.

she gasps in faux hurt, tracing an imaginary tear down her face.

elliewilliams

elliewilliams an ANGEL yall. $10,000,000 for her and her only.

tagged: yourinstagram

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yourusername bye i let you stay over a night 😭 i didnt cure cancer

   elliewilliams ur right. $100,000,000 mb

dina_nolastname *sighs*

   elliewilliams i hate you.

joelmmm yourusername I am so sorry Ellie intruded, I’ll pay you for your time and kindness. 

   yourusername 😭😭 damn

      elliewilliams ignore him, he drinks

         yourusername its 8 am.

jessesucks oh you will NEVER live this down.

   elliewilliams blocked.

a_anderson you are an embarrassment to society!

   elliewilliams i hate all of u.

e: hey!

a: real chipper today huh

e: didn’t lose my key all week so yes very

e: i have a question tho

a: lmao im gonna steal ur key from u, whats up?

e: do u wanna go to a concert this weekend??

e: i bought the tickets for dina and i but she cancelled last minute and jesse cant go

e: its like 2 hours away on saturday 

e: also do NOT touch my key please i m begging

a: yea actually id love too :)

a: text me the details

e: great

e: okay yea ofc

elliewilliams 

elliewilliams so…

tagged: yourusername 

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dina_nolastname MRS STEAL UR GIRL 

   elliewilliams SHE WAS NEVER URS!!!

jessesucks GASPING when did this development occur.

   elliewilliams 🤓☝️

      jessesucks BREAK UP

yourusername girl on the left is sooo fine

   elliewilliams crazy, im more into the one on the right

   dina_nolastname yall r EMBARRASSING 

joelmmm yourinstagram Come for dinner tomorrow! Would love to meet Ellie’s pick of the month. 🩷

   yourinstagram GOODBYEEE

   elliewilliams JOEL?!?!??!!!??!

yourusername

yourusername in an interesting turn of events…

tagged: elliewilliams

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jessesucks GAG

   yourusername this is why dina dumped you! 💋

      dina_nolastname BYEEE true tho

elliewilliams bruh we are so cute

   yourusername okay “bruh”

      elliewilliams WIAT OM SORRY

dina_nolastname mrs. stolen girl 💔💔

   yourusername im always urs bae 

a_anderson wheres MY cute gf damn.

   yourusername I KNOW SOMEONE WHOO LIIIIIIKES YOU!!

      a_anderson SPILL. 

   elliewilliams go away! 💋

a: hey

e: hi

a: come over?

a: please?

e: are you okay??

a: just please come over.

e: im omw right now

e: be there in 10

e: unlock the front door

a knock on your door wakes you from the light sleep you’d been in. a small ‘come in’ has ellie gently opening the door and walking softly towards your bed. her hands brush hair from your face, a kind smile on her face. something you can’t pinpoint in her eyes.

“you doing okay babe?” her voice is just above a whisper, though no one else would be home to hear it otherwise. “tired?”

you hum an answer out and reach for one of her hands, fiddling with her rings and avoiding her eyes. “can you turn off the light and sit with me?” she smiles and nods, savoring one more second before standing and taking off her jacket while walking to the switch.

its still light out, the evening sun beginning to set but still lighting up enough of your room. as she’s getting in beside you, she notices what you’re wearing. “nice shirt,” ellie says with a snort.

its one of hers, you stole it a few weeks ago with no intention of giving it back. her heart grows as a small smile graces your features. “there she is.” you flush and turn away. she coos teasingly while getting comfortable behind you.

when you do turn, shes the perfect pillow. her fingers trace your features as your eyes shutter closed.

e: hi love, you wanna do something today?

a: you have something in mind?

e: thought we could go bowling 

e: that new bowling place just opened downtown, looks cute

a: kinda tired. do something at home?

e: alreadyomw with snacks for u

a: youre the best.

a: i miss you.

e: i miss you too. you doing okay?

a: are you at work

a: im tired

e: i get off in 30 

e: come over to mine, joel will let you in

a: okay

elliewilliams 

elliewilliams bbg needs a NAP theyre grouchy

tagged: yourusername 

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yourusername i know where you live.

   elliewilliams LOVE YA!

joelmmm Photo creds.

   elliewilliams sighs.

dina_nolastname angel ALWAYS needs nap bro gets really grumpy

   yourusername I ALSO KNOW WHERE YOU LIVE

      dina_nolastname see? grumpy.

jessesucks we’ve all seen the pictures she looks absolutely BEAUTIFUL, uhm… and he’s there… (ellie is he)

   dina_nolastname (ellie is he) BYE

   yourusername HEY JESSIE WOAHHH FEELS LIKE A PARTY EVERYDAY

   elliewilliams remember when dina dumped u?

a: can we go to the aquarium 

e: you feel up to it?

a: no obviously i asked because i don’t 

e: OKAY SORRY DAMN

e: god just being a supportive girlfriend and this is what i get. 

a: GOODBYE I DONT WANNA GO ANYMORE

e: no im sorry im sorry im sorry i wanna go

a: YAY

a: pick me up in 30 pls

e: of course love 

e: im glad you’re feeling better

e: very excited rn

yourusername

yourusername finally left the house after 72628748829 years 

tagged: elliewilliams

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elliewilliams @ the guy who took this for us ur so real

   yourusername YEA!!!!!!

dina_nolastname yall r so cute CRY

   yourusername u want me fr

jessesucks ICK

   dina_nolastname this is why i dumped u

elliewilliams 

elliewilliams a moment for the gf!

tagged: yourusername

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yourusername OF ALL THE THINGS YOU POST THIS?!?!? THIS?!!!!!!!?

   elliewilliams but u look so pretty

      yourusername CHOKE ily

         elliewilliams I love YOU

dina_nolastname my wife is so gorg

   elliewilliams back off?

      yourusername LADIES LADIES theres enough of me to go around

jessesucks cute ig

joelmmm You found a good one babygirl! 

   elliewilliams DAMN RIGHT I DID

e: hey i love you

a: i love you too

a: u lose ur key again?

e: …

a: ffs come over good god

e: already here!

a: R U IN MY KITCHEN??!

e: ur mom says hi

e: be up in a sec!! snacks!

[2econd2ight2aver]

Are Gojo and Geto gay?

Well it's complicated. Let's set some things straight, neither of them have been confirmed nor denied anything, and a romantic relationship is not expicitely stated, as their relationship is different according to each person interpretation of their interactions.

That said, it's completely fine if you watched the show and thought of them as completely straight and platonic besties. But we can theorize and speculate for fun!

Spoilers for Jujutsu Kaisen

Firstly, I'd like to mention the fact that they both died in the same day. December 24th. That in it of its self isn't romantic, it's just showing us their connection. But in Japanese culture, Christmas eve is considered to be one if the most romantic days of the year. It's kinda like a Japanese Valentines day, where people celebrate love by eating KFC together.

No, I'm not kidding. KFC is seen as a Christmas tradition in Japan, and also a love symbol. And where did our little guys have their little break up infront of? A KFC.

I can't find the real picture so this all you get.

It surely wasn't just a design coincidence, since it was both in the manga and the anime. Gege must've put that intentionally, and I must admit it's funny as fuck.

Also, that scene in Jujutsu Kaisen where GoJo gives Yuuta (fuck that bitch cunt whore I hope he dies thatt little emo fucker killed my fuckung husband because he promises to fuck his monster girlfriend later, fuck him and 60 family generations) his lost ID that Geto found. And Yuuta (the sheer audacity of this man to exist makes me want to forcefeed him fentanyl and chop his balls off) thanks him, to where Gojo responds "I didn't find it, my best friend did. No, my only friend."

I found that weird because why did he call Geto his only friend when Shoko also was his friend? Maybe they had a deeper connection neither of them wanted to admit?

My bitch ass in that scene:

When talking about Gojo and Geto relationship you have to mention that even if Gege wanted to make them gay he couldn't since Japan, ironically is a homophobic country. Many people get canceled for making characters gay and many shows don't get aired in Japan because of the homosexual characters. And imagine what would happen if Gojo, arguably the most recognizable anime and manga character in all modern media was made out to be gay. The reaction that would have.

Gojo also stated in his death that the only regret he had is that Geto wasn't there to give him a pat in the back. (I'm not crying, you are)

The opening of the hidden inventory arc which is Geto and gojo when they were younger has a certain song which if you read the lyrics can actually tell you a lot about their relationship.

The song is Where our blue is:

If you read into the lyrics you'll relative it's mad from the perspective of Satoru talking about Suguru. I will now put some translated lyrics:

There's nothing to block the front of my eyes.

Your silence... it becomes...inaudible

Even if these days fade away

Even if I've come to know your scent,

different from mine,

In the depths of eternity, left behind.

It's like a quiet love in the summer,

Like colours running down my cheeks.

The words that curse you are stuck in the back of my thoat,

Will we meet again?

A voice that cannot be heard.

We were supposed to share everything

But since that day, little by little

The curse of me being different than you grows

The sorrow behind your smile,

Regretting from what I had overlooked.

To you, who blooms and scatters

Like transient flowers,

Goodbye.

Okay, I don't know about you but I personally don't refer to my platonic bestie as a "quiet love in the summer" or "transient flowers".

Also, I wonder that if the lyrics that said :"The words that curse you are in the back of my throat. Will we meet again? A voice that cannot be heard" Refers to when Getos death, Gojo said something we as the audience cannot hear, a voice that cannot be heard and Geto responds to that "Now in my death the least that you could do was swear me with some curses" the words that curse you are on the back of my throat.

Now, I could talk about the airport scene but I would start hysterically crying so not today. But they did meet again. In death. Someone kill me I cannot do this today

So, in conclusion, It depends on your interpretation, but you if want the answer to the question I'll respond that Gege wanted them to be gay but since he can't do that due to the Japanese culture, so he just heavily hinted at that.

[mattsdae]

help wanted pt 3

read part 1 and part 2 and part 4

content warnings: joe young x masc reader , hurt/comfort , joe’s congregation finds out about his little side gig , lots of fluff , reader actually being nice to joe , but also gets called out , makeout session lol , cumming in pants , situational humiliation but /neg , joe has a weird surge of dominance

word count: ~4.1 k

synopsis: joe gets bad news and goes to reader for comfort

a/n: this is set some time in the late 90’s/early 00’s. once again, i never watched the movie so idk when it actually takes place but i get the vibe.

“joe said he can’t come in, so i guess the whole shoot is cancelled.” dave’s voice crackled over the phone line as you huffed. it was 8 am, only a couple of hours before you were supposed to head in to film. you thought for a moment, still trying to wake up. he was clearly upset, probably being told they wouldn’t be paid if nothing was released. it was a common threat, but it never got to that point before.

“do you know why he cancelled? that doesn’t seem like him.” everyone on the shoot knew how reliable he was. he’s never called out on a shoot before or showed up late. even though he was only a pornstar, he still had a solid work ethic. you and everyone else on the team trusted him more than any other pornstar in the past.

“he said there was some personal shit he had to deal with. he sounded real upset, so i just let him go handle it.” you nod.

“okay. i guess just let me know when our next shoot is. i’ll try to check up on him later, just to make sure he’s okay.” dave laughs.

“if y’all are queers, just say it.” you scoff.

“dude, chill. you know joe’s mormon, he’d probably have a heart attack if he knew what we were doing was gay.”

“he doesn’t know already? didn’t he cum on you?” you flushed.

“look, just let me handle it? okay? he’s really sensitive and i don’t need you running around talking about how much of a fag he is.” you rubbed your temple, frustration clear in your voice.

“i’m not calling him a fag, i’m calling him a queer. there’s a big difference.” you rolled your eyes and laid back down in your bed.

“i’m going back to sleep. call me if you need me,” you said and hung up. just as you were curling back up in your sheets, you phone rang again. without looking at the caller id, you answered with a groan. “what?”

you heard crying along with what you assumed were words. you looked at the number and recognized joe’s. he kept crying while trying to blubber out explainations.

“hold on, joe. calm down. take a deep breath,” you tried to comfort but he kept crying. he kept babbling, too upset to form proper words. you quietly hushed him, a small shh until he stopped talking. “take a deep breath. try to follow me.”

you took a breath, counting to four as you breathed in, held it and breathed out. even though he gasped and sobbed throughout, he was at least trying to listen. you repeated until his breaths were relatively even.

“are you okay? can you try to talk slow for me?” you asked but he almost instantly started sobbing again.

“they- they know! they saw my videos and, and they kicked me out!” he wailed.

“who? what did they kick you out of?”

“my church!” he let out a long cry, sniffling and gasping as he did so. you didn’t know how to respond. you weren’t exactly expecting a phone call from joe at 8 am about being ex-communicated from mormonism. you swallowed.

“shh, shh.. it’s okay. just breathe, that’s all you gotta do. just breathe..” he still cried, but was no longer wailing. “good, in and out. everything’s gonna be okay, joey. just breathe.”

“i’m sorry, i know you sleep in but- but i don’t have anyone else..” your heart ached as he said it.

“it’s okay, baby. where are you? you’re safe, right?” he sniffles.

“i’m in my car.. i had to pull over ‘cause i couldn’t see too well.” you cooed.

“i’m so sorry, sweetheart. is everything okay?” he hums.

“as good as i can be. i’m sorry, y/n. i shouldn’t have bothered you..”

“don’t apologize. what do you need?” he whimpered.

“can i come over? i-it’s fine if i can’t,” he started to ramble. he tried to cover up the fact that he needed you, making sure that you knew he didn’t need to come over, but the truth was obvious.

“yeah, you can come over.”

joe was knocking on your door within 15 minutes, which interrupted your frenzied cleaning as you picked up whatever trash you had laying around. it wasn’t perfect, but definitely presentable. you opened the door.

“hey-“ he cut you off, pulling you into a tight hug. he squeezed, arms wrapped around your waist and forcing your hands in the air as you avoided them getting pinned to your sides. it almost hurt how tight he held you, his strength hidden well by the costumes and the uniform he always wore.

“i’m sorry,” he mumbled. his face was buried in your chest, unable to bring himself to move away. slowly, your arms wrapped around him as well, a hand finding it’s way to the back of his neck, fingers becoming intertwined in his hair.

“you don’t need to apologize.” he nods. you toy with his hair, waiting for him to make the decision to pull away. after a while, it felt like he never would, too enamored by your embrace. “do you want to tell me what happened?”

“they.. they found out about my job.” he sniffled. you sighed. for some reason, you never really questioned how he did porn as a career. you knew he was religious and most likely used different stunt devices to avoid showing himself off, but you forgot to question how he went to church the next day, knowing he was going against one of the biggest laws of his religion.

“oh, baby..” you held him closer as you heard him sob, parts of your shirt starting to feel wet against your chest. his grip tightened. his hands gripped onto your shirt, forming fists as he cried. you looked up, blinking away tears of your own. you weren’t a cryer, but hearing him made it difficult not to. “let’s sit down, okay? i’ll put something on, how does that sound?”

he nods, slowly letting you go. you led him, hand on his back, towards the couch. he sat and looked up at you with big, teary eyes. you pouted, holding his cheek for a moment and wiping the excess off. he shut his eyes, leaning into the touch. he really is gorgeous, even with flushed cheeks and red eyes. you understood why he held you for so long, now wanting to stay in this position forever, just as he did.

“what do you want to watch?” you pulled your hand away, sitting next to him. he looked down.

“i never really watched tv before.” you looked at him, trying to read his face and see if he was joking.

“you’ve never watched tv?”

“i have! but not that often. i used to watch service on the tv when i was sick and i couldn’t go in. that counts, right?” your jaw dropped, a grin spreading as you quickly flipped through channels.

“dude, you really never watched cable? that’s fuckin’ crazy!” you laugh. he shrinked a little in his seat, taking your attention away from the tv guide. “it’s fine, man. i’m messing with you. i’m about to show you some of my favorite shows, if i can find them.”

you wrapped your arm around him, ruffling his hair with a smile until he returned it. you pulled away again. you glanced over at him, seeing how politely he sat. his back was straight and hands were placed directly over his legs.

“dude, relax. kick your feet up or something.” he watched as you rested your feet on the coffee table. he looked shocked.

“on the furniture?” you nod. he leans down, taking off his shoes and placing them underneath the table neatly before awkwardly kicking his feet up. you wiggled, digging yourself deeper into the couch.

“just lean back and relax. do you want something to eat?“ he shook his head, trying to copy your movement and get more comfortable. “i can’t find anything good. it’s too early for all the actually entertaining shit..”

“oh, what about tom and jerry! i’ve watched that before!” he pointed at the tv. you almost shot down the idea, before deciding against it. he was already upset enough, why not let him watch whatever he wanted?

“uhh, sure.” you clicked on it. he pulled his feet away from the table, instead pulling his knees to his chest and watching the screen with his head resting on top of them. he smiled as it instantly opened to tom chasing jerry down the hallway before getting hit by a frying pan. he giggled.

“why are you staring at me?” he looked over. you didn’t even realize you were staring until he said it. he was still smiling at you. your face reddened.

“oh, i was just making sure you’re.. okay.” you excused, leaning back and focusing on the tv. he nodded. you stretched your arms across the top of the couch, now feeling anxious about having him in your house. you almost felt paranoid about leaving something out. you didn’t clean out the fridge, so that probably looks bad. you also forgot to put your laundry in the hamper. actually, you forgot to do a lot of stuff. you should have cleaned the bathroom at least, maybe even mop-

“do you have any movie recommendations?” he pulled you out of your racing thoughts. his arms wrapped around his knees, bottom half of his face covered by his bicep. “i never watched any movies before. maybe i should start now since i’m not.. mormon anymore.”

“uhh, yeah, man. i have some tapes we can watch. or we can go by blockbuster and you can pick some stuff out. my treat,” you smiled. his eyes lit up.

“really?! i always wanted to go there!” within 10 minutes, you were driving him to the nearest blockbuster in the same attire you slept in, only with socks and slides added to your outfit. he was buzzing, a big smile on his face as you parked. “have you been here before?”

“yeah, dude. i used to work here, actually.” he smiled even harder.

“really? i used to always wonder what it was like to work outside of the church.” he mumbled as you both stepped out of the car. you stuck your hands in your hoodie pockets, glancing over at joe as he basically skipped to the door. you smiled.

he was cute, you admit. he was sweet and so innocent you could barely wrap your head around it. the idea of someone like that actually existing made you hurt, especially since he trusted you of all people. you sighed as you opened the door.

“aw shit, get out! get out!” the manager yelled. joe paused, staring in genuine fear as you laughed. you patted his back.

“he’s fucking with us, dude. that’s anthony.” you pointed towards him as he held out his hand to shake joe’s. he awkwardly held his out as well before anthony took the initiative to grab it and shake.

“anthony. what’s your name?” he asked before glancing down and noticing his name tag. elder young. “damn it, y/n. you dragged a mormon in here?”

joe quickly unclipped his nametag and stuffed it in his pocket.

“ex mormon. now that he’s ex-communicated, we thought to do some things he wasn’t allowed to do.”

“oh, i’m sorry about that, man.” joe nodded, still looking away. “we have most of the classics in stock, short of pulp fiction. some guy came in here with his girl talking about how it’s the greatest piece of fiction ever created.”

“what a douche,” you laughed. joe glanced at you and you tilted your head towards the shelves. “go look around. just grab whatever you think looks cool while i catch up.”

he nods, disappearing behind a random shelf that he clearly wouldn’t be interested in. you watched as his eyes darted around the store, trying to find a genre that caught his eye. he was clearly overwhelmed by the volume of movies.

“how’s that.. ‘filming gig’ going?” anthony spoke up, using air quotes as he scanned returns and put them in a box. you shrugged.

“it’s going pretty okay. that’s actually how i met him.” you nodded towards joe as he grabbed ring and jumped when he turned the boxset and saw the girl crawling out of the well. you chuckled. “i’m making good enough money to get by. i was supposed to be filming today but something came up.”

“oh yeah? so you decided to go out on a little date with an ex mormon.” he emphasized the ‘ex’ like you did before. you rolled your eyes.

“it’s not a date, dumbass. we’re just friends.” this time, he rolled his eyes.

“i’m the dumbass? you’re the one walking in here with heart eyes for the dude. plus, you met on a porn set.” he whispered the last part. he glanced at joe, who wondered his way to the 18+ section before quickly departing. “was he an actor or did he pull up on set trying to sell the whole jesus thing to you.”

“shut up. look, i just helped him out with figuring out what certain words mean.“

“did you demonstrate or-“

“fuck off.” you turned away as he laughed. he put the final tape down and leaned forward on the counter.

“he seems like a sweet kid. you aren’t.. taking advantage of him, are you?” you turned to him, shocked by his bluntness. “i just wanna make sure. i know you aren’t a bad guy, but i gotta look out for people. if i thought someone was taking advantage of you, i’d say something.”

“i’m not taking advantage of shit. he asked for help, he gave him help, end of story.” you sat by the counter for another couple of seconds, waiting for his comeback.

“i’m guessing he was ex-communicated because he’s gay?” you tensed up a bit, looking away.

“no. he doesn’t know that..” anthony furrowed his eyebrows, looking you up and down.

“you had sex, how doesn’t he-“ you shushed him.

“we didn’t have sex. i just.. told him i was just helping him out. i don’t want him to freak out about being gay. he already called me crying over being kicked out of his church, i don’t need to make him more upset.”

“so you’re lying to him?” you paused.

“what?”

“you’re lying to him so he doesn’t know that what your doing is gay.”

“i’m not.. i didn’t lie. i’m just protecting him.” anthony held up his hands, turning away.

“whatever you say, man. he’s gonna figure it out at some point, though.” you scoffed.

“whatever.” you went towards where he was, seeing he was stood in front of the kids movies. he already had a couple in his arms, including the lion king, a tom and jerry movie you didn’t know existed, and mighty joe young. “you picked that because it has your name, right?”

“what?” you pointed at the vhs and he blushed. “oh, um. y-yeah.”

“that’s cute.” you didn’t even realize you said it out loud until anthony laughed in the back. you poked your head from between the shelves and glared. he mouthed ‘just friends’ as you went back to joe.

an hour later, you were sat on your couch with joe watching titanic. turns out, he never heard of the titanic so after a brief history lesson, you started the movie. joe watched intently while you mostly spaced out. you’ve seen the movie a couple of times, but never found it super interesting. he liked the cover, though, so you rented it.

“we should do that.” he pointed at the screen, pulling you out of whatever thought you were having. you looked. jack and rose kissing at the front of the boat. you turned a little red, trying to figure out if he was joking. obviously, he wasn’t.

“what? they’re just kissing.” you shrugged off the comment as if you weren’t flushed. he pouted.

“i’ve never kissed anyone before. is it nice?” he looked at you, genuinely curious. you nodded.

“yeah, kinda. if you like the person, it’s nice.”

“why would you kiss someone you don’t like?” he questioned. you flushed, looking away and watching the screen.

“i mean, i don’t like every girl i sleep with. it’s weird to kiss someone during a one night stand anyways; it’s too intimate. i mean, i don’t even like kissing that much.” now, he flushed.

“why would you.. sleep with someone if you don’t want to be intimate?” you shrugged again, starting to feel defensive.

“sometimes you’re just horny and you have to go out and find someone to sleep with. it’s common.” he stopped asking questions after that, most likely realizing that you didn’t have good answers anyways.

it was quiet for the rest of the movie, leaving you to marinate in your embarassment. he didn’t mean to, but he made you feel horrible. maybe it was a mix of what anthony said earlier along with his questioning that made you feel this sleazy.

the movie ended and you went to rewind the tape before putting it back in the case. he didn’t say anything, not even about the movie. as you clicked the case shut, you looked at him.

“do you really want to practice kissing with me?” you tilted your head. he thought for a moment before responding.

“do you want to?” you did, but him making you admit it made you feel even worse. holding back your ego, you nodded before sitting next to him again.

you felt your heart race as he shuffled a little closer. you patted your lap, inviting him to sit. he adjusted, lifting his leg to go over your lap and straddle you. he planted himself, now closer to you than ever, his nose just an inch from yours. you could feel him, the heat from his body radiating onto you as your heart beat quicker. you could smell him, too. a fresh scent that you weren’t familiar with. it was intoxicating. his eyes flicked between your features, focusing on your lips. he swallowed.

“what should i do?” he asked, voice cracking as it broke the threshold of being a whisper. his hands landed on your chest, kneading your shirt nervously. you wondered if he could feel your heart racing. you held his waist, glancing down at his lips as he chewed on it.

“kiss me.” and that he did. he closed the gap between you two, lips pressed against eachother, just as you started to kiss back, he pulled away with a quiet smack, only giving you a small peck. you chuckled, hand leaving his waist and to the back of his head, fingers pulling at his hair. “come on, baby. you can do more than that..”

he nods, closing the gap again. he was still gentle, nervous to do something wrong, but with you now guiding him, he felt more confident. you bit on his lip, making him moan against you. you could never get enough of his noises, instantly trying to find ways to hear more. he squirmed, hips moving in circles subconsciously. you joined him, moaning as he grinded against you.

he sucked your bottom lip in, hands moving from your chest to your face. he cupped your cheeks, holding you still as you licked. his mouth opened as he let go and you took the opportunity, tongue meeting his. he moaned again, hips bucking against yours. your right hand gripped his hips, guiding them back and forth while you played with his hair. both of you echoed eachothers noises, muffled by your lips. you pulled away.

“you’re good at this..” you huffed, weirdly out of breath for something as simple as making out. you looked at his lips, shimmering. when you looked back up into his eyes, you found he was watching you intently, pupils blown. you smiled.

“you like it?” he asked. you chuckled. you did like it and he should be able to feel how much you like it just as you felt him. either way, you nod, pulling him closer again. his eyes fluttered shut, lips just barely grazing eachother.

“i love it, sweetheart.” you couldn’t get enough. his hips rolled against yours and his hand moved back to your hair. you were throbbing in your pants, but you couldn’t imagine pulling away. his slacks were almost rough against your sweatpants, fabric constricting his thighs. you quickly unbuckled his belt. he pulled your hair, making you gasp.

“i just wanna kiss. is that okay?” your eyebrows furrowed, mouth hung open as you nodded. he kissed again, picking up exactly where you left off. your groin felt warm as you witnessed dominance in him. you would have felt proud if it weren’t trumped by pleasure. he toyed with your hair, making you whimper.

never in your entire life have you been this turned on by making out. it almost felt like a chore to you most of the time, but now you couldn’t get enough. you could feel him, through his uniform, the nametag in his pocket prodding. the feeling heated you. knowing he was ex-communicated, that he’s all yours, only made you want more. you needed to teach him everything. you needed him to know how to please you and only you. he let go of your hair and you grabbed his wrist.

“fuck, keep pulling it..” you whined. he nods, yanking it. you whimper, gripping his hip harder as he did it. you looked at him, seeing a look on his face you could only describe as corrupted. he wanted more, just like you did. he wanted to hear you and feel you, desperate for it. his eyes were darker than you’ve seen them, glancing over you as he thought of what to do next.

the gap closed. your hands ran up and down his body, sliding over the button up. you untucked it, fingers running over his bare skin now. he moaned, squeezing his fist and pulling again to hear you respond. you did, squeezing his side. his skin was soft, almost silky. you pawed and caressed him as he grinded down on you. it was addicting. the push and pull, constantly grasping at eachother for more.

his free hand retreated from your face, running down your chest. you groan as he begins palming you, experimenting with his touches as you writhed under him. it was overwhelming. you needed more but you couldn’t handle it. everything was warm and he was moaning against you. his fingers tugged at your hair with just the right pressure. you fucking loved it. you loved him.

you trembled, moaning into his mouth as he did the same. you throbbed, cumming in your pants. he kept moving, hips stuttering as he came at the same time. you both sounded pathetic, high pitched whines and moans as he grinded down. his thighs trembled, your hips bucking up into him.

he pulled away, panting. you buried your face in his neck, still rutting into him as you finished. your arms wrapped around him and you pulled him close, basking in his warmth. it took a while before the wetness in your underwear made itself more apparent and you realized what happened.

“shit, shit.. it’s okay.” you quickly adjusted him until he got off. he watched as you looked around, trying to find something to wipe off with. “fuck, it’s fine. let’s just.. let’s get cleaned up.”

“what’s wrong?” he asked as you rushed to your room. you grabbed a rag from the bathroom, wetting it, before you grabbed whatever underwear and pants were clean. “y/n, what’s wrong?”

“don’t be embarassed, baby.” you comforted, ignoring the fact that he wasn’t even embarassed. you kept mumbling comforting phrases as you cleaned him and yourself up. you dressed him, putting him in a pair of your underwear and pants.

“thank you.” he said slowly as you dressed yourself. you didn’t respond, instead grabbing up all the dirty clothes and throwing it in the wash, desperate to get rid of any evidence that anything happened.

don’t get it twisted, you weren’t embarrassed about making out, at least not that much, but you were utterly humiliated by cumming in your pants. you never thought it would happen. you almost struggled to cum when you were with girls, why would you cum prematurely with a guy?

you found your way back to the couch, sitting on the opposite end as you realized he put another movie in. this time, it was the lion king. you didn’t really watch, though. instead, you stared straight forward in shock. he turned to you.

“is everything okay?” you nod. he scoots a little closer, reaching his hand out and touching your thigh. you looked away, hiding your face in your palm. “i don’t know why you would be, but don’t be embarassed. i’m sure everyone’s done it before. i did it, too!”

you wanted to cry. he tried to comfort you the same way you did for him. his voice was so gentle, it hurt. you loved him. even though you tried to convince yourself you were confused and horny, it settled in. he was perfect and you loved him. he patted your leg and pulled away, settling on the opposite end as scar was introduced.

[bigmouthlass]

Title:  Make It Do (Or Do Without)

Series: Supernatural B-Sides

Author:  BJ

Fandom:  Supernatural

Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con

Rating:  Explicit

Pairing:  Dean Winchester/Claire Novak

Synopsis: What if Dean encountered a different Hunter during the S10 finale? Someone who wound up shoving him further along his downward spiral?

Tags:  Dean Winchester, Claire Novak, Castiel, Sam Winchester, Jody Mills, Mark of Cain, Hurt No Comfort, Hatefucking, Songfic

AN:  Song is "Pain To Me," by Deathline International off the album 'Arashi Syndrom. The final line of the second verse might as well be the Team Free Will motto, for better or worse. All recognizable intellectual properties are owned by their respective creators and holders of any copyrights or trademarks. This is a not-for-profit work of fan art and protected by Fair Use.

---

Pushing steel in my heart, Do you know what you're doing? I’m still breathing I don't know how, Only dreams are soothing. Desperate tears. Stirring my emotions. Fantasy meets reality-- wiping me. --- Claire held her breath as the bartender checked her “ID” but the gamble paid off-- the bartender was too slammed and too stressed to give it a good look and served Claire her vodka and Red Bull without a blink. She slipped him a ten and went back to the dark dance floor to writhe and grind with the rest of the meatsuits. She’d done her makeup heavy and her clothes were too small and worn to rags, leaving her all nice and vulnerable-looking. Chase me, she thought, easy pickings, I’m just a little baby . . .

Her prey bit in minutes. Something about Claire just screamed monster bait, she’d come to learn. Tonight’s specimen was tall and lanky, head-to-toe black with black nail polish and spikes through one eyebrow. Claire let him reel her in, let him breathe dirty nothings against her neck, let him pull her outside to the darkest shadows of the alley. Let him push her to her knees. Blow a monster? She’d done worse. Dignity was a luxury Claire had left behind a while ago. Make it do or do without, Grandma’s answer to everything. Parents gone, home cancelled, future erased-- make it do or do without.

She reached where she’d stashed her machete, and it wasn’t there. “Oh shit.”

“What’s the matter sugar?” her prey asked, caressing her face. “Wanna take this somewhere a little more private?”

A new voice, deep and ice-cold. “No.” Claire jumped to her feet as someone chopped and the vampire’s head rolled. Blood sprayed and covered Claire in fine splatters. The blade flashed and another head rolled. This one had long blonde hair like hers, it flowed like a comet’s tail.

A hard hand grabbed Claire’s arm and she almost fell as the owner dragged her from the scene. She twisted, crying out, “Let go of me!”

Instead she was yanked in an arc. Losing her balance, she fell and skinned her knees and palms.

“Get up.” Claire glared from her place on the ground, up into the angry face of -- of course -- Dean Winchester.

“What’re you doing here?” Claire hissed.

“Saving your stupid fucking life, again. Get up.”

Did the word fuck just pass those lips?

Shock made her obedient and she stumbled to her feet. Dean grabbed her by the triceps, that move-it-along pinch cops liked to use. Claire squeaked in pain. “Shit-- ow! You’re hurting me!”

Dean strode faster and pulled harder. “Thanks to that little show you put on inside every cop in the state’s going to be looking for you by morning. I should just let them arrest you. A nice hard bang in grownup jail,” he grunted as he opened a car door and shoved Claire inside, “might actually teach you something about consequences.”

“What the hell are you and where’s the real Dean?” Claire asked. It was supposed to sound like a joke. Instead it came out scared. Stone killer he might be but Clare would’ve bet anything he’d never--

“All me,” Dean said as he plopped behind the wheel, “just dead-bang out of patience with your bullshit, Novak. You wanna kill yourself put a pistol in your mouth and get it over with. I’ll burn the body and tell Jody you went down fighting instead of being stupid. Now shut up or I swear I’ll punch your lights out. I mean it.”

Claire sat up and opened her mouth to protest, until she got a good look at Dean as he started driving. She wiped her stinging palms on her leggings and glared out through the window. Tried to remember she was a tough cookie who could handle anything. Tried to remember this was just Dean and he’d never--

He wouldn’t--

He couldn’t--

That wasn’t--

She kept running into walls. --- You are pain to me. And I volunteer to stick my hand my heart my soul inside. You are pain to me. And I volunteer to stick my hand my heart my soul inside. --- Dean drove through night-black exurbs and shopping districts, the occasional streetlight making everything else look even darker. No radio, no small talk, no lectures on expired pop culture crap or condescending life advice. No updates on Castiel or complaining about his brother that way siblings did just to blow off steam. Just silence.

“Where’s Sam?” Claire asked, once.

“How the hell should I know?” Dean said.

“Wow, just-- I mean--”

“You’re not too bright are you? Which part of ‘shut up’ are you struggling with?”

Claire shrank in her seat, and hated herself for doing it.

Finally in the wee hours Dean pulled over at a basic fleabag motel with the sign half-out. “Come on. We’re gonna get a few hours rack time. Your gear’s in the trunk.” When Claire didn’t move, Dean leaned back into the car through the open driver’s door. The look of cold impatience in his eyes shone her unease into nice shiny fear. “Move it.”

The hell with her stuff. Claire opened the car door and sprinted for the road.

Dean tackled her and Claire went down hard. “I told you,” he grunted, “to behave.”

“Help!” Claire shrieked. “Help!”

Stars burst across her vision as Dean slapped her. She didn’t lose consciousness, not completely. Her face hurt too much for her to do anything but flop around as Dean got to his feet and hauled Claire up over his shoulder. He went inside the room and slung Claire on one of the beds like a rolled-up rug.

Without so much as a raised eyebrow Dean caught Claire’s wrist as she charged him with her pocketknife. He slammed her against the wall, her arm stretched up over her head. “Definitely didn’t get your brains from your father’s side,” he grunted.

“You don’t say shit about my father,” Claire hissed. “I knew it. You’re just a fucking monster.”

“Right. Monster,” Dean said, and he leaned into her harder. Claire fought for air as his weight squeezed her ribs. His knee came up between hers, pressing a thigh up between her legs. “The guy who killed your pimp,” Claire felt tears fall from her eyes as he dug into the crusted-over wound, “ and the john he was trying to sell you to is a monster.”

“Fuck you,” Claire spat. It wasn’t working, the rage wasn’t eating the fear. She was still scared. Backspace that, she was goddamned terrified. And Dean wasn’t moving. He looked like he was fine right where he was, studying her like he was thinking of eating her raw. “Randy cared about me, even--”

“Randy,” Dean snarled, “didn’t give a damn about you except for the money you could make him. The only reason he didn’t whore you out sooner is he had fresher meat. What was her name? Wendy?” Claire swallowed. “Yeah, I know about her. She turned a bad trick and turned up dead with her face burned off.”

“You LIE!” Claire cried.

“Look it up if you want. What’d Randy say about what happened? The funeral was closed-casket, am I right?” Claire ducked her head as a sob twisted in her chest. She’d done her best to forget Wendy like Randy had told her to, she’d believed him when he said baby sister died in an accident so bad it was better-- “You know what you were worth to him? To Randy? Five grand. That’s it. That’s,” Dean hummed like he was figuring something up and Claire would’ve sold her soul to put her knife in his neck, “about two weeks of hustling pool, a good night at the right poker game, maybe two stickups. He lowballed you sweetheart. Gave you away for cheap.”

With a vicious wrench, Dean twisted Claire’s knife out of her hand and flung it away. “Now. Go use the bathroom. You got two minutes.”

He wasn’t kidding. Two minutes to the second later he opened the bathroom door and stood there as Claire finished doing her business. “Get out you perv!” she shouted.

Instead, Dean took a step into the tiny bathroom and Claire cowered on the potty, her undies around her knees. His normally kind eyes were cold stone and studied her like she was dogshit on his shoe. “One more word out of that cocksucker mouth of yours, I will break your fucking jaw. One.”

How nice it would have been to think he was exaggerating. He wasn’t. So this was the thing actual monsters were scared of, Claire thought as Dean turned his back. She tried not to let her hands shake as she cleaned up and flushed.

“Your bag’s on the table. Get changed and go to bed.” Dean turned to let her by. “Leave the door open,” he added as Claire reached for the knob. “You voided your privacy privileges.”

Claire changed into a pair of shorts and an old T-shirt and did her absolute best not to hear Dean as he opened his pants and pissed for the record. She caught sight of something under a chair-- her knife. The tinkling noise stopped and Dean groaned as he zipped up. Heart in her throat Claire grabbed the knife, folded it closed, and tucked it in the waistband of her shorts.

She was just getting into bed when Dean came out of the bathroom wiping his hands on a towel. The bathroom light behind him made him into a block of shadow, and despite herself Claire cringed. She’d felt this kind of unsafe before, around men who wanted her worse than dead. Not around the Winchesters though. Not that way. “Get some sleep. We move out at dawn.” He snapped the bathroom light off.

Claire turned onto her side. She heard Dean unzip his bag, uncap a bottle. Liquid gurgled. Trying to move silent and subtle, she pulled her pocketknife out of her shorts. Behind her, she heard a belt buckle jingle and fabric whisper as Dean got undressed. Despite herself, her mouth went dry and her heart pounded. What if he . . . there were two beds, sure, and there was Castiel and Dean's fucked-up sort-of boyfriends thing with him . . . Claire's hand tightened on her knife. Let him come. She'd slice his balls off.

Before or after letting him fuck her?

Before, snarled her brain.

After, whined her pussy.

There had to be something seriously wrong with her, Claire thought, that she only felt . . . real when the hunt was on. It didn’t seem to matter which side of the arrow she was on-- hunter or meat. There just had to be blood in the air, and around Dean blood was always in the air.

Dean didn't touch her. He got into the other bed. Claire's ears pricked as he set his keys down on the nightstand. A chance then. She’d have to ditch the car fast, she knew there wasn’t much gas in it. Just get me to the nearest bus station, she said to herself, careful not to phrase it as a prayer, I can do the rest.

Okay then. Claire waited, knife in her hand and heart in her throat. It took a long time, before Dean’s breathing went deep and snorty. Claire flipped over to her side, facing the other bed. In the faint light coming in through the window she could just make out his face, eyes closed and jaw shadowed with a day or so of beard. He looked like normal Dean again, the guy who took her minigolfing and called her a genius. Claire had to touch the throbbing bruise on her face to remind herself otherwise.

Slow and silent, Claire turned the covers back. Dean didn’t move. She rolled out of bed and stood barefoot on the carpet. Her knife was heavy in her hand. Claire spent a long moment studying Dean’s chest, looking for that spot just to the side of the sternum. She knew from personal experience the blade was long enough. A hard plunge would spike his heart and kill him in seconds.

Claire switched the knife to her left hand and reached with her right. She bent her knees and set her weight, ready to spring for the door. Panting silently though her open mouth, she leaned. Just a little further.

Dean’s eyes popped open. His hand snapped around her wrist. Claire struck with her knife and Dean grunted as the blade cut into his arm. “That’s enough,” he growled. Claire cried out as Dean yanked her clear off the floor and across his bed. He pinned her flat on her face. Claire tried to fight him off but he was too big, too strong, too much. Just like Castiel had, he crushed her into nothing. “For Christ’s sake that is enough..”

“Let me go you bastard! Let me go!”

Dean grabbed her by the hair and pulled, arching her head up and baring her throat. The tip of her knife touched her just under the point of her jawbone and Claire froze.

“I said,” Dean said, soft and silky and Claire felt her empty bladder pulse, “that’s enough. Stupid or suicidal-- depends on the day doesn’t it? Or maybe,” Dean shifted to press fully against her back and all the things Claire had been trying not to think about in connection with this man burst across her mind at the feel of his body, hard and heavy and so much bigger, “you just can’t feel it unless it hurts. That why you hate it at Jody’s?”

“I don’t hate it at Jody’s,” Claire denied even though she did hate it, she hated everything about it, she hated it for being warm and safe and she hated Jody for trying so hard to wrap her in softness and she hated Alex for her sneering contempt and she hated the constant reminders that she didn't belong with decent people any more she hated hated hated--

“Course you do. No action there. Room’s too quiet, bed’s too big. I take you back you’ll just take off again.” Dean set the point of Claire’s knife against the tender spot just below her eye. “Maybe I should cut your face so you can see how goddamned stupid you are every time you look in the mirror. Or maybe,” the point dug upward just enough to prick the skin, “I’ll take one of your eyes. Can’t hunt with no depth perception.”

In mockery, Claire searched for her courage. “You wouldn’t. Castiel wouldn’t let you.”

“Cute. You still praying to him? Don’t bother. When I left him I warned him I’d kill him next time I saw him. Now where were we? Right,” he growled, “trying to get it through your,” Claire whimpered as he pulled at her hair for emphasis, “thick fucking head you got no business Hunting. Hamstrings? Slice off your thumbs?” Dean slid the knife’s tip down her ribs until it poked just under the last one. “You didn’t know that vampire had his girlfriends covering the outside. I’m the only reason you haven’t been turned. Fucker had a type. Pretty young blondes. Were you going to cut his head off before or after you blew him?”

A whimpering sob peeped out of Claire’s mouth.

“Answer me,” Dean growled as he yanked her hair hard enough to rip some out.

“Before,” Claire said.

“Bullshit. You’d’ve hid your machete in a different place. Suck his brains out then deliver the coup de grace."

“Speaking from experience?” Claire smarted off.

Snarling something Claire didn’t catch, Dean threw her knife across the room. From behind, his knees shoved between her legs, one by one. Six inches taller, at least eighty pounds heavier, and -- Claire could feel it even through layers of fabric -- an adult male body doing predictably adult male things. If she’d been scared before--

“Think you’re a big girl.” Dean’s free hand fastened to her tit and squeezed. His pointer finger curled around her nipple and his thumb gripped in a vicious pinch. Heat raced straight down between her legs. On their own her hips tilted back, her pussy seeking a touch that wasn’t there. “Big girl tries to get the upper hand by being a fucking pricktease.” Dean shifted and those parts Claire had been trying to forget Dean had slotted in between her butt cheeks. She sucked back a sob. How did he know exactly how to handle her? “Good thing Randy stuck to taking pictures of you in the shower and selling your dirty underwear. You wouldn’t last a fucking week working the streets. That baby doll face and that fuck-you attitude’s catnip to the kind of bastard that likes breaking little girls.”

“Like you?” Claire snapped before she could stop herself.

A dark chuckle made Dean’s body rumble. His hips swayed and he grunted as his erection ground into her through their sleep clothes. “I don’t break my toys. Not until I’m done with them.” Claire fought as Dean flipped her over and it didn’t make any difference. A hard pull at her neck and her T-shirt shredded down the front. Another hard yank and her shorts flew away in pieces. Clamping one of her thighs between his, Dean shoved his hand in between her legs. The last of Claire’s bravado broke and disappeared when he found her slick and wet. Grinning, he stuffed her cunt with his first two fingers and rubbed her clit with his palm. Claire gasped. Like that bitch at the group home suggested she tried to find a safe place in her mind to go, somewhere to hide while her body did what it was going to do--

“Ah, no you don’t,” Dean grunted. His free hand seized her jaw. “You’re gonna look me in the eye, while I make you come.” The hand fucking up into her pressed, twisted, and Claire moaned. She shut her eyes and Dean’s hand locked around her throat. “Open your eyes and look at me, or I’ll break your fucking neck.”

Claire opened her eyes and sobbed out another moan. Her traitor body arched in Dean’s grip and he grunted, pleased. She wasn’t trying to fight her way free and they both knew it. Pussy juice flowed from her like blood from a slit wrist. Claire’s chest heaved as she fought for air. Dean’s eyes were cool as he watched her break apart, changing the motion of his fingers inside her or the pressure of his hand on her pussy according to what he saw in her face. As he made her come harder and hotter than she’d ever come in her life.

Then he did it again.

And again.

It went on a long time, and it got very bad. Dean broke her to pieces before he even got around to getting rid of his clothes. His cock was big and hot and Claire could feel it tearing into her where she was softest. Dean feasted on her all over, leaving dark bruises and bloody toothprints everywhere on her fair skin. It hurt, worse than anything.

Then he made her beg for more.

Then he turned her loose and told her, “Your turn. Do your worst.”

Claire attacked, and Dean laughed as she dug the skin off his chest.

At one point Claire found herself riding Dean hard as she could, biting the blood out of his neck as he goaded her into biting deeper and tearing harder. Against him Claire’s strength was worthless and her rage was a joke. The edge of mockery never left his eyes. To break her and rebuild her into something his, Dean didn’t need a rack. He was the rack.

When he finally got bored, Dean kicked Claire out of his bed. Literally. Claire cried out as she hit the floor, naked and bleeding from everywhere. Dean’s come blobbed out of her cunt, trickled from her ass, coated her throat in slime. “Go wash yourself,” grunted the thing wearing the skin of someone who’d been kind to her once. “You’re fucking filthy.” --- Dreams are crushed abandon hope, I don't know what I'm doing. I'm still fighting I don't give in, This is where I'm going. The glass is shattered. The curtain is down. I keep on moving-- I always will. --- “Jesus Christ, what happened?” Jody demanded, examining Claire’s black eye.

“Hunt went bad,” Claire grunted, ears pricked for the sound of Dean’s car. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

That was pretty much the last thing she and Jody ever said to each other. In the daylight hours Claire walked the town, checking every sliver of shadow and jumping at every unexpected noise. At night she lay in Jody’s too-soft bed, her pussy burning with heat and her brain writhing with nightmares. It was like she was back in those horrible months recovering from letting Castiel possess her, but worse. She’d never fingered herself off to those memories, again and again. Never bit through her own skin as she fucked herself with whatever would fit. Never collapsed against the sheets, overloaded and unsated.

“You need to tell us where he is,” Sam said. Jody reached for Claire’s hand. Claire suffered the touch for a few minutes before she pulled away. “Dean is not himself right now and he’s dangerous.”

“No fuck Freddo,” Claire scoffed.

“Claire!” Jody gasped.

“You’ve seen him.” It wasn’t a question. “What happened?” Castiel asked, staring at her in that inhuman way he had.

“I don’t know where he is, okay?” Claire said. Her vision was tunneling and her chest felt heavy and achy. Her legs shook as she stumbled up from the table. “End of story.”

Castiel grabbed her arm with her father’s hand. “That is not--"

Claire swung and popped him in the mouth. It was like hitting a rock. “Let GO!” Claire screamed.

“Claire what the hell--” Sam? Jody? Claire didn’t know, couldn’t care. Her arm bruised in Castiel’s grip as she tore free. The next thing she remembered was sitting on the floor with her head on her knees as people who couldn’t reach where she was talked around her like she was diseased or something.

--not sleeping and she’s self-harming--

--he wouldn’t--

--eighteen people--

--she’s been acting like--

--he’s in thrall to the mark--

--i’m not listening to this--

--he’s capable of anything now--

Anything, yeah. Claire’s body burned with the memory of anything. First touch she’s been able to really feel in forever. Jody and Alex couldn’t reach her. Dean could.

When you get sick of being a civilian again, meet me at these coordinates. He’d made her recite them, over and over.

When she slipped away for good she took nothing but her angel sword. He met her in an abandoned barn. He fucked her there too, making Claire scream as she came pressed up against the cold steel of the car.

“You can run if you want to,” Dean told her as he left her phone and the ruins of her panties on the barn’s dirty floor. “I’ll find you. It’s you and me now, baby. You and me.” --- You are pain to me. And I volunteer to stick my hand my heart my soul inside. You are pain to me. And I volunteer to stick my hand my heart my soul inside. --- They lived on the move, a step ahead of the law and Heaven and Hell and Sam. Claire felt herself disappear into the job. She tried to get away from him a few times, chasing some longing for home and safety. Dean always found her. Her scar collection grew.

Miami, a pack of ghouls.

Little Egg Harbor, a coven of Siberian witches.

Fort Collins, a gang of shapeshifters.

Salt Lake City, the King of Hell as he begged and wept like a bitch, Dean grinning and thanking him for the Mark of Cain.

Sacramento, an oni.

Dearborn, a djinn.

The Colony, Castiel. Dean left the deathblow to Claire. The angel hadn’t begged. Just stared at her with eyes she saw every day in the mirror, full of pain before he burned out of her father’s corpse like the twist of energy he actually was. Dean built the pyre and stood with her as the body burned. Claire wept in his arms all night, and never cried again after.

City after city, case after case. Sam stayed a step behind, like the mud caked around the car’s fenders.

Finally, Claire sat behind Baby’s wheel as Dean and Sam had their final conversation inside some derelict house in some city somewhere. “He’ll live,” Dean grunted when he got back, motioning for Claire to slide over. He didn’t tell her to never mention Sam’s name again. He didn’t need to. --- You (how does it make you feel?) Are (how does it make you feel?) Pain to me. (how . . . does it feel?) --- Claire hasn’t thought of running away in a while. Where would she go? Dean keeps her fed, sheltered, gives her mission and purpose. Together they save people and kill monsters. So what if Dean doesn’t really respect or like her and uses her like a slut? He cares for her more than anyone has since an angel possessed her dad and crucified her life.

Claire does what she has to-- make it do or do without. ---

AN2: The scariest thing to me about Dean under the influence of the Mark of Cain was watching how he treated women. That degree of casual cruelty is fucking terrifying, and that's before we factor in Dean's physical power and vast experience in inflicting pain. Claire -- with her anger issues and her death wish and her brazen overconfidence -- is very lucky she didn't run into Dean before Dean hit the wall and summoned Death.

[ed-recovery-affirmations]

So I hope you don’t mind my rant 🪻

Basically Ive been fighting my undiagnosed issue for years. I dont feel valid enough to call it an ED. But basically I went through a very stressful time years ago leading me to severely restrict my intake and only eat one meal a day which obviously lead to weekly binges. I purged everyday for several months. Lost a significant amount of weight. When the stressor left I maintained my new lower weight . the behavior persisted for years albeit to a lesser extent.

I had come to a place where while self conscious i was somewhat healthy. I ate well and enjoyed cooking and baking. I had treats without worries. I loved dancing and actually had energy to exercise and adored it. I did struggle with a constant urge to exercise though. Id been purge free for an entire year and I have been binge free for a few years

April comes and the stress of that time throws me back into restriction. At first I tell myself its okay. I make an effort to harm reduce and I eat three meals a day. Even with taking vitamins and exercising and losing weight the so called healthy way I have stomach pains and bloating, Im exhausted.

It continues and worsens and I restrict lower and lower. Often skipping a meal or only having one. My fatigue is terrible, I struggle to sleep and my anxiety is out of control. My skin is dry. My stomach gets painfully full easily. I am emotional. I cry all the time. I have sharp chest pains and I am cold. I an constantly dizzy and it is hard to breath when I stand up.

I am barely underweight. But I want to feel better.

Ive already been to the doctor twice but was too afraid to come forward about the restriction. Im going to a cardiologist soon.

Here is the real issue. I lied on the mental helath screening bcs I was afraid of being committted into a psych ward and My pcp recommended therapy. I made an appt and then cancelled. Since my anxiety is now so bad i cant manage i call to reschedule and try it and give it an honest effort.

Just the thought of going made me so upset I began purging again half of me wants to hide my issue from my therapist or cancel and the other half wants to come forward and see about getting help. This is also encouraging me to lose more because i feel i have to be sicker in order to get a diagnosis or be deserving of help. Im also so afraid of being committed or going to inpatient. It is my biggest fear. What do I do ?

I don't mind your rant, anon. It sounds like you're dealing with something really difficult and I think you are indeed allowed to call it an eating disorder.

I can understand your fear around being diagnosed, as it can change your life significantly. At the same time, anon, you will not be able to get help unless you take the steps to reach out for it (and follow through on them!) I know it's really hard and really scary, especially the thought of going to inpatient.

I get a lot of people saying "I feel like I need to be sicker." However, on the flipside, imagine all the people who've done lasting health damage to themselves, who may wish they'd gotten help before they'd gotten as sick as they did! An eating disorder is an eating disorder, and all sufferers deserve the opportunity to get help for the underlying cause of their disorder no matter what stage of ED they're in. You don't have to get "sick enough" to validate the fact that you're suffering. You can validate it to yourself. In fact, let me say it to you, anon. I see you. I see that you're suffering. You are worthy and deserving of help and support. I wish you healing.

(I'd like to add a sidenote here that just because you don't feel you look emaciated doesn't mean you aren't sick. Most human bodies have a LOT of safeguards against weight loss, especially in individuals who have a pattern of restricting, eating again, restricting, eating again...your body can still be struggling and deprived of nutrients even if it's stubbornly refusing to let go of pounds to try and keep you alive. It sounds as though your body is trying to express its distress to you in other ways, but are you ready to listen to it? That's up to you.)

I think you need to ask yourself what self-care steps you need to take in order to schedule a therapy appointment and stick to it. I think you know that the urge to comfort yourself by purging is counterproductive. What other things can you do to self-soothe in a healthy way? What are some small comforts you can use to show your body that you believe it deserves comfort and compassion while you work up the nerve to re-schedule?

When you do go to therapy, perhaps you could write down a script of stuff you're ready to talk about and stick to that script. A good therapist will gently push you but will also let you go at your pace and will not force you to talk about things that you're not ready to talk about. If you don't feel that connection with the therapist you meet, you can always search for another one. Yeah, I know, it's really hard to go through those steps AGAIN when you're already struggling so much. It's important, though. And when you're done, perhaps you can reward yourself with a treat. It doesn't have to be a food treat, if you are not at a point where you can effortlessly enjoy food. It can be any little thing that makes your body or soul feel rewarded, a fancy soap or a bath bomb, some art supplies or a little home decoration. Anything that helps you focus on giving yourself some love without engaging in ED behaviors.

You can go to cardiology, but until you're honest about what's straining your body, you'll only be putting band-aids on a much bigger gaping wound. I mean, still go to cardiology. But I think you know that you need to start treating the disorder, and finding ways to stay out of the disorder when stressful times come around.

I also want to address your fears around inpatient treatment. A lot of doctors and counselors will be willing to work with you around an outpatient treatment plan if you show that you want to heal and feel better and are willing to keep working toward that end. However, some people do end up in inpatient and I know it's scary to end up in a new environment and feel like all your control is being taken from you. But remember, while being able to engage in ED behaviors feels like you're controlling your life, every time you do it, the eating disorder takes more control of YOU. Think about it. You're already struggling. You're engaging in behaviors that take away the energy and time you had for the true joys in your life. You want medical professionals to help you, but you're not giving them the full range of information to help you. Do you feel like you're really in control of your life right now?

If you show willingness to work outpatient, I think your supports will probably work with you on this. However, I cannot 100% promise you will not end up needing to do inpatient. I know that's scary. You're allowed to be scared! I invite you to sit with that feeling and hold compassion for yourself and know that you're not the first person to ever be scared of going into inpatient. You also may have to talk about the possibility while seeking treatment. It's okay to be scared, I hope you know that. That's why I suggested bringing a script to therapy, so you can give your therapist a baseline for what you're able to confront right now. A good therapist will develop a rapport with you so that you feel safe working through scary topics. Healing is not the absence of fear, but knowing you have a safe person equipped with tools to help you cope with fear. Someone who will meet you with compassion, not judgment, and lay out your options for you in a way that you understand.

I wish you the best of luck in this difficult journey, anon. I hope you find healing.

[tovahsfine]

Some important tweets⁣ ⁣ The answer to slide 8 is to abolish the p0lic3 and redistribute funds. ✌🏼 <peace hand emoji>⁣ ⁣ CN / eugenics, brain tumour & eugenics, mention of school sho0ting & m*rder by p*lice. ⁣ ID Slide 1 / Hey, if you too are feeling absolutely crushed and overwhelmed by the loneliness of still taking the pandemic seriously, I see you. If you're feeling bereft and infuriated at seeing so many peers pretend that the pandemic is over, I see you. The daily, blatant erasure is so hard. @InADarkWood⁣ ⁣ ID Slide 2 / the government has explicitly communicated they do not care if we die. they don't care if police kill us. they don't care if people go into elementary schools and shoot kids. do we not understand c*vid, letting masses of people die from it as an extension of that lack of care? @KaraKara⁣ ⁣ ID Slide 3 / me: I have a brain tumor!⁣ ppl: omg we're so sorry, we support you, sending love!⁣ me:.. so please wear a mask so you don't kill me or disable me further⁣ ppl: NO. die. boo. you're mean. how dare you hold us accountable to our own actions @/RowanLou1312 on Twitter⁣ ⁣ ID Slide 4 / "But you've managed for this long & made it so far in life without help / support / accommodations!"⁣ I had no other choice;⁣ I shouldn't have had to, &⁣ I almost didnt. @/Hi_Its_AnnaLeah on Twitter⁣ ⁣ ID Slide 5 / Trauma after trauma leads to CPTSD & impacts your daily functioning. You have to go gentle with people who are suffering. They see & feel the world differently, it's a scary place. @/LucysJourney21 on Twitter⁣ ⁣ ID Slide 6 / ppl who get away w abuse, antiblackness, *extreme* misogyny, transphobia, etc. get sooo upset when like 20% of the online population has a problem with it. they'll be thriving and unchallenged in every way in real life but come on sm crying "cancel culture" and⁣ "wokeness" @PantieHose⁣ ⁣ ID Slide 7 / the thing about masking is that it's not not about YOU. you're well within your rights to try to get yourself killed, but trying to kill other people is bad practice @/VoldeMorgoret on Twitter⁣ ⁣ ⁣ #WearAMask #cPTSD #ThePandemicIsntOverJustBecauseYoureOverIt ⁣ (at Everywhere) https://www.instagram.com/p/Cp0MO3FL5Hc/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[gabriel-shutterson]

i saw you recently mentioned an ocd interpretation of jekyll and hyde and as a guy with ocd, i’m very curious to hear your thoughts (if you’d like to elaborate) :o

Finally getting to answering this. After the drama regarding the OCD adaptation stirred up a few weeks ago, I was hesitant to answer this.

Okay. So disclaimer, I have OCD. I’m not pulling stuff out of my ass for this. Most of this is comparing canon to my experiences.

Henry Jekyll, Intrusive Thoughts, And The OCD Interpretation

So in order to fully begin this, we need to define intrusive thoughts. There has been a good amount of discourse regarding intrusive v impulsive thoughts lately, and I fully support it. Intrusive thoughts are thoughts or images that appear at strange times, of something viewed as horrifying or shocking to the recipient. People with OCD tend to get caught, or ‘obsess’ on these thoughts.

That being said, here are a few arguments against this interpretation and why they only make the idea stronger:

“But Jekyll enjoyed being Hyde!” Two possible explanation. The first is, OCD offers a sense of false pleasure in many cases. Although this is typically found in sexual obsessions, any obsession can experience them. Jekyll easily could have believed he was experiencing pleasure. Secondly, I don’t interpret this as Jekyll acting on his intrusive thoughts. I personally believe that (with Freudian theory coming your way) Jekyll was, in a way, the superego. All normal thoughts occurred within him. Meanwhile, Hyde was the id— the dark thoughts, the scary thoughts, the parts of you you don’t want to let out. These are where intrusive thoughts occur. Technically speaking, this would make Hyde and Jekyll both the same and different. While they come from the same source material and have similar memories, needs, skills, desires, Hyde is ultimately acting on the thoughts he receives. Therefore, he is acting on the dreaded intrusive thoughts.

“Jekyll made Hyde in order to act on things he enjoyed!” Simple. He wanted to separate his super ego and id, as a haphazard cure for his OCD. To “divide good and evil,” or distance himself from the thoughts he disliked.

“Aren’t the spontaneous transformations supposed to represent failing to hold in repressed thoughts?” That’s exactly what it is! Only, a little different. People with OCD are familiar with the beach ball idea. Typically, when receiving an intrusive thought, the urge is to push it down. However, like pushing a beach ball underwater, these thoughts don’t stay under: they actually come back with more force. These spontaneous transformations are a visual representation of this. Jekyll’s attempts to suppress his thoughts end up coming back even more harshly.

“But Jekyll is Hyde!” If the id and superego stuff didn’t convince you enough, have you ever heard the saying ‘you aren’t your thoughts?’ With OCD, this line gets blurred. When worrying about what your thoughts say about you, of course you’re going to think they’re your own. That being said, it’s reasonable for Jekyll to both confirm and deny that he is Hyde. It’s a combination of admitting your thoughts aren’t any accurate representation of you, while also believing they say something about who you are.

“What does the ending signify?” As someone who has dealt with OCD, it really does feel like you’re losing yourself. You can’t tell what thoughts are yours and what thoughts are intrusive. You become a slave to the thoughts. While I was reading this book to my mom, I almost started crying, because I really did feel like Jekyll frantically transforming every hour or so. Jekyll’s untimely end and ultimate loss of identity are a representation of this. He lost himself. The thoughts won.

Reading this book and connecting it to OCD was a groundbreaking experience for me. It felt so incredibly realistic. The fear of losing who you are to a thought that occurred over seemingly nothing is all too real.

If you have any further questions, let me know. I hope this explanation was alright!

I really hope I don’t get cancelled for this.

[spicy-tomato]

Can i pls req dream being reader's sugar daddy :O - 🌼

sorry this took a hot sec ive been working on this one for a while cause i really liked the idea, so here you go :)) it ended up being like 2k words so im sorry

You had it all, anything you could want and more. Wanted to go to rome? Done, your plane leaves tomorrow. Dream absolutely spoiled you and you couldnt be more happy about it. It started off as a thing to help you with rent, but the longer you did it the more you enjoyed being able to get what you wanted when you wanted. Today was your weekly lunch with dream, you had both agreed that at least once a week he would take time off to get lunch with you, it made you smile to see him take time for you. As the tease you were, you decided to wear something a little revealing to tease him since he had cancelled your shopping trip with him the day before. You put on a low cut crop top and some shorts that show a little too much before fixing your hair. You hear you phone ding, getting a text from dream,

Daddy dream <3

Hey baby, i'm out front whenever youre ready to go

You smile and put your phone in your pocket before walking out to his car and getting in. you kiss his cheek quickly “hi daddy” you giggle and smile at him

“Hi sweetheart” he looks you up and down before smirking “like the outfit, all for me?” you giggle and nod before he starts to drive to the restaurant, one hand on your thigh. “Do you know what you want? You know the rule, anything you want no matter the price. And after that we can go shopping to make up for my cancelling yesterday.” you smile at him

“I know, and we dont have to dream, we can just hang out. Its been a while since we did that. Maybe we can go somewhere for you to make it up to me instead” he smiles and squeezes your thigh as he pulls into the parking lot of the restaurant.

“Anywhere you want baby, only the best for you.” you look down and blush, moving over to lean your head on his shoulder as he moves a hand to pet your hair. “Ill take you anywhere anytime and get you anything you want.” you cant lie, at times you had thought about being more than just his sugar baby, having a real romantic relationship, but he was always so busy that it made it seem almost impossible. Sure he took time out to be with you but it was never a lot unless you were traveling. He didnt tell you a lot about his job either, just knew that he had a large following and that he didnt want anything serious and put his partner in a bad situation, but damn if you havent thought about him coming home to you and calling you his.

“Baby? You okay? You zoned out.” he waves a hand in front of your face and you blink back to reality.

“Yeah, sorry i just got a little distracted. Lets go get some food!” you pull away from him and he gets out, walking around to open your door for you and holds a hand out to help you. “Thank you” you smile and take his hand as you step out, he closes the door behind you and puts an arm around your waist, pulling you into his side as you both walk up to get a table. You get seated immediately and he pulls your chair out for you. “Is there a single flaw with you?” you ask genuinely, he just laughs and shakes his head.

“Theres a bunch you dont know about me, sweetheart.” you roll your eyes as the waitress comes back with your mimosa and his water, asking for your orders. He orders for you and him before she walks off to put them in. He always knows what you want and orders it for you. It makes you smile that he likes to take care of you. You shake that thought away and go back to mindlessly talking with him, waiting on the food. It comes shortly and you both start to eat. “Where do you want to go? Japan? Italy? Oh we havent been to paris in a while, maybe there.”

“I think paris would be great, its always so pretty this time of year, maybe we can have dinner on the eiffel tower again!” your eyes light up at the thought of going back to paris. Last time you went was last spring, you both walked around and had the most wonderful time people watching and shopping. You take another bite and he looks like hes about to say something before he stops himself and looks down. “What is it? Is something wrong?” you look at him concerned, scared you messed something up.

“Its nothing darling, dont worry.” you both finish up lunch and he pays before helping you up and leading you back to the car. “I have something id like to ask you when we get to paris if thats okay, its nothing bad i promise its just something ive been meaning to ask for a while is all.” you nod as he opens the door for you and helps you in. “now, a pretty girl like you needs pretty new clothes for the trip, lets go get you some.” he smiles at you as he gets in, resting a hand back on your thigh as he starts the car, leading you both to the mall.

You spend hours in there going to different stores and trying things on, him getting you whatever you wanted without any hesitation. You walk back to the car with armfulls of bags and a couple new suitcases. “Thank you so much daddy, youre the best.” you kiss his cheek and he turns a little red.

“Its no problem baby, why dont you stay over tonight and we can leave in the morning to head to the airport. I can help you pack and we can watch a movie.” you smiles and nod, putting your bags in the back of the car and your new suitcases in the trunk.

“Id like that…” you think for a second about how nice it would be to wake up next to him every day and how nice it is to fall asleep next to him when it happens, even if when you did wake up after he wasnt next to you. The cold bed always made you remember that you would never be more than this, not that this was bad in the least its just sometimes you wish you could be more. He drives you both back to his apartment building and helps you out, grabbing most of your bags, only leaving you to grab the suitcases as you enter the building. He lived on the top floor in the penthouse, expected for how much money he had. You set your stuff down in his room, your new clothes already laid out nicely thanks to him. He walks up behind you and hugs you from behind.

“Youll look so good in all of those baby, gonna be the prettiest one in paris.” he kisses your neck softly before pulling away and taking your hand, leading you to sit on the part of the bed not covered by clothes. “Let me go run you a bath and you can pick out a movie.” you nod and he walks to the bathroom, leaving you alone on the bed. You turn on the tv and start scrolling through netflix looking for a movie, finally deciding as he walks back in and picks you up. You giggle and wrap your arms around his neck, moving your head to rest on his chest as he carries you to the bathroom. He sets you on the counter and takes your shirt off carefully, leaving kisses down your neck and chest and he moves down to take your shorts off. You lift yourself gently to help him take your shorts off. He takes them off quickly before nipping and kissing your inner thighs, ghosting over your core. You whine and try to move closer to him before he presses your hips down into the counter.

“Stay still baby, dont wanna have to punish you. Daddy just wants his desert.” you nod quickly and stay still, his head diving to softly kiss your clit, causing you to whine. He chuckles and starts to slowly eat you out, almost at a teasing pace. You whine and grip the counter, trying to keep from pulling his hair. He pulls away and smiles, “good girl, being so good and not pulling my hair. Just letting daddy eat you up.” after he says that his hands move down to your thighs open as he starts to eat you out like a man starved. You let out a loud moan and throw your head back, your hands moving to his hair and tugging closer. At this point he didnt care about you pulling his hair, to blissed out by hearing your sweet moans and tasting you. Your cries became louder as he dragged you closer to the edge. as you were almost there he stopped, causing a loud whine from you as he moves up to face you. He looked like heaven like this, face covered in your slick with eyes dark from lust.

“Now my good little girl, i want you to get off the counter and bend over for daddy.” you quickly move off the counter and do as your told. “Such a perfect little girl, i want you to watch as i make you feel good, got it? You look away and i stop,” he chuckles and grabs your neck after you nod. His hand moves from your neck to your hair to hold you in place, making eye contact with him through the mirror.

“Such a precious little pet for me, arent you?” you whine as he lines up with your entrance, teasing you, causing you to press your hips back against him. He smacks your ass roughly and pulls you against his chest by your hair. “Thats not very nice bun, its almost like you want me to leave you all worked up.’’ he smirks at you before pulling you roughly back against him, ripping a scream from your throat. He sets a brutal pace, leaving no time for you to adjust to him. He keeps the pace, your legs starting to shake as he brings you back to the edge of your orgasm before quickly throwing you over it. You let out a cry of his name, trails of tears starting to run from your eyes as he keeps going.

“Pretty little bunny, always so good and tight for me. Gonna breed you so good. Fuck you until i know it takes.” he tugs your hair roughly and starts to bite and suck at your neck, leaving marks in his wake. You whine and cry, moving your hands to tug at his hair. “So close princess, gonna fill you up so good.” he moves a hand to your clit to punctuate his statement, causing a louder cry to come from you as you tip over the edge once again. His hips start to stutter as he fills you up, riding out his high with shallow thrusts letting out a few more quiet moans before pulling out of you carefully. You whine and tug at his hair as he does so. He picks you up carefully as he pulls away.

“i figured we could take a bath and then cuddle before we pack and figure out what time we should leave for the airport.” you nod and he carries you carefully over to the tub, setting you down carefully in it before getting and sitting behind you. He starts to wash your hair as you slowly drift off to sleep. You wake up briefly as he lifts you from the tub and carries you to the bed. He moves the blankets back and sets you down gently before crawling in next to you , pulling the blankets back over you.

“Be my partner,” he says as you turn towards him

“Only if we can still go to paris” you giggle and he nods, kissing the top of your head before you both drift off.

[vvavavoom]

Here is a ficlet I wrote about Billy and Chrissy meeting at Pennhurst Hospital and becoming besties! Includes little sprinkles of Hellcheer and Harrigrove

⚠️TW!!! MENTIONS OF ATTEMPTED SUI*IDE & BLOOD ⚠️

Chrissy is severely depressed.  

She has an abusive, narcissist mother, an emotionally neglectful and absent father, her boyfriend treats her like glorified arm candy, she has no real friends, her grades are going down the drain, and she is fighting an aggressive ED.  

She turns to Eddie, and they meet in the woods as usual. That night they plan to do ketamine in his trailer after the game and hellfire club.  

Only Eddie is kind of late meeting her in the parking lot and Chrissy thinks she’s being stood up and decides to walk home. The entire walk there is sadness, anger, and desperation simmering inside her. She wants out. Out of this town, out of her relationship, out of her home, out of her body. Out of this life.  

When she finally gets home, she’s made up her mind. She knows her parents are out to dinner and her little brother is sleeping over at his friends.  

It’s perfect.

Chrissy doesn’t bother writing a note. No one will miss her. It doesn’t matter.  

She pulls out her mother’s sharpest knife from the kitchen and goes to the bathroom upstairs.  

Once Chrissy makes a long vertical gash down her wrist, she immediately regrets it. She drops the knife and scrambles to cover the wound. To get help. Anything.

But she’s never been good with the sight of blood and there’s so much and she’s lightheaded and she passes out, her head knocking on the bathroom sink.  

Her mother doesn’t find her until a couple hours later. The only reason she did was because the light in the bathroom was on.  

Chrissy wakes up in the hospital, and she’s being bombarded by questions from her mother, the doctors, the cops, and all she can do is cry.  

Her mother is angry. She embarrassed by what Chrissy did and ashamed of having a daughter like her. So, she makes the decision to temporarily commit her to a psychiatric asylum, an extreme measure. She doesn’t even look at her daughter’s face as Chrissy begs her not to send her away. Her mom signs the papers and passes them to her husband. He says nothing and signs them as well.

Jason comes to visit before they transfer her. He cries and begs to know why she would do this when they’ve been going so strong. He’s hurt that she would do something like this and asks her if she ever thought about how this would affect him if she died. She begs him not to let them take her, but he pats her on her good hand and says that this is for the best. They can continue their relationship once she gets better. Chrissy has to bite her tongue so hard to keep from screaming at the top of her lungs.  

Meanwhile Eddie goes to his bands practice the next day and Jeff is saying that his mom who is a trauma nurse said that Chrissy Cunningham came in last night for trying to kill herself.

Eddie is horrified.  

Last night he was disappointed but not surprised that Chrissy didn’t wait up for him. He was looking forward to meeting with her, honestly, he’s just not good with time and by the time he realized how late it was and he sprinted to his van, she was gone. He knows that Chrissy is not ok, that much was clear just from looking at her. She needs help and he wants to help her. He wanted to be there for her and fuck, he wasn’t there when she needed him most. And if he weren’t late to meet her last night she never would have tried to-

Eddie throws up in Jeff’s bushes and cancels practice, too upset to do anything but visit Chrissy in the hospital. He needs to see her.

But she’s not there anymore, they already moved her to Pennhurst and won’t allow visitors that aren’t immediate family for her first two weeks. He’s angry at himself for letting her down again. But he promises himself that he’s going to make it up to her.

Chrissy doesn’t belong here. Everyone here is older, angry, and crazy, and she doesn’t belong here. She’s scared and alone and more depressed than ever. She goes quiet. She has no visitors. Her mother is ashamed of her, Jason is scared of her, and no one else cares to see her. She gets calls from Jason, but she never talks, and the conversations are so short and one sided that they eventually stop altogether.  

She’s sitting by herself in the recreational room, disassociating, when someone stands in front of her chair. It’s Billy Hargrove. She remembers hearing about him from the other guys on the basketball team. Last summer he nearly beat his father to death after an altercation, and they sent him away. She never gave it much thought because she never really gave Billy much thought before, but she never figured he would have ended up here. But who is she to judge?

He’s all cocky and smiling and teasing but she can see the pain in his eyes.

It takes time but Billy and Chrissy find themselves gravitating towards each other. They came from fairly close social circles at school last year and though they’ve never interacted before, there’s some familiarity there. They sit next to each other while they eat and do their activities near each other and go to group therapy sessions together.  

It takes even more time, but eventually they bond. Chrissy begins to open up about why she’s there and what she’s going through, and Billy not only understands, but he also knows what it feels like having shitty parents and being the most popular kid and still not having anyone to turn to.  

Chrissy begins writing her thoughts down, and it helps a lot. And she’s good at it. She shares her writing with Billy and encourages him to write for himself too. He tries, but it doesn’t work as well for him as talking does. So, he talks. He tells her about all his issues, and she listens. She never judges him, and that’s all he ever really needed.  

Then, finally, Chrissy gets a visitor. It’s Eddie.  

She is terrified of him seeing her like this, but she goes anyways thanks to Billy’s encouragement. He says that Eddie wouldn’t come all this way just to mock her and if he did then Billy would knock all his teeth out.  

Eddie is quiet for the first time ever. He’s reserved when he first sees her and awkwardly asks her a few questions about her stay. Chrissy feels awful. She notices him looking at the large bandage covering her wrist and she pulls down her sleeve to cover it completely.  

Just when she’s about to get up and leave Eddie tells her how sorry he is. He’s close to tears as he apologizes for abandoning her in her time of need and for not helping her the way she needed it. He tells her that he will do anything to help her, whatever she needs he will get it for her and that he will always be here for her when she needs him.  

Touched, Chrissy covers his hand with hers as she sheds a few tears, thanking him for being so kind to her when he has no reason to be.  

Soon, he is acting like his regular self again, and he is making a fool of himself just to get a smile or a laugh out of her. It feels just like they did at that picnic table and it’s almost like nothing’s changed at all.

As time goes by, Billy and Chrissy become even closer and begin to lean on each other more. Billy stands up for her. He’s her defender and if anyone even looks at her the wrong way, he will give them a piece of his mind. He tells Chrissy to stop apologizing all the time and she tells him that maybe he should start apologizing more.  

He helps Chrissy with her ED. He finds out what she likes to eat and charms the cooks and orderlies to serve her food she likes. While they eat together, he will give her food off his plate that he knows she’ll eat and eat any food that she hates off hers.  

After a revelation during a group therapy session, Chrissy tearfully confesses to Billy that she doesn’t want die. She wants to live. She just doesn’t want to live the life everyone’s chosen for her anymore. Billy is soft and comforting and understanding. He listens to her. He tells her that if something ever happened to her, he would care and that she doesn’t have to do a goddamn thing she doesn’t want to do. Then he pulls away to tell her to never pull some dumb shit like trying to hurt herself again because then he would be really pissed at her and that would suck because he hates being mad at her.  

That makes her smile.

And Chrissy softens Billy. She helps rein in his anger when he gets angry at another patient or orderly or even himself. She talks him down from meltdowns and when she can’t, she still stays by his side, no matter how scary he gets. It’s something he’s grateful for. It makes him feel like less of a monster.

One night, he confesses to her why his father hates him so much, why he’s so angry all the time. He tells her how his dad’s been trying to beat the gay out of him since he was a kid, and he’s tried. He’s tried so hard not to be, but it’s who he is, he can’t change it. And Chrissy doesn’t look at him with revulsion or judgement, just empathy.  

She reassures him that he is loved and wanted and that she accepts him as he his and Billy cries.

Eddie comes to visit her once a week. He brings journals, music, snacks, games, and books for Chrissy. They talk and joke and Chrissy can’t remember the last time she’s ever laughed this much before. Sometimes Billy joins in on his visits and the three of them become closer as a unit. Then, one day, Eddie brings in a stony, resentful, and angry little Max with him.

Billy is annoyed that his shitbird little sister is here, but Chrissy helps him realize it’s because he feels guilty for how he’s treated her, and he doesn’t want to face her. He’s not quite ready to begin apologizing and taking responsibility for his actions, but at least he can admit it to himself (and Chrissy) that he was wrong. 

Max and Billy barely talk, can barely even look at each other, but at least she’s there. And Chrissy is nice enough for the both of them, so Max doesn’t feel unwanted while she’s there.

Max and Eddie begin to visit more often, sometimes bringing Lucas or Dustin or some other member of the group along too. The boys begin teaching Chrissy the rules of DND while Max and Billy roll their eyes and play a game of cards off to the side.

As the school year nears the end and prom approaches, Eddie convinces Nancy, Steve, Robin and the kids to help him throw an impromptu dance for Chrissy and Billy since they’re going to miss the real one. (This is when everyone officially knows that Eddie is head over heels in love with Chrissy when he’s actually planning a prom for her)

Billy and Chrissy get to dress up and dance and sing with their friends, carefree and happy for the first time in a long time. Eddie smuggles in a flask for them to share and Billy gets drunk quick since he hasn’t had a drink in almost a year. He pulls Steve aside and apologizes for beating him up that one time and for being such a dick. Steve isn’t sure how to respond but accepts his apology because he can tell that Billy really means it. Billy pulls him in for a hug and now Steve’s really confused because it feels nice.

Soon after, due to his progress and good behavior, Billy’s sentence gets reduced by a couple months, and he gets released from the hospital. He and Eddie and the others try to petition to let Chrissy out too, but they legally can’t without parents’ permission. They have to wait until she turns 18, which is another month away. Chrissy is sad that he’s leaving her, but so proud that he’s moving on and thankful for the time they had together.

As graduation approaches, Chrissy is terrified that everyone will forget her and move on with their lives, leaving her here to rot. When she expresses her fear to Eddie during one visit, he squeezes her hand and reassures her that he won’t leave Hawkins until she’s out of here and he knows she is safe.  

She doesn’t feel alone anymore. Almost every other day either Billy or Eddie or Max or Nancy and Robin and Steve are coming to visit her. She has friends, real friends.  

On Chrissy’s 18th birthday she signs herself out of Pennhurst. She knows that Eddie and Billy are probably waiting to pick her up but is surprised to find the entire party outside. They have balloons and presents and cake. And everyone is here for her. They surround her with hugs and kisses and love and even though she’s not completely healed yet, she knows that she’s going to be ok.  

[lovelysugawara]

Kenma; a promise of marriage

Pairing: Kozume Kenma x reader

-this is the time of the year, that Kenma actually prepared everything just to meet you.

-this is a special day for the both of you. even cancelling his schedule for the whole day.

-you’ve been the most special girl to kenma, and you know it very well. Coz you feel the same, he’s the only one for you.

-

-”Hey, y/n. Let’s play, if I beat you on this game, you’ll marry me!” Kenma suddenly blurted out, one afternoon way back in your high school days.

-You are clearly shocked hearing it, “What? Kenma!!! Are you insane?”

-he chuckled, like it was the very pretty sound you’ll hear forever, he wrapped both his hands on your waist and put his face on the crook of your neck. “I’m serious y/n.”

-you smile gently, “I know, but you know it’s actually a marriage proposal right?”

-kenma looks at you, “no, it still not, unless I beat you. Right?” then you laugh like he said something so funny. “This is why dating a gamer is such an ass.”

-kenma places his index finger on your lips, “mind your language, pudding. These lips will only say pretty things, and will only say that you love me. Okay?”

-you sighed and nodded. “Will you marry me after we graduate?” he once again asked you.

-"ofcourse, I'll marry you kozume kenma." He then smiles widely and is very affectionate. "But first, beat me on the game okay?" You once again tease him, earning you a kiss from him.

-one afternoon, “y/n, i can’t sleep.” kenma’s standing on your bedroom door, and it’s obvious that he wanted to rest but still can’t get the sleep he wanted.

-you smile at him and open your arms for him to sleep on your lap while you’re on the couch, “i told you not stay up too late for days, right? Now, don’t go streaming tonight. You’ll rest for 2 days, ‘kay?” you started to caress his head. He nods.

-kenma looks up to you, “can i sleep here? I can only sleep well when you’re around. He said then closes his eyes.

-”of course you can, sleep to your heart's content baby,” she giggled.

-”hmm, ‘love you.” kenma is already drifting to sleep but manages to say those words.

-”love you too.” you kiss his head and continue caressing it.

-

-another intense headache, wakes kenma in the morning. He can't sleep well and only takes a nap. He can't afford to go back to sleep, knowing today is the day.

-after opening his computer, he went straight to the fridge and drank some water. He suddenly stops and looks at the photo magnet on his fridge. You and him, holding a giant trophy, after he won an international online game competition, a photo of you smiling so brightly while on the beach, and you sleeping on his lap. He can’t help but smile.

-his phone won’t stop vibrating, seeing the caller id, he lazily answered it. “What is it, Kuroo?”

-”hey, don’t you think you should hang out with us today? It’s been years since you last joined us. Maybe it’s time, kenma? Plus, you have to finish the final boss on this game here.” kuroo’s meek tone makes kenma sighed.

-”nah, maybe some other day. I’ll finish the final boss tomorrow. Just let me be today,”

-”...kenma,” kuroo didn’t continue what he’s saying.

-”kuroo she’s waiting for me, and you know I won’t let her wait for long.” kenma said while typing his username on his minecraft account.

-”oh well, don’t make her wait then. We’re always here for you, just come here.” kuroo reminded kenma.

-”i know, bye now.” kenma didn’t wait for his response but dropped the call.

-

-kenma sits down on his gaming chair, and blankly looking at his monitor.

-his minecraft character, walking on a certain island. His character continued walking until it reached a little white house.

-he opened the door, and inside, is a white tombstone, with your name on it.

-while smiling, kenma says, “it’s been a while, y/n. 3 years isn't it? We’re supposed to be husband and wife by now. We’re supposed to take care of each other and grow old together. but you're not here anymore. I can only hope that you’re fine wherever you are. don’t worry about me, I’m getting by. I tried sleeping on time, but you see, I can never sleep well now. I’m eating real foods just like you told me, but I only want the foods you always made for me. I’m still winning every game, every competition, but you’re not here to celebrate it together with me. I miss you so very much, y/n.”

-tears started to fall in kenma’s eyes.

-

-He lost you at a plane crash. And not finding even your body was kenma’s last straw to his sanity. He didn’t cry nor look at your graveyard, knowing it’s just an empty casket without any trace of you. You’re not there, nor not with him.

-That’s why he made you a graveyard in one of your favorite games, at least some part of your soul might find its way back to him. Even for a bit.

-still, your death is a great scar for kenma. Moving on is not an option, he doesn’t want to do that.

-So he will wait, until the day you can be reunited with him once again.

A/N: Hey guys, how's everyone doing? i would like to share with you the reference/inspiration of this AU fanfiction/imagine. few days ago, i saw this heartbreaking photo from @i-vonsnyeeoj fb timeline. and i guess kenma somehow fits perfectly (in a way).

and to the guy who owns this photo, I do hope you're doing fine even for a bit.

:'(

[miyagihawk]

Could you maybe write one where Robby or Hawk asks y/n to prom? You don’t have to if you don’t have the time <3

thank you so much for requesting !! this will be my first robby one yayyyy

promposal | robby keene x reader

warnings: fluff, maybe swearing?, also quite cheesy but i love cheesy

summary: prom season is arriving, and you don’t have a date. but you’re kind of hoping a certain someone will ask you.

word count: 1,516

(this one’s set around season 2 and y/n is in miyagi do with sam, robby, and demetri)

“Ugh, prom. Just another excuse for horny teenagers to publicly grind on each other and dress up all nice for it,” Demetri scoffs as you two pass a promposal on the way to Bio class.

You roll your eyes at him. “You’re always such a pessimist. I think prom is cute,” you argue.

“Of course you think it’s cute, you’re a girl. Girls like dressing up and all that romantic shit. So you’re going?” he asks.

You shrug. “I don’t know, I mean no one’s asked me but maybe I’ll just go with Sam or something. I take it you’re not going?”

“Oh I’m going. I hate it, but it’s still part of the high school experience,” the black haired boy wiggles his fingers at you and you laugh. “What about Robby?”

Your heart flutters at the mention of his name.

You’ve had a crush on Robby ever since you met him when you joined Miyagi Do. His kind eyes and dedication to karate made you fall for him fast. With practice at the dojo everyday, he’s become one of your best friends, along with Sam and Demetri. But you’ve hidden your feelings for him because you’re sure he doesn’t feel the same.

“Um... what about Robby?” you question nervously, wondering if your feelings have been obvious.

“Oh come on, he’s obviously going to ask you to go with him,” Demetri muses, and you two walk into your class.

“I- I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you shake your head, setting your books down on your desk.

Robby has never said anything about prom. He doesn’t even look like the type of guy to go. But you feel yourself hoping that what Demetri is saying is true.

“Oh Y/N, Y/N. Always so oblivious,” he taps your head before going to his own desk and ending the conversation.

Demetri is probably messing with you, but the whole period you zone out, thinking about what prom with Robby would be like.

-

Karate training was cancelled for some reason, so you took the extra time to catch up on your schoolwork at home.

Suddenly, the sound of your ringtone pierces the air, making you jump at the sudden break in silence.

You read the caller ID and it’s Sam. She never really calls you, so you begin to worry that something is wrong.

“Hello?” you answer.

“Y/N! Oh my god, something’s wrong! You need to come to the dojo, like right now!” Sam exclaims, making your chest pound with anxiety.

“Wait what, Sam! What happened?” you frantically sputter. Thousands of scenarios flood your mind all at once. Is there a fire? Did the dojo get trashed again? Is someone dying?

You hear shuffling and whispers on the other side of the phone before Sam blurts, “Just come Y/N! Hurry!”

In a panicked manner, you rush around your room to put on your shoes and get your car keys. Regularly a 15 minute drive, it takes you 5 minutes to get to the dojo. You got a few honks and middle fingers as you stepped heavy on the gas, but the urgency of Sam’s voice made you not care.

You slam your car door shut and run around the front to the backgate. But before you could open it, something covers your eyes and all you could see is black.

You realize that they’re hands from someone behind you and in your frenzied state, your first instinct is to elbow the person’s chest.

After the hit, your eyes are released and you hear a groan from behind you. You turn around in fear to see who you were expecting to be a murderer. But it was Robby Keene on the ground with a pained look on his face.

“Oh my god, Robby what the fuck are you doing? I’m so sorry,” you rush over to where he lays on the floor. He clutches his chest where you hit him and you place your hands over his in worry.

“I was trying to be romantic,” he chuckles, sitting up to face you. He was grinning, even though you just sucker punched him with the sharpest bone in your body.

“W-What? I thought you were a serial killer! What happened, where’s Sam? Is she okay?” you stammer, not even noticing what Robby just said.

“Nothing happened Y/N, calm down. We just needed you to come here,” he rests his hand on your shoulder to calm your panicked breathing, and your cheeks tint pink at his touch.

“I- So- Nothing happened? Why am I here?” you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. There’s just so many things happening at once and you were kind of expecting a disaster.

Robby stands up and reaches his hand out to where you’re kneeling on the concrete. You take it in yours and feel yourself calm down from the chaos of the last 15 minutes.

“Can I cover your eyes now that you know it’s me?” he laughs, and you nod in confusion.

His fingers place over your eyes once again, blocking all of your vision as he leads you to walk to the backyard. You stumble a few times, but he finally stops your walking once you guys have reached a certain spot.

“Ready?” his voice says close to your ear, making you shiver from his unexpected proximity. He counts down from 3 to 1 before pulling his hands away and freeing your eyes.

You blink a few times to adjust to the brightness of the scene, then you see the beauty in front of you.

Fairy lights are strung around the big tree, lit up just in time for the setting of the sun. The pond holds floating candles that drift delicately around the water and a picnic blanket with food lays on the grass next to it.

The dojo looks nothing like where you guys sweat and train and sometimes bleed. It looks like a fairytale, and your mouth is slightly open at the realization that it’s all for you.

“Robby, what is-” you turn around to where he’s still standing behind you.

You almost want to cry at the view of him holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers. His signature side smile widens at the little gasp you let out when you see him.

“Y/N Y/L/N, will you go to prom with me?”

No way. There’s no way Demetri was right. You stand there frozen at his question, not believing that it’s real. The boy of your dreams, asking you to prom. The boy of your dreams setting all of this up for you.

“Y/N?” his voice snaps you out of your trance, and your confused expression turns into a huge smile.

“Of course. Yes!” you beam, catching him by surprise when you jump into his arms to embrace him. He laughs into your shoulder as you squeeze him tight in appreciation.

-

“I love it all, thank you Robby. You really do know how to make a girl feel special,” you say in between bites of chocolate covered strawberries.

“Well you are special,” he smiles, admiring how cute you look with your cheeks filled with fruit.

“I’m so killing Sam by the way. I really thought I would come here and see a dead body!”

“I’m sorry, it was my idea. Kill me instead,” he chuckles at the recent memory of your worried frenzy.

“I will. But after prom,” you joke and pop another strawberry into your mouth.

After some cute banter and more yummy food that Robby made, you two lay down on the blanket to try and see the stars. The smog of the Valley doesn’t give much of a view, but if you look hard enough it’s there.

The conversation has faded out, and you’re deep in thought. Does this mean he likes you? Are you guys together now? Asking you to prom doesn’t necessarily mean anything.

The question leaves your mouth before you can stop it.

“So... is this a friends going to prom together kind of thing? Or is it a couple going to prom together kind of thing?” you blurt, interrupting the pondering silence between you two.

Yours and his eyes stay stuck on the night sky. He thinks for a moment and you play with your fingers in anticipation.

“It’s up to you... but I like you Y/N. A lot,” he admits, setting fireworks off in your stomach.

All this time, you’ve both had feelings for each other. But you’ve danced around it like it’s a fire pit that can’t be touched. You almost want to laugh in disbelief, because you were so sure that you would keep your heart locked and live forever with longing stares. You thought you would be stuck watching him with someone else because you’d never have the guts to actually say what you feel. But you’re wrong.

Robby’s head is turned towards you now, and you take your eyes off of the stars to look at him. He looks nervous, waiting for your response to his confession.

Instead of talking, you reply with a long awaited kiss.

[tinyboxxtink]

"Not My Yacht" *Chapter 4*

Part 3

Part 5

Mwahahahahaha!

Okay so-- obviously, this story is taking place in an alternate universe. Clearly. I need you all to follow me along on this journey, suspend your disbelief, yeah? I did my best at a backstory, I went over it for a long time. I'm pretty sure every detail is covered. If not, I apologize, let me know and I'll fix it.

I think this is gonna be one hell of a ride, people. I'm super excited, are you?!

Tag List

@madamsnape921

@lolliepopsicle

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@milkshqke

@wanniiieeee

@word-scribbless

@gibbs274

@sassyada

@aprildecker-blog

@bookishfanfic

@stars-in-the-skies-world

@stars-trash-18

@omgsuperstarg

@objection-argumentative

(should I keep tagging @storiesofsvu ? I'm gonna do it until she says for the love of god STOP. 😂)

--------------------------

There was a very long, awkward pause before Rafael finally spoke:

“....What did you just say?”

“Please don’t make me repeat it,” You bit your lip as you looked at him with very sad, still very frightened eyes.

“I...I don’t…how...why...HOW is this man your husband?!”

“I...Well, he--” You muttered.

“He’s a PSYCHOPATH, Y/N!”

“Well he wasn’t when I met him!” You screamed unintentionally. You hadn’t meant to be that aggressive, but your instincts kicked in whenever a man yelled at you now.

“...I mean, I guess he was but you just said it yourself: He’s smart. He’s slick. He was sweet and charming and handsome, and I just-- we just-- “

“He seduced you,"

"I fell in love with him, Rafael! Jesus, it wasn't a one night stand. We were in love," You took a shaky breath. "Look I was a young, naïve, impressionable broke college student, okay? And he-- he was kind, and generous, and--”

“I don’t, I can’t have this conversation with you,” He started to walk into his secret room to get your clothes so that you could leave.

“No, please Rafael,” You grabbed his arm. “Please, let me explain? Please,” You pleaded with him.

“....Fine,” He sighed, unable to ignore your whimpers and tears.

“He wooed me, he gave me everything and anything I asked for. He lived in this giant loft uptown, I thought he was amazing. Looking back on it now, the loft was probably owned by people that he murdered and he’d kill people to get things I wanted, but I didn’t know that at the time!” You paced the floor while thinking out loud.

“And then when he asked me to marry him, I was ecstatic! I thought it was going to be my fairy tale ending before I was even 25, I didn’t know--” You suddenly stopped pacing and stopped talking, the memories of that period in your life coming back to you in disturbing waves.

Rafael saw how much you were in distress telling your story. Even though he was disgusted that you were ever intimate with this lunatic, he couldn’t help but feel for you. He stood up and took your hand, leading you to the leather couch in the corner of the room. He sat you down and motioned for you to continue if you could, while still holding your hand.

“I didn’t know that he was just trying to get me to be-- ‘his’, so that he could do whatever he wanted to me,” You barely got the words out while you still burned holes into the carpet with your eyes.

“Oh God, Oh-- Y/N,” He took your other hand but didn’t force you to look up; he wanted you to tell the rest on your own time.

“After we got married he started hitting me for stupid stuff like putting the dishes in the dishwasher wrong, or folding the towels the wrong way. And then he’d--” You felt tears catch in your throat. “He’d make me have sex with him whenever he wanted,”

“Carino,” Rafael instinctively put his arms around your shoulders, pulling you closer towards him. He just wanted to comfort you, he didn’t want to think about what else that monster did to you.

“I--- I didn’t know what to do. I had just graduated, he was paying for my law school, he was paying for everything I had in my life. I felt like I was trapped, so I just-- I put up with it,” You tried not to cry, you swore a long time ago you wouldn’t waste any more tears on him. But right now you couldn’t help it.

“But then it started getting worse,” You finally raised your head to look at him. “He started beating me when he was angry over other things, sometimes within an inch of my life,”

Rafael didn’t know what to say, he knew you weren’t finished so he just kept rubbing the back of your palms with his thumb comfortingly.

“I finally knew either I had to leave, or die,” You got your tears under control as you remembered how strong you had to be back then. And ever since. “So one day when he was on one of his ‘business trips’-- which now I know were probably killings or heists or worse, I packed everything I could fit into two suitcases and I just-- I left,” You sighed.

“I didn’t have anywhere to go. My parents live in Florida, I didn’t really have friends at school, which wouldn’t have mattered anyway because without him paying for it I had to drop out. I slept on the streets for months!” You unconsciously moved closer into Rafael’s chest as you relived the horror.

“Finally I-- I did something that I never thought I would do in a million years, but I was desperate Rafael. You have to understand that,” You looked at him with a terrified look, like he was about to kick you out of his office for real after what you were about to say.

“I do,” He put a hand to your face. “Whatever you’re going to say, I understand,”

“Okay,” You nodded softly. “I...I became an escort,” You turned away from him and his soft hand on your cheek. Even though he just assured you he understood, you could feel the judgement.

“Not a hooker,” You quickly added, like that made it any better. “An escort-- for older, wealthy gentlemen callers,”

“Ah,” He nodded. “I see,”

“...I changed my name, cancelled all my credit cards and got new ones in my new name. And I started making pretty good money. Enough for a small apartment and food anyway,” You continued. “I had accepted the fact that my life was going to be just what it was at that time-- living my life out as a whore,”

“You’re not, and never were and never will be, a whore Y/N,”

“Rafael, please,” You shook your head with a sarcastic laugh. “Maybe I was a fancy whore, but still one nonetheless,”

“No you--” He didn’t want to get into female derogatory slurs with you right now, so he just let it go. “...Okay, continue,”

“So then I just-- got lucky,” You played with the buttons on his shirt once again nervously. “I shouldn’t say lucky, that’s awful to say about a person’s death,”

“...Death?”

“Yeah um,” You picked harder at the buttons. “A regular of mine, Bartholomew Ridgewood. He was a very wealthy stockbroker who had no family or friends, just-- me, apparently,” You shrugged. “He had a heart attack and died, and then his estate contacted me to let me know that he had left his entire fortune and penthouse to me,”

“Seriously?” Rafael almost laughed at the crazy notion.

“I know right?!” You suddenly exclaimed. It really sounded like something out of a soap opera. “So, I used the money to immediately enroll back in law school, and got a job with Rita, and-- here I am,” You motioned towards yourself, in a ‘ta da’ fashion.

“So, let me get this straight,” Rafael began going over detail of your story in his head. “You actually have a huge fortune, but you’re still going to law school, AND holding down a job?”

“...Yeah,” You pushed a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Why?” He narrowed his eyes.

“Why?” You half laughed. “Well for one, because I don’t ever want to have to depend on a man’s wealth to survive ever again,”

“How would that even happen? Did you blow through it that fast?”

“No!” You suddenly stood up in anger, not believing he was questioning you now. “But it still scares me that something will happen to it, and I’ll be helpless again,” You crossed your arms. “And two, I want to help people like me, without a voice. And three, a recommendation from the District Attorney to any law firm is a very highly coveted accomplishment, Rafael,”

“Right,” He nodded. “So much more coveted than a lowly DA’s recommendation,”

“Are you-- Are you serious?” You laughed in disbelief. “Wha--How, HOW did you get to that from any point in my horror story?”

“I don’t-- I don’t know, maybe if I had known you sooner I could have protected you,” He rubbed the back of his neck. Why DID he say that? Why was he suddenly jealous that you had consciously chosen to work for Rita over him? Why did that even matter at this point?

“No, you couldn’t have,” You shook your head as you sat back down next to him. “I got away from-- By the way he went by Tommy Richmond back then, if you want to add that to your case file,” You pointed to the folder on the desk.

He stood up and walked over to it, pulling papers out of the folder and examining each identity he had found so far. Tommy was on the list from a few years ago. Eric Braverman was next on the list, then Eddie Warshack and then Billy Forsythe, before William Lewis. Eric’s ID was from Connecticut, Eddie from Pennsylvania, and Billy from Ohio.

“....So this shows that once he left New York he went south, but then came back up? That doesn’t make any sense,” He flipped through the papers as thoughts ran through his brain.

“Doesn’t it though?” You stood up and walked over to the desk. “He came back for me. He’s probably looking for me. Maybe he thought I fled the state and he went looking and came back,” Your face turned paler the more you thought out loud.

“I have to get out of here,” You suddenly decided out loud. You briskly walked to the secret room and pulled your clothes out with one minute left on the dryer, but you didn’t care. You were quickly putting them on when Rafael ran in after you.

“What? No, no you don’t,” He tried to stop you from unbuttoning his shirt. “Not now that I know he’s looking for you, you’re not going anywhere,”

“Look Rafael,” You stopped undressing and looked at him very seriously. “He’s smart, and he’s fast. I’ll bet you right now that he is doing some very specific research on anyone that was in that station the day you picked him up. And that includes you,”

“And why would he waste time on that if he’s looking for you?” Rafael raised a curious eyebrow.

“Well obviously if he thinks he’s at risk of being caught I’m the furthest thing from his mind right now! And he’ll study you all like lab rats, trying to figure out your fears and weaknesses, and prey on them. That’s exactly how he manipulated me,”

“So he researched you?”

“No, I don’t think he needed to back then! I just fell into his arms, no hard work on his end required,” You scoffed at your naivete as a young girl.

“....So why do you need to leave?” He crossed his arms.

“Because he’ll figure out we’re....involved,” You gestured between the two of you.

“Involved?” He half laughed. “Y/N we haven’t even-- we haven’t done anything but talk!”

“And yet I’m standing here in your office in only my underwear and your shirt like you said, a sex fantasy!” You gestured to your still scantily clad body.

That gave Rafael an idea.

Without warning his arms were suddenly around your waist, pulling you roughly into his awaiting mouth. You were shocked at first, but soon welcomed his tongue into yours as it began exploring your mouth. His hands slowly moved up your waist through his shirt, approaching your bare breasts. Before he could reach them, you pushed him away.

“What the FUCK are you doing?!” You yelled angrily. “Do you really think now is the appropriate time to do this?”

“Well, if Lewis thinks we’re ‘fraternizing’, shouldn’t we actually ‘fraternize’?” He gave you a smirk.

“He doesn’t think anything yet! I have no idea where he is, you have no idea where he is,” You sighed in frustration.

“I do know where he is,” He traced your palms with his finger sensually. “He’s locked in the tank at the station,”

“...Really?” You were suddenly feeling much safer, and arousal quickly came along with it.

“Really,” He nodded, cupping your head in his hands by your jawline so his thumbs ran against the side of your temples. He gently massaged them, making you relax even more.

“...And you’re not just trying to have sex with me so I won’t run off on you?” You did your best to keep your wits about you, but it was growing increasingly difficult with the smell of his cologne wafting from his hands into your nose. It was intoxicating.

“Maybe I am,” He chuckled, “Or maybe, I’m just acting on things I know we’ve both felt since yesterday on that boat,”

“That’s assuming a lot, counselor,” You bit your lip as you tried desperately not to look down at his mouth while he moved his face closer.

“Is it, though?” His smirk grew more devilish as he continued to close the gap between your lips.

“I…” You tried thinking of anything but his tongue inside you, but it was a losing battle. “....Screw it,”

You grabbed his head and thrusted it against your burning lips as your tongues once again began to do a tango in between your mouths. His hands moved upwards quicker this time, and this time you let them. You jumped onto him, wrapping your legs around his waist as he fell against the desk to support your weight. He picked you up and carried you to the leather couch, laying you down and crawling on top of you while never removing his mouth from yours.

You were both so happy and so enthralled with each other you didn’t notice the door was cracked open, and two dark eyes peering behind it.

[quirklessidiot]

Title: coward :: brat Pairing: Y/N x Miya Atsumu  Genre: angst, romance, and very slow burn [ex to lovers au] Warnings: Cursing, alchohol, mentions of unprotected sex, unplanned pregnancy, and mentions of abortion

Synopsis: you finally see Miya Atsumu after six years, meanwhile, he feels pain when he realizes that you settled down with someone else that wasn’t him. notes: i um want to thank yall for supporting this story im- crying T-T I’m happy to inform everyone that i’ll be updating this twice a week every monday and saturday! yay!!! i was able to finish editing and im writing the last two chapters now. stay safe and big love to each and everyone of you <3

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“...Uh, Youta-Kun, Yuuto-kun, I thought you guys weren’t allowed to go.” Sugawara laughed nervously, knowing all too well where this would lead. He’s familiar with over-enthusiastic boys, in fact, one of those over-enthusiastic balls of sunshine was here right now entertaining them.

“K-Kaasan says it’s alright.” Yuuto lies but Sugawara quirked his brow, it was so obvious that he was lying.

“Yep, she did!” Youta grins, trying to help his twin but like him, he’s failing drastically.

“Then you won’t mind if I call your okaasa-”

“No!” Youta and Yuuto yell in unison. This made other people turn their way, Miya Atsumu watched the pair in amusement from afar. He noticed that they were late and that Sugawara had caught on to their scheme of joining in even without the parental consent, “We won’t join!” Youta proclaims, “Right, yu? W-We’ll pick up balls!”

Hinata feels his eyes glimmer at those words and decides to help them convince Sugawara but in the end, the twins were forced to be benched while the grey-haired teacher had to go back to the faculty to call you.

“It’s alright,” Hinata ruffles both their hairs, “We’ll try to come back next time and I’ll be sure to help convince your ‘kaasan.”

“Hey don’t plant false ideas in their head, Shoyou.” Atsumu grins, lazily jogging to their side. He directs his gaze to the twins that seem to oddly remind him of him and ‘samu when they were younger. The boy's gaze lingered a bit too long on him,unlike other kids who stared at him in awe, these ones were seething, “What are ya lookin’ at, kid?”

“Wow,you’re as mean as your brother.” Yuuto notes, eyeing him up and down. 

“Yeah.” Youta echoes.

Atsumu quirks a brow, this was quite the new reaction. Never in his life had a kid told him that he was mean as ‘Samu also how did they even know his twin brother?

“Now, now, don’t you think you should cut me some slack?” Atsumu tried to jokebut the twins remained unamused by the blonde’s antics, somehow Atsumu felt a sense of familiarity from their monotonous reactions.

“No thanks.” Yuuto crossed his arms, “The fake Atsumu made ‘kaasan cry and since you look like him, you might make ‘kaasan cry too.”

“What he said!” Youta agreed loudly, copying his older brother’s action.

Atsumu was just plain confused now, he admitted that Osamu had an attitude sometimes when he was annoyed but letting a mom cry in front of her kids? That’s definitely new and not-so ‘samu like (after all, he was apparently the nicer one between them)

“What’s the name of your okaasan-”

“Youta-Kun, Yuuto-kun, Your mom will be picking you up at the gate! Please go there now.” Sugawara cuts him off, Youta and Yuuto stand up and eye him for a bit.

“We’ll defeat you and your brother! Just wait and see, we’ll be as big as you and that other jiji!” Yuuto exclaims and before Atsumu could retaliate, they’re running off to the opposite direction. Hinata was laughing beside him, clutching his sides because apparently he was too petty while Sugawara looked at him with an apologetic expression.

“I wonder why L/N-san didn’t allow them to go, she’s usually very supportive of their hobbies, especially volleyball.” Sugawara frowns, suddenly voicing out his thoughts. Atsumu felt his shoulders stiffen at the sound of that familiar name. 

Osamu revealed he saw you last week then these kids suddenly confessed that his twin made their okaasan cry, he’s never seen you cry throughout your relationship (save for that night when you first me but you guys weren't together yet so that didn’t count). Maybe he was mistaken? it might be your relative or a common name.

After all, you were clear about not wanting a family.

“You know their mom well?” Hinata inquired,  Atsumu seems to be listening closely now, wanting to confirm if the person that Sugawara was talking about is you.

“Oh yeah, we're around the same age so I’m much closer to her than the other moms.” Sugawara blinks, “Those boys have to listen to their okaasan more. She’s raising them on her own since their dad died before he even got to know that L/N-san was pregnant. She seemed to be longing for him whenever he’s mentioned.”

A crease appeared on the blonde's forehead as he was suddenly in deep thought. It couldn’t be, right?

“Uh, Sugawara-san, may I know the name of the mom? Her last name sounds kind of familiar.” he questions, pretending to be nonchalant but inside, he feels like he had his heart on his throat.

If it was you, he’d feel those things that he desperately tried to hide behind his confident jokes and laughs. 

The pain.

The pain that you chose someone else and was open enough to the idea of starting a family. If that guy probably hadn’t died, you’d be together, happily raising those boys he had just met a while ago. Happily married, something that Atsumu tried to mention one fleeting moment while you were together back in college but you immediately shut the idea down and left him a month later.

The pain that you fell in love in a span of moments unlike Atsumu who relentlessly tried to gain your favour and follow you around like a lost puppy.

“Oh, her name’s Y/N L/N.”

Thankfully nothing unexpected happened after what the twins did, they ended up having to pick if they wanted their video game rights removed for a week or cancel their plans with their favorite ojisan who was coming by a few weeks from now, they chose the first one on that.

They had even mentioned that they met the real Miya Atsumu and although you felt like your heart lurched out of your chest and your shoulders stiffen at the mention of that man --- their father---  they simply had called him a rude jiji like his brother much to your relief.

“L/N-san, we seem to have a problem.” Aiko frowned, handing the papers to you, “The director of the advertisement department wants a bigger budget, do you mind running it through him again? You have to go to the studio though, I heard they’re doing some photo shoot now.”

You nodded in reply, taking the papers from your co-worker. The studio was a bit far so you ended up having to commute to get there, “What a nuisance.” You muttered, you needed to buy a second-hand car soon when you had enough money. It would definitely be easier for both you and the boys, “Uh excuse me? Is Nakamura-san here?” you asked the secretary on the front desk.

“And who are you?” the secretary snapped back, still typing away on her computer.

“Y/N L/N from the finance department, I have to run through the new budget liquidation with him.”

The secretary one-eyes you and the ID on your neck for a split second, “You better be quick, the boss wants only five minutes per guest since he’s personally handling the shoot today.” was all she replied, handing you the pass. You muttered a quick thank you and made your way up to the studio, whoever the model was today, they must’ve been big for Nakamura to handle them personally.

“Oh-ho, is that who I think it is?” a very, very familiar voice calls out.

“Inunaki-san.” You greeted, trying to maintain yourself, were these the big clients that Nakamura was handling? The black jackals? good fucking gracious, god must hate you.

“Wow,” he shakes his head, feigning amusement, “You’re still so calm and cool.”

You narrowed your eyes at the insult but you waved it off, “And you’re playing for a national team, congratulations.” you replied in a blank tone, your senior probably knew what happened between you and his fellow member. You wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if he reacted the same way as Osamu did.

“We’re actually doing a shoot now, would you like me to call Atsu-”

“No.” your usual calm tone switched to a colder one, “I’m working now and so is Miya-san, please don’t bother yourself.”

“Gee,” he raised his hands, signalling defeat, “Just say you don’t want to see him. You don’t need to be so cold to me, my dear little kohai.”

“I have to go back to my job, I’m on the clock here.” You ignored his previous statement, “It was nice seeing you again Inunaki-san.”

Before you could give him a chance to reply, you headed towards the studio. You took a deep breath and mentally calculated to three.

one. 

It’s been six years, Miya Atsumu would ignore you. He wouldn’t care about the girl who left him out to dry in college. He’s got a girlfriend now, a model who has legs for days and looks ten times better than you and acts more like a girlfriend than you ever did.

two.

Yes, that’s right, he wouldn’t care.

three.

You entered the studio, you could feel the air tighten around you as soon as you heard that laughter. The one you used to hear everyday and never get tired of. For all the laughs you couldn’t do, he’d do it for you and boy, was he patient around you since you didn’t smile a lot back then (who were you kidding? until now you still had the same problem except when the kids were around)

You want to stop and stare, you want to admire him and his glory that you were very much proud of.

Yet your legs continue to carry you to your boss, the laughter seems to have ceased and you could hear someone asking him what was wrong.

“Oh, L/N-san?” Nakamura greeted you, “You’re here for the renewal of the budget?”

You nodded feverishly, your legs seem to be turning into jelly because you want to collapse from the nervousness and thank god that you wore some make-up before arriving here, otherwise, they would’ve noticed how pale you looked, “Everything seems to be in order,” He nods, scanning the sheets and handing them back to you, “Are you busy right now?”

You glanced at the wall clock, checking the time to see if you could extend your stay and Nakamura is quick to pick up on it, “Ah right, you’ve got kids to pick up. It’ll be quick, just help set up the blocks there and you’re free to leave.” he orders.

You nodded obediently and slowly turned to the side only to catch the very familiar chocolate brown eyes of the blonde. You feel your heart hammering in your chest and your feet turn cold, it had been six years since you last saw Miya Atsumu and he was still as winsome and exhilarating as he was back then.

You may have seen him a lot on television but seeing him, right here, a few feet away from you was different. Taking in a big gulp of air, you started working on the set-up as quickly as you could yet you could still feel his burning gaze remaining on you, “Tsum-tsum, lay off her will you.” came Inunaki Shion’s loud voice snaps him out of his daze.

Great, that little twat had to make an appearance.

“Y/N-san you should really say hi,” Inunaki teased as soon as you finish your set-up.

“Oh? You’re Y/N L/N?” the orange one gushed, quickly up on his feet, you recall him as Hinata Shoyou, Youta’s favorite orange-haired ninja, “Sugawara-san’s friend?” 

You hesitantly nodded, “Oh, you know her Sho-kun?” Shion asked, seemingly amused by it all.

“What are you all crowding here for, Hinata?” Another asked, peering in them closely. This one must’ve been Bokuto, another favorite of Yuuto.

“Sugawara-san’s friend! she’s the mother of those two boys in the training camp who had to go home early!” he suddenly turns to you and then grins, “Ne, ne, the boys really seem to want to attend one of those. Why don’t you allow them to join us-”

“Forget it, Hinata.” Atsumu suddenly speaks out, that warm voice that you were accustomed to seemed cold and menacing now, “She won’t allow it.”

Shion notices the tension between you two and when he’s about to usher the energetic duo away back to the dressing room along with the other members, you let out a quiet sigh and spoke out, “I was on my way to leave, please don’t bother yourselves.” You simply replied, you didn’t waver and stared at him dead in the eye, this could be the moment to end it all and cut ties with him officially, “I apologize for what I did back then, Miya-san. I should’ve told it to you in person. I offer my sincere congratulations to you for making it this far.”

The blonde clenched his jaw, it seemed like he wanted to say something to you yet when he realizes the usual calm and collected demeanor you're putting up, he decides against it and leaves you alone by storming away first.

Hinata and the guy named Bokuto looked at you --- completely puzzled and lost like a deer in the headlights --- before following the blonde, “You truly are in a whole ‘nuther level, Y/N.” Shion whistles, “Heard you’ve got two boys now though. Congrats, where's the poor bastard?”

You continue to watch the back of Atsumu Miya. Finally, it seemed like he’d left you alone and probably for good this time, “Gone, off to a better place.” was all you replied.

Inunaki notices the longing in your voice, a completely unfamiliar emotion he had never seen back then even when you and Atsumu were together. It seemed like you and Atsumu were both the poor bastards in the end.

Miya Atsumu sleeps alone that night.

He doesn’t call his girlfriend back despite the several missed calls, he doesn’t reply to the unanswered text of his brother and his teammates. All he feels is pain tonight, pain because of your very dry apology, pain because of your bland expression. Pain because you didn’t seem to care like that time six years ago.

He shuts his eyes tight and he feels as if he’s back in college, back to that winter night where he received that dreaded phone call from you after you disappeared from him. He remembered those days clearly, your apartment had been cleaned out and paid for, you weren’t answering him on social media, your phone line was also unresponsive and he couldn’t even call your family since you never mentioned anything about them at all.

You both may have been intimate for the past two years but when you disappeared, he had the frightening realization that he didn’t know you at all.

He didn’t want to push you out of your comfort zone, he wanted you to lead the relationship but right at that moment, he wished he pried just a bit since he was worried about you.

Then in the midst of his anxiety, it came, that phone call.

“Atsumu.” your usual calm voice filled his ears and he suddenly feels the weight of the world is removed from his shoulders, thank god you were okay.

“Y/N? Baby? Where are you?”

“Out.”

“Where outside exactly?” Miya Atsumu dryly asks, “It’s cold, you shouldn’t be out now and wandering about. Would you like me to pick you up-”

“I can’t do this anymore.” you suddenly cut him off and the line goes quiet. The blonde feels the world around him quiet down too when he hears those words that he wished he heard wrong.

“What’s, what’s wrong? Y/N, are you alright?” 

“I don’t know,” You mutter, “I’m just tired.”

“Tired of what exactly?”

“Of you, of us…”

“Y/N, are you saying what I think you’re saying?” 

“Yes.” Your voice remained dead calm as if you just hadn’t broken his heart in a million pieces that moment, “Let’s stop this here now, Atsumu. Let’s break-up.”

“That’s…” He tries to keep the mood light, praying that this is one of your dark jokes, “That’s not funny, Y/N.”

“It’s not supposed to be since it’s not a joke.”

Your response was curt as usual and he doesn’t know whats worse, the fact that you’re breaking up over the phone or the fact that your tone remains stable and the same.

“Y/N, don’t do this...Baby don’t do this over the phone.” His tone seemed desperate at this point, “I’m not stopping this until you tell me what's wrong between us, you have to give me something to work with Y/N. Is it something I did?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean ya don’t know?” Atsumu started to raise his tone when he notices how unaffected you seem at the other line.Frustration slowly started to bubble in him, the accent turning thicker as he got angrier, “Y/N ya can’t just disappear out of the blue and call me one day and tell me you want to break up! Do you think I’m some sort of fling? Some one-night stand or fuck buddies? We’ve been together for two years, Y/N. Two whole fucking years, What’s wrong? Do you not love me anymore?”

“Yes.”

The line went dead silent again and he hates it, he doesn’t know what to say as his face contorts in sadness and confusion. 

“I don’t…” He starts to feel a lump grow on his throat when he hears how easy it was for you to say, he knew he was in love with you more than you were with him. Many had pointed out how dangerous and how painful it would be on his side in the end, he couldn’t believe it would hurt him this much, “ I don’t fucking believe you, say it right at my face. Where the hell are ya? Let’s talk this one out in person.”

“Don’t bother, I just don’t want to see you again.”

“Y/N you can’t just-”

“I can and I will.” You cut him off, your voice was growing more and more detached and he feels like he’s back to that moment two years ago where you didn’t spare him a glance and treated him like a scrub, he hears a hefty sigh on your side and the next few words is another bullet to his heart, “I’m sorry it had to end this way, Atsumu.”

“You…” he shakily replied, trying to mask his grief with a painful chuckle. He wants to be mad at you, he wants to yell at you but for some odd reason, he couldn’t bring himself to,  “Jesus christ, you really are something, Y/N. You just broke my heart over the the fucking phone and all you could do is say sorry?”

“Sorry.” you say, like a broken-record on repeat and he hates it. He hates how he feels like this was nothing for you.

“Don’t you dare say that again when you don’t mean it-” He spat and before he could finish what he had to say, the phone line went dead. He tried to call again but it seemed like you had used a payphone. Out of complete vexation, he hurls his phone right across the room towards the blue photo frame with the both of you in it.

The sound of broken glass shards and ragged breathing is the only thing heard in the quiet apartment.

It’s not even the peak of winter that night yet he feels so numb and cold.

taglist [closed]

@fortheloveofiwaizumi​ ;  @svtbitch ; @ryaaaax ; @kiyoomile ; @lovedanii @juno-multifandom ; @gyubit17 ; @saeranoppa ; @nixxona ; @kyomihann @shorttstackk ; @itsmattsunshinehere ; @missingmystogan​ ; @Etherynaw ; @volleybloop​ ; @imcravingyou​ ;

[hansolmates]

jjk; angel’s trumpet [02]

summary; one second, your life is flashing before your eyes and the next, you’re transported into a world exactly like your own. but the jungkook you meet in this world isn’t a renowned singer or your former almost-lover, in fact he has no clue who you are and why you know him so well. as you work to find your way home lost and confused, you conclude that you’re either dead or in the middle of the most wicked drug trip of your life. pairing; idol!jk x reader (f), alternatively film producer!jk x reader genre/warnings; fluff, angst, supernatural, idol!au, non-idol!au, alternate universes, themes of fate, language, alcohol consumption, mentions of smut in future chapters w.c; 3.5k a/n; i know it feels like a lot of bg and internal conflict but y/n!! our girl is struggling! she’s processing and is going through some times BUT things will spice up soon so thank you for all the love +notes, see you again thursday! 

[01] [02] [03]-> masterpost

The two most frequent contacts in your phone (you hope it’s your phone? It’s the same edition and everything) are Jimin and Taehyung. 

Jungkook (or not-Jungkook) high-tailed it out of there as soon as he deemed your reactions unfit for basic human society. He muttered that you were crazy and probably under something, and sped off in his motorcycle just like that. Like you were a stranger. 

It's not easy to ignore the aftermath of your heart after taking yet another rejection, but you're independent and you must stride forward in this strange situation. Taking a cautionary look around the area, you clutch your phone like a lifeline, tethering you together in this unfamiliar place. There's not many people around, but you spot a large library and a playground. Professionals are mulling from building to building, zombies in wrinkled suits and dripping iced coffees. Your phone displays an innocent 7:51, revealing how early it is. Toggling between the two friends in your contacts you take your chances and start with Jimin. The phone rings once, twice, before his dulcet voice chimes in your ear. 

“Babe?” he croons, and your heart drops at the sickly warm tone, “you can’t get enough of me after what we did last night?” 

You’re going to throw up. Scratch that, acid is already bubbling through your throat and you force yourself to tamp it down. There is no, no way in hell could you have hooked up with Park Jimin in your lifetime. 

Unless this is hell. 

“Jimin,” you steel your voice, hoping he can’t hear how absolutely mortified you are. You can picture this version of Park Jimin now, laying around in bed with crossed legs and casually enjoying how much you’re squirming on the other line, “I just need you to tell me where I live so we can move on with our lives.” 

He laughs, giggles bubbling like soft pink champagne. “Wow, I really must’ve fucked your brains out if you can’t even remember where you live.” God, in what life would Park Jimin be “fucking your brains out”? Maybe you should find a trashcan just in case you do puke on the sidewalk. “Y’know, you signed your lease with Taehyung a month ago? You just moved in last week?”

“T-Taehyung?” you stutter, trying to imagine the notion, “I live with Taehyung?” 

A beat passes, and you realize that just like you scared not-Jungkook away, you could be doing the same to Jimin. 

He says your name softly, gone the cocky tone you were initially bombarded with. “Are you okay? You could’ve waited for me to wake up, y’know. We had a lot to drink last night.” he mumbles, almost cutely if it weren’t for the fact the he was insinuating sex two seconds ago, “Did you eat?” 

“‘M fine,” you mumble, trying to chalk up your previous question with inhiberation. “Just loopy, I guess. I almost got hit by a motorbike, so my brain is probably just catching up.” 

“You got hit? Did you call a hospital?” great, now Jimin’s panicked. “Where are you? I’m gonna go get you. Drop your location, I’m leaving now!” 

“I’m fine!” you snip, and you feel bad for nearly screaming on the line. “I’m almost home, I’m just gonna lay in bed and sleep it off. I’ll call you later, okay?” 

You don’t bother hearing his response, and you hang up. You then start to furiously scroll Taehyung’s chat wall, noting that he’s on an academic trip with his students until next week and you have the apartment to yourself. After a good ten minutes of scrolling and reading conversations that you can’t recollect you finally catch the address to your shared apartment. 

The city is the same, fortunately. So are the bus stops, and you’re thankful that your bus pass has some fare money. Turns out you’re starting your journey at the University of Seoul. The bus routes are the same as well, and you manage to take a tour of your side of the city, noting the tiny differences in the town. 

For example, there’s no BigHit Entertainment in its usual spot. Instead it’s an additional practice  space for Cube Entertainment. 

There’s no fanfare to your city tour, and it almost feels like you’re just a normal woman taking a ride home. There’s still the same trees and squirrels, familiar odeng stands and ice cream shops. It feels like you’ve been cut and pasted into this world with no rhyme or reason, a fever dream. 

The bus circles around the usual route once more until you’re in front of your supposed home, only a twenty minute bus ride from where Jungkook almost ran you over. 

It’s a lot, and you realize on the drive over that you’re probably in deeper shit than you could ever imagine. You pull out your keys, and instead of seeing the ramen keychain Jungkook got you when he went to Tokyo Disney, instead it’s replaced by a university ID labeled Assistant Professor under your full name. 

You pin that new fact for later and focus on getting inside.

Your apartment is nice, you muse. Simple black and white furniture, but there’s a definitive home-ness to it. There’s a moss green afghan folded up on the couch, presumably made by the artist himself. You’re glad Taehyung’s appeal for the arts hasn’t been lost, as revealed by the frames on the walls detailing pictures of you and Taehyung’s families, and some of Jimin and Taehyung. 

Deeper into the apartment you find your room. You choke back a sob at the familiar bedsheets your parents bought you at Target, and you even notice some familiar clothing pieces folded haphazardly in the corner. Instead of your bed being filled with shameless BT21 PR however, your RJ and Mang are replaced with simple panda and cat plushies. 

Finally letting your tears fall, you sob loudly into your pillows, hugging and grappling at anything to comfort you. You feel achy and tired, as if your heart has fallen out of your body and nothing can fill the void. As much as your bed sheets feel the same, as genuine as those pictures are in your shared living room, this isn’t your home. 

•━━━━━━»••»💮💮💮«••«━━•

Between your bouts of crying and forcing yourself to stomach cheap ramen, you find out a couple of things. 

You’re an assistant professor at Seoul University. At least this version of you is. A little part of you is pleased by this, you have always wanted to teach at the university level before settling with BigHit. To your chagrin however, you’re not a language professor. 

To your horror, you’re a pre-medical student teaching two “History of Neuroscience” classes. It’s only two classes because according to your Google calendar, you’re also balancing the completion of  your final thesis on muscular dystropathy among low-income neighborhoods. 

Dear god, if your parents ever found out you could’ve been a doctor in another life, they’d be surely choking on their own spit. In this world, you probably weren’t lazy and wholly capable of achieving the impossible. 

You don’t know why you spend the next two hours sending emails to your students about cancelling the next week of classes. Fortunately all your lessons are neatly packaged in your drive, and you send out an email with said lessons citing your mental health and how you’ll resume direct instruction the following week. 

From time to time, your eyes can’t help but travel to the frames and polaroids that decorate your walls. Some of the memories are vaguely similar, a house in the suburbs, an annoying cousin who can’t stop and won’t stop pulling at your pigtails, a movie night with unlimited pizza and breadsticks. 

Some of them are far and beyond your state of recognition. Jimin and you playing hopscotch by the river, Taehyung stuffing his face with fried potato skins in a cheap hole-in-the-wall, you winning the blue ribbon at your high school’s science fair. 

You could very well walk out of this life and just focus on going back home, but something tells you that you need to continue on with this life, at least for now. 

It feels too real to be a dream. When you tug at your hair tie, it’s painful when it snaps across your wrist. Your skin blooms with color upon impact. Could you die in this world? If Jungkook had not skidded in time, would you have survived a motorcycle accident? 

Three days pass like that. You’re contemplating, absorbing information. In-between pints of ice cream and crying your ducts out, you’re drawing conclusions. Could you be in a coma? A very realistic, painful coma? But Jimin and Taehyung are still sending you texts and the day turns to night as painfully slow as it always has. A coma can’t fake a forty person class, all of them vying for your attention through various emails and Zoom calls. It can’t be it. 

And as you rummage through your drawers, check every bit of social media and even your yearbook photos, you also confirm that Jeon Jungkook has no place in this version of your life. It saddens you greatly, and reminds you eerily about the heated conversation you had before all of this. The Jungkook from days ago, the one who looked terrified when you tried to touch him, only met you through happenstance. 

By day four, you get a phone call. There’s no picture next to the contact, only named Biggie Mentor. After a few rings, you finally get the courage to answer the call. 

A deep timbre seeps its way through the line, and you almost whine at how much you missed him. “y/n,” Namjoon says, but he doesn’t sound happy, “tell me why our students said you cancelled all of your classes this week due to mental health?” 

If Namjoon’s your mentor, that means you’re probably in deep shit for cancelling all your classes without his consent. 

“Uh, exactly that,” you say, and it hurts how much you have to strain your voice, trying not to pour any type of affection into this version of Namjoon. You’ve always had a soft spot for his gummy smile. “I’m sorry for not telling you beforehand. Something really traumatic just happened and,” you choke back a sob, trying to cover the microphone, “and I really needed some space.” 

“Hey, it’s okay,” his voice is like melted honey, and you close your eyes and picture yourself back at BigHit, Namjoon’s happy smile whenever he tries to cheer you up. It only makes you even more upset, and your mind is all shadowed and filled with fuzzies as you attempt to picture Namjoon as your boss, “I was just shocked, that’s all. Is everything alright?” 

“No,” you reply truthfully, “and I don’t know if it will be.” 

There’s a terse silence, both your breaths hanging on the line with no move to continue the conversation. If your personality here is similar to your true world, you would understand why Namjoon would have a hard time formulating a reply. You don’t even know how close you are with him here. What remains is that you’re the type to keep your secrets to yourself, and if they truly felt hindering, you’d tell somebody. Not to say you’re the suffer in silence type of person, but you weren’t one to immediately dump your feelings on someone. 

Finally, Namjoon musters a reply, “I have a break at two. Why don’t you swing by our usual lunch spot and we can talk? Their sandwiches always cheer you up. ”

“Joonie,” your voice cracks, and you shake your head despite the fact that he can’t see you. A slip of the nickname comes out before you can help it, and you hope this Namjoon is fond of the manner. “I don’t know where that is. Or what our ‘usual’ spot is. I don’t know what sandwiches you’re talking about either.” 

“Okay,” and you relax at the calmness in his tone, “I’ll swing by after my 5PM then. Set the table for us, yeah?” 

•━━━━━━»•»💮💮💮«•«━━•••

Namjoon smells of dry-erase marker and antiseptic. 

He’s bounding into your apartment like it’s his own home, carrying two paper bags and a stack of leather bound books. The items fly across your coffee table, and you two work together to organize both your dinner and the books. Namjoon looks like a textbook nerd, wearing shades of burgundy and burnt orange as he breaks into your front door. Gone are the boots and sleek outfits that trim his figure, and you can’t help but go a little anti-starstruck at how normal this moment is.

But what remains is the bumbly stance as he makes his way through your tiny space, long limbs and all flailing to help you place his work in a safe space. The curve of his nose and dimples so deep you could fill a lake in them, you can’t help but muster a shy smile as he takes notice that you’re staring at him a little too much for comfort.

The two of you eat in relative silence, and you gratefully accept the bag he pushes in your direction. To your surprise the sandwich inside is a favorite combination of yours, and you wonder if this restaurant exists in your world. 

Your world. 

“Namjoon,” you place your sandwich down, despite the fact that your stomach is protesting for you to finish the first real meal you’ve had in days, “you know that movie, Avengers?” 

Namjoon’s face is puffed with bread, and you hand him a water bottle to chug it down. “Dunno,” he shrugs, “Marvel isn’t a popular franchise, so even if I had I wouldn’t remember.” 

“Marvel isn’t popular—” what kind of fucked up world is this? Your Jungkook would have a field day if he was in your shoes. “Anyway. There’s a concept from Marvel that there’s multiple Earths. Like you can create a rip in space and land yourself in another dimension if you’re not too careful. Do you think it’s possible?” 

Your tall mentor pushes his charcoal hair back, exasperated. “Is this why you’re taking off? Because you believe in some silly comic book series?” 

You feel your heart cracking, desperately trying to keep itself together. In your haste you grip Namjoon’s arm, desperate. “Please, just hear me out.” you warble, “a few days ago I was out drinking with a friend. Next thing I know, I’m in another world where I run into a boy. That boy is my friend, but he says he doesn’t recognize me! But I don’t recognize this life. Namjoon I can’t even imagine you wanting to be a doctor!” 

Namjoon is looking at you funny, and you know he’s really trying to believe you. Instead of the reassuring words you hope for, he instead says, “this isn’t even pseudoscience, y/n. This is supernatural! How could you possibly think you’re from another dimension? I just saw you last week and everything was fine!” 

“I saw you last week too!” you exclaim, clutching your chest, “and you cried again for the umpteenth time because you lost another pair of custom Airpods.” 

A pause. “That does sound like me.” 

Hope blooms in your stomach. “Doesn’t it?”

“Well, in this supposed other life. What is my profession?”

Your face falls. “Uh, you’re in a worldwide K-pop band. You’re making millions and producing beautiful music.” 

That sounded way better in your head. Out loud it sounded absolutely bonkers. You don’t even blame Namjoon when he bursts out laughing, wiping tears from his eyes. You let him, sinking further into your seat and hugging your knees. You really hoped Namjoon would’ve come through for you. 

However you’re not laughing along with him, and he immediately stops at your teary expression. He pushes himself over to you with his long legs, quickly moving to prevent yourself from tucking into your shell. He sees how small your form becomes and he reaches over to place a hand over your hair. “You’re really upset over this, aren’t you?” he questions aloud, and he can’t piece it together, “did you hit your head or something?” 

Defeated, you explain, “I may have gotten hit by a motorcycle the other day.” 

“What?” he squeezes your shoulder, “well, that explains a lot! What if you’re hallucinating? What if you have a concussion? You could be suffering from short-term memory loss!” 

You’re sure it’s none of those things, but you let him ramble. The explanation is clear-cut and so painfully normal that it’s the only conclusion that Namjoon will cling to. Your mentor insists you take a medical leave, and says he’ll take over your classes in the meantime. He gives you a number to call, explains there one of the best doctors for trauma and motor incidents. You don’t say anything to that, but you accept the number and lie when you say you’ll call them in the morning. Namjoon still treats you like a friend however, despite your fruitless confession, and you concede that his comfort is more than enough after such a rough week. 

•━━━━━━»••»💮💮💮«••«━━••

It’s been nearly two weeks since you’ve contacted Jimin. 

Sure, Jimin’s contacted you. A couple flirty texts here, some low-key sexy selfies there. Usually, you’d eat that up like honey and butter. Now, there’s only one-word replies and half-hearted attempts at continuing a conversation. He loosens his tie, thankful he’s working out of the office today. He can look at his phone all he wants, and no one will judge him. 

Jimin finally looks up at the photographer his marketing company contracted, who’s still mulling over the contract. “We’re not trying to jip you, promise.” Jimin assures, and he almost laughs at the comical way the young man’s large eyes catch his concern. “You’ll get all that money, and then some if you need to work overtime. It’s a sweet gig.” 

“Yeah,” the young man nods, and grabs the pen to sign at the bottom. “Looking forward to working with you.” 

“Same to you, Mr. Jeon,” Jimin grins, meeting him halfway across the table, “I’ve seen your work, I’m sure the commercial will be beautiful.” 

“You can call me Jungkook,” the new employee flashes him a quick grin, taking his palm in his. Jimin tries not to twitch at this cute kid, who is both devastatingly handsome and cute at the same time. He’s a little jealous, a little attracted. 

“Great, because Mr. Park is my dad. Jimin’s fine.” 

It’s then that Jimin’s phone lights up, both pairs of eyes darting to the picture of you decorating the wallpaper. 

While it’s not a completely flattering picture (you’re asleep with your wire-rimmed glasses half-off and there’s drool dribbling down your chin.) However it’s definitely you, the person Jungkook nearly killed a couple days ago.

Jungkook’s mouth goes dry, and he lets go of Jimin’s hand like it’s fire. Jimin hardly notices, grabbing his phone in hope that you replied to his text. To his despair, it’s just Taehyung. He ruffles his hair in frustration, letting the slick ebony strands fall out of his hairstyle.

“Fuck,” Jimin curses, shoving his phone in his blazer. 

“Everything alright?” Jungkook asks, trying to be polite. On the other hand, he’s rather curious about the girl from weeks ago, who still hasn’t left his mind. 

In the heat of the moment, Jungkook left the scene with you blubbering on the road. How wide your eyes were with recognition, and almost mother-like as you coddled him like someone to protect. He’s felt bad about it since, but he had an interview with Jimin’s boss and he couldn’t blow a job opportunity. It couldn’t be helped that your sad expression has been his midnight fixation when he can’t sleep or has a creative block. He should’ve at least called a cab to take you to the hospital or something, you were clearly not in the right mind. 

“Yeah, it’s just a friend.” Jimin forces a smile, not wanting to dump his baggage on the new employee. “She almost got hit by a motorcycle the other day,” Jungkook masks a wince, remembering the horror he felt when he saw you, just lying there across the street. “Ever since then, she just hasn’t been herself. I’m just worried. It’s like she’s seen a ghost or something.” 

“Oh,” Jungkook steals a glance at Jimin’s phone again, hoping to see your picture light up again. He does feel a little guilty pushing you off him and running away, but then again it was you that started being weird. 

How did you know him, and why were you so concerned for his well-being? Would he get fired if he asked Jimin about you? That would be the quickest job he ever got contracted for. Instead, Jungkook forces a smile and offers a neutral, “Well, I’m sure things will work out.” 

“Thanks, I hope so too.” 

Jungkook’s palms are sweaty, as if it’s a dark premonition that something will happen. With Jimin around supervising him, he has a feeling that if things don’t work out, things will happen regardless. 

Maybe he’ll understand why you were so concerned for a stranger’s well-being, and why you looked at him like that. 

Like someone in love. 

[izzielizzie]

Now I’ve Seen You I’ve Seen It All Chapter Two

This is a really long fic title, dang. Anyway, enjoy!!!

The next morning, the counselors are sitting drinking coffee in the Big Cabin before the children wake up and the morning rush sends them in a million and one directions. Addy’s texting someone, a grin on her face as her mug hovers between the table and her mouth.

“Are you talking to Keely?” Phoebe asks, peering over Addy’s shoulder.

“Yep, she’s got this major project designing a wedding dress for someone, and she’s pestering me about whether cream lace or white lace looks better, or something like that.”

Phoebe giggles, thinking of her own mother as she leans back against Knox. “Well, there was no lace on my dress and we survived.”

“Tell that to Keely.”

Addy, Phoebe, and Knox laugh. Farther down the table, Cooper and Kris are wrapped up in each other, discussing the weather. “If it rains, in the afternoon, I’ll have to cancel wiffle ball,” Cooper muses. Kris rolls his eyes affectionately. 

“What’s with you and wiffle ball?”

“Maeve won’t let me use real baseballs.”

“They’re dangerous!” Maeve protests from her spot in Luis’s arms.

Kris runs a hand through his curls and grins. “She’s got a point, babe. Look at what happened yesterday.”

“Kris that was a wiffle ball not a baseball so your point is invalid.”

“Imagine the kind of damage Ellen could have done if she had a baseball!”

“Kris please if Ellen wants to inflict damage she doesn’t need a baseball for that.”

“Speaking of, I wonder if Ellen and Ali are getting along,” Maeve says musingly as she rests her head on Luis’s shoulder.

“I’m sure they are,” Luis says.

Everyone at the table - minus the deranged couple - exchanges looks clearly indicating that they do not agree.

They would be correct.

“Ellen stop humming,” Ali grumbles from her bunk as Ellen stands in front of the mirror brushing her shoulder length hair.

Ellen hums a little louder.

“Ellen I mean it, stop humming.”

Ellen switches songs and hums louder.

“Ellen.”

“Hmmm.” Ellen’s stopped humming at this point and is now shouting random vowels as she continues methodically running a brush through her hair. 

“Ellen-I-don’t-know-your-middle-name-Rojas stop this instant or else. You’re giving me a headache and you’re off pitch.”

“HMMM- hey!”

In a desperate attempt to get Ellen to shut up, Ali leaps off her bunk, landing on top of Ellen with a bang.

“Shut! Up!” Ali shouts from on top of Ellen, ignoring her bruised arm.

“My hair! My hair!” Ellen shouts.

Ali pauses. “Your hair? Your hair? Girl I just jumped on you and you’re worried about your hair?”

“My hair!” Ellen repeats.

Ali rolls off Ellen. “Are you seriously that worried about your- ah!”

Ellen uses the opening to roll over on top of Ali. “Stop being so mean and bossy all the ti- oh hey Aunt Phoebe!” Ellen says, dropping her hands from Ali’s shoulders, which she had been shaking with every word.

Ali and Ellen both stand up, sheepishly turning to Phoebe, who had just pushed the door open, a tray of food balanced expertly one one hand. 

“Hello girls, I brought breakfast since Maeve wants you two to stay here and think about your actions. Which I’m sure you’re doing.”

“Oh yeah,” Ali says.

“For sure,” Ellen agrees.

Phoebe raises her eyebrows, not fooled. “Well, I’ll just leave this here so you can keep thinking,” she says, placing the tray on a desk. Both girls nod and wave as Phoebe leaves. The moment the door closes they scramble for the food, pushing each other until they’ve both grabbed something. The cross to opposite sides of the cabin and sit, glaring at each other. They stay this way for the rest of the morning and into the afternoon, pausing here and there to read books or throw thinly veiled insults at each other, but mostly they just sit in silence. Until the rain starts about an hour after Knox brings lunch.

“It’s raining,” Ellen says.

“Yeah I’m aware,” Ali responds. 

“It’s making the roof leak.”

Ali looks up to see a hole the size of a quarter in the roof, water slowly dripping onto the floor. “You’re worried about that? At home the roof was dripping so badly my dad had to redo the entire ceiling.”

Ellen tilts her head.

“My dad owns a construction company.”

“Oh. My mom’s a lawyer. We live in an apartment building.”

“Does your mom fix stuff?”

‘“We’re not allowed. And anyway, I don’t think she’d like to. She’s really neat and not… handson-y.”

“What about your dad?”

“I don’t have one.”

Ali nods once before turning back to her book, not sure how to proceed. If the girls realize they’ve just had a real conversation, they don’t acknowledge it. They stay silent until Ellen looks up to roll out her neck and realizes that the hole has become more like the size of her palm. 

“Ali! The hole!”

Ali looks up and jumps up in surprise. “We need to catch the water before it gets anywhere!” she cries as the water splashes down onto the wooden floor.”

“We need a bucket!”

Ali looks at Ellen like she’s grown three heads. “Right. Let me go get it from my car.”

“You don’t have a car.”

“And I don’t have a bucket either!”

Both girls scramble, frantically dancing around the water to find something suitable for catching the precipitation. 

“Your bag!” Ellen shouts, pointing to Ali’s oversized bag.

“What?”

“Yeah, it’ll work, we can line it with your leather jacket, it's waterproof right?”

Ali looks around frantically, trying to find a better alternative to her bag and jacket (which is waterproof). She doesn’t find one. “Okay! Fine!”

Both girls scramble to dump out the contents of the bag, and they line it with Ali’s jacket, pushing the bag under the water. They step back, catching their breath as the water starts to collect in the bag. Once she’s sure that the bag will hold the water, Ali turns to her things. She crouches and starts collecting everything, putting them on the bunk underneath hers. Ellen’s about to go back to her bed when she sees Ali picking up her things on her own. Feeling guilty for suggesting they use Ali’s only bag, Ellen climbs back down the ladder and starts picking up assorted things: a chapstick here, an earring there, until she sees an old tattered picture and freezes.

The picture is a normal picture: a girl in a green cap and gown, a grey dress peeking out underneath. She’s standing in front of a fireplace, a grin on her face as she holds up a diploma for the camera. But this isn’t just any old girl, it’s a girl Ellen recognizes. She knows the dark framed glasses and grey eyes and tan skin and brown curls. It’s her mother. Blood rushes to Ellen’s head. 

“Ali?” she asks quietly. Ali freezes, surprised by Ellen’s tone. 

“What?”

“Why do you have a picture of my mother?”

Ali turns, sees the picture in Ellen’s hand, and yanks it back. “Hey! Be careful with that, it's important.”

Ellen tries to take it back. “I mean it, Ali, why do you have a picture of my mother?”

Ali makes a face. “Your mother? That’s my mother, stupid.”

“No, that’s my mom.”

“Why would I have a picture of your mom?” Ali asks. 

“How am I supposed to know! Here, I’ll prove it.” Ellen fishes around her duffle bag for a moment until she pulls out a wallet. She opens it, and slides a Polaroid picture out from the slot where IDs are supposed to go. It’s of Ellen and Bronwyn, taken in their penthouse apartment the day before Ellen left for camp. Bronwyn had her arms around Ellen as they smiled at the camera that, at the time, was placed on the mantelpiece. Bronwyn was wearing a grey blazer and her hair was down, and it’s easy to see the resemblance between the Bronwyn in the Polaroid picture and the Bronwyn in Ali’s picture. Ellen hands Ali the picture. Ali stares at it for a moment, looking between the two pictures. When she finally turns away from them, Ellen can’t tell if she’s confused or about to cry.

“Why do I have a picture of your mom?”

“That’s what I’m asking.”

“But, does this mean I haven't been looking at my mom?” Ali’s actually crying now.

Ellen softens her tone. She can’t imagine finding a picture of her father and then learning it’s not her father. “I don’t know. Where did you find this?”

“In my dad’s office. I thought that person in the corner was him. I thought it was the only picture of my parents in the same room that I had.” Ali’s sobbing, and Ellen puts a hand on her arm. She doesn’t pull away. 

“Is that him? In the corner?” Ellen can just make out an arm in a leather jacket. Ali nods. Ellen thinks this isn’t a lot to go off of, parents wise, but Ellen can understand Ali’s desperation. She’s always wondered about her father, but her mother’s only said that she’s moved on and doesn’t want to talk about him. “I’m sorry Ali. Did your dad grow up in Bayview?”

“Yeah,” Ali sniffs.

“My mom too. She hasn’t been back since I was born. That was twelve years ago. Thirteen in October,” Ellen adds. Ali’s head shoots up.

“October?”

“Yeah, October thirty first. I’ve always loved that I was born on -”

“Halloween. Ellen, I was born on Halloween. I’m twelve almost thirteen.”

Ellen looks at Ali. “That’s a funny coincidence.”

Ali grabs for Ellen’s shoulders. “What if it’s not? What if we were born on the same day? What if your mom is my mom? I mean we look alike right? Everyone says so. We only disagreed because we didn’t like each other.” Ellen notices the past tense. Maybe Ali doesn’t hate her anymore. 

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“I mean, we both have black hair. We both have freckles. Our skin is the same shade of not-pale-but-not-tan-either. And our eyes are… wait are they blue or grey?”

“I’ve always called them ‘grue’,” Ellen admits.

“Me too!”

“Wait, Ali, are you saying we’re sisters?”

“Ellen, you doofus, we’re twins.”

It takes a moment for this to sink in, but all of a sudden, Ellen’s crying in a way that she hasn’t in a long time. She’s hugging Ali, rocking back and forth and sobbing into her shoulder. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” they keep saying over and over in unison, almost like they’re identical twins that have had their entire lives to do things like say the same thing at the same time. When they pull away, Ellen asks: “Does this mean your dad is my dad?”

“Yeah! I think it does!”

“Oh my gosh, what’s he like?” Ellen asks.

“He’s great! He’s funny and really nice and we watch movies together and he takes me to work and he built me a treehouse.”

“Oh. My. God. That’s so cool.”

“What about Mom?”

“She’s a lawyer. She’s super cool and she has the greatest fashion sense and she drives the coolest car. Oh my gosh, Ali, this means that Aunt Maeve is your aunt too!”

Ali starts crying again at this realization. She truly does adore Maeve.

“Do you think she knows?”

“I don’t know. Ali, we should ask!”

“Yes! Let’s go!”

Both girls sprint out of the door, hand in hand, glancing at each other every few moments, reveling in the feeling of finding family, their past animosity long forgotten.