#ok i. need to actually go to bed now. goodbye worlds

[sidesteppostinghours]

should i be asleep right now???? probably. but i cant do that right now because im busy crying about the parallels between step and argent.

[theteasetwrites]

Daddy's Home | Part 1

❧ Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female Reader ❧ Era: Season 5 (Alexandria) ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: SMUT (18+)—oral sex (male receiving), dominant-ish Daryl, doggystyle, so much dirty talk, like one tiny spank (just a little one), mutual masturbation, vaginal fingering, oh yeah and DADDY KINK, language ❧ Word Count: 4.3k

❧ Summary: When Daryl comes back home from a week away, he doesn't want to sleep. He just wants you.

❧ A/N: Ok so yes I know the title is ridiculous, but like... what else was I gonna call this oneshot ok? Anyway, here's some major daddy kink. Like a lot of daddy kink. Daryl is just daddy. Sorry but he is. I can't explain it. Actually, yes I can. He's a protector, a provider, a big softie. He's a daddy, and I don't even have daddy issues but just let me have this. Goodbye I am never showing my face here again. <;3 Also I simply cannot get over how hot he is in this gif holy mother of god.

The quiet was nice, late nights in Alexandria, gentle summer breeze prickling at your skin. It was nice to leave your bedroom window open through the night. Daryl hated it, always going on about how someone could climb the trellis outside your window and sneak in while you slept, but when he was gone, you’d indulge yourself in that one simple luxury.

When he told you that he was Alexandria’s newest recruiter, you knew you’d be in for some lonely nights ahead. Still, you also knew Daryl was the best man for the job—you’d seen him bring dozens of people to the prison, providing them shelter while expecting nothing in return, and then going out the next morning to do it all over again. That was when he wasn’t going out on his hunts to find food for everyone, often bringing home the biggest deer you’d ever seen, until he’d do it again next week, and bring home an even bigger one.

Yes, there was no doubt about it—Daryl knew what he was doing out there, but it didn’t stop you from worrying about him. Missing him. So while the quiet was, indeed, nice, you still could not get used to being alone, in this perfect little suburban townhouse, waiting. 

Your waiting became so monotonous, sitting up in your bed and reading another old Agatha Christie novel, that you decided, at length, to migrate downstairs, the living room. When Daryl would come home, you thought, you’d greet him right away. That was how much you were anticipating his arrival. 

One week was nothing, really, but it was the longest you’d been apart since knowing each other, and with the world the way it was, a lot could happen in seven days. A lot of bad, bad things. 

So you flicked on the lamp, snuggled yourself into a knitted blanket, and curled up on the sofa, book in hand as you let out a quiet huff. “Daryl…” you said to yourself, scanning your book to relocate the exact sentence where you left off. “Where are you, you big meatball.”

Your nervous jitters only worsened with the passing hour, your legs shaking involuntarily, your finger tapping on the edge of the book, your toes wiggling nonstop. All you needed was the sound of that bike, that big, stupid bike. That would ease your fretful heart. Well, what would really make you happy was seeing that man of yours, no doubt in need of a shower, but still, your man nonetheless. 

Speak of the Devil, as they say, and he doth appear.

It started out as just a distant hum, perking your ears and making your spine straighten in anticipation. Still frozen, you listened intently. A rumble, now, mechanical and getting louder with each second your heart began to beat faster. At one fateful moment, the roar of the makeshift machine was at its highest volume, and before you could even stand, a bright beam of white light shone through the blinds of the front window. 

All at once, the light and the rumble ceased, punctuated by a low huff, followed by an exasperated grunt. Heavy footsteps plodded along in a familiar pattern—you even recognized the sound of his no doubt mud-caked boots scraping against the edge of the steps leading to the front porch. You could only hope that this time, he’d take the extra precaution of removing his boots before he stepped over the threshold. 

There was a spring in your step, you wrapping the terry cloth fabric of your robe over your chest as you flitted towards the front door. Finally, you stood just a few feet back, your eyes transfixed on the shiny bronze doorknob. Inevitably, a wide grin made your cheeks swell until they almost ached, but the wait was worth it. 

When he came through the door, his head was hanging low, until he felt your presence. Lifting his gaze, he met your great big smile with a smaller one, though the movement of his body betrayed him. The door shut with a strong thud, just before he stepped forward to let his crossbow fall from his shoulder. With a soft grunt under his breath, he buried his nose in the warmth of your shoulder, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips. 

For a good while, he stayed like that, only taking in the sensory relief you provided him—your faint scent of rose, your softness, your tender chuckle as your hands rubbed in vertical motions up and down his aching back. Despite the rigidity of his tired muscles, he melted into you, letting himself bask in the comfort you provided him. To hold him like this was nothing short of a ritual between you two, whenever you were apart for long enough to begin missing each other to the point of near grief. 

A man like Daryl—who’d been through so much as he had, who’d seen so much and had still so much room in his heart to give of himself to others—deserved to be held the way you held him. Few people in this world had a heart as big as him, though he did not show it in ways most people would recognize. He showed it in acts of service, in providing for people who could not provide for themselves, in the ones he loved safe. It was what you always adored about him: how he gave of himself, and expected nothing in return. 

“Hey, there, tough guy.” Daryl buried his face deeper into you, now snug in the crook of your neck, where he caught the scent of your perfume, applied much earlier in the day, yet still lingering sweetly. Though you adored how much he clung to you, you longed so much to see his face. Your hands grabbed a hold of either side of his head to lift his gaze to yours. 

As usual, his disheveled hair hung low over his forehead, obscuring one of your favorite features of his—his eyes. Between strips of tattered brown curtains, you could make out the blue-grey hue of his irises. Pushing them back, you smiled again at those deep-set pools of silvery cobalt blue. You always found their mystery to be intriguing. 

“How are you?” you asked, though you knew from the state of him that he must’ve been exhausted. He hadn’t even muttered a word, and yet the more prominent than usual bags under his eyes spoke for him. “You must be tired, hon. Let’s get you in bed.”

But as you turned towards the staircase, a firm grip pulled you back by the wrist, until you were in his arms now, laughing at his sudden burst of energy. Despite your amusement, he did not smile, only looked at you with a heavy, dark gaze, and a lick of his lips.

In your surprise, you hadn’t even noticed that both of his hands were now wrapped around each wrist, so tight that you nearly feared he’d cut off your circulation. 

Something was wrong, had to have been. You’d never seen him so… intense. Of course, Daryl could often be intense, when he was angry especially, but this wasn’t that. Anger was something you could recognize in Daryl. He’d never directed it towards you, but you knew it, and this was something different. 

“Are… are you feeling okay, sweetie?”

Silence, just that gaze holding you hostage, and a heat rising from his body that you could’ve sworn caused a bead of sweat to form on your brow. 

Now he was scaring you. 

“Daryl?” 

Your voice tempted him further. If only you knew just how much he missed you, how much he needed you. A week was too long. A week without you, a week without your touch, a week without your sweet, dulcet voice. And oh, how that voice awoke in him a terrible burning, a conflagration of deadly proportions, a fire that could only be extinguished by the one he loved. 

Entranced by his stare, you hadn’t noticed that he had you pinned against the wall, his strong, heaving chest keeping you there. 

And when he pressed himself against you, you knew. It was obvious, the way he nearly thrusted into you. 

When you realized what he wanted, you felt a wave of relief wash over you: he needed you just as much as you had needed him the past week. From the night he left, you’d not stopped thinking of him, and when you’d turn in your bed to feel for him, and he wasn’t there, the ache for him only worsened. 

There was no way in Hell, though, you were going to initiate sex when he got home. You knew he’d be tired, and a good night’s rest was what he needed before you even thought of asking him to make love to you, but now, with that wild look in his eyes, that hungry snarl in his lip, that flare in his nostrils, that beating of his heart… 

“Oh,” you sighed, your teeth biting back your lower lip as your eyes trailed up and down his body. With your hands finally free, you ran them up his arms, letting them settle on the broad, firm shoulders you loved so much. 

For just a moment, he leaned forward, forehead and tip of his nose meeting yours. With his hardening cock beginning to dig between your thighs, and his vaguely tobacco tinged musk tickling your senses, you could only utter one word. 

A soft, nearly whimpering mewl: “Daddy.”

By the time he got you to the sofa, each of you were already panting, hands moving relentlessly as you both clawed for any part of each other’s body you could get your hands on. Your mouths worked tirelessly, tongues spinning sloppily around the other’s in your haste to finally have each other again. 

When you successfully removed his leather angel-winged vest, you worked on unbuttoning his black shirt, but his hands stopped you. 

“Need your mouth,” he said. 

Leaning back on the sofa with a low grunt, he began unbuckling his belt, while you slotted yourself between his legs, hands massaging his clothed thighs, thick and flexing against your palm. 

When his cock sprang out of its confines, you’d already stripped yourself of your underwear and your robe. In only a transparent silk nightgown, your hips swayed instinctively as you watched his hand begin to stroke himself, up and down the long, thick shaft you’d come to know and love so much. 

“Come ‘ere.” His hands reached out to grab either side of your head, bringing you down to his cock. Panting lips began to drool a bead of saliva down the side of his growing erection. Knowing what he wanted, of course, you took the reddened, swelling tip into your mouth, much to his immediate relief.

“Fuck.” As your mouth slid a little lower, your hand wrapped around the base of his cock. His grip on your hair tightened as his head fell back on the arm of the sofa, a soft breath of your name on his lips. 

Returning to watch you, he lifted your hair into a makeshift ponytail, tilting his head to get a better look at you, your eyes fluttering up to meet his gaze.

“Pretty angel.” Even just the utterance of that affectionate pet name made you feel an overwhelming need to touch yourself. With your free hand, you lifted your nightgown to slot your fingers between warm, velvety folds of aching flesh. “Ya look so good like this… Suckin’ on Daddy’s cock.”

It was somewhat of a tradition now, using that phrase, though only in the context of sex, in your most private, intimate moments. It was silly, you knew it, and he knew it, too, but you both found it excruciatingly sexy all the same. It was sacred in that you’d probably die of embarrassment if anyone else besides Daryl knew of your little… kink.

But neither of you could quite help it, you adoring his strong, protective nature, and him just finding it so alluringly sinful. Guilty pleasure type of thing, with emphasis on pleasure.

And besides, his dirty talk was sex all on its own. 

As your mouth took him in progressively deeper, your fingers moved faster, increasing the friction against your sensitive spot, then slowly dipping down into the embrace of your entrance. 

Not only could he admire your mouth, and your sweet soft moans, but he could watch your fingers enter you, your hand shaking as you penetrated yourself to match the rhythm you knew he liked when he had his cock in you.

“Love when you fuck yourself like that.” He only wished he was the one doing it. “You thinkin’ of me?”

Well, it was hard not to think of him, with his cock in your mouth. 

Taking the opportunity to catch your breath, you answered him. “Yes, Daddy.”

His hands pulled you back down onto his cock, your lips forced open by his tip. “Just don’t make yourself come,” he said. “That’s for me.”

Yes, Daddy. 

Sliding over your tongue, his cock dug deeper, towards the back of your mouth. Going down on him was always a bit of a challenge, given just how big he was, but the weight of him inside you, wherever that may be, was far more rewarding. And when you got to feel that little twitch, his cock moving all on its own as it begged for release… It only made you suck harder, sliding your mouth up and down, taking him in deeper until you were nearly gagging. 

But he liked that, the sound of you struggling just a little to take all of him. Daryl was a sensitive man, yes, but he was still a man—proud of his big cock, even if he was insecure in most other areas. At least he was big, and at least he knew how to use it. 

With his hand on the back of your head, firm, but still gentle enough to let you up if you needed it, he pushed you down just a bit more, hearing your gag become more guttural, more strangled. It did not hurt, though. It only turned you on, your fingers curling inside you to tickle that special spot, and your other hand fondling his balls, tightly drawn to the underside of the base of his cock. 

For several moments, the only sounds coming from either of you were your strained groans, his slipping from between his agape lips, yours muffled by his length filling your entire mouth. Between those sounds of pleasure were the sloppy squelches of your lips soaking him with your saliva. You were always so messy when you went down on him, but how could you not be? His cock provided you no room to lick up your drool, stuffing you until your spit had nowhere else to go but down his veiny, hard length.

Of course, he’d have to tease you about it, how sloppy you were. “Messy girl,” he said, his hand gripping your hair to pull back your bangs. You fluttered your eyes open to meet his, and you were greeted by his crooked smile, with just a sliver of those shiny teeth showing. “Gettin’ Daddy all wet, huh? Nice and wet so I can fuck you good.”

Yes, Daddy.

Eyes rolling back slightly, he bucked his hips up with a jolt, your sucking beginning to tip him over the edge. Just in time, too, for your hand was getting tired of rubbing, and you needed him to finish you off.

“F-fuck, angel. Imma need ya to get that pussy ready for me.”

Whatever he wanted, you’d give him. After all, you were his good girl. Always his good girl. You couldn’t think of a time you’d ever been a bad girl for him. Daddy deserved his good girl.

Yes, you were a good girl, but you could still be… needy.

“Oh, Daddy.” Now straddling his waist, your fingers went straight for the first button on his shirt. “Want you.” He loved when you whined, just a little, and when you were so needy for him that you couldn’t quite make out a completely proper sentence. “Want your shirt off.”

He let you undo just a few buttons, exposing the hairs on his chest that drove you crazy, made you want to feel those wiry hairs between your pursed lips as you trailed your kisses all over his broad chest, made so strong and big by all the manual labor he did, and that heavy crossbow he always used. 

That very same strength pulled at your wrists, then raised you up only to lay you down, sprawled out on the other side of the couch. Now he hovered over you, the tip of his cock hanging down to be tickled by the fabric of your blush pink nightie. He always liked pink on you, matched the color of your cheeks when he talked so dirty to you, made you feel like a whore, but not in a disrespectful way. Never in a disrespectful way.

Besides, you knew you were more than that to him. You knew he loved you. Two years together, through some of the most abject pain and suffering imaginable, would do that. But in moments like this, it felt good to be just his personal whore, whom he happened to love very, very much.

Tenderness blossomed between your lips and his, where he kissed you so deeply, so sweetly. And yet, you still clawed at his shirt, your fingers begging for him to let you see his gorgeous body, after so long away from him.

“Shit,” he laughed into your mouth. Sitting up, he began to undo the rest of the buttons, then peeled off his shirt with his chest puffed up, clearly a bit cocky. When your hands shot up to grasp at his pecs, the faded ink of the tattoo above his left nipple having taunted you, he chuckled again.

“Daddy,” you laughed back, your voice a drawn out, dramaticized whine. “Come on.” 

Now you were testing him, and he held back the rest of his laughter to put on a stern, domineering face. “Hey, now. Be a good girl.”

He felt your thighs squeeze together underneath him, and your hips jolting upwards. He knew what you wanted, and he’d give it to you, but this position wasn’t quite right. 

With a breathy grunt, he grabbed you by your waist, flipping you over, then lifting your bottom until it was sticking out at just the right angle. Lifting your nightie, he licked his lips to watch you move your hips from side to side, as if to taunt him. 

“Cute little ass,” he practically cooed. Leaning over you, his chest pressed firmly to your back, he nuzzled his nose against your pillowy cheek. All the while, you felt his hand slide between your now nearly dripping wet folds. Eyes closed softly, you hummed a soft whimper at the feeling. His hands were always different from yours, so much bigger, stronger, rougher. You’d never felt a touch quite like his, and part of it was because he touched you with such tenderness, even if he tried to manhandle you a little. He was still always gentle, somehow.

In the most honeyed, silky, yet scratchy, voice, he rasped in a whisper, “Did ya miss me, angel?” 

“Yes… Daddy, I missed you so, so much.”

“Mm, I missed you, too. So much.”

Finally, you felt his tip just barely graze your hole. Not only was he torturing you, he was torturing himself, but he loved it. He needed it, otherwise he was sure his peak of pleasure would go away just as fast as it would come. With you, in this moment, he needed to prolong the desire as much as he could. He could feel it coming soon, though, that tensing in his muscles, that tingling in the pit of his stomach, that twitching that made his cock seem to bounce against your folds on its own accord. 

As he slid further into you, you felt his lips find the back of your neck, where he left little kisses the more he sank into you. It felt so good to feel him again, that fullness. It was a feeling only he could give you, his unique way of moving, his cock fitting so perfectly inside you. 

Underneath your nightgown, his hands found your breasts. Tense, strong fingers curled like claws at the soft tissue. Even in his dreams, of which he had many while he was away, he could not recreate that texture—that pillowy soft flesh swelling against his fingers. And the inside of you, the warmth and tightness that hugged his cock and accepted him with each pass, in and out. 

Soon, he leaned back to watch your body envelope his, the shiny, milky coating of your arousal making it easier to slip in and out of you, his hips thrusting in ever increasing speed.

“Daddy…” 

God, he loved being called that. Much more than he should’ve. But, then again, he’d probably find you sexy even if you were calling him “dickhead.” He really didn’t mind, as long as you were calling him something. 

“Mm, angel… Daddy’s here now, sweetheart.” He delivered a harder, stronger thrust, pulling a loud, strangled moan out from deep inside of you. “That feel good?”

“Fuck, yes!” 

As if to praise you, he delivered just a small, weak slap to your bum. That was about as hard as he was willing to spank you, given how much he hated the idea of hurting you, but he knew you liked it, and he liked it, too, the clench of your body from the slap making him jolt forward. 

“Takin’ it good… Real good.”

With one hand still squeezing your breast, the other now drawing tight circles over your clit, he made your lips tremble and your muscles tighten as you began to approach the height of pleasure. You could feel it, just on the brink of release. And he felt it, too, which was why he pulled himself out of you, flipping you over again like a ragdoll. 

You were startled when he pulled you down by your ankles, until you were closer to him. He gave his fingers a good, long lick, then let them sink into you, where his cock had left you stretched wide open and dripping wet. 

Three fingers. Three thick, strong fingers, curling up inside you, making you writhe and groan as your hands shot up to grasp at his shoulders. Through half-lidded eyes, you watched his neck bulge with the strain of trying to keep himself from coming, and it only aroused you more—those muscles flexing and throbbing and burning underneath hot, sweat-dripping skin, tanned by days on end out in the sun. 

What he needed so badly was his own release, after so long of working so hard out there, risking his life for the good of Alexandria. As his forearm and biceps flexed with every push of his fingers inside of you, his chest heaved harder and harder, while you reached between your legs to find his cock. With your hand pulling on his length, and your walls clenching around his fingers as your release reached a tipping point, you both would soon be giving each other much needed relief. 

“Daddy,” you sighed, tugging harder on his cock as frustration overtook you. The closer you got to orgasm, the more you couldn’t wait any longer. “Make me come… I wanna come.”

“Ah, angel… I’m gonna come, too.”

Just moments later, you tensed and gasped and writhed and moaned, rocking your hips upward as his fingers stayed inside you, squeezed by your contracting walls. “Oh, Daddy!”

He leaned forward to lay on top of you, his sturdy weight keeping you in place as you rode out your high, soaking his fingers with your arousal. The heat of your cheek seemed to burn his lips as he kissed you there, then rubbed his button nose in delicate circles to soothe you. “Yeah… Daddy’s got ya, sweetheart.”

With your hand still tugging on him, he gasped a heavy breath, spilling out over you right then and there, his hips thrusting into your hand in desperate, sloppy motions. The orgasm was so strong that he lost his composure for a moment, his head falling into your chest as he groaned your name, over and over and over again. 

And now he freed his hand, using it to rub up and down the sides of your torso, your skin like fine silk under his worn, calloused fingers. In his hair were your hands, massaging his scalp the way you knew he liked, until he lifted his head to offer you a gentle smile. 

“Mm, I’ll never get tired of that.”

You tilted your head with a wide grin. “I didn’t think you’d want to do it tonight. I thought you’d be exhausted.”

He breathed a low huff before rolling over onto his side. You did the same, letting him hold you with his chest pressed firmly to your back. There wasn’t much room on that tiny couch, but you made it work. After all, even if you were in bed upstairs, you’d probably still be this close to each other, clinging for dear life, never wanting to be separated again, though you knew someday you’d have to.

“I am,” he said. “Just… I dunno, needed you, s’all.” Observant as he was, he took notice of your shivering, and reached back to grab the knitted blanket that had been draped over the back of the couch. He covered the both of you, then tucked his chin into your shoulder, where it seemed to fit perfectly. “Missed ya so much, could hardly stand bein’ without you.”

Even now, after you thought you’d be used to his sweet words, he still had a way of sending those butterflies aflutter. “Well, now you’re back home.”

That sounded so good to him—back home.

~

Thanks for reading! Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciated!

Masterlist

Part 2 (coming soon)

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Best and Worst of Both Worlds (Part 16)

tw: literally Yves watching ur every move, super suffocating stuff, Yandere shenanigans

Yeah ok u guys decided to lust for the creep, then the creep u shall receive

after this chapter i mean

Part 17

You told him your opinion on Montgomery.

"I see." He replied. Yves deadpanned at you before pulling you in for another kiss on the lips. Your face and the tips of your ears heat up, you're still not used to this yet.

He pulled away and chuckled at your bashfulness. Trying to cover your burning face with your hands is futile, as it only makes him tease you more.

__

"Call me if you need to go somewhere. I'm available for you any time." He slung the straps of his handbag around his shoulder, and Yves prepared his car keys in his hand.

You told him 'okay' as you're rubbing the last of his lipstick marks off using a piece of wet wipe.

He stroked your head, traced his fingertips down your jaw and finally held your chin. He tilted your head upwards and gave you a forehead kiss.

You whinged as you now have to wipe off one last print. He bid you goodbye before closing and locking the front door behind him.

Soon after, you dashed back into your room trying to escape your housemates hollering.

Days would go on like this: Yves breaks into your house using the spare key, scare the shit out of you when you open the door to see him standing there, receive adequate kisses, eat (br)lunch, talk for hours, landlord comes over to fix more stuff, eat dinner and finally, at around midnight- sometimes later, Yves would leave.

You would go to sleep almost immediately, but definitely looking forward to the next day.

He started coming in earlier and earlier, working on his things during times where you had nothing to say. You asked him about his work, he tried explaining it to you but you zoned out. It's so boring and complicated. Full of numbers, charts and graphs, you couldn't care less.

Needless to say, he cooked all your meals and did all your chores for you. You always protested, because it isn't his job and you should be responsible for taking out the trash or keeping yourself alive.

Yves would simply ignore you and do them anyway. If you're particularly worried, he assures you that it's some sort of a hobby of his to take good care of you. If you insist that he stops, he will guilt you; making you think that you're unnecessarily taking away part of his joy in this relationship when it isn't even harming you. So you just let him do what he wants, and you benefit from it greatly.

You really like him. He lets you take a nap on his lap while he types away at your desk, Yves listens to you ramble about your interests and occasionally adds his own fascinating commentary to it. You were astonished to know he has a whole database of random fandom trivia in his head. He washed your sheets and made your bed for you every morning.

He lets you hog his portable fan to yourself. But eventually, his bargaining powers lead to your landlord installing a ceiling air conditioner in your room. The best part? No rise in rent.

Yves gradually introduced you to a solid skincare routine. It started off with a simple face cleanser and moisturizer. Then he added toner to the regime. Then a weekly exfoliation and bi-weekly usage of sheet masks. It was hard for you to remember to do it or have the motivation, but Yves didn't mind maintaining your skin.

You just love the tingles you felt when he reclined you on your chair and he massages your face with the moisturizer. His fingers skillfully work to unravel you.

He made your house actually enjoyable to live in. You haven't gone out in three weeks and that didn't alarm you. You are glowing, physically fitter than ever, clean and most importantly, happy.

You have the drive to do so many things. Like learning a new language, learning to code, learning to knit or crochet, learning to draw... anything you wanted to do, Yves is always the expert to consult. He would buy the materials you need and teach you step by step. It made sense for him to be an extraordinary mentor, because you found out that he was also an exemplary lecturer at your university at one point.

You confirmed that he's currently a researcher, specifically, a research mathematician who works together with other branches of academia including but not limited to human Psychology, biology and sociology. The gist of his project has to do with predictive algorithms and probabilities. It's impressive and complicated, too bad you're not interested beyond what was described in a nutshell.

It's no secret that you look up to him, seeing that you're also a student looking to advance their education.

But it begs the question of his age. He has done so much in a short span of time. You wonder what his true age is.

But it's almost impossible to know because he would be offended whenever his age is brought up. It seems like he despised being perceived as ancient, which you understand. He probably comes from a time where youth is overly worshipped. You let it go, it isn't like his age affects you in any way.

It doesn't mean you didn't try searching him up. At first you suspected that he was lying because you couldn't find anything about him working at your university on the internet. But you sent an email to the administration asking about him. They came back with the confirmation that Yves is currently a hired researcher there. Strange that they knew who he is without knowing his last name. You guess there's only one Yves in the entirety of his faculty.

Speaking of names, you were shocked to find out that Yves didn't have a last name. After tons of relentless teasing from Yves for wanting to know his surname and a platitude of shame-induced face coverings later, you finally discovered he doesn't have one. This was bizarre to you, but Yves only told you off for being insensitive towards him, as not everyone has the privilege of a last name. It seems like a touchy subject, better not bring it up again.

Although it has been around a month since you think you first met Yves, you can safely say that you're madly in love with him. He is way more attentive and caring of you than anyone you ever met. Not even your parents or guardians can compare. Absolutely no one in your life has treated you this well.

There is that nagging feeling that something is very wrong. It wasn't a "He is going to leave you for someone better" feeling, it was more of a "what if Yves is secretly an organ harvester and he's healing you up to make a good price on the black market?"

But due to blind love, you forced yourself to brush it off as some implausible, impossible, silly thought.

...is it though? Yves does give off uncanny vibes sometimes no matter how suave and sexy he is. He has a lot of things to hide and the knowledge that you have of him is not enough to save you if he ever decides to steal a kidney or two.

Maybe this relationship isn't good for you. It keeps giving you inner turmoil to lose sleep over. This is definitely too good to be true, no one likes being a full time babysitter for their partner; this has to be a trap! You think you should quickly break it off with Yves before it gets too--

You were interrupted from your thoughts when you felt the chilly air from the air conditioner nip at your skin. The bliss of not being boiled alive by your own fluid trickles down your forehead.

You close your eyes and grin, letting the wind blow on your sweaty hair. This is lovely, you're so grateful to have Yves in your life. If you didn't have him here, you wouldn't be able to enjoy this temperate luxury.

Yves lets his focused gaze linger on your form for a few more seconds before replacing the remote back onto the holder. Yves pressed the button on his stopwatch, the beep was soft enough to go unnoticed.

He checked the temperature, the time and the humidity of your bedroom before logging them all into his computer. Yves turned his head to look at your position on the floor, you're splayed out like a rag as gusts of cold air strike your body.

He opened another file, which is the floorplan of this house. His eyes scanned the screen, noting down the exact coordinates of your precise location.

It would always be like this. You would start formulating thoughts and suspicions on Yves, spiral so much that you contemplated ending everything to protect yourself, then something interrupts your mind and eradicating the unwanted ideas entirely. Be it a change in temperature, texture, hunger or thirst. Sometimes, it's because you feel you hit your Yves-interaction/social quota for the day. So he would excuse himself and leave your house until you recovered.

He always comes back at the perfect time. Just right when you're starting to yearn for him. Yves ensures he never leaves for too long to make you think he's neglecting you. But he wouldn't come back too soon to make you go "yuck, this bitch's face again?"

Your signs could be as minuscule as a lower lip twitch, a brief, split-second movement of the eye, flaring of nostrils, positioning of your arms or even a change in the depth or rhythm of your breathing.

Or it could be an increase in heart rate, body temperature or sweat beading from your pores. Hell, it could even be the sound of you swallowing your spit or the smell of irritation.

They are all telltale signs that you're about to do or think about something undesirable due to overwhelm or underwhelm.

It's scary. He could just detect it with his superhuman senses. But ignorance is bliss, you still didn't know that he's puppeteering your environment accordingly. He would very much like to keep it that way.

Yves must admit, he has been careless. For the past three weeks, he failed to consider that his daily presence is wearing you down. It was his own fault for disregarding his calculations, Yves was originally only supposed to see you four times a week; that was the most optimal arrangement.

But he was enamoured, as desperate and feverish as you to be together. He just hides it impeccably well. Could you blame him, though? This was the first time you acknowledged him, the first time Yves got to kiss, touch, and hug you as freely as he wanted. The first time he gets to observe past the use of cameras- he does not need to hide. He gets to put his elaborate meal plans to use, you're eating his cooking, he's washing your clothes and you're accepting his backrubs. This is the closest so far to the ideal he wanted in his life with you. Anyone would be greedy in his situation.

But he flew too close to the sun like Icarus did. The wax melted off his wings and now he has to face the consequences that would have been avoided if only he had controlled himself better.

He's starting to notice you're not as positively receptive to his kisses as before. Sometimes even outright grimacing and shuddering in disgust when you think he's not looking. You spent a couple minutes longer in the bathroom, sometimes up to an hour, claiming you had stomach issues. But you didn't have problems with your digestion, your boyfriend made sure of that. He meticulously checks everything that goes into your mouth and he knows you didn't even pull your pants down. All you did was sit in the corner and scroll on your phone.

You did it just to escape from Yves and he's fully aware of that.

It devastated him when he went through your internet history:

Yves removed his reading glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. He checked the timestamps, and you accessed the web since three in the morning.

"Why are my boyfriend's kisses and hugs gross to me now"

"Clingy boyfriend"

"How to tell my boyfriend to stop being clingy without hurting his feelings"

"How to say no to hugs"

"How to say no to hugs and kisses"

"How to say no"

"How to stop people pleasing"

"How to tell people that i dont want to see them but not forever just for a few days"

"Social battery"

"Therapists near me"

"Therapy price"

"is University counseling free"

"university counseling wait times"

"How to break up with my boyfriend"

"Is it rude to break up over text"

"Script for breaking up"

"Nice script for breaking up"

"Kind script for breaking up"

"Breaking up without hurting his feelings script"

"ChatGPT"

"Do retired lecturers have a habit of checking for plagiarism in their day to day life"

"Is AI generated content plagiarism"

"Jobs near me"

He knows he has no one but himself to blame. He had a plan all laid out, if he followed it to a Tee, it would have conditioned you to ultimately accept his intense love without complaints. He was supposed to give you a maximum of one kiss on the lips and four others somewhere else on your face. But gave you a whopping average of 76 kisses a day, 20 of which are on the lips; 1520% of the actual daily cap on kisses.

Likewise, he hugged you too much. Yves was only supposed to give you 12 hugs, lasting 8 seconds each at most, spaced throughout the day. However, you're in his arms for a total of 6 hours a day; 2250% of the maximum.

He is the first thing you see in the morning and the last face you perceive before sleeping, From before sunrise to past beyond sundown, you would be exposed to him; from 6am to 12am the next day; he would already be in your room before you're even awake. Subconsciously, you know he's there because the brain never stops working.

Of course, you would be sick of him! It doesn't matter if you came from an affectionate family or you turned out severely touch-starved, with extreme figures like these, anyone would be nauseated with his presence by the third week!

Yves fought back the urge to run the numbers back the fifth time. The cold hard facts are there, he made a grave mistake. Painstakingly recalculating everything is just a pathetic attempt to appease his denial that he lost control over himself.

He sighed and propped his head up by an elbow, absentmindedly fiddling on his calculator. Yves's eyes flitted up to the monitor. You're curled up into a ball on your bed, scrolling on your phone. Most likely to try and catch up with your own me-time. Yves could see pixels of bags forming under your eyes.

He shook his head and decided he must rectify this. Yves got up from his seat and sauntered out of his office, switching the lights off but leaving his surveillance equipment on.

Meanwhile, you yawned, closing your eyes and letting your phone slip next to you. Finally but reluctantly drifting off to sleep.

[lucigoo]

Tea for Two:Even if they can't see you

#273- Invisible Guest, @flashfictionfridayofficial

Pairing -Bilbo/Thorin

Warnings -Canon complaint, Thorin is very dead, but its all ok, honest!

Words - 923

A03 link here

Summary -It is time for tea, and Bilbo demands his table set for two. Between that and the one sided convrsations he is having, his elvednf roends are worried about him.

Bilbo giggled as Erestor placed another cup and saucer on his table. He was aware of what the elves thought.

He was also aware that some days, more than most actually, he was a little less lucid than he would like to be. That he often found it hard to keep himself in the here and now.

But today was not one of those days, it was never one of those days when HE visited. When he was able too much through the veil that separated them.

Bilbo knew that the closer he got to his own death, the more HE was able to visit, to see him. The more he was able to hear him.

It fascinated him that with all their extra powerful senses that the elves, even Elrond, couldn’t hear him. That they just thought he was a batty old hobbit.

The thought made Bilbo giggle, especially as he saw Glorfindal all but spying on him.

“Maybe I am just a batty old hobbit, my dear,” he said to the figure only he could see. “Of course, being both batty and old is not a crime, so I’m not sure why I need an audience during afternoon tea,” Bilbo suddenly said, pointedly as he looked to where Glorfindal was hiding.

Any other elf would have the audacity to look chastised. Not Glorfindal, though. He straightened up and walked towards Bilbo. about to pull the second chair out when Bilbo suddenly hissed at him and went to rise, falling back in his chair with a cry as he’s old and weary body protested the movement.

“I’m alright dear, just moved too fast is all,” Bilbo said soothingly.

Glorfindal turned to Bilbo, concerned. “I didn’t say anything Bilbo ...” he trailed off.

“I know, I wasn’t talking to you,” Bilbo said with a wave of one of his frail hands. Hands that could no longer write. Hands that had trouble with buttons and clasps. Hands that didn’t feel like his own.

“Yes, yes. I know. No need to fret, love. It won’t be long now. You had better keep my side of the bed warm,” Bilbo said to the empty seat opposite him.

Glorfindal backed up, ready to go tell Elrond about Bilbo’s one sided conversation as he stopped when the hobbit snorted inelegantly.

“Oh, don’t make me laugh, my love. Unless Yavanna decides to make me young again, all we will be doing is sleeping. I am much too old for those kinds of activities,” he said as his cheeks and ears went pink.

Glorfindal bid Bilbo a hasty goodbye, one he didn’t respond to, before rushing to Elrond to tell him how Bilbo was getting worse. That he was now having a full one sided conversation.

Elrond sighed as soon as Glorfindal said Bilbo’s name. He knew, he knew he was losing his friend to time and age and there was nothing he could do about it. “He isn’t talking to himself. At least he doesn’t believe so,” Elrond explained softly.

“Then who does he think he is talking to?” Glorfindal asked.

“The only being he has ever loved. One who has been gone from this world for over 60 years. He believes he is talking to Thorin Oakenshield. As he will ever be able to find him once he passes, well, we must allow him his indulgences,” Elrond said sadly.

“Will it harm him more?” Glorfindal asked, worried about his little friend.

“How would it harm him more? He is already slipping away, and whilst he has many good days at the moment, they will fade as he will. No, let him indulge if that is what his mind wishes him to do. It will not harm him and maybe his invisible guest will give him a modicum of peace he hasn’t felt in much to long,” Elrond said as he got himself a strong glass of liquor, his heart hurting for the broken hobbit that was not his quick, clever, little friend any longer.

Back in his little tea chamber, Bilbo had to cover his mouth with his hands as he looked up at the ghostly visage of Thorin.

He couldn’t stop his tears as he did, though.

“They are wrong, you know,” he hissed out so only Thorin could hear him.

Thorin cocked his head, holding this visage with Bilbo as it often drained him, and he didn’t like to overdo it so he could come back to Bilbo as soon as possible.

“About not seeing you, I will make it happen, Thorin. I swear. I do not know how, but you broke through the veil of life and death to comfort me when the world was muddled. Separate afterlives and the Valar won’t stand between me and you. I won’t allow it.”

“I know, my burglar,” Thorin said, sighing as he felt his visage slip. “I love you,” Thorin said before he faded away to regather his strength for the next time he visited his burglar, his hobbit, his One.

“And I you, my love,” Bilbo sighed at the spot where Thorin had been moments before. “I will see you soon, both in this life and the next.” Bilbo promised.

He needed Thorin, had always needed Thorin, and even if this was all in his head (he was sure it wasn’t), what did it matter? Whether or not he heard him, he had sworn to find Thorin again, to be reunited and never parted, and that was exactly what he would do.,

Rules and Valar be damned!

[darling-i-read-it]

The Mistress

Harry Gardner x fem!reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: smut (blowjob), cheating, sex in a public bathroom literally while his family is in the other room (who am i) 

Author’s Note: Hi love! Sorry this took so long! I feel like I went with the slightly creepy route straight into a bj lmao so I hope you like it. I don’t know how I feel lmaoo

Requested by anon, Happy to hear you're doing well, hun! I'm so excited to see your upcoming pieces because these most recent two are absolute gems 💗(I'm a big GTA and RE fan what can I saw I was overjoyed to see them 🤭)

Don't mind me with another Harry request (my sincere apologies, I'm obsessed 😌) I had this potentially spicy plot in mind - Harry x fem!reader. When he sees her being flirty with someone but cannot let his jealousy show since his wife is like RIGHT there. But still makes sure to let her know how much she upset him later on 😉 Take your time with this sweetie and if you don't feel like writing it that's totally ok too! 🤗 Thank you for gracing this site with your lovely works and making my day with them as well. Take care and have a wonderful day/night ~ Addie ❤

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

Harry’s love for his wife was obligatory. The love he had for her was necessary, to keep their family going. He had created a space where he could comfortably do his job and be seen as successful. He had the wife, the house, and the kid. He had the room to grow and the means to do it. 

But you…you were not a want. You were a need. You were alluring in his worst times, gorgeous in his best. He could watch you move for hours and wonder what it was about you that entranced him. He could picture you from the bed as you slipped your clothes on and the memory filled his entire eyesight. He could see nothing else but you when you were there. 

You were like one of the people he wrote about. You were unreal. He couldn’t live without you now. 

“You’re starring,” your voice broke him from his thoughts. Sometimes he forgot you were actually there. You sat on the side of the bed, arms moving with grace down to your feet. You put your socks on, side eyeing him. “Everything alright?” 

“Uh huh.” He was in a shitty motel with sheets that he knew hadn’t been washed in far too long. 

“H?” You sat up straight. He grabbed your hand, shaking his head. 

“I’m fine,” he promised. You pursed your lips, nodding slowly. 

“You have to get back.” The time schedule he was on was brutal. Sometimes he wondered if the life he had was even worth all this. Couldn’t he just live here with you forever? The misery of his demonic child and his never ending wife seemed like a hell he had trapped himself in. When had he wanted that? “Henry.” 

“I’m here. I swear. I just don’t want to leave you.” Your face read the emotions he was feeling. You didn’t want to leave either but someone had to. If this thing was to be sustainable, you had to go. 

“I never thought I’d be here you know,” you muttered. Even your voice sounded melodic. “In bed with a married man. Jesus. What would my mother say?” He felt a pang of guilt but not for the person who he should’ve. He had put you in this position. You could’ve been living a life with a free man, someone to show you off to the world. Instead you were in shitty hotels by the ocean, the salt coming in through broken window frames. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. You shook your head. 

“It’s alright. We’re in this boat together, hm?” He grabbed your hand and held it. The hand that had just been all over him, the hand that had felt every inch of his body. You must have been thinking about it too because you kissed him gently. A goodbye kiss. He wanted to curse, to beg you to stay. He didn’t. 

“I need to write you into a story,” he said against your lips. 

“Oh yeah? The girl who never got what she wanted?” 

“The girl who could get whatever she desired.” 

“That sounds better than my thing.” You smiled gently. “I’ll see you later?” He nodded, a promise he was sure to keep. He hoped he wouldn’t see you around town before that, for the sake of his life. For the sake of yours! You stood up. “I’m excited to read what you write me into. Hopefully a better situation than this.” 

You thought about the character of you and envied her. You would be her one day, you hoped. 

-

She was like fire if it never spread. Her silence was dangerous, the presence of her was terrifying. Electrifying was an understatement. She was the lightning that made electricity. She was the origin, the start, the very being that could bring down trees with a touch. She was-

“What’re you writing?” Doris’s voice was like nails on a chalkboard. His initial reaction scared him a bit and he tried to be more caring. 

“Nothing. Nothing, I don’t think anyway.” He shut his computer. 

“Are we still going out to dinner?” 

“Yes. Yeah, sorry, time got away from me.” He got up from the chair. Doris was standing beside Alma who had her coat and shoes on already. She was giving Harry a look of disinterest, similar to her mothers. But Doris at least tried to cover it with a feign emotion, one he couldn’t grasp. “Coming.” 

They piled into the car and were quickly arriving at a small diner. The small diners in Provincetown were stereotypical and uninteresting. There was little local color and little locals. He saw you the second he walked in, like you had attracted his eyes like a magnet. You were sitting at the counter, a milkshake between your hands. Your hair fell in front of your eyes a bit as a smile played on your face. His eyes followed to the waiter you were speaking to. A man about your age, sharing your smile. The jealousy in him was surprising. He didn’t own you. 

But he wanted to. 

You hadn’t seen him yet. Maybe he could convince Doris to leave and go somewhere else. 

“Right here. You’re the newer family right? Big house on the water?” Their waitress said, gesturing to the table. Doris had been speaking and he hadn’t even noticed. 

“Yes ma’am,” Harry responded. 

“We don’t get lots of visitors here, except for the writers.”

“My husbands the writer,” Doris explained. At the mention of the topic, you turned your head ever so slightly. Your eyes locked for just a moment, zero panic in your face. It was like you didn’t even know him. You turned your head back to the waiter behind the counter. 

“What kinds of things do you write?” the waitress asked. 

“Screenplays.” “Anything I’ve seen?” 

“Not yet,” Doris promised. You were too distracting. He couldn’t stay here with you. His phone buzzed and he knew it was you. He checked it obsessively, turning it towards him so that Doris and Alma couldn’t see. 

I’m sorry, you texted. He didn’t answer. 

“Can I get you started with some waters?” 

His eyes flickered to you. Smiling at the waiter, a gentle comradery. It made him sick. 

“Yes please,” Doris said. She watched him and his discomfort but couldn’t find the source of it. The waitress left, leaving them alone, without a buffer between him and you. He opened up his phone again, staring at the message. You should leave. Why weren’t you leaving? “Everything okay?” 

He couldn’t hear what you were saying but he could see your hand brushing the waiters. Closer to your age, likely not married. Attainable. You could have something attainable. He glanced at Doris and nodded curtly. 

“I just need to go to the bathroom.” He got up, loudly. She scoffed, nodding. 

“Okay.” He pushed past you. Your eyes followed him as he turned the corner. You looked back at the waiter. 

“If you’ll excuse me, I have to use the little girls room.” You slid off the stool with a small smile and left your milkshake. You turned the corner and knocked on the men's bathroom door. It opened quickly. It was the type of bathroom that was private, without stalls. Just two rooms. 

Harry grabbed your hand and dragged you inside. He shut the door and locked it behind you. 

“I didn’t know you would be here,” you argued. He was standing so close to you, practically pining you to the door. 

“Who was that?” 

“Who was who?” 

“Don’t act coy,” he spat. You had never seen him so angry, jealousy practically dripping from his eyes. 

“The waiter? He’s a friend.” 

“That all?” “Harry, we can't do this right now. Your family is outside. Come on, we’ll talk later.” You made no movement. He starred, at you, at your features, the ones he could always find comfort in. He grabbed your wrist. “Harry?”

“Get on your knees.” 

You raised an eyebrow but the look in his eyes was too alluring to argue. He was usually gentle and guiding through sex, always careful with you even when he was rougher. You didn’t mind the demanding tone in his voice. You slinked down the door, onto your knees. You looked up at him. 

He was gazing down at you, his hand cupping your chin. You waited to see what he would do. Was he being so daring because his family was out there? Had you crossed a line neither of you had dared to verbalize? 

You put your hands on his waistband. He nodded, ushering you along. You undid his belt and fought with his jeans to pull them down. It didn’t take long for him to get hard at the adrenaline of the moment and you sitting before him. You pumped with your hand, staring up at him still. 

You wanted to tell him the waiter meant nothing. But actions spoke louder than words. You wrapped your lips around him, eyes locked, a glaze over his. He was staring at you like you were a meal. As you moved up and down, bobbing your head back and forth, he grabbed a fist full of your hair. He started to guide you more forcefully, a jealousy lacing his touch. 

You came up for air as minimally as you could. He lasted too long. His family was going to miss him. They would see your lone milkshake and wonder which of you would leave first. There weren’t enough people in this diner to not connect the dots. 

His precum was drooling down your chin. He wanted to fuck you. He knew he didn’t have time. Instead he let you make him cum, swallowing everything you could, making an erotic gagging noise as you did so. His moans came out muffled but clear, head tilted back in pleasure. 

You wiped your mouth, leaning your head against the door. 

“Feel better?” you asked. He scoffed. He helped you up, catching you as you stumbled. He kissed you, tasting himself among your lips. He could stay here with you forever and starve happily. “You go out first,” you muttered. “I’ve gotta wash up.” 

He nodded. He stared at you for a moment longer, brushing your hair out of your face. You locked eyes and the intimacy filled up the bathroom. You wanted to kiss him again but knew you had no time. You would have to let him go, just this once. 

“Thanks,” he muttered under his breath. 

“Anytime H.” You slithered away from him. “Pull your pants up and go back to your family.”

[beebopboom]

ok. ok. ok. i’ve sat with it, processed, went to bed, woke up at 5am fiending for water, couldn’t go back to sleep and processed some more. Starting writing this and then had to go to work and now i’m back.

(skip this section if you just want my very limited 90min predictions for rn and not my rant lol)

i’ve been disappointed, sad, angry and just so tired.

and yet i think ive hit some form of acceptance. Don’t get me wrong I will mourn what six episodes would have gave us, even 90 minutes is shorter than most movies now days, but at least it’s something. That it doesn’t end with them not talking and a single angst filled kiss goodbye.

and it sucks to even say that because with so much queer media that seems to be the conclusion, “at least we get something.” That’s the reality we live in and it sucks that it has touched good omens.

Amazon was going to cancel, no way around it, and while it would have sucked I would not have blamed them (ok I would have a bit.) What happened with Neil is serious and there should be consequences. As much as I love this world and how much it has helped me, real people come first. He was such a huge name behind the show and a large part of the production process, that I would not have been surprised if they pulled the plug completely.

But they didn’t. We had so many people working behind the scenes to convince them to continue terry’s story because of their love of the story and because they know of our love the story. And for that I am thankful.

(also i’m pretty sure they kept the set pieces around this time instead of destroying them so that probably helped in green lighting something, yknow on the money side of this)

I’ve been through a devastating end season kiss that then didn’t get renewed before with aloto, which was also produced by amazon and they do not give a fuck. They were not lying when they said it was a miracle to get this renewed.

Which let’s talk about aloto, or a league of their own, real quick. Yknow do some comparisons even if it’s in reverse. This went from a little over two hour movie into an 8 episode series. And guess what it worked even if people had their doubts.

The movie version is a classic in its own right, I feel like everyone at least knows of it maybe can even quote some of the more iconic lines. It’s amazing and has a good story line. The TV show probably never would have went through without the backing of this movie.

and yes with the TV show they were able to go more in depth with the characters storylines, that’s just TV and that’s specifically the idea they went into filming with, to show the queer side of history within this girls baseball league, less about the actual baseball that the movie more focused on. They even pulled in Maybelle Blair, a former all American girls baseball league player, who helped tell the story of the show through her own experiences. (ok sorry for the rant, moving on)

but the movie (especially for the time period) had well rounded female characters with nuisances that we had never seen before on screen.

and before it even gets pointed out that aloto needed a s2 to finish their story I just to point out that even though it was a different story with different character arcs, both ended after one baseball season with the girls. Fully fleshed out characters with backstories and futures and a satisfying plot to match. It really was just the shock factor of their kiss being discovered right at the end that pushed their story to continue.

and yknow if numbers help you visualize more,

120min=8eps and 6eps=90min

feels proportional, idk if it is exactly cause this particular section was never my strong suit in math and i’m still tired lol

My point is for the most part, besides like a catch up in time between s2 and this movie, this 90min time frame is not going to have to squeeze in time to introduce characters and their motivations like we are used to with movies, besides if they introduce new characters which I don’t imagine would have been a lot anyways.

We have 2 seasons of backstory and plot. This is doable, even if may not be quite as elaborate as we were expecting.

Just like what we went through with the Owl House who also had a shorter air time than projected. S2 of the Owl House ended on a cliffhanger and even with the shortened time the ending was still well thought out, compelling and was able to be pulled off, very successfully.

We did not lose set designers or costume designers. Those important people behind the scenes that actually bring the world to life (as far as I know) are still there. And of course we did not loose our beloved actors that actually bring the characters to life.

and as for the new writer, we are at the end of October and they are still set to start filming in January, they are not writing completely new scripts in two months. They are reconceptualizing the already written scripts into a shorter form and editing where it is needed, perhaps adding scenes that better fit this form of media to help the narrative flow. They are also, I am sure, are getting help from the people who fought so hard to kept this thing running, if they even need it tbh. If they were trusted enough to get the script in their hands by the people who fought so hard to continue, then I guess I can give them a bit of my trust too.

So while the unknown is scary the community is strong both behind the scenes and in the fandom, I have faith, even if may not tie up every single loose end that I doubt a full s3 would have accomplished anyways, that their story will get told and will have a satisfying ending. Maybe with less trolls now too (because let’s be honest that’s what the kiss was).

And! think of all the fan made projects and fanfiction that could come out of all this. Cause really it’s always been the fandom that’s been the true heart and soul.

(ok rant now over)

and prediction time!!

a cold open, preferably something with Crowley’s Fall. I don’t see them moving to far away from this idea tbh.

a title screen, not sequence. i HOPE peter anderson studio still works with this project after everything. I think they will end up giving this movie a subtitle and they will work something out here that is short and sweet.

Now for the actual plot I’ll theorize about another day because I realized I haven’t really done that yet??? and that deserves its own proper post. oops

but ☝️ i have a few ideas of the set up,

the pacing will be a lot more like s1 than s2, which I was already anticipating and might even work out better in long form media.

there will still be minisodes, probably not as many and will probably be more incorporated like s2 where it had a direct correlation with the plot.

number of storylines may be reduced, GO is normally set up with 3 stories that all meet at a single point finale point. I would not be surprised if it was cut down to 2 main storylines, us vs them kinda thing, that will still really work out well.

all our beloved wacky easter eggs will still be there, a lot of those were references to Terry so I don’t see those going anywhere anytime soon.

south downs is still a go, i also don’t see them getting rid of this at all. It was always the goal. Give them some goddamn peace and quiet.

the end credits, this is where Peter Andersen studios could pop off again but the important bit is….

end credit scene!!!! really this is just something I would like to happen and it’d be really cool if it was the actual actors, hell throw in the whole crew, just as a little send off.

ok wow I thought I had more…um obviously this could be all bullshit but I feel pretty good about it.

but really all this to say that to just breathe, experience your emotions as they are all we got right now. We got an answer, finally, so no more waiting in the unknown. 🫶

[universallychaoticpan]

Ello o/, I love your works so much fjridnddknd /pos. May i req (if you're ok taking requests) a the reader pretends to be a client but actually a member of the agency but the ADA doesn't remember the reader because they have an ability to make anyone/everyone forget they exist and use it to protect the agency also dazai is the only one who remembers them. It can be a headcanon or a scenario thank you! \o/

hehehe the angst potential on this one was too good to pass up. I tried my best on this but it isn't my faveorite. Still I hope you enjoy <333

It was sheer torment, an excruciating agony, to be the sole guardian of your memory. Every recollection of your name, your voice, your gentle touch, your boundless kindness, felt like shards of glass piercing his soul. Your last words to him before you vanished echoed relentlessly in his mind, a haunting refrain, as he watched you stroll through the bustling streets of Yokohama, like you were simply ordinary.

He felt his heart break to see you again after so long, looking to Kunikida and Atsushi for some sign that you hadn't done what he was so worried you had. But there was nothing- neither showed the recognition he was waiting to see.

He stared until he caught your eye, people moving past you both as you saw the man you least wanted to see in the world.

The only man who knew what you were

The only one you'd loved

You looked at him with a million unspoken words in your eyes- I'm sorry....Please forgive me...Please let me go

And he said nothing.

///

A year prior, you had woken before the sun. You'd left Dazai with the softest kiss you could, biting back tears as you slipped from your bed, whispering apologies under your breath and forcing yourself to do what you knew was necessary.

You'd suspected the Port Mafia was on your trail for information you had given up years ago- suspected that Mori had wanted you punished for giving up that information since you'd vanished with Dazai so long ago. But now, it was more than just a small murmur in the back of his mind. Mori had been actively gunning for you; his men had followed you, stalked you, threatened you in your home, and worse, threatened every innocent person in the Agency that knew nothing of the danger they were in.

So for their sakes, you were running. You were forcing yourself to vanish, and trying to believe you weren't making a mistake. Your ability had gone into effect already; everyone else you knew now no longer had any memory you'd ever existed. But Osamu Dazai wasn't everyone else. That was part of why you loved him so much.

And it was why you had to leave.

You couldn't risk his life, couldn't risk him knowing anything for fear of the Mafia seeking him out to question your whereabouts. He needed to know absolutely nothing. And you were going to make sure of it. You'd slipped from your bed that morning, trying to stop the tears that ached to spill down your cheeks, You forced yourself to kiss him goodbye, forced yourself to leave behind the only love you'd ever known, and told yourself it was for your own good. You had to sever all ties, no matter how much it wounded you.

You abandoned your life that day and left your heart behind in that bed, vanishing into the early morning mist.

///

Even after all this time, after you'd convinced yourself that you'd let go and could return to the city, your heart still clenched when you felt Dazai's gaze, just as it always had. In the past, his eyes had brimmed with love, overwhelming you with their intensity, making you look away for fear of being consumed. Now, they were wounded, carrying a pain that was too much to bear. You couldn't bear to meet his gaze for a second longer, for fear that you would rush back into his arms, longing for him to hold you once more.

But you couldn't.

Because he couldn't be yours anymore. For his safety, for his own good, he had to remain distant. To love you was to invite danger, to plunge into an abyss with no bottom, sinking deeper even as your lungs screamed for air and your body yearned for light. And so, you faced the hardest choice of all.

With a heavy heart, you turned and walked away, brushing away the tears that clung to your eyes, knowing this was the final farewell. He would never forget you, never forget the pain of watching you choose to leave.

In the end, you were both wounded, the dagger of your departure carving just as deeply into your own chest as it did into his.

You ensured that your last memory would etch itself into his heart as a burning ember of resentment, enough to stoke the flames of hatred, making him despise you so intensely that he would never yearn to see your face again.

He would never see your tears, or know how you ached for him. It didn't matter.

None of that mattered anymore.

[3mcwriting]

Fading, Part 2

Warnings: language, grief, mentions of death

Note: I won't be making another part to this, this is the final bit.

"I'm your what?" you asked, clearly confused.

The medical professionals quickly left the room, not wanting to disturb the grieving woman and the super soldier.

"You're my soulmate-" Steve almost cursed at how the situation. "God, I'm so sorry. This is terrible timing," Steve took off his shirt, showing the new tattoo over his heart. The name (y/n)(l/n) scrawled on his chest in loopy cursive writing.

"You..." your voice faded as you realized the only worlds scrawled across his skin were your name. "Why are there no other tattoos? Shouldn't all the things I love be there too?"

He put his shirt back on, "Well," Steve thought about it, sadness flooding his voice, "I suppose it's because when your sister got sick, you stopped having time to appreciate all the things you loved. A couple of weeks ago I was completely covered in tattoos. But over time they just faded."

"I guess that makes sense. When my sister got diagnosed I slowly stopped caring about anything else—I didn't have the luxury to care about anything else," you muttered softly. "This absolutely sucks." The (e/c) eyed woman said, louder. "Why of all times would I meet my soulmate when my sister fucking dies?!"

"I'm sorry," Steve moved to place a hand on your arm.

You recoiled from his touch. "Look. it's not your fault, but I need time, okay? This is a lot to deal with at once."

Steve nodded, backing up. "Yeah, I'm sorry."

"No, no, stop apologizing. Look-" you looked so empty, "-can you just go?" 

Everything in Steve was telling him to stay—after all, he spent years thinking he didn't have a soulmate and then weeks worrying about them—and now that he'd finally found you, you were asking him to go. But he remembered the pain he felt when Bucky died, the anger, the sadness, he knew grief.

Sometimes people just needed time.

"Yeah, I'll go. But please, talk to me. I know what it's like when you lose everything you love, so here." He scribbled his number down on the notepad by the bedside. "You can talk to me whenever, about whatever. Just—don't feel alone, because you're not." 

You nodded and sat down next to the bed, holding your sister's hand. Your eyes caught on the word written on the inside of your left wrist, 'Brooklyn'. ​​

 Steve sighed and left, throwing a look back at his distraught soulmate. You met his gaze and stood up, hurrying to him and throwing your arms around him. He was stunned at first, but quickly responded. Winding his strong arms around you, he rubbed your back.

They stood there like that, you sobbing into his shirt while he held you. "I'm sorry," you said, pulling away. "I shouldn't have done that."

"No, no, it's ok. I told you, I'm here." Steve said genuinely, blue eyes full of nothing but sincerity. 

"Thank you," you said. You returned to your seat next to your sister. "I'll text you when it's a better time," you managed, "but right now I think I'd appreciate some time with my sister."

He nodded, eyes sad at what you were going though. "Yes, of course." Steve actually leaving the room this time.

You looked at your sister, eyes red from the tears you had shed. "Why now? Why...why?"

"I'm sorry, Ms. (l/n) but you have to say your goodbyes." The doctor said, appearing in the doorway.

"Can I have a little longer please?" Your (e/c) eyes still on the body in front of you. 

The doctor hesitated, "I guess for a couple more minutes. Only 5 though."

You nodded your head. "I wish you were here," your voice cracking as if the sound of your heart breaking could be transferred through your vocals.. "Why aren't you here? I'm sorry, so sorry. I was supposed to protect you—you're my little sister and I failed you." You squeezed your sister's hand one last time and placed one last soft kiss on her forehead. "I'm going to miss you so much." You stepped back from the bed, wiping your tears as the doctor came back in.

Memories flashed through your head of moments with your younger sister.

That night, when (y/n) got home she immediately went to her room.

And cried.

All night long.

•••••

"You met your soulmate?! And you just let her walk away?!" Natasha was incredulous after watching how Steve had become hyper fixated on finding his soulmate and now he just let her go.

"Her sister had just died. She deserves time to come to terms with that without having to worry about a soulmate." Steve explained.

"Ok," Natasha conceded. "Did you at least get her phone number?" Steve winced, telling her everything she needed to know. "Really Steve? You didn't even ask for her phone number?"

"I-," Steve said, "I gave her my phone number."

•••••

Your eyes rested their gaze on a dark screen, a sigh escaping you. 

What exactly were you supposed to say? 

Hey, this is your soulmate that you met two months ago and haven't talked to since. 

Or

Oh, remember me? Yeah, we met while my sister was dying in her hospital bed, yeah good times.

You sighed. "Fuck it."

Turning on the phone, you went to the number and quickly typed in a message then sent it before you could stop herself again.

Hi, this is (y/n) (l/n). We met two months ago, sorry for not contacting you sooner. It's been hectic, if you get a chance text me.

You bit your lip, anticipation already building. When nothing popped up for a couple minutes you turned off the screen and sighed. He's probably busy or something, you reasoned with yourself. After all, he's Captain fucking America. He probably hasn't even noticed my lack of communication. The thought hurt, but it was probably true.

He looked down at the object in his hand, almost like it was a wondrous trinket from some far off land. 

But no, it was just a simple cell phone. 

There was nothing remarkable about it, other than the fact that it was ridiculously outdated. To the eyes of Steven Grant Rogers though, it could've displayed the secret to salvation across its dim screen and he wouldn't look at it like he was looking at it now. 

"Hi, this is (y/n) (l/n). We met two months ago, sorry for not contacting you sooner. It's been hectic, if you get a chance text me."

"She texted me..." He was ecstatic to the point where he could barely comprehend the situation. After all, the first( and last) time he saw you was when your sister was in her hospital bed. Then, he'd spent two months worrying about you, hoping a text message would light up his screen and tell him that you were okay, that even though you were grieving, you were still healthy and your mental health was good. The last time he worried about someone like this was when he found out Bucky was captured behind enemy lines. 

Then he looked at the time he had gotten the message, 8:32 AM. His fingers went across the flip phones buttons as fast as they could. Typing a message out quickly and clumsily before sending it off to her. 

"Hello, I'm so hapoy to hear from you. Dom't apologise, you needed time and that's perfectly fine. How are you? I hope yoi're doing ok, thanks for reaching out." 

He winced at the typos, his clumsy fingers weren't exactly the most efficient way to send text messages. His attention was quickly diverted when he saw the speech bubbles, showing that you were typing back.

You felt a small smile grace your features as you read the text. The moment you had stepped out of the shower, the phone had lit up with a notification. 

What stood out to you was that he was asking how you were doing. Not a question for the two month silence, but a hope that she was alright and an acceptance of her situation.

"Yeah, I'm alright. How are you?" 

A couple weeks passed, you and Steve texting whenever you had the time.

You were scared.

Not because of Steve, Steve was a sweetheart.

But because of how easy it was to talk to him, how easy it was to smile because of him. 

How easy it was to care about him.

It had only been about 3 months since her sisters death and yet, you were already happier. An underlying sense of guilt plagued your mind whenever you texted him, whenever you smiled.

Barely a month of only texting and you were already worried that you were falling in love with him.

Granted, he was your soulmate, so it's to be expected that you felt so strongly about him.

You just didn't expect it.

The whole experience was like diving from atop a cliff, the exhilarating feeling, excitement, the falling. 

Because you were falling, and falling fast.

You could only hope that the water at the bottom wasn't hiding jagged rocks beneath the surface.

"We're closed," you said, hearing the bell above the doorway ring, announcing someone's entrance. You stopped wiping down the counter, looking up and freezing. The cleaning rag lying limp on the shiny counter, having been dropped by the incredulous woman.

(E/c) eyes met blue eyes.

The unmistakable face of your soulmate.

"(Y/n)?" he asked, a surprised expression coming across his face. 

"Hi, Steve," you said casually, the tone not at all matching the way your heart was pounding like a jackhammer.

A bright smile grew on his face. "Wow, I was just getting away from the paparazzi and I found you." Disbelief and happiness both clearly present in his voice. "How are you?" he asked, finally moving away from the door.

The (e/c) eyed woman stood frozen behind the counter, "I'm good." You said back, then reality sunk in. How the fuck did this happen? "Why are you here?" you asked, then mentally facepalmed. He just said he was escaping the paparazzi.

His smile didn't falter though. "I was exploring the city and some paparazzi found me. I thought I could hide here." His expression changed to one of guilt. "Can I hide here for now?"

Here he was, Captain America, your literal soulmate, asking if he could stay in the small cafe with you. 

"Yeah. Yes, of course", you said, snapping out of her thoughts. You grabbed the rag, continuing to wipe down the counter. It was already spotless, but you needed to do something with her hands.

Your eyes met his and you almost gasped at the way he was looking at you.

Like you'd hung the moon, and every star in the sky. Eyes full of wonder. Almost as if he couldn't believe you were standing in front of him, your very existence bringing an unimaginable sense of belonging and adoration.

For Steve, he fell in love with her within the first few days when they were texting. He had always thought that texting was a lazy thing people today now did instead of actually talking to people. But messaging the you brought him such an easy sense of belonging that he'd been sorely lacking since waking up in the twenty-first century. 

You were funny and intelligent and could always make him smile. Normally, he was Captain America, the super soldier, American golden boy, but with you, he was just the skinny guy from Brooklyn.

The one who always stood up for what's right, had no clue how to talk to women.

The real him, not the show pony America paraded around.

He loved it.

But most importantly, he loved you.

From then on, they started seeing each other more often. Once a month, to twice, to once a week, to almost every day.

Steve was busy with Avengers work, and you were busy getting your PhD while working at the cafe they unexpectedly saw each other.

Everything was perfect.

At least, that's what it appeared like.

Both Steve and you had had a dull throbbing sensation where their soulmate tattoos were, since about two months after they had met at the coffee shop.

You became almost frantic when you saw that a smudged name had appeared beneath Steve's. 

What does it mean to have a smudged name underneath your soulmate tattoo?

1,300,672 google search results

To have a faded, or smeared name beneath your original soulmate tattoo, means that you have a third soulmate. One who used to have a soulmate, but their soulmate died, passing their soulmate bond onto you.

(E/c) eyes stared at the new tattoo,

It almost looked like someone had written a name on your skin in Sharpie, but then had rubbed it, smearing the ink but leaving the letters readable.

It wasn't just any name though.

It was your soulmate.

Your other soulmate.

James Buchanan Barnes

[krishgupt]

Ash Betrayed (Part - 7)

At 9 AM, Ash woke up with Pikachu by his side. After freshening up He had a spoon of protein powder, a cup of milk and a liter of water. He then went on a 2.5 KM run with a bottle of water and treats for Pikachu.

At 10 AM, after his run with Pikachu, he goes to Professor Oak’s Ranch to spend time with his pokemons. After a few hours of being with his pokemons, he sat with Professor Oak and Gary, trying to learn from their research.

At 2 PM, Ash came back to Ketchum’s residence where he cooked lunch with Delia and Mr Mime. Afterward, he helped Delia in other house chores.

At 5 PM, Ash helped around the Farm and the rest of the time was spent on training and spending time with Delia before finally going to bed at 11 PM.

This was Ash’s routine for about a month before something happened which changed his life.

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

Ash was sitting in front of his TV. It was about 3 PM and Ash was seeing a Pokemon Battle between Sabrina and a Ghost trainer. Even with type Advantage, the Trainer was struggling.

“Ash! I am to Viridian Bank? There are few documents I need to get,” Delia said.

“I can do that,” Ash said, but Delia reject the idea.

“Come on Mom! You have to make Dinner, I am free right now,” Ash continuously persuaded Delia. Finally she agreed and wrote something on a piece of paper.

“Give this paper to the Banker and see will bring the documents,” Delia said as she held Ash’s hand.

“Ash, only bring documents written in this paper, nothing else, don’t even look at any other documents or anything,” Delia said in an extremely concerned and ‘Please don’t do this’ voice.

“Umm………………. Ok? Let’s go Pikachu,” Ash said in a confused voice.

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

Ash was in Viridian Bank. There he handed the Paper to the Banker who took Ash and Pikachu to Ketchum’s locker. The Locker was stacked with various documents and files and thus the banker was struggling to pull out the documents.

“You sure you don’t need help?” Ash asked.

“N-No! I-I-I got this World Champion!” Banker said before he finally pulled out the documents, along with other files and documents. The Banker, who had fell on the floor, gave a sighed.

“#%@% my life,” The Banker said and looked at Ash, whose eyes were staring at file which was actually a photo album. The Banker, seeing this, immediately tried to change the topic. He was given proper orders that Ash was not supposed to see this Photo Album.

“I-I will clear this up, you take the documents you need and leave sir!” The Banker said as he picked up the Album and other documents.

“I want that Album,” Ash said in a cold voice.

“W-What Album sir?” The Banker tried to act dumb.

“Give! Me! The! Album!” Ash said in an even more cold voice.

“//Listen buddy, My partner may seem calm but he can mess you up, better hand off what he wants,//” Pikachu said.

“S-S-S-S-Sir, M-M-M-Miss Delia has specifically told us not to-” Before the Banker could complete the sentence, Ash interrupted.

“Miss Delia is my mother and I will talk to her! Give! Me! The! Damn! Album!” Ash said and this time, the Banker handed him the Album with the other documents.

“Thank you,” Ash said as he left.

“Well, I can kiss my job goodbye,” The Banker said with a facepalmed.

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

Delia, Gary and Oak were searching around Viridian city, it was 11 PM and Ash hadn’t returned. They were searching separately to cover more ground.

“Where are you, Ash!!!!!” Delia said, looking around. Suddenly, she felt something on her leg and looked down to see Pikachu.

“//Hey Delia, I…………………. I assume you here for Ash?//” Pikachu said as Delia lifted him.

“Pikachu! Here you are! Where is Ash thou?” Delia asked in an extremely concerned voice. Pikachu jumped and signed Delia to follow him. While Delia ran behind Pikachu, she called Professor Oak to inform him that she will soon found Ash.

Finally, Pikachu took her the place where Ash was. Ash was sitting on bench. Delia, seeing this, took a sigh of peace and started to walk towards him. But the closer she got, the more she realized that Ash had ‘The Album’, she did not wanted him to see. She took a sigh, knowing she had questions to answers. She slowly walked toward to him.

“Can I sit here?” Delia asked in a calm voice. Ash answered her with a nod. Delia sat next to him. Both were unsured what to say.

“Why?” Ash broke the silence.

“I……………………………. I didn’t wanted to lose you,” Delia said.

“What does that even mean? I WANT ANSWER MOM!!!!!!!! YOU LIED TO ME ABOUT US DON’T HAVING ANY EXTENDED FAMILY!!!!! YOU LIED TO ME ABOUT WE DON’T HAVE ANY PHOTOS OF DAD!!!!!! YOU LIED TO ME ABOUT DAD DYING BEFORE MY BIRTH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” Ash shouted as Delia remain silent. That all could she do after lying for so longer.

“Why! Why you hid the photos of your and dad’s wedding! Why did you hid photos of my birth! Why did you hid photos of our extended family! And why one of them look like Queen Ilene of Rota!!!!!” Ash had so many questions. Pikachu lower his head and just heard. He was as confused as Ash.

“I-I I know own many answers…………………………. I-I betrayed your trust which I only wish to restore son, please, give me a chance,” Delia as tears started to come out of her eyes.

“Go on Mom……………………… I tru- No, I will listen,” Ash said, cutting his own sentence as he looked away. Delia sighed and took a photo from the Album. A Photo of her late Husband, Red Ketchum

“T-This, is your father, his full name, Sir Red Ketchum, Prince of and Aura Captain of Rota,” Delia said as looked at her with confused eyes.

“W-What? H-He was Prince of Rota?” Ash asked as Delia nodded.

“Yes, Prince of Rota, and the Aura Captain, the highest Military Position of Aura Foundation of Rota,” Delia said.

“Aura Foundation? From what I heard they were a-” Ash asked.

“Officially, they are just a Private Self-Help Organization which reports to Rotan Monarchy, but in reality, it is an Independent Civil and Military Organization which Organized Aura Users into force for good,” Delia said.

“And as for the Prince part, you are the third Cousin of Queen Ilene, your Father was the second cousin of late Queen Anne,” Delia stated in a matter of fact voice.

“How did you met Dad?” Ash asked.

“You dad was a Prince and held a powerful position in a security society, but he was an extremely humble and simple man. A man whose eyes I somehow caught. I used to work in Bakery, which was regularly patronized by Rota Royal family. One day, you dad, he was in disguise and thus no one knew he was The Red Ketchum. That was the first time I met him. I used to make small talk with customers, but with you Dad, I completely forgot I had work and just kept talking to him. This continued for about six months, we had even exchanged numbers. Talking to him, listening to him, it was heavenly, before I knew it, I was in love. Soon after, he one day called to come to a place. It was a small church of Arceus, just outside the city, near the exit. There, he told me he loved me and asked if I felt the same. I answered him honestly that I did. Then he told me the truth about himself. I was a little heartbroken about the lying………………. And was also scared………………………. I was scared about the fact that his family, The Royal Family of Rota, will never accept me, an immigrant from Kanto, that the public will not accept having an immigrant Princess. And thus I ran. I ran and kept running from him. I didn’t came to work, I didn’t leave my home. He continuously called me, message me, but I didn’t replied. I knew he loved me but I didn’t want any slander to come to him because of me. Finally, I asked him to meet me, in the same church as the last time. I was going to tell him something about me which will make him hate me,” Delia said.

“What was that?” Ash asked as Delia broke into tears.

“I-I am scared Ash, that if I told you, you will hate me,” Delia said.

“I can never hate you Mom,” Ash said as he held Delia hands.

“Ash……………………………….. I-I-I-I-I-I-I told him I was in Rota for a mission……………………………... A Mission for- A Mission for,” Delia tried to complete the sentence as she looked at Ash. She knew about saying this, nothing will be the same.

“I was in Rota for a Mission, a Mission for Team Rocket! And my full name is Delia Corleone, daughter of Madame Boss and Elder sister Giovanni

Boom! Cliffhanger! 

Previous: Ash Betrayed (Part - 6) – @krishgupt on Tumblr

Next: Ash Betrayed (Part - 8) – @krishgupt on Tumblr

[spnhunter4life]

So Long Chapter 2

Summary: Jenna and Dean have known each other since she was 9 and he was 11. Their fathers often hunted together, so they grew up in next door motel rooms, keeping each other company and watching out for Sammy. They were inseparable until their dads inevitably fought and stopped working together. Shortly after Sam left for college, her father had been killed on a hunt and his dad had been more and more distant, so they started hunting together. In a world where everyone has a tattoo of their soulmate’s name that appears somewhere on them on their 16th birthday, it took them a ridiculous amount of time to figure things out.

Word Count: 6.4k

A/N: I forgot to mention in part one that this story isn’t going to be linear. It has been so far, but after this chapter it’s going to jump around a lot to tell stories from different periods in their childhood. Thanks to everyone who commented on, liked, and reblogged the first chapter! I really appreciate it! I hope everyone enjoys chapter 2!

Series Masterlist

You know I kept a place for you in my mind And I know you did the same ‘cause you’re just that kind

Ages 17 and 19 May 21, 1998

I was sitting on the porch of the house we were renting, reading a book when my dad’s truck screeched to a halt in the driveway. Dean looked up from where he had been working on the Impala as both of our fathers jumped out of the pickup, tension written throughout their bodies as they slammed their doors.

“Jenna. Go inside and pack up. We’re leaving.” My dad ordered, stomping toward the house, presumably to do the same. 

“Why?” I asked at the same time Dean demanded to know what was going on. 

“Because I said so!” he snapped. “And say your goodbyes to the boys.” With that, he was in the house, the sound of his angry footsteps following after him.

John had gone straight to his own truck and left without a word, leaving me alone with Dean. I stared at him in shock for a moment, seeing the same expression mirrored on his face, before retreating into the house to try and get some answers.

“What’s going on?” Sam asked from his spot on the couch, nature show he had been watching put on mute. I turned to him with a small smile. 

“I don’t know Sammy. That’s what I’m trying to find out.”

As I headed toward my dad’s bedroom, I heard Dean come in the door. His and Sam’s worried conversation drifted towards me as I walked up the stairs. 

“What’s going on?” Sam asked again. 

“Ben said they’re leaving,” was Dean’s frantic reply. 

I knew he wanted to follow me and demand answers from my father. I knew because, if the situation were reversed, that’s how I would feel.

“What do you mean we’re leaving?” I demanded with more bravado than I felt as I pushed open my father’s bedroom door. He had his duffel on the bed, throwing his belongings inside. 

Not bothering to look up from what he was doing, he replied, “I’m not telling you again Jenna. Go pack your things.”

“But why?!” I sobbed, unable to keep the tremor from my voice. 

“Because I told you to!” He yelled, spinning to look at me, face red and chest heaving. He took a calming breath before continuing. “Because we need to get out of here. I’ll explain everything later, but right now I really need you to just listen to me.” Seeing the desperation in his eyes, I bowed my head in defeat. 

“I’m never going to see them again, am I?” I whispered. His silence and tense shoulders were all the confirmation I needed as I turned away and trudged toward my own room. I knew he would never actually explain what had happened, and I’d be left wondering what could possibly have been bad enough for Dad to take me away from here. Away from them. 

Dean was sitting on the bed when I got there, arms braced on his legs, knee bouncing. He quickly stood up when he noticed me in the doorway. “Are you ok?” he quietly asked, noticing the tears building up in my eyes.

At his concern, at the worry and fear on his devastatingly handsome face, at the sight of everything I had to lose – my best friend, the man I would entrust my life with, the man whose name was tattooed on my hip – the dam I’d built to contain my emotions burst. I threw my arms around him and buried my face in his chest as I started to cry, full, body-wracking sobs that ripped out of my chest and left me struggling to breathe. Dean just wrapped his arms around me, hugging me back just as tightly, and murmured calming words into my hair. “Shh. It’s ok sweetheart. Everything’s going to be ok. I’ve got you.”

After a few minutes I felt a smaller body press against my side. I turned my face to look at Sam, grateful for his presence, but all the more saddened by it. He had just started growing like crazy, and though he was still a little bit shorter than me, I knew that wouldn’t be the case for long. Now I wouldn’t get to watch him grow and mature, wouldn’t see the man he was turning into. I wouldn’t be around for his 16th birthday, wouldn’t be able to offer support or advice on his soulmate, if he even wanted it. I wouldn’t see him start to drive and I wouldn’t see him graduate, no doubt at the top of his class despite all the moving around. He gave me a small, sad smile but remained quiet, knowing I’d talk when I was ready.

At some point, Dad came to check on me. I was only aware of his presence because of the quiet snick of the door as he closed it. At the noise, I reluctantly pulled away from the boys, knowing Dad was giving us some privacy, but that he still expected me to do as I was told. In a daze, I grabbed my duffel bag from the closet and started packing.

“Jenna,” Sam started. He trailed off, trying to figure out what to say. “How long until we see you again?” He finally settled on. His eyes widened at the choked sob that escaped my lips. “We will see you again, won’t we?” The look of concern on his face nearly had me breaking down again.

It wasn’t the first time the three of us would be apart. Our fathers did occasionally work separate cases, preferred to even. They only worked together at all so that we could be together. The first time they hunted together had been an accident. Strangers at the time, they had butted heads repeatedly until they realized they were both hunters going after the local monster.

The next case they worked together was set up by Bobby Singer. John had been working a job too big to handle on his own and called Bobby to see if he knew of any other hunters in the area. My dad was the closest. It was during that case that they realized how well the three of us got along. Knowing we had little to be excited about in our crazy lives and wanting to give their kids any bit of happiness they could, the two antisocial men agreed to work through their differences for the sake of their children and hunt together whenever possible.

“I don’t know, Sam. Dad says no, but you know how they get sometimes. I’m sure this will all blow over and you’ll want to be rid of me soon enough.” I gave him a weak smile, unable to find the energy for anything more.

“Yeah,” he agreed halfheartedly before falling into silence. 

After throwing the last of my belongings into the bag, I was zipping it up when I felt Sam’s arms around me again.

“I would never want to be rid of you Jenna,” he informed me quietly as I returned his hug. “You’re my best friend.” This declaration had tears silently streaming down my face again. “We’ll see each other again. I know we will. But until then,” he said as he looked into my eyes with a sad smile, “I know we need you way more than you need us, so don’t forget about us while you’re off making new friends.” 

I let out a quiet laugh to let him know I appreciated his effort at lightening the mood. 

“I could never forget you. You know that.” I told him, unable to say more without completely losing the ability to walk out of the room. Unable to contradict Sam’s statement about them needing me more than I needed them. He couldn’t be more wrong. They had each other. I had no one without them.  And Dean… I needed him so much it scared me. I didn’t see how anyone could feel this strongly about another person without being driven crazy by the intensity of the emotions. 

Most of the time I was positive he didn’t feel the same, that he only saw me as a friend or maybe the little sister he never had.  But there were times, times like this moment as we walked to each other and shared one last bone crushing hug, my face buried in his chest, his buried in my hair, that I wondered if maybe he could feel the same. Taking a deep breath, noting and appreciating the smell that was so wholly Dean, I wiped the tears from my eyes before turning and leaving the room without looking back. Leaving my heart behind.

Ages 18 and 19 July 16, 1998

“Hey,” I whispered into the phone. I didn’t know why I was whispering. Dad was gone, and he wouldn’t care if he knew what I was doing anyway.

“Hi,” he whispered back. “Just give me a sec, I’m gonna go outside.”

“Dean, where are you going?” I heard Sam ask before the conversation got muffled, and I could only pick out a few words. I played with the bracelet they’d given me while I waited. Spinning it around my wrist was a habit I’d gotten into in the last few weeks, something I did in the moments I was especially missing them.

“Out… phone call…” was his reply. Then Sam’s frustrated response, “The doctor…  not supposed to… Dean!” I couldn’t hear anything else they said, but I did hear a door opening and closing, signaling the end of the conversation with Sam.

“Is everything ok?” I could picture the way his forehead would be slightly wrinkled with concern.

“Yeah. I’m ok," I lied. How could I be ok when I felt like I’d lost my other half? “I just wanted to hear your voice. I miss you guys.” 

We’d only talked once since we were separated. It was a week later. The boys had called to check in, which I appreciated more than I could express. It was a short conversation though, and we hadn’t talked since.

“We miss you too.” 

It was quiet for a while after that. I didn’t know what to say, not having much worth repeating. I would have been content to sit there all night, just listening to him breathe, having the confirmation that he was alive and doing well. I worried about him constantly when he finished school and started hunting as often as he could. It was even worse now, when I couldn’t see him coming home safe every night.

“So what’s going on? Fight anything interesting recently?” he asked.

“Not unless an invisible squirrel counts as interesting," I muttered.

“Explain,” he said, sounding amused.

“Well obviously there wasn’t actually an invisible squirrel running around. Apparently I was sleepwalking again. Had a dream that a squirrel stole the research I was working on. Dad told me he heard a noise and came out to the living room to see me kicking my pillow around, trying to catch it.” When I told my most recent friend that story, I got a small laugh for my efforts. Dean wasn’t amused enough for even that, apparently.

“You only sleepwalk when you’re stressed,” he sighed. “What’s going on, Jenna? I thought you said you were ok.”

“I am ok. I’m just…” I hated that he could see through me so easily. I just wanted to talk to him. Now I was holding back tears and desperately trying to think of what to say to make him stop worrying. “Well it’s like I said. I miss you guys.” Not a lie. Not the whole truth either, but I couldn’t tell him that I hadn’t just lost my two best friends, I’d lost my soulmate. 

I wasn’t sure, at first, if the Dean whose name showed up on my hip on my 16th birthday was the same one I’d grown up with. The one who watched movies with me on dateless Friday nights. The one who made my favorite soup whenever I was sick and helped patch up countless injuries. The one who acted as my personal chauffeur and bodyguard. The one who was my first and only crush. The one I fell in love with. I wasn’t sure, at first, but I knew now.

It couldn’t be possible to love someone this much if they weren’t your soulmate. Surely this sort of strong, desperate, all-consuming love could be reserved only for those with the deepest of connections. Besides, I’d never heard of someone being sure that they’d found their soulmate only to realize they were wrong. Soulmates were something so deeply woven into your mind, your heart, your DNA, that it was something you just instinctively knew to be true. It was impossible to be wrong about something that was such an integral part of yourself.

I also knew I could never tell him. Soulmates don’t always go both ways. It’s rare, but sometimes a person meets their soulmate, only to find out that that person has a different soulmate. I didn’t really know if that’s what was happening, but it was easier to assume he belonged with someone else than to face the reality that he had known who his soulmate was for three years and hadn’t bothered to say anything.

I know him, know how he thinks. Although he never said it outright, he’d hinted around it enough that I knew he had always worried about bringing his soulmate into this life. He worried about what might happen to her because of it, whether she was killed by some monster or left devastated by his own death. I also knew that the fact that I was brought up the same way as him wouldn’t change his way of thinking. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t turning my world upside down with the revelation of monsters. It didn’t matter that I could defend myself better than any civilian girl he could have been with. 

What mattered to him was protecting us the one way he could. By never acknowledging this thing between us, he thought he was preventing what he saw as the inevitable heartbreak. He didn’t realize he was causing it. He didn’t realize that every day without him made it a little harder to breathe, that whether we acknowledged it or not, the fact that we were soulmates didn’t change and we would still feel the same agony when one of us died. The only thing he was preventing was the happiness we could have together, the absolute joy of being with the one we loved more than anyone else in the world. It would hurt to lose him, but it would hurt more to never have had him. 

I was really no better than Dean, because, despite knowing all this, I would never be able to bring myself to do anything about it. I told myself I’d never change his mind, that I’d just feel rejected if I tried and failed. The truth was, it was easier to just go on pretending, no matter how much it hurt.

“So how are you guys doing? Are you staying safe? Sam finding any new friends?” I asked, trying to change the subject.

“We’re doing fine. Sammy’s as nerdy as ever. Spends every minute he can at the library. And I think he’s found himself a little girlfriend. He’s actually started doing his hair, and he seems a little happier. Turned red as a tomato when I asked him if there were any cute girls catching his eye,” he chuckled. I laughed with him, wishing I could be there to see it all happening.

“That’s good. He’s making friends. Moving on,” I said, remembering the look of defeat on his face when I left and feeling so guilty at being the cause of it.

“Jenna-”

“Not that he needs to move on, that was a bad choice of words.”

“Jenna.”

“I just meant that I consider him to be one of my best friends and I hate that he was hurting. I’m glad he’s doing better. Not that he shouldn’t be doing better, I mean, it’s been almost two months, it’s not like it’s that big of a deal-”

“Jenna, would you shut up a second?” He said, exasperated. “Of course he misses you. He talks about you all the time, wonders if we’ll get to see you soon. In fact, if he knew I was talking to you right now, he’d probably steal the phone and keep you all to himself.”

“I wouldn’t mind talking to him,” I said, grateful Dean had cut off my rambling. I could be a nervous talker sometimes. “And I really am happy for him.”

“I know you are. And I know you’d like to talk to him.” He was quiet for a minute, probably trying to decide what to say. “The thing is, I’ve really missed you. And if you want to talk to Sam, I can put him on the phone, but I was hoping I could have you to myself tonight and you could talk to him next time.”

I blushed at his words and smiled at the rare show of vulnerability.

“I guess I can hold off a little longer.” I smiled again at the breath of relief I heard.

“Good.”

“So how are you doing? You never said.”

“I’m fine. Not much to tell.”

“Well I suppose that’s a good thing. You’re staying safe, then?” The moment of hesitation on his end told me everything I needed to know. “So you’re not fine. What did you do Dean? Tell me it was something you couldn’t have prevented and that you weren’t just being reckless and stupid.”

“You know I don’t go on these hunts trying to get myself killed, right?” he snapped.

“You sure about that? You’ve been hunting full time for, what, a year now? And how many times have you been hurt since then? And you forget, I’ve been out with you before. I know how you get. So excited about killing the monster, you lose all sense of self preservation. You have to be more careful, Dean! What if one day it’s not just a concussion or a cut that can be fixed with a few stitches? What if something happens to you that you can’t recover from? How is Sam going to handle that? What’s he supposed to do if his big brother is gone? What am I supposed to do-” I cut myself off, trying to choke back the tears. I took a deep breath, and then another, and another.

“You know, I really have been trying to be more careful since your last lecture,” he hesitantly joked. “This was honestly just an accident.”

“So what did you do this time?” I sighed. “How bad is it?” 

“I broke my ankle. Was running after a ghoul through some tall grass, didn’t see the rock. Next thing I knew I was facedown in the dirt. Dad’s pretty frustrated, of course, but it’s not so bad. I get to sit and watch TV all day and the motel we’re at has magic fingers. Plus,” he chuckled, “I’m not supposed to be walking around. Doctor’s orders. So I get to have Sam do everything for me. That’s been pretty fun.”

I laughed a little too, imagining Sam’s insistence on doing everything so Dean could rest while also resenting being bossed around. Then I remembered the muted conversation I’d heard at the beginning of our call.

“But you went outside to take my call. Please tell me you’re at least sitting down somewhere.” I pleaded.

“I am. Don’t worry about it. I do have crutches, you know. It’s not like I can’t ever leave the bed, it’s just not easy to do much of anything with them. Trust me, I’m ready to be able to go out and do something again. I’m not going to risk making things worse. Even for you,” he teased.

“I guess it hasn’t been as great as you were saying then. Can’t say I’m surprised. You never were one to enjoy sitting around for very long. How long until you can walk again?”

“The doctor says it’s healing well. Hopefully in a couple of weeks.” After another long pause full of comfortable silence, he continued. “I don’t suppose you’ve gotten an answer out of your dad? About what they fought about?”

“Yeah right. When does my dad ever tell me anything?” I snorted. “I just wish…" I hesitated, debating if I really wanted to speak my thoughts out loud.

"You wish…" Dean encouraged. I sighed.

"It's pointless, I know. But I wish they'd get over themselves. Make up and move on. I know it hasn't been very long, but I just miss you guys so much."

"We've been apart this long before," Dean said without much strength behind the words. Maybe being apart was killing him as much as it was me.

"Yeah, but not with the understanding that it would be forever. Before it was hard, but I knew we'd see each other again. That's what got me through it. This is different."

"It's not forever Jenna," Dean insisted. "Even if they never talk to each other again, we're both adults now. I've got my own car. We can see each other whenever we want."

I loved the confidence and sincerity in his voice. But I knew better. 

"I know you mean that now, Dean. But you're not going to leave your family. Your dad needs your help on hunts more than he thinks he does, and you'd never leave Sam behind. Plus, my dad needs me too."

"Who said anything about leaving our families? I'm not talking about running away together, I just meant we can visit," he said and I felt blood rush to my cheeks. "I can come see you sometime when Dad's on a hunt he doesn't need my help with. Or if you get your own car, you can come see me."

"Well yeah, of course. I didn't mean we'd run away together obviously," I said quickly, flushing again. "I just thought you meant we'd go on a hunt together every now and then or something. But that actually sounds better. No stress or fighting, just relaxing with my best friend."

"Exactly. So we'll find a time for it. I don't know when, but we will. I promise. Maybe as soon as I get the all clear to be on my feet again. Just because our dads are being stubborn idiots doesn't mean we have to suffer for it."

"Yeah," I sighed, relieved to hear that our separation was hard for him too, but also sad to hear he was apparently suffering. "And maybe you can bring Sam too." I suggested. I'd love to have alone time with Dean, but the loss of Sam's company left me aching too. And since it's not like his presence would change the nature of my time with Dean anyway, I didn't see any reason to exclude him.

"Of course I'll bring Sam," he said. “If I remember correctly, someone had a birthday a couple weeks ago and we still need to celebrate.” And then with a laugh, "Just thinking about the hell he'd raise if he were left behind from that particular trip is enough to keep me from even considering it."

I laughed too. Dean sighed.

"It's good to hear you laugh. I've missed that." He cleared his throat, probably feeling a little awkward like he always did after making a statement about his feelings. "Anyway, I've got to go. I have some research I need to finish tonight. Let's not wait so long before we talk again though, yeah?"

"Yeah," I agreed. "Maybe we can plan on talking every first Saturday or something? That way we never go more than a month again." 

"Sounds like a plan. I'll talk to you in a few weeks then. Maybe sooner. I assume there's no rule about not calling outside of those dates?" He asked.

"Absolutely unacceptable," I said, catching on to his teasing tone. "Only the first Saturday. I don't think I could take much more than that." I smiled at the small laugh he let out. 

"Alright. I'll talk to you then." He agreed. "Bye Jenna."

"Bye Dean."

I hung up the phone and took a deep breath. The happiness I'd felt when talking to him was quickly fading with the knowledge that it could very well be another month before I could even hear his voice again. 

Especially when I wanted so much more. To actually see him, his face more familiar and precious to me than any other. To sit and talk with him, knowing there's nothing I can't say to him. To watch our favorite movies and joke with each other. To be able to touch him again. Just casual touches, a hug when one of us needs the comfort, an annoying – but still welcome; any physical contact with Dean was welcome – tousling of the hair in a passing affectionate gesture, a playful punch on the shoulder when Dean says something ridiculous, hands brushing as we both reach for a handful of popcorn at the same time on movie nights. These were the moments I lived for and I found myself losing the fight to hold back tears at the profound sense of loss I felt without him.

Just then Dad came in the door and I jumped a little, quickly wiping away the tears and getting up from the corner of the couch I'd been curled in for the better part of an hour. 

"Hey, Dad. How was your night?" I asked. He grunted in response. Not good then. He'd been out hustling pool. He must not have done well tonight. I knew he'd made money. In my entire life I'd never known him to walk away empty handed. He must not have made as much as he was hoping for though.

"That's alright. We're still doing ok from the last bar you were at. Anyway, there's spaghetti on the stove you can reheat if you're hungry. I'm going to shower and go to bed. Goodnight!"

I heard his murmured goodnight as I quickly made my way to the bathroom. I managed to keep myself together until I climbed into bed. I cried myself to sleep that night. I slept fitfully, my dreams full of green eyes and a happy go lucky smile that I couldn't reach no matter how long I ran towards them.

Ages 18 and 19 September 3, 1998

“Are you sure I can’t change your mind?” I asked the guy behind the counter as I lightly placed my hand on his forearm. I looked down for a second, feigning shyness, before looking up at him from under my lashes. “I’d really appreciate it,” I said in a quiet, suggestive voice.

The guy, a man probably in his late twenties, was manning the front desk of the medical examiner’s office. I was pretending to be a newbie reporter, hoping for a story that would be my big break. 

I watched as he looked me over, slowly, before letting out a long breath. 

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he said, sounding genuinely apologetic. I bristled a little at the pet name that I usually heard coming out of Dean’s mouth. “But I can’t let you back there. I could lose my job, and I really can’t afford that.”

Rejection. That’s fine. That’s what I was hoping for. I was just the distraction while Dad snuck in the back to get a look at the body.

“Well, if you change your mind,” I said as I let my fingers trail over his arm, “you know how to find me.” I nodded to the business card I’d handed him upon introduction, and then, with a small flirty smile, left the room.

I let my smile drop immediately once my back was to him, but managed to contain the shudder that tried to escape. I absolutely hated when I had to flirt with guys for a case. It felt like I was being unfaithful to Dean. Which was ridiculous of course. Not only was the flirting entirely staged, something Dean would understand albeit be irritated by nonetheless, but we weren’t together. Even if I were genuinely flirting, you can’t cheat on someone you’re not dating. Besides, Dean flirted all the time.

I reached the truck and hopped in the passenger seat, waiting for Dad to finish. This better have been worth the effort. I sighed as my thoughts drifted to Dean, as they often did.  I wondered, not for the first time, where he might be. I wondered what hunt they might be on right now. What ways were he and Sam finding to irritate each other these days? Was Sam happy to be back in school? 

Were the boys getting any home cooked food whatsoever without me there, or were they surviving off of take out and microwavable dinners? How hard was John pushing Dean? How much responsibility was Dean unnecessarily putting on himself? These are the kinds of questions that ran round and round in my head. I was startled when Dad opened his door and got in. 

“You look like a real observant lookout,” he teased. I could hear the curiosity that his teasing was meant to mask.

“Did you find anything useful?” I asked, ignoring the remark.

“Yeah. Heart was missing, like we expected. So at least we know what we’re after.”

“Yeah,” I sighed, looking out the window. “At least there’s that.” 

I remember the last time we came across a werewolf. It was three years ago and Dean’s first kill. He’d been so excited, so proud. My dad had been furious. 

He’d left me with John for a few days while he went to handle a simple case a few hours away. He’d knocked John out cold when he got back and I told him what happened. I think the only reason he didn’t leave John behind after that was that he worried about Sam and Dean’s safety if he wasn’t there to be the voice of reason.

John had left all three of us in the car in the middle of a deserted road to chase after the thing. Little did he know, there was a second one. And it had been watching. 

Once John took off after it’s friend, it stalked out of the woods, coming directly for us. To kill us, to bite us, to use us as bait, I’d never know. Dean had responded to my panicked whisper of his name, turning from watching the direction his dad had run in to find a heavily scarred werewolf quickly approaching.

“Son of a bitch,” he muttered as he fumbled with the door handle before grabbing the crossbow that was laying on the front seat. He fired so quickly that I didn’t think he’d even had time to aim. But the monster went down. And stayed down. John had started taking him out on hunts after that, promoting him from researcher to certified monster killer.

~~~~~

“How ya doing, kiddo?” Dad asked as he set a plate with a burger and fries on top of it in front of me.

I was scanning through security footage of the streets the victim would have taken on the night he was attacked.

“Nothing yet,” I answered.

“I can see that. That’s not what I meant,” he told me, giving me a meaningful look when I glanced at him.

“What do you mean?” I asked warily.

He sighed and sat in the chair across from me, setting his own plate of food down.

“You know I usually try to leave you alone, but you’re really worrying me. I feel like I’m living with a ghost,” he told me. “Your head seems to always be somewhere else these days. You never do any of the things you used to do for fun. I know you’re not sleeping well. I’ve heard you crying in the night more than once and I can’t even remember the last time I saw you smile,” he listed. I didn’t realize how closely he’d been paying attention.

“I’m fine,” I told him, taking a bite of my burger before turning back to the security videos. 

“Jenna,” he said gently, closing the laptop. “You’re not fine. You’ve barely been holding it together for a few months now,” he said softly. “You miss Sam and Dean. I get it, but-”

“No, you don’t get it!” I fumed. “That’s the problem! You don’t understand!” 

He couldn’t understand. He didn’t know what it was like to have a soulmate. He and my mom had been one of those couples who fell in love and got married despite knowing they weren’t soulmates. They just didn’t see a point in waiting around for someone else when they were happy together. They didn’t see how a soulmate could possibly be more to them than they were to each other. It wasn’t common, but this did happen, usually with more practical-minded people.

“Then explain it to me,” he said patiently, leaning back in his seat.

I wouldn’t tell him. Not about Dean and what he was to me. It was my most closely guarded secret. There wasn’t a person alive who knew about it, except for Alyssa. But maybe I could make him understand even a fraction of the pain I was going through.

“You didn’t become a hunter until Mom died. You had a normal life until then. You had consistency, family, friends, a home. People and places you saw everyday. You had safety,” I started, explaining as clearly as I could.

“I never had that. I’ve been on the road with you since I was barely five years old. I was too young to have any meaningful memories of Mom or the house we lived in. I’ve never been anywhere long enough to make any lasting friends. I haven’t felt safe since the day Mom died,” I continued, standing up and starting to pace in front of the window.

“I was scared all the time. Knowing you were out there fighting monsters terrified me. I was scared the monsters would come for me while you were gone. I was scared you wouldn’t come home and I’d be left all alone.” I looked at him, saw his frown and wrinkled brow, saw the pain sparking in his eyes, and quickly moved on to the point I was trying to make.

“But then we met the Winchesters. And it’s like my life changed again. Sam and Dean are my best friends. Obviously you know that much,” I said with a smile, hoping to show him I wasn’t upset with him. He nodded for me to continue. “But they’re so much more than that.

“They were the only familiar faces I had, aside from yours. The only people I knew would always be around and that I could trust with anything. 

“Sam is the friend I can talk to about books and watch dumb sci-fi shows with. He’s the friend who is always there to support me when I need it. He’s the guy who hates being involved in this life, but still would never hesitate to help someone who needed it. He’s someone I felt I needed to look out for and it was nice to feel like someone needed me.” I stopped, trying to control the tears that fought to escape at the reminder of what I’d lost.

“And Dean?” Dad prompted when I’d been quiet for a long time. The first words he’d spoken in a while, I realized. I felt my lip quiver as I took a deep breath.

“Dean… he made me feel safe for the first time in a long time. I saw how he protected Sam and I hadn’t known him very long before I knew he was looking out for me the same way. He’s the guy I can talk to about anything. He’s the guy who took care of me when I was sick, the one who always knows what to say to make me feel better. The one I know is always watching my back.” I felt a tear escape and wiped it away angrily. 

“So yes, they’re my friends. But they’re so much more than that. They’re my family. They’re my safety. They’re my home. Try to remember how you felt the day you lost all those things. Try to remember how you felt the day you lost Mom, and then maybe you’ll understand how I feel.”

We were quiet for a long time after that. I eventually moved to sit back down at the table and picked at my food, not really hungry anymore. Finally, Dad stood up and came to stand beside me, placing his hand on my shoulder in a comforting gesture.

“I’m sorry Jenna. I didn’t realize they were quite that important to you. But… you don’t have to suffer like this.”

“I can’t just turn off my feelings Dad,” I said bitterly.

“Of course not. But you’re eighteen now. You don’t need me anymore. Maybe you haven’t needed me for a while. If you’re so unhappy here without them, maybe you should go back to them,” he said sadly.

“What? Dad, I can’t just leave you. You’re important to me too.”

“And I can’t ask you to stay. I don’t want to be the reason you’re so miserable. You’re the single most important thing in my life, and if leaving is what’s best for you then I’m not going to stop you,” he said firmly. 

I looked up at him, made sure he saw how serious I was about this. 

“I’m not leaving you. You’re important to me too. And you need me. I’ll see them again. Dean promised we’d make time to meet up and hang out when we could. It’s just going to take a while for me to adjust to not having them around. I’m sorry you’ve been so worried.”

With that, I stood up, gave him a hug, and headed off to get ready for bed. It was late and this conversation had drained me. As I showered and brushed my teeth, I replayed the conversation I’d had with my dad. I didn’t realize the depression I was feeling was so noticeable. I’d work harder to hide it so he didn’t have to worry anymore. I crawled into bed, determined that tomorrow would be a better day. A good night’s sleep was a must. We had a werewolf to find.

Chapter 3

[crushculture03]

Chapter 15

The band had now made it to Los Angeles after traveling the whole night. Luckily for them, they had another day off, so Jules took it upon herself to show Matty around LA, even though he had been there multiple times before. She mainly just wanted him to meet her friends that she went to college with.

"Ok so we're going to meet my friend Kelsey for lunch, is that ok?" Jules asked her boyfriend as he pulled on a t-shirt. "Sounds lovely, I can't wait to meet her, '' Matty responded with a smile on his face.

" The boys and I have to go to the studio tomorrow to practice something for the new album," he said, "ooo is it a new song? Could I hear it?'' Jules asked, "You'll hear it soon I promise '' Matty responded. She nodded her head in response, then got up from the bed and made her way to the door. "Ready baby?" she asked, turning around and holding out her hand for him to take. He smiled and walked over to her, gently taking her hand in his and opening the door for her.

The two quickly made their way down the elevator, through the lobby, and into the Uber that was waiting for them outside.

When they arrived at the restaurant, Jules immediately spotted her friend. "Kelsey oh my god it's been so long!" Jules said, as she pulled her friend into a hug. "It's great to see you again," Kelsey responded back, "There's someone I want you to meet," Jules said as she pulled away from the hug. "This is Matty my boyfriend," Jules said, a huge grin painted on her face as she gently grabbed her boyfriend's hand.

"I can't believe it, Jules you're actually dating matty healy" Kelsey's jaw dropped, she knew her friend had a big celebrity crush on Matty forever and was stunned to see him not only in front of her but also dating her friend. "Finally got the real thing now compared to the poster" Kelsey laughed, this piqued Matty's interest as the three sat down. "Poster?" he chuckled "Aw isn't that so cute, Julie you had a poster of me in your room" Matty teased. Jule's face turned a dark shade of pink "Thanks a lot Kels now I'm never going to hear the end of this" Jules mumbled. Matty laughed and kissed his girlfriend on the cheek "I'm teasing love, I think it's cute", Jules just smiled in response.

The rest of the lunch went really well, it was nice for the girls to catch up and Matty got to know more about what Jules was like when she was in college.

"You were a wild one in college" Matty commented as the two walked out of the cafe, Jules giggled "A little, I guess" she responded. "How about we take a little walk in the gardens over there? I used to go to them when I needed to get away from the world" she said, as she led Matty over to the entrance. "Wow it's gorgeous in here, '' Matty commented, as he admired all the different types of flowers that were growing. "Yeah, it's one of my favorite places in the whole world, '' Jules remarked, as the couple walked further into the garden.

"So tell me more about the new album," Jules said, trying to get any information out of him, "Well I think you'll like it, you're the muse for some of the songs, but you'll just have to wait till it comes out to hear them" matty said, laughing slightly. "Aw come on babe please just a little sample" Jules begged, "You know I love it when you beg me Jules, but unfortunately I can't it's a secret '' he said. Jules laughed "You're cheeky for adding in the beginning comment Healy, you're lucky I like you". Matty chuckled and leaned over, placing a kiss on her cheek, "It'll be worth it I promise".

45 more minutes later, Matty and Jules decided to head back to the hotel. Once there Matty got a text on his phone, "Shit Jules George said he needs me to come over to his room to check something out for the new album, I'm so sorry" Matty said, quickly grabbing his coat. "It's ok! I'll be here if you need anything, go knock them dead" she said, he quickly kissed her goodbye and made his way to the studio.

In reality, the reason why Matty had to leave was to go to the studio, so the band could practice the new song he wrote. It was a love song that he planned to use to tell Jules he loved her, the song is appropriately called 'I'm in love with you'.

When he got to the studio, he was met with the faces of his three best friends, "When did you get so sappy, Healy?'' George joked as he sat down in front of the drums. " I don't know, something about her just makes my heart surrender, you know? Hey, that may be a good lyric" Matty said, and quickly jotted that down in his notebook. "So the plan is, Charli and Carly are going to blindfold her and lead her to the stage after our San Francisco show, then the lights will go out and we'll come on just like we do with any other show, boom lights go on revealing us I'll say something then we go into the song," Matty said, turning towards the band, they nodded their heads in response and got into place.

"Ok boys 1,2,1,2,3,4" and with that they began.

[someone-ds]

It was just an innocent evening.

A lost invite.

A polite greeting.

A once over that gave me chills.

A confidence I admired.

But then he opened his mouth, and all the right things came out of it.

And then I stared for a second too long, and maybe I was too drunk to care about what was being whispered around us.

There was a hunger painted in green and black.

And I should have left it at the small peck.

It should have been enough. Just a taste.

But self-control has never been my virtue.

He wants me. And I want to be wanted.

He’s in the palm of my hand.

I get up.

He follows suit.

No words needed.

Hungry kiss.

You’re pretty - I hear myself saying.

Stunned.

Another hungry kiss.

I touch my lips. My hands shake. A noise from the side we separate.

We agree to never talk again.

Sunday.

It’s late. I’m alone. I’ve been thinking about him for the last three days.

An innocent text. It’s late and windy.

You’re not a serial killer, are you? -

he laughs.

What makes it serial? —

like three I think-

Oh ok! No not yet. —

I giggle.

His hands are warm. His coat is adorable. The moon is full. The wind is strong.

We kiss. Feverishly and messy and hot.

I’m stone cold sober. A choice. A bad choice but a choice, nonetheless.

I almost miss the last bus.

He waits until it drives off to go on his way. Makes my heart tingle.

Monday night.

A deserted metro station. Three bottles of beer. Another act of chivalry I won’t forget soon.

A hug that meant the world to him.

20 bucks in my pocket when I get home.

Friday.

Drunk and high. I used to turn my nose at that.

but now I’m just a hypocritical liar.

A movie no one quite understands. A hand down my pants. A hot kiss in the kitchen. The almost bathroom meet up.

A shared taxi home.

Saturday morning.

A retrieved wallet and a paid for coffee.

A weekend getaway. The lies keep growing.

A train ride filled with what ifs and excitements for the day.

A small stop on my queen size bed. A hickey. A good cry.

A meal. The lake. The boat. The planes. The plans. The terrace. The beer. The walk to the bench.

I’ve never met someone like you —

A beat or two

You will rise to the occasion -

A promise

A walk home

The wind in my arms

Sunday.

Another million lies.

His bed. His room. His smell.

Homework and music.

A tense conversation. Another good cry.

A breakup of something that never was.

Wednesday.

We can’t stay away.

His favourite bar. The Waiter that knows our names now. Probably thinks we’re together.

Doesn’t know about the lies.

The red death machine I may never actually get to ride.

Drinks and cigarettes.

Worried over the shoulder looks; laughter and freedom in the same breath.

Thursday.

I get off late from work. He waits outside. In his nicest clothes.

Others join us to our demise.

His first introduction to the work after work drinks place.

A stolen lighter and a dropped beer.

Another lie.

And you were here waiting for her? -

I was listening to a girl talk about her plants while out of the corner of my eyes I see his widen.

My tongue finds the roof of my mouth.

No, no I was just in the area! ———

His bar again. David the waiter knows us. Greets us like old friends. The other guests look over, some with wonder others jealous.

I shake his hand.

Good to see you again-

Drinks. He has one too many. Spills it over the table and me. Talks too loudly. Gets up and hugs me out of my chair.

I feel embarrassed.

We get up to leave.

We fight.

I get into the taxi without saying goodbye.

My lighter and credit card in his pocket.

No hug?—

I tell the driver to move.

We almost hit him with the car on his bike.

I’m home and I can’t sleep. I call him to sort things out.

We talk a lot.

It’s three am when I see him fighting his sleep and me my meds.

Good night.

Friday.

We go to my favourite place for once.

I pay for our meal and his drinks. I feel bad about how much money he’s spent on me already.

He looks at me with huge eyes.

No one has ever paid for anything for me before! let alone a girl -

I sometimes forget he’s a fucking crown prince at home.

If I had known that was all it would take to charm you, I would have paid for stuff way sooner- I say half-jokingly

We take the long way home. Both drunk and high.

And hungry.

His belt comes off.

I must restrain myself.

I pay for his taxi home.

He doesn’t remember half the night.

Sunday

We get one drink after work. He’s anxious. Home and business plagued him the entire day.

An important meeting. He can’t tell me about.

He leaves at ten.

I go home alone.

Monday.

I wait for him all day. Hunger written across my face.

I run to meet him ahead of everyone else. He looks gorgeous. And we kiss. Hungry and desperate. But good. Oh god was it good.

Wow you’re drunk! - he grabs my waist to hold me still for a second, look into my eyes.

I am! You missed happy hour I ordered two big cocktails - I say with a big grin.

We walk to the others.

And we kiss and touch and can’t keep our hands to ourselves.

The wind flows through my hair and cleans my soul a bit while I stand on the bridge. The free-flowing water beneath my feet grounds me.

A welcoming haze and an unpleasant cough guide me to the floor of the bridge.

He lays down. I sit down beside him.

We talk.

Again, an uncomfortable conversation that can’t be avoided anymore.

The others come and I leave.

I think you like me more than I like you…—

Oh

I guess I should leave then-.

I leave and he doesn’t follow.

He lets me go in the middle of the night. By myself.

I cry on the way home.

We talk on the telephone for a while but nothing good comes of it.

Tuesday

I met up with the others, we are trying to find something to do.

His name gets said a thousand times.

We wait for him by the side door. He doesn’t know I’m there.

Standing in a white dress.

He sees me and freezes.

He barely looks at me all night.

He’s off to buy drugs. I wait with the others far from him.

He calls me, the call is cut short I hear him yell “Fuck”.

Stay where you are okay, I have to go get him! - I yell while already running in his direction.

White dress flowing in the wind, brown locks flying all over the place.

I don’t think I’ve ever run this fast in my life; lawyers and excuses are running through my mind.

I yell his name. it rolls off my tongue too easily.

I see him. Red death machine and all.

Are you okay? - I yell over to him

Fuck, yeah, I am fine the police stopped me! ---

I fucking knew it; I think to myself.

Because of your bike, right? I touch his arm, franticly looking over him to see any signs of hurt.

Yeah…

We join the others.

DUDE what happened? Ana just started booking it after you hung up!!

A secret exchange of warm and grateful looks.

We smoke in the park.

We don’t see each other for days. Barely talk.

Tuesday.

I fucking won. I can hardly believe it.

I get flooded with congratulations all day. I get drinks and prizes. Ruhm und Ehre.

It tastes great.

Congratulations on your winnings and a red heart… Was all it took to make me crumble and call.

We meet up. It’s late again. He looks taller, a 5 o’clock shadow coming in nicely.

A hug I longed for. We touch like nothing ever happened. It’s just so easy to pretend we aren’t what we are.

Rot12 welcomes us again. We drink, step outside occasionally, to kiss and laugh. To dance and sing.

I got you riiiiight here!--- he is pointing to the palm of his hand. If he is making a reference to the first night, we met is unclear to me. In the drunken state he is in I highly doubt that.

I only nod. He is right.

How the tables have turned- leaves my mouth before being kissed again.

We get another round of drinks.

He is way too drunk, dancing outside while smoking his blue camels. I can’t hesitate any longer, practically sprinting out the bar to join him.

He puts one of his headphones in my ear and starts singing out loud to the song that’s now blasting in my ear as well.

It’s a horrible song that I would never dare listen to. But he is singing it to me. So, I listen.

The lyrics are bad but bring the message across just as well.

It's 5 AM and I'm drunk right now

Tell me, can we still fuck?

Tellin' you just how I feel right now

You say it's just the drugs, and I know

I lied too, way before, before

Before I had you right inside my arms

It’s ridiculous. He is ridiculous. He is jumping around, yelling and rapping this song at me. But damn it I am a bit smitten.

He buys me a rose.

I mean you’ve won right?---

I hate him.

He gets more drunk.

He starts behaving like a dickhead. I yell at him to stop.

I’ve had enough. I try to leave, tell them all to have fun without me.

He runs after me. Apologises. But it’s too late.

He might be rich and full of ambitions and dreams. But class? Class, he has none.

I start crying.

If you cared a little about me, you’d know how important it is to me to care. I care! I know you don’t, but I do! And I am kind! And maybe you’re too privileged to see it but I fucking care. And if you liked me even a tiny bit you would too!

I missed you! That’s why I am here. It’s two am!! Look where we are!

I shout. Tears running down my face.

I missed you too! He speaks. But I am almost sure he doesn’t mean it.

Do you mean it? Or are you just saying it back? I say.

He pauses.

Fuck! Look at what I am doing! I cheated on my fiancé for NOTHING! I yell in his face.

Wow. --- he takes a step back. Face turned with pain.

I take a breath. When I am hurt my words shoot to kill.

He takes my hands in his. I know where this is going.

It’s over. ---

Give me my phone back! -

No, I promised I’ll get you home…---

It’s over, right? My head is turned at an angle, tears running down my face, mascara painting my cheeks black.

He nods.

Then give me my fucking phone!

He hands it over.

I never want to speak to him again.

I’m at work.

My phone lights up.

Missed call. (I blocked him everywhere; glad he’s found a way)

Oh... maybe he wants to apologise. I call back. I can’t let him know how excited I am.

Hi, how-

Is it important I am at work? - I cut him off.

Yes, it’s important, do you have my keys?---

OH shit

He comes to work. I meet him at the door; drop the keys in his hand and turn around. I don’t give him a chance to speak.

The day finally ends after a cruel 12-hour shift, and I climb into bed but not before thinking of how much of an asshole I can be to people I love.

-

I’m speaking to my manager; walking down the restaurant

I can feel eyes on me- I turn my head and find his entire family sitting in my fucking restaurant.

His eyes widen. His mother has a knowing grin on her lips.

I roll my eyes still annoyed and upset. I grab Manuel’s arm and make a run for the wardrobe with all the jackets and expensive scarfs of our guests. No doubt that one of these belong to them.

Fuck me.

Days pass.

I’m drunk and have been for hours. The girl that truly knows me, who’s seen me with all my faces and masks is sitting across from me.

All words my mouth can produce amount to this; I want to see him again.

So I call him. Drunk. But with nothing but truth hanging from my lips.

We make up. Again.

It’s the usual. We’re all drunk and high spread across Freyja’s room.

We share some glances, but nothing comes of it.

His head hurts. I am worried sick. I always am. Not matter what I’ll never be able to stop caring about people who once meant something to me.

Almost two months pass

My hair has grown, a new tattoo graces my skin. The bags under my eyes have grown and the urge to run away has subsided if only a little bit.

You have a tattoo?

He grabs my arm. Thumb pressing harder than it should on my freshly inked skin.

Yes..? I snarl a bit childishly back to him

And also, aua! I rip my arm out of his touch. He looks apologetic, like a kicked puppy; I feel bad

Days have passed since then and sometimes I catch a glimpse of him around the house and have a quiet laugh to myself about how once we couldn’t stay away and how now we barely know what the other is going through.

I overhear him speaking to Adam.

-…. The funeral….

I hear as I pass.

I turn my head and catch his eyes. I try to make him understand that I didn’t mean to overhear.

He looks like hell.

It’s hard not to reach for his hand when he runs by the restaurant. Tell him to slow down and tell me what’s happening. Try to lighten the load. Carry his world with him.

But I can’t.

It’s not my place and it’s not my right. Not anymore.

So I pray again. The first time in years. Quietly and rushed. On the metro, alone to myself. I shoot the big guy upstairs a glance.

Take care of him.

I plead.

Time moves through me. My body only protests quietly, knowing that I will push through any pain to get moving.

I don’t know how it happens but all of us are going out tonight.

Some DJ he knows is throwing a party, I don’t really care. Any excuse to get drunk and high will do.

I’ve only just gotten back from my vacation. If you could even call it that.

My mother is recovering well.

My head hasn’t been the same since they called to tell me she’s in the hospital. The surgeries and the endless pain.

I am drained. Spent too much money to try to fix things. Make up for the time I didn’t spend with her.

But no money in the world can turn back time.

So now I want to get drunk.

We are at the party. Him and I pay for everyone’s drinks… like always.

He barely looks at me and I feel silly. I just needed someone who could understand the stress about having your family rest upon your tired shoulders. I wanted to be understood.

But that’s selfish.

He looks great. And I wish I could tell him. Everyone leaves. I stay back hoping he’d talk to me. Or even fucking look at me.

It doesn’t matter. He’s over it. And all I really needed was a friend who could understand. But he is hurt and over it.

And now we’ll work some confusing days together. Where I want nothing more than to be his friend again. And he’ll rightfully push me away.

He was in Prague. Brought us back some cards and keychains. I didn’t think he would.

It makes me smile all the way home.

To really understand what happened between us I have to be the most honest and vulnerable I’ve been with myself in a long time.

Whatever this was meant a lot to me. Maybe it didn’t mean anything to him. But that does not matter because it meant everything to me.

I radiated youth and a will to live by his side. I grinned so wide my mouth hurt. I felt free. Carefree. And fucking alive.

I know I will be haunted by his lips and the way his cigarettes used to find my mouth after every drunken night

How his hands on my waist felt right and the smell of his cologne mixed with beer and nicotine will always find home within me.

I’m not sure why I did what I did. I will never know. Somehow some of my favourite spots in my hometown will now also have a DYL stain on them.

And I will never be able to explain why.

All I know is that I knew him from somewhere. Somewhere and long ago.

I haven’t felt this way in a long time.

If I had to- explain it, I mean

I’d say he was a fucking fresh breath of air. A gust of wind.

Freedom.

That is what he will always be to me. And that will always be my biggest regret.

Because in the end he is just a boy. And I will just be a girl in his story as well

Even though we shared so much, and I could paint his pains with my fingertips and he could reach within my chest to feel mine. It will never be enough.

Looking at the stars on that bench talking about the inevitable hardships we will have to face will mean nothing to him. But everything to me.

Because people like him are like

Planets with their own gravitational pull.

They will always have someone around them. Thousands and thousands of moons floating by them. Steady and near him.

So one tiny star in such a big sky will never matter to someone who owns the whole universe.

 The end is in sight. There is an uncomfortable air around us.

We are planning what to do as a good bye party.

I might not even be able to join.

I will have to choose, figure out what I want more.

Freedom or security.

A final breath of fresh air or lay in waiting.

Frozen.

He is getting more annoying and reckless as the days go on.

Sometimes this hard shell he insists on putting on now, slips. And I am reminded of the lovely guy I met.

Charming and polite.

There’s a game they want to watch on Wednesday. I’ve tried everything to get there on time but won’t be able to.

Even if I could- I’m not sure I’ll go

I want to. But the chance of being ignored all night and making a fool of myself by begging for his attention is too great to also pay for my actions when I inevitably arrive back home to my reality.

I did go to the Game.

We lost.

The energy was as predicted stale and uncomfortable.

 like bread that sat too long on the kitchen counter. A faint promise to return to it later and finish it long forgotten.

It doesn’t matter. He is leaving. I am staying.

We throw the party. Spent too much money on him again.

Fabricating stories days before, getting the others to lie.

It’s ugly and gross. But I need to see him before he leaves. Before I leave

/

I come back from Paris. A shot glass with the Eiffel Tower on it my hand for him.

But he doesn’t respond. Avoids me.

So he leaves. And I stay behind. Glass in hand, looking up at the sky each night.

The Little Dipper shines particularly bright tonight.

A deep understanding of the consequences settled finally in my chest. Like dust.

He’ll be back for a few days.

In a few weeks from now.

We will see each other and try our hardest to be normal. At least I do.

We are soaked to the bone at the after work hang place.

We say our usual lines.

He says something gross-

I tell him to stop-

He does it again. On purpose-

I roll my eyes.

He tells me he’s stopped smoking

I cry about the hell that awaits me when all of us have to leave tonight.

It’s ugly. But that’s just how it is now.

He leaves, for good now.

I congratulate him on his birthday. I almost forgot.

Weeks pass.

He doesn’t wish me a happy birthday.

End of September always has such a special smell. New beginnings. The end of the summer. A new number to remember me by.

Something happens. Again, I don’t know how exactly but he’s screaming my name through a phone screen.

Tell me! -

Why would it concern you? -

A look on his face I can’t quite figure out.

Tell me how is it going with him!-

Will there ever be a future for us? -

Our friends are watching this exchange not daring to breathe as to not interrupt.

No!-

A Quick Look of panic on his face. I only grin and start walking out of frame.

Then it is no matter to you!

No wait! Ana! Wait, YES YES!!-

I exchange looks with Freyja, making sure I’m not hallucinating.

I turn around, pop my head back into frame.

Well, it’s going well. We are going to Brazil very soon! -

….

The day that I’ve been dreading is finally here.

10 months of indecision plagued me.

But I am flying. But not before I tell everything to the new hire. I can’t keep it in any longer. Not after that phone call.

I talk and talk and talk. About him about us about all and everything.

When I am done, he tells me how my eyes have changed.  A light in them that wasn’t there before.

I stare blankly at the dirt spot on my leather shoes.

Time has no meaning.

Freyja and I dissect the last 7 months. Talking openly and way too loudly. We sit on the bench in front of the Bristol.

We pass his bar. We walk the streets we all spent hours on.

See familiar faces. Laugh at the universes silliness as even the fox makes his presence known.

We watch night turn into day.

Talk only about love and what I ought to do.

But it is no matter now.

He drunkenly confesses he has someone.

My heart sinks.

So, I make up my mind. I think.

Who do I think I am? Of course he can have someone else. I do.

I fly.

I sent a picture to the group chat.

A new ring.

I get congratulated by almost everyone.

/

I’m drunk. I’m calling the group chat.

He picks up.

I can’t let him know how nice it is to see his face and hear his voice. Know he’s ok.

He congratulates me on my engagement.

He puts an honestly after. I stare at the text.

A simple thank you is all I can muster up.

Time again seems to just run away, escaping my grasp.

Again, days have passed. Weeks even.

Normal life will resume now.

[annieintheaair]

Put you back together but I'm missing pieces.

The day I left Wyoming, a few weeks before Christmas 2020, I sat on the plane bawling my eyes out. No one offered me tissues or asked me if I was ok. I was so upset about leaving James and maybe, subconsciously at the time, I knew that it was the last time I’d ever see him. That goodbye hug on the curb outside the airport, that would be the last contact we’d ever have. If I had known then all that I know now, maybe I would have cried even harder.

This morning, I was doing my compliance checks before takeoff and a girl in the bulkhead was crying. It was serious tears like the kind where you feel like you can’t breathe. I asked her if she needed anything and got her a bottle of water. In the air, I brought her more tissues. She was traveling to China so I knew she had a long day ahead. I wished I could do more for her but I didn’t know what else to do. At first, I thought maybe someone died and she was going to a funeral or perhaps, maybe she was leaving for her trip and suffered a breakup before leaving or maybe she was just saying goodbye to someone for an unknown period of time. Maybe, like me, she said goodbye to someone for the last time unknowingly. Maybe, there wasn’t anything more I needed to do but letting her know that someone saw her and cared was enough.

There are times when I’m having a bad day and I want to be left alone but then there are days when I just want to cry and I wish there was someone to give me a hug, like the kind Dan gave me whenever he just knew I needed one. I'll never forget the day when I was walking around Target, feeling really sad during my first year or so in Texas, and a lady walked up to me and asked if she could give me a hug. I don't normally accept hugs from strangers but I felt like God sent her that day. Target has always been a happy place for me and going there when I was sad seemed like the logical choice. This stranger's hug further confirmed that.

One of the only empty seats on the plane this morning was next to that girl. I wished I could fill it because when there's a void in your life and then there's an empty seat next to you, something about it makes the world feel even more lonely. It's like a reminder of what is no longer there.

I've been working really hard -- both at work and in my personal life. I have been staying busy with yoga and pilates daily and know that I'm well on my way to reaching my goals, regardless of how hard it seems during the workouts and how sore I am after.

By the time Friday arrived last week, I was beyond tired. We got back late from Austin so I missed my yoga class, which I desperately needed. I spent the entire week dropping things -- tomato soup, salsa, and then my lunch on Friday afternoon. I dropped it all over my rug and for a minute, I decided to allow myself to sit on the floor and cry. Everything over the week had just built up and I needed a break.

After my facial that afternoon, I went to the nail salon to get some of my nails fixed. In the process of cleaning up my lunch, I had completely destroyed a nail when I got into a fight with the Clorox wipes container. I felt so much better getting my nails fixed (and yet somehow now have two more that are cracked. I just can't win lately!).

After getting my nails fixed, I decided to try this pasta place that I read about. It was only 3pm so I called it an early dinner, sat outside at Miss Pasta, and ate and drank rosé. Matt called so when I was done I went to Brass Tap to kill some time.

Matt's "I'll be done in an hour" turned into much longer so I went to Total Wine and then headed home. Matt called hours later and wanted to hang out but by then I was in for the night. I actually passed out on my couch by 7pm and Uber Eats came to deliver my snacks (ceviche and tuna tar tar from Bulla) so I woke up about 15 minutes after it arrived at my door.

I stayed up for a bit, drinking Aperol Spritzes and eating my snacks before finally heading to bed.

I had zero motivation on Saturday so I skipped community group, yet again. Instead, I took the dogs for a walk and then worked on some crafts (embroidering sweaters for kids), and then met Jillian for lunch at Ascension. When we finished lunch, we walked around the market at the Star and then I ran to Target to pick up a few things.

Saturday night I met up with Kia and we checked out a wine bar by her house. It was a weird Saturday night because the bars were like ghost towns. We had a good time anyway though and I got home just before 1am.

I thought I'd have an easy week this week and planned on working only three trips in a row, having a night off, and then working one more, but ended up picking up one for Wednesday, too. I wanted to go to students this week since I missed last week but I don't feel needed anymore this year since we have so many volunteers and I hate having to leave there early to rush home to get ready for work.

Anyway, I have so much organizing to get done around here so it's time to sign off.

xoxo

Annie

[thetraingotsetonfireonmidnight]

Can u do bakugou and shoyo x male reader? Maybe where people realize they are dating?

I wasn't sure if you wanted them separately or as a poly relationship, so I did both (poly is at the bottom) lol. Hope you enjoy!!

Warnings: Bakugou being Bakugou. (Very) brief mentions of homophobia.

𝔅𝔞𝔨𝔲𝔤𝔬𝔲 𝔎𝔞𝔱𝔰𝔲𝔨𝔦:

When you and Bakugou first started dating, coming out to everyone was the last thing on his mind.

He's not a very public person, because to be quite frank– his love life is no one else's business.

He's the kind of person who let's his friends find out stuff about him on their own. Never ever will you catch this man directly telling anyone anything about himself because his life is no one's business and he stands by that.

It takes awhile for anyone to catch on, mainly because Bakugou isn't into PDA.

So Class 1-A practically drives themselves crazy trying to figure out if you're actually a thing.

On one hand, you both are constantly low-key flirting.

But on the other hand, Bakugou still very much calls you names such as dickhead and asswipe.

Plus no one has ever seen you two be physically affectionate so

There's no way, right??

Wrong, you two got caught kissing.

It was wrong time wrong place.

Bakugou gave you a small peck goodbye, and Mina had seen it.

And because Mina can't keep a secret to save her life, everyone found out.

Bakugou wasn't exactly thrilled, he preferred it when everyone wasn't "up his ass" about his relationship.

"Bakugou! Why didn't you tell us you were dating Y/N?!"

"BECAUSE IT'S NONE OF YOUR GOD DAMN BUSINESS, FUCKWAD. HAD IT BEEN UP TO ME, YOU STILL WOULDN'T HAVE KNOWN ABOUT IT."

Now thing is, everyone is shocked up also not shocked.

On hand, you two were always together so it just made sense

But on the other...it's Bakugou. He's the least desirable person to ever exist, why in the world would you choose him?

Eventually everyone chills out, and it's back to normal.

Nothing really changes. You and Bakugou still aren't too openly affectionate...

Untilll...

"Katsuki? Do you ever worry about how some people are going to react to us...you know, dating?"

"What do you mean?" He turns to face you. You're sprawled out on his bed spouting out depressing shit all of a sudden while he's trying to study.

"I'm glad that our friends are supportive but...not everyone is going to be as accepting as they are. Does that not worry you?"

He scoffs. You're an idiot for thinking that.

"Of course not. I don't need anyone's permission, I can date whoever the fuck I want...and so can you. I love you, and no one's going to change that."

After that, he's determined to be more openly loving towards you.

Just to prove to you that no one else's opinions matter to him.

𝔗𝔬𝔡𝔬𝔯𝔬𝔨𝔦 𝔖𝔥𝔬𝔱𝔬:

Todoroki is similar to Bakugou when it comes to his private life: it's private.

He often makes impulsive decisions without consulting the people around him, and one of those decisions happened to be dating you.

You two got together...and he just never said anything to anyone.

Not because he was scared to, he's not afraid of being judged for who he loves.

And it wasn't because he's not comfy with PDA, because he's perfectly ok with it.

That's actually how everyone found out.

He straight up walked over to you in front of everyone:

"Hey babe, happy to see you."

Kiss on the cheek.

Everyone stops breathing.

Todoroki...the guy who claimed he didn't come to school to make friends...was dating someone.

Minds were blown.

"Todoroki?? Why didn't you ever say anything???"

"I didn't need to??"

"But you do??"

"Oh well...I'm dating Y/N."

No one saw this coming.

Todoroki didn't seem like the kind of guy to date, and no one ever saw you two hanging out so???

This came out of no where.

Some of his friends didn't even know who you were because they've never heard of you.

Not because Shoto is ashamed of you or anything— he just doesn't understand why he needs to talk about his personal life.

You're the person he's dating, so from his understanding, you're the only one who needs to know that.

The guy doesn't understand why everyone feels the need to know about his love life.

When you bring up your concern about some people being not so accepting towards your relationship, Todoroki shrugs.

"Would it make you more comfortable if I were less affectionate with you in public?"

If yes, Todoroki completely respects that.

He respects it a little to hard though because he'll flat out stand on the opposite side of the room.

You love him, but sometimes he was an idiot.

If no, then Todoroki questions why anyone else's input should matter.

"They aren't dating us, so why should they care? If anyone has anything to say, I will talk to them."

He 100% means that btw

Will stand up for you if someone makes a comment about your relationship.

He loves you. End of sentence.

Bonus: Endeavor isn't too happy about the relationship because he doesn't want Todoroki getting distracted from his hero work. Todoroki responds by sending his father pictures of him and you together as a sweet little fuck you.

𝔓𝔬𝔩𝔶!𝔗𝔬𝔡𝔬𝔯𝔬𝔨𝔦 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔅𝔞𝔨𝔲𝔤𝔬𝔲:

This relationship is a dumpster fire.

Sorry, have to be blunt with you, everything is going right and wrong again the same time.

Mainly because of thing 1 and thing 2 over here.

How they go about relationships is so different yet similar and it throws them both off.

While they both agree that their private life is private— Their views on PDA collide

Now if you ask Bakugou, it's not his fault that the secret got out about you all dating.

Todoroki was challenging him.

Todoroki likes holding ur hand in public.

Bakugou would usually oppose to it, but he felt so left out.

So being as stubborn as he is, he grabs your other hand- making sure it made a loud SMACK to grab everyone's attention. (Dw, ur hand is ok)

Todoroki looks over curiously, "Bakugou, I thought you did not like public display of affection."

"Tch, no shit I don't! But like hell you're going to third wheel me!"

"Bakugou, No one is third wheeling—"

"AND GOD DAMN IT, ICY HOT, MY NAME IS KATSUKI. KATSUKI. USE IT!"

You awkwardly stand there wishing for death to take you as everyone immediately stares at your dysfunctional trio.

Bakugou and Todoroki arguing? That's normal

But both of them holding your hands??? Bakugou telling Todoroki to call him by his first name???

"You three are totally swapping spit." Mineta is the first to say something. While everyone yells at him for his bluntness, they had to admit, he said the exact thing they were all thinking.

You three would definitely get some questions from the class

They're supportive, don't get me wrong.

They've just never been exposed to a poly couple so

They're all very confused.

More so confused about how you got Todoroki and Bakugou agree to it.

After the whole ordeal is dealt with, you gave them a stern talking to about how they need to learn to get along.

"You completely outed us, Bakugou!"

"Yeah yeah, I know Y/N. I'm sorry."

You thought you were making some progress until Todoroki opened his mouth.

"All because you were jealous about me holding his hand–"

"I WASN'T JEALOUS, SHIT FOR BRAINS. MY HAND WAS COLD, SHUT UP."

Your boyfriends are disasters.

Get them some help.

[tommyshelbyswh0re]

“talk to me tommy please”

summary- tommy has been living in darkness for years until it finally breaks him, it’s lucky you’re there to comfort him.

tommy shelby x female reader

warning- angsty, bit of fluff.

you were staying at ada’s for the weekend. she wanted to have a girls weekend and asked you and pol to visit her in her london home.

it was around 1am when the phone rang. you were suppost to be setting off back to arrow house in 7 hours. ada got up from the couch where you were drinking gin and gossiping to answer the phone. you could here ada’s side of the conversation.

“oh hello tommy” she greeted. “yeah she’s in the sitting room do you want me to get her?” she asked.

“y/n, tommy’s on the phone” she called for you. you got up and walked into the hall way. before you could take the phone out of her hand she whispered to you. “he doesn’t sound like he’s in a good state” she put her hand on your shoulder looking worried. this caused you to frown.

“thomas are you okay?” you asked in a sweet voice.

“i don’t know y/n. i can’t fucking breathe”

“are you physically hurt?” you asked him, a worried tone seeping into your words.

“no it’s all in my fucking head.” he harshly whispered. he sounded like he was in pain.

“okay tommy. i’ll call a driver and come back now. i’ll be home in a few hours. please don’t hurt yourself in the meantime. pour yourself a whiskey and do some work to distract yourself” you advised him.

“no don’t come home. just have a good last few hours of your girls trip with ada and then come” he rushed out.

“ofcourse i’m coming home tommy” you huffed. you weren’t mad at him by any means, you were more annoyed that he expected you to just go to bed expecting he will be fine in your absence.

“okay love” he whispered.

“i love you tom” you said as you put the phone back on the hook.

“ada i’m going to have to call a driver. need to go home and make sure he’s actually ok” you told her.

“yeah i’ll ring one for you, you pack your things” she said hugging you.

you went upstairs and packed your things. twenty minutes late you were ready to leave. “thankyou ada” you hugged her and kissed her cheek.

“goodbye”

—

three and a half hours later, you were pulling into yours and tommy estate. you grabbed your case and got out of the car after thanking the driver.

stepping into your home, you quietly closed the front door incase he was asleep. you walked into his office to find it empty. you checked all of the rooms on the ground floor of arrow house before eventually deciding he was upstairs. you saw that your bedroom door was slightly ajar and you peaked inside to find tommy sitting on the foot of the bed with his elbows leaning on his knees and his face in his hands. you crept in and kneeled infront of him. slowly you reached out and gently grasped his wrist.

“tommy?”

“tommy?”

“thomas?” you shook him a little incase he was zoned out and didn’t realise you were there but he still ignored you. so you grabbed both of his wrists and pulled his hands down so you could hold them in his lap. eventually he made eye contact but his eyes were blank. asif he was a robot.

“talk to me tommy. please” you asked gently.

“i don’t know what wrong with me y/n. i cant get out of my own head” he told you. “i keep having this feeling that something bad is going to happen and i can’t shake it. after all this, the house, marrying you, becoming MP, i should feel like the luckiest man in the world. but i still have enemies and one day something bad is going to happen to you” he shook his head. you noticed a tear threatening to cascade out of his waterline and down his face. you were shocked. in the three years you have been with tommy, not once have you seen him cry or be so vulnerable with you. you didn’t show it though.

“tommy, i’m fine” you told him gently.

he shook his head like he didn’t believe you. and then tears startling to roll down his face.

you grabbed his face with both of your hands. you wiped his tears with the pads of your thumbs. “i’m here and i’m fine. nothing bad is going to happen to me” you told him assertively “so long as i have you to protect me” you added on. he looked in your eyes. you could tell he still has his doubts. you stood up from your kneeling position and place yourself sideways on his lap and faced him. you grabbed his hand and brought it to your chest.

“see. it’s beating. i’m not going anywhere aslong as you’ll have me by your side thomas michael shelby” you said looking into his eyes. you could see that it instantly calmed him down. he brought you close and put his face into your neck.

“you’ll always be by my side y/n” he whispered into your ear.

“good because you can’t get rid of me that easily” you laughed.

[the-faceless-bride]

Sorry, it's over...

Summary: you and Eddie lived in two different worlds, you had everything you've ever wanted and more, so when a more fitting guy tries to get with you... Eddie feels it's what's best... (Also poc friendly if I got anything wrong please let me know)

Warnings: fluff/hurt no comfort, Eddie making sex jokes, talks of making out, language, Eddie being sad, reader AND Eddie having doubts (but for different reasons), people being jerks, mention of smoking, reader has hair long enough to put into a ponytail and is described to have curls (those curls can be natural or created with a curling iron is up to you) and use of Y/n like twice

You and Eddie have been going out in secret for some time now, and you couldn't be happier! He made you feel so alive and happy, you felt like giggling and kicking your feet like a little girl when he smiled at you in the hallways.

You always snuck him in when you're parents were away, laying in your bed as you pull him in for a kiss and when you pull away he leans in for more; the cooling feeling of his rings against your face when his hands cup your cheeks, your fingers playing with his dark hair or lightly tugging at his shirt.

You always kissed him before he went to his Dungeons and Dragons campaign, he always leaves with the dopiest smile on his face as he tries to get ready for when the party members arrive.

And his members have noticed he was a little off too, he had been generous and forgiving for a while now; the group rarely gets close to death anymore because of his mood. Even his moments and voice sound more cheery and pumped up than scary or mysterious.

But when he is asked about it, he just says he has been smoking a bit more weed than he normally does, the group all just take that as Eddie did get more cheery and laid back when he smoked some weed.

But he actually hasn't been smoking weed that much anymore, he has been hanging out with you and the only time he smokes is when you and he are in his trailer together cuddling.

You both felt so in love, so happy, and so content with how your lives were connected together, even if you had to keep it a secret.

You were a Cheerleader with high expectations of you thanks to your parents and he was...well Eddie the freak Munson... But you both were ok with this. You loved each other, that was all that mattered... Until...

You walked down the hallway from your last class to your locker to finally put your stuff away now that the day was over, you just wanted to finish so you and Eddie could sneak behind the school for a much-needed make-out session.

But when you turned to your locker a boy was there... And it wasn't your Eddie... He was nothing like Eddie actually. He had neatly done short blonde hair, bright greenish-blue eyes, no tattoos, caramel skin, a nicely pressed and well-fitting button-down, light blue pants with a brown belt, and black shiny shoes.

"Hello, I'm Logan." He said as he held his hand out for you to take, you take it expecting a handshake while telling him your name, he kisses you're hand and says "I know." He smiles at you trying to be charming but coming off creepy to you.

'He knows my name? That's creepy... I have no idea who this guy even is...' You thought as you force a smile pulling your hand away.

"Yeah. Well, it was nice to meet you but I uhh- I promised to meet my best friend Chrissy later today to go over some cheers for the next game." You say as you open your locker and shove everything inside, he looks skeptical but doesn't push on the matter.

You don't bother saying goodbye as you rush away to meet Eddie at the back of the school...

"Hey, baby!" Eddie calls out to you as you arrived at your and Eddie's special spot, you rush to him hugging him with a kiss; you lean back with a "Muah!!" Making him chuckle as he leans in to take in your sent.

You both sit at this single table across from each other talking about your day, Eddie telling you the plan he had in mind for the next Dungeons and Dragons session; you even out in some of your own ideas that he would put his own Eddie twist to it for his master plan.

You play with the rings on his fingers as you listen to him rant on and on about this game, and when you absentmindedly tell him you would love to play sometime his eyes light up, and he tells you all about how you can come over and plan your character out together and he starts listing some of the types and races he could picture you as, and you just sat there listening and watching him geek out. Yup, you want to be like this forever.

If only...

When you got home, your mother was rushing over practically pushing you up the stairs to your bedroom, "where were you?! You are late! now, I laid out an outfit for you ok? Put it on and put 'this'- she motions to your hair picking up a curl before dropping it- up into a ponytail and get down here as soon as you can. Ok? Ok."

You were confused, you didn't remember anything important happening today that you needed to be home as soon as possible, dressed nice, and at the dinner table. What was going on?

As you finished getting ready and headed down the stairs to the dining room, you heard your father opening the door and greeting someone hartley before ushering the person and the two other guests in, if the number of steps being heard had anything to say it was that more than two people were entering the house.

As you sat in your chair and your mother rushed to place the final dishes on the table, your father walked in with three people; a man a woman you assumed was his wife, and... That boy from school? Logan, it was if you remembered correctly.

Your mother greeted everyone before looking at you with an expectant look, "oh... Umm, hello. Everyone?" You say unsure, still confused as to why Logan and assuming his family was in your home for dinner. Did your family know them? Were you all related somehow? You doubted it. But it was the only idea you could come up with at that moment.

But it was far worse...

Halfway through the dinner, your father announced that you were going to marry this Logan guy because he and Logan's father goes way back and think joining the families would be good for business.

You slightly choked on your juice as your father said this, you look to your mother who looks at you for a moment before looking back to her food as if that didn't just happen.

You look to Logan only to see how he looked... Smug... He was happy? About this? Why was he ok with this?! You didn't want this! But from the look, your father gave you it looked like you didn't really have a choice.

After that dinner, you and Logan were 'dating' as he and your family liked to say, but you weren't Logan's girl... You were Eddie's girl!

...well, not that anyone would really know that due to it being a secret. But that didn't change the fact you loved Eddie and weren't giving him up.

You were so upset you had become irritable, and the smallest things started to bug you; what was pissing you off the most was when Logan would try to do couply things with you, you didn't do those kinds of stuff with him! You only did that stuff with Eddie damn it! Why wasn't this guy getting the hint you didn't want to be with him?!

Poor Eddie didn't understand what had gotten you so angry this week, he tried everything to try and figure it out. And for the first time you had... Yelled at him. He genuinely was scared even though he was bigger than you, he noticeably flinched.

It made your heartbreak, you apologized to him saying that you were just stressed but just weren't in the mood to walk about it at the moment. He let it go at first, saying when you were ready to talk so was he.

But then he started seeing this Guy keep showing up at your locker and talking with you in the hallways and he started getting antsy... Did you know this guy? Who was he? Did you think he was a cool guy?

But Eddie kept telling himself everything was fine and it was just some guy thinking he had a shit when he didn't... At least that's what he thought at first. But the more he saw the guy, the more the guy was around you talking and even giving you gifts... Expensive ones... He knew something was very very wrong...

And one day that thought came to be true...

Eddie sat in an empty classroom writing down some ideas for the next session with his party and he couldn't wait to share them with you... But then someone got his attention.

"Hey there." A voice called, Eddie looked up eyebrow raised "do I know you?" He asked in a sour tone slightly noticeable in his voice.

"Well you don't know me exactly, but I know that you see me with Y/n in the hallways," Logan said with a teasing tone in his voice... He was taunting him.

Eddie was ready to punch this guy in the jaw when he was interrupted by Logan saying "I know about your little secret relationship..."

Eddie looked shocked for a moment, how? You and Eddie don't talk at all in school to be sure no one suspected anything! How did?

"I saw you behind the school, and look. There's no nice way to put this so I'll just say it ok? Y/n and I are getting married."

And Eddie felt his heart drop into a pit in his stomach, Married? You? And this guy? His princess was going to marry this prick?!

"Look I can tell you are both shocked and angry and I would be too if I were the one losing such a pretty thing. However, we both know that's what's best right?" Logan continued looking down at where Eddie still sat looking up at Logan.

"What do you mean?" Eddie asked not fully following this guy's thought process as he was still in shock at the who you marrying someone that isn't him...

"Well, you see you are... Well, you! you're the freak of Hawkings High! You can't support her, if anything you would ruin her! You can't take care of and provide for her as I can." Eddie was barely grasping what Logan was saying but he knew that Logan was right. He couldn't give you the life you deserve.

Who was he kidding? to think someone like you would be with someone like him forever? He was hanging on to a wish that would never happen... He was just... A phase. You like him now but once you're over the whole bad boy phase you'll move on.

"I... I guess... You're right."

Logan smiled in fake pity, resting a hand on Eddie's shoulder.

"I know I am... You know what to do. If you really love her, you'll just let her go." And with that Logan walked away... And Eddie had something to tell you...

Your parents were away and you didn't have to worry about Logan sneaking up on you here trying to be all cute with you, and you felt so much better! You had called Eddie telling him he could come over and you really wanted to talk with him, and he told you he had something big to tell you, so at first you were excited as to what it could've been, but when Eddie showed up and he looked upset and like he was ready to break down you had quickly invited him in.

He sat on your bed and looked over to you, and told you the big news.

"I don't think we should see each other liken this anymore..."

And at the moment your world shattered around you, what was he saying? why was he saying that? What happened? Did he find someone he liked better? Was she more like him? Did she make him feel more loved than you did? Please don't be saying what you think he's saying...

"What? No! I mean we don't have to keep quiet about us anymore if that's what this is about I-"

He stood from your bed before looking to you taking a deep breath,

"No! I mean... Look at us! This was never going to last were just too different!"

"What... What are you saying?"

He huffed running a hand through his hair before gesturing to your mirror,

"I mean look at you and then look at me, you deserve everything... And I'm... Me, The freak..."

You walk over to him and he backs away before you can get too close,

"Look... I hate to have this happen the way this has to happen... But I think I owe it to you... To set you free... You would be better off without me..." He tries to walk away out of the room but you manage to get in front of him,

"Do back away from me, What's gotten into you? This isn't the Eddie I know. What happened? What did I do to make you do this? Did someone say something to you? I don't care about what anyone has to say and neither should you! Please, Eddie!"

He just shakes his head...

"I'm sorry, it's over..."

"Eddie please this can't be-"

"You and I? Don't belong it's wrong! We aren't perfect after all like we thought."

He tries to leave again but you take his arm,

"Eddie, you and I were meant to be! I know it! Please!"

" ... I'm really sorry, but we're done." He slips past you, you make a last attempt to take his hand but miss as he rushes out the room shutting the door.

You stand there for a moment, the situation finally setting in before You fall to the floor on your knees sobbing.

A few days later and you were still miserable, you even missed some school telling your parents how you felt awfully sick and felt like you wanted to throw up, which wasn't exactly a lie as you did feel that way, but not because you were sick.

But today you were forced to go to school, you looked like you but... Your curls were a mess in your normally neat braid, your skirt and shirt had wrinkles, and your eyes and nose were red and puffy. And ever so often when something would remind you of Eddie your lip would tremble...

You didn't want to go straight home, you didn't feel like walking right now... You thought that you could visit you and Eddie's special place one last time walking behind the school.

But you stopped when you heard voices, and they both sounded very familiar... It was Eddie... And Chrissy...

Looking from behind a tree you spotted them, They were sitting across from each other and she was in your spot where you would've normally sat, smiling and giggling having a conversation with Eddie.

You... You didn't know they knew each other...

Your brows furrowed when Chrissy said something and Eddie pushed his hands to his heart falling out of his seat, getting up and brushing leaves from his hair as Chrissy laughed, they talked more as Eddie made jokes and motions making Chrissy giggle and shake her head... And the way Eddie was looking at her... It made your heart hurt, shattering into even more and tinier pieces...

You felt sick, you ran home. Your lungs burned and your eyes watered, how could Chrissy do this? How could Eddie do this?! Was this why he broke up with you? He was seeing Chirssy?

You pushed your way inside your home before falling and letting out a painful cry, why was the world doing this to you? What did you do to deserve this?

After crying yourself to sleep you woke up to the phone in your room ringing loudly, you grogally stood as you held the phone to your ear,

"Hello?"

And what you heard next shocked you, Eddie?

"Chrissy was found dead. And it was in Eddie's trailer, he is the number one suspect."

Your Eddie?