#as far as she's concerned the worst thing that could ever happen to her already has

[bohemiandeer]

You know what hits me hard? When 5 to 6 year old children, all the way in Southeast Asia, knows about what's happening in Palestine right now. That children their age is getting bombed, that they're starving to death, that they're getting shot at, and sniped in the head. Because, just this past 2 or so months, I heard some of the little ones in the Kindergarten classes I'm TAing in as an Intern talk about it. Hell, one of the little boys downright said he didn't like Israel, because Israel is bad, because they do scary things. Another was questioning whether Palestine was bad too, because, "why else would they shooting at them?". A little girl in one of my classes doesn't want to finish her food at all, because she wants to save at least half her meat and rice for kids in Palestine, because she heard that, they don't have food. And that's just the ones I remember. Namely the inciting cases before their classmates slowly follow suit. The littles are fricking SCARED. We had to sit these kids down, and tell them that the topic is too mature for them at the moment, that they shouldn't even be concerned because they're KINDERGARTNERS, they're not even old enough to properly understand. The one teacher I was TAing for had to make a class announcement saying that. What gets me is, these are 5 to 6 year olds, the youngest I've worked with in this specific age group is 4. 5 years old on average, and they've already been exposed to the worst horrors genocide has to offer through the news and snippets of conversation among adults and hell, considering how many of them say they like to play games on Mama's phone, or their IPad, even from fricking social media. And the fact that, these literal babies, from all the way in Cambodia, has more empathy in their entire body and soul, than full grown fricking adults have in the nail of their pinky finger, gets me. FFS we as adults could LEARN from them I feel sometimes. I honestly don't know what to feel about it anymore. On the one hand, this is the next generation I'm working with. And if the next generation's default response to a tragedy such as Palestine, is what I've seen come up on occasion so far? Perhaps there's some bloody hope for this world after all. At least in this country. Especially since a majority of them already come from families who survived a genocide. These are the 3rd - 4th generation descendants of those who survived the Khmer Rouge. They've got grandparents at home, who no doubt are more than intimately familiar with what Palestine is going through right now. And it shows.

But on the other, it makes my heart sink because these are CHILDREN, these are LITTLE KIDS, they should be playing with their toys and watching cartoons and talking to their friends about everything from Spiderman to Speakerman to Kuromi and her friends, and be worried about whether or not they can go to playground that day, guranteed they're well behaved, or if Mama remembered to pack in their costume for swimming lessons that week. NOT JUST MY KIDS. But the little ones in Palestine too. They deserve better. They all deserve, so much better. Hell, it's come to the point that whenever I look at my kiddos right now, whether they'd be working in class, playing, doing something as mundane as eating lunch or getting ready for their nap. I think of the children their age in Palestine that didn't even get the chance to survive. I think of the ones whose memories from this age, is nothing but absolute horror and pain, rather than what has slowly become my normal, who never got to experience what my littles do on a daily basis right now.

Children shouldn't even be concerned about "War", about a Genocide. The last thing that should be on a 5 year old's mind, is pain, and suffering, and the worst horrors imaginable ever to be inflicted on a human being. ESPECIALLY WHEN IT'S INFLICTED, ON OTHER CHILDREN THEIR AGE. And for that alone, the world has failed them. Especially the kids in Palestine who didn't ask for any of this. They just wanted to carry on with life as kids do, the same way as my littles do on a daily basis no doubt, learning, playing, chatting with friends over their favourite cartoons and characters, worrying about whether they'd get to go to the playground or not that day.

I apologize for talking about this on this blog. I know my blog tends to be lighter in feel, a lot more unhinged and light hearted typically. I mean, I'm just a fricking nerd who likes to draw and write, and lurk about her favourite fandoms to consume and support what is shared among other nerds who also like to draw and write. But I couldn't stop thinking about it. About contemplating it, especially since I'll be back on a roll tomorrow, working with my kiddos again after not seeing them for 5 days straight because of Holidays. And, I just had to talk about it. This is something I felt I couldn't keep to myself this time, I don't think my soul'd be able to carry it. I had to talk about it.

FREE PALESTINE. Our children deserve better.

[miidnighters]

Is the Earth not meant to be shared? The things that crow, will grow again? Why should her heart be any different?

"Oh, only facts, is that right?" Amusement plays over her face. "If this is your facts then I imagine the poetry and praise must blow people away." Not that she really expects to hear it - they've known each other all of an hour, no matter how handsome she might think him in his prim clothes. He was a client, and she should be professional.

Idle fingers tap at the rim of her china cup. It was good, she thought, that even though he was a client, they seemed to click in humour and temperament. Callisto foresaw several hours of research, of being in each other's company while they get to the bottom of this and, without losing hope, find a way to restore his previous faculties.

"You think that's humbling? Much like your poetry, you'll know it when you hear it." He begins to undo buttons, and for a moment Callisto is confused - until he parts collar to display more of the mark. "Here I didn't think I was going to get a strip show. May I?" She asks, not waiting for an answer before setting her tea down and stepping closer to the side of his chair to peer at the fascinating markings on his chest. They look a little bit carved in, though the colouring is of a bruide. It reminds Callisto of how her own chest looked only a handful of years ago, while she was recovering (if not quite as circular - that is a singular uniqueness). Keen eyes track the way the dark veins spiderweb up along his throat, down under his sleeve to where they emerge again on the hands she'd held earlier. "More shame to them." Them being whoever hadn't believed in him so easily.

"How much does it hurt?" Because it must, surely. No one gains a mark like that without suffering for it, and no one holds something like that within him without it fighting to get out. Callisto half turns, snagging the jar she'd set on the table before but that had largely gone ignored. "This is the same mix I use. It's herbal based, boosted with a bit of Weave, to soothe aches. Put some on now - I don't know how it'll do against something like this, so I need to learn what to adjust."

Maybe, one day, when they're friends she'll think nothing of taking his hand and rubbing the salve in herself. But today they are strangers, and so the thought doesn't even cross her mind.

"A menace?" That wicked smile makes its return - because yes, actually, any man poking his nose where it shouldn't be simply for knowledge would be, wouldn't he? Though his head is turned away from her so Callisto can see how his veins darken up behind his ear, around his eye, he'll be able to hear that wicked smile in her voice. "I could never say no to an offer like that. I can only imagine the things you know that I don't, the aspects of magic that you've practiced that no one in this store has never even dreamed of. Of course I want you to do more than just show me like some party trick."

Callisto, there in the gleam of these lights, is echoing, mirroring the likeness of earth. She would offer compassion, a supply of her patience like the fruit in a grove. She has gifted her alms. She has shared those great valleys of her honey-bled heart. And were she not more mindful, guarding her seasons with a vigilance and care, she will lose herself entirely. She may find herself tilled. Both plundered and wasted and taken for granted... Gale, in a way, might sorely relate.

But he's taking now, isn't he?, no longer a lover to drain of his offerings. His orb croaks in his chest, tempting her over like a hare to a wolf. In truth, she should worry a far less deal about the threat on her mother and ferry her worries more on her.

(Forget it, Gale thinks; he does so all for his sanity. Should ever the time come, you will die with this tempest — alone, not threatening, and far from her.)

"Oh, I must've given you the impression that I'm somewhat charitable—" who'd have thought it! "—but no, I don't simply dole out flattery. Since my coming here this evening, I've offered you only my most forthcoming observations. Were I to start brining you in poetry and all manner of praise," he teases, "believe me—" truly! "—you would know it."

Yet, it seems he's wicked her spirit all the same. Suddenly, her face brightens, and the mood, a little rocky at the start, shifts with an ease to an amiable hum. She's a thing of strange qualities, several parts selfless but several parts mad. She feels to him a talent, all intrigue and fire he could only call daring, and watching, all that hunger to know crackles hotly in her eyes. Perhaps, much the same, that's why she sees him. "Bold? Gosh. And to think I could be so easily read," he jokes, boasting those workings of a smile. "But now thoroughly humbled, perhaps I'm nowhere near as mysterious as I'd originally thought. Of course, there's still every possibility that you've a talent for sleuthing," he adds. "Should you desire a new vocation, you could always go Nancy Drew. I'm sure," as he often is!, "that you'll prove most magical." Funny. Absentmindedly, Gale undoes the first few buttons of his shirt. It's strangely beautiful, that orb, carved in his flesh with all the colors of a battering bruise. It trails all over, veins darkening  up toward his neck and left down his arm. He eyes her carefully, vying very much for that air of humor they'd easily brought. Feisty to somber to funny to trusting? Huffing a little, Gale lets her look. "I wasn't sure what I was expecting. Of course you do," he mutters. "It's been, well, quite some time since someone's believed in me so earnestly. I won't soon betray your trust. You have my word."

"As for you, don't let neither my distinguished appearance nor my verbosity fool you. Despite the ironed shirt, I'll have you know that I was -- and still am, depending on you ask -- quite a menace." Why, isn't that a thought? Gale steadies himself, feeling the throbbing of the blight trickle to his nails. Unfortunately, that middling spell achieved abysmally little to smother it mute, but he's abundantly familiar it's knackering by now. Instead, he turns his head so she may follow the veins. "Well, I would never think to detract a devoted young woman, but I'd be remiss were I not to remind you of the option. I could do more than show you, Callisto. I'm a wizard preoccupied with only those marvels that would beggar belief. What I can offer you is a chance to dare possibilities you haven't yet dared to." A chance at things she thought beyond her.

[13uswntimagines]

Weight of the Sky (Alessia X Leah X Reader)

Summary: No one knew why you left the United States and stopped accepting call-ups to the senior team. Only the important people were informed that it had to do with your treatment by the coaching staff. But some reporter got ahold of the story, and a report that was never supposed to see the light of day. How do you deal with everyone suddenly knowing your deepest, most shameful secrets?

Warning: This fic deals with how people process trauma. There’s implied abuse, but nothing explicitly described or explained. Again, systemic abuse (physical, mental, and verbal) is what is dealt with in this fic, specifically how someone might deal with it (in healthy and unhealthy ways).

It wasn’t something you talked about. 

It wasn’t something you liked to think about. 

The people who were important to you knew something had happened. They knew why you stopped accepting call-ups to the senior USWNT a year ago, why you had fled the NWSL, and why you were so adamant about never stepping foot on American soil again. 

You didn’t feel the need to explain it to anyone else. To open the dark box you had buried so deeply so long ago. To rip apart the fragile stitches you so carefully constructed over your wounds. 

But as you stared down at the headline, it looked like you wouldn’t have a choice. 

Scandal set to dismantle US soccer: reports of rampant emotional, physical and sexual abuse at both the youth and senior level 

You didn’t want to read it. 

You wanted to shove your phone back in your bag and join your team out on the pitch like nothing had ever happened. 

It had worked for you so far. 

But the way your phone was buzzing told you that it wouldn’t work for you this time. 

That arriving late to practice so you had the locker room to yourself wouldn’t be the out you prayed it would. 

It was one of the best and worst qualities of the team you had left behind. Their stubbornness, especially when someone’s well-being was on the line. 

They wouldn’t give up when you had been the baby of the USWNT for so long with your first call-up coming at 16. 

It didn’t matter that you barely answered them most of the time now. 

With both you and Foxy playing for Arsenal, you knew that Alex, or Kelley, or Alyssa, or Becky were not above calling Kim or Jen to sort you out. 

To force you to face the thing you had run to Europe to escape 3 years ago. 

The things you had never told them about. 

“Have you read it yet?” You blinked up at the voice of your fellow American, as Emily sat down beside you.

“Just the headline,” You sighed, tossing your phone into your cubby and grabbing your cleats. “I’m pretty sure I already know what it’s going to say,”

You could feel her eyes on the side of your face, trying to peel back the impenetrable mask you always used to cover your emotions. You had known Emily long enough for her to be able to see past it. To decipher the barely visible tells littered across your features. 

You could feel the pity in her gaze, and it made you want to puke. You didn’t want it. You didn’t need it. 

“I didn’t know the details,” Emily said, her voice a pained whisper. 

It wasn’t that Emily hadn’t known about the abuse. She was your longest friend, one of the people who you had shared nearly all of your soccer experience with. She knew that things had happened, but you always breezed over it. You didn’t give out specifics. You didn't need to be viewed as one broken toy. 

You made a low noise of agreement. “That was by design,” 

She caught your arm, and you finally looked at her. 

“Y/n,”

Concern accented her blue eyes, and desperation lingered behind her irises. It was an unspoken question. 

A why that rang clearly. 

“It was better for everyone,” You muttered, finishing the knot on your boot and pulling the 2nd one up, answering the question she hadn’t asked with words. 

You knew she would have fought for you. She would have stood up to the people you had been too afraid to. It was safer if she didn’t know the full extent of what you had endured. If the complaint you had lodged was the only record of it. 

You wouldn’t put anyone in the firing line. Especially not her. 

“Did Leah and Alessia know?” She asked, so quietly you barely heard it. 

Or maybe it was just the blood pounding in your ears. 

You blinked at the question, looking away from the defender. 

Of course, your girlfriends knew, but they didn’t know. You had never gone into depth about your experiences in the youth system. You never detailed how it had followed you like ghosts until you couldn’t take it anymore. 

Until you broke under the pressure. 

It wasn’t like you hadn’t tried to tell them. To let the words out during a million late-night chats over tea with Leah, or when you were so comfortable laid out in Alessia’s chest, her nails dragging up and down your back. 

They made you feel truly safe for the first time in your life. 

You didn’t want to give them a reason to not want you. To realize you were too… damaged to love. 

You cleared your throat, your cleats clicking in the concrete as it hit the floor. “You better get your boots on. We’re going to be late,” 

You didn’t wait for her response before you pushed yourself to a standing position, and headed out onto the field. 

You hadn’t spoken to your girlfriends since the article came out. You had spent a very rare night in your own apartment, ignoring their texts, and the calls that had followed. 

You were surprised they hadn’t staked out your apartment this morning, or been waiting for you when you arrived (admittedly late) to practice. 

You understood that you couldn’t ignore them forever. You didn’t want to. 

You just wanted enough time to gather your thoughts. Time to figure out how you were going to explain it all to them. You just wanted 3 hours of peace, before you would have to face reality.

Before you would have to finally deal with Pandora’s box. 

You snorted to yourself as you reached the locker room door. 

At least Pandora’s box had held hope with all of the bad things. Your box held nothing but pain and agony. Memories that had burned and sizzled the happiness you had finally regained. 

Experiences that were like bubbling acid, destroying everything they touched. 

You didn’t want them to destroy the word that you had rebuilt for yourself. 

You wanted to pretend for just a bit longer that you weren’t a poison that could only hurt the things you loved. 

Pretend like you weren’t about to lose everything. Like they hadn’t realized how… unworthy you were of them yet. 

*****

You felt eyes on you the second you stepped onto the pitch. Like tiny lasers, following your every step. Your every breath. Like they were waiting for you to break down. 

And for the most part, you ignored them. 

You painted your signature easy smirk across your lips and joined the midfield warmup line behind Kyra. It was also coincidentally the line furthest from your girlfriends. 

You focused on the drill, watching as Lia expertly weaved through the cones, the coaches passing her a ball every 3 cones to send into a mini-net. It was easy to let your mind sink into the familiarity of soccer. 

The field had always been your happy place, even when coaches were running you into the ground. It was a place where all that mattered was your skill. Your ability to ignore physical discomfort and pain to run circles around your teammates. 

It was why you lasted so long under Rory Dames, Paul Riley, and the rest of the USWNT coaches. They couldn’t break you on the pitch. Pain only fueled you. 

It’s what had driven them to… other methods. 

You pushed yourself through the line drills, forcing your legs to move faster, and your feet to take shorter touches, driving the pace of the midfield line higher and higher. 

“You know this is just warm up right?” Kyra panted as she made it through the final drill, both hands behind her head. “We still have an entire practice to go,” 

You shrugged, grabbing a water bottle and squirting a bit in your mouth as you waited for the other lines to finish. “Just feeling it today,” 

“Don’t feel it too hard though,” She said, side-eyeing you, trying to sound casual. “Pushing yourself won’t make it better,” 

You blinked at her, and the uncharacteristic seriousness in her voice. The young Australian was the last person you expected to read the article and then try to confront you about how you dealt with it all. 

“I’m fine,” You mumbled, squirting more water in your mouth. 

“Never said you weren’t,” Kyra said quickly, stealing the bottle from your hands, briefly glancing over your shoulder. “But you don’t have to be if you don’t want to be,”

You nodded stiffly. 

You knew that if you wanted to fall apart the team, and your girlfriends would be there for you. 

But you didn’t want to. 

It would make it real instead of just the bad dream you had convinced yourself it was. 

“I just want to play football,” You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “I’m over everything else,” 

Kyra hummed, her serious look shifting into an impish grin as she flipped the bottle towards you and squirted you with water. “Heads up,” 

“Must you always be such a pest?”  Leah’s voice appeared behind you before you could think about what Kyra meant, her arms wrapping around your middle and her chin resting on your shoulder. “Hello darling,”

Shivers ran down your spine when her lips pressed into the sensitive spot just below your ear, and your body tensed unsure if it wanted to sink back into her or flinch away. Your skin crawled in a way that it never had in her embrace before. 

You shoved the feeling down. 

It was ridiculous. 

Uncalled for. 

Not real. 

“Hey,” You said, painting a smile on your face and forcing yourself to relax back into her familiar hold.“The forwards aren’t finished yet?” 

“They were on their last drill when we finished,” She said, loosening her grip so you could turn to face her. “Less will be happy to see you. She missed you last night,” 

You noted the worry lines on her forehead and the crinkle between her eyes. 

You forced your lips to quirk upward into a teasing smirk despite how heavy it felt. “Just her?” 

“You know better my love,” Leah hummed, her blue eyes searching your face and her thumbs running over the skin under your training top just above your waistband. “We were worried about you,”

You could hear the honesty, the concern in her voice. The unspoken questions lingering in the air between you. 

“I’m ok,” You said, meeting her eyes. 

It was the truth. Right now, with the pitch under your feet, you felt alright. 

You felt almost normal. 

She nodded once. “Ok,” 

You appreciated that she didn’t press you. Didn’t point out the obvious cracks in your perfect mask. 

You knew you wouldn’t be able to escape their probing later, but at least now she let you be. 

“You’re still coming home with us tonight?” She asked, her voice still soft, and you swallowed hard. 

Jonas blew the whistle just as the forwards finished their last line drill, calling the group to circle up before you could answer. 

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, gently extracting yourself from your girlfriend. 

“We should go,” You said, ignoring her question and the deep frown etched across her features. 

It should have bothered you how the knot in your chest loosened as you stepped out of her grasp. How your skin didn’t feel like it was on fire. 

Her and Alessia had always made you feel safe and it should have bothered you that Leah’s hands had reminded you of his. 

But you didn’t have time to be bothered. 

You pushed the feelings down again, forcing the lid on them shut. 

You hoped Jonas’ remarks would be short. That you could have the ball at your feet soon. That you could sink into the familiar peace soccer always brought you before any more emotions tried to force their way to the surface. 

A stupid article would not derail your practice. 

*****

You stayed at the edge of the group as Jonas explained the 3 on 3 drill he wanted you to do, watching his little whiteboard as he drew out the formations. 

It was easy to ignore the poorly concealed glances from your teammates (and Leah’s blatant staring). It was easy to force yourself to focus on the coach. 

It was easy to pretend your other girlfriend hadn’t edged her way over to you, her perfume surrounding you with the sense of peace you had been missing since the stupid article came out. Surrounding you like it had done since the two of you were at UNC together, and she was your anchor to reality, even when she didn’t know it. 

Alessia didn’t try to touch you, even as she leaned closer. 

“Be my partner?” She asked in a whisper, the words tickling your ear. 

You made a low noise of agreement, your fingers fidgeting at your sides. 

It felt like when you were in college again. 

Like every time you would come back from a national team camp, and have to reintegrate back into the team. How she would always inch over to you while Coach Dorrance explained drills. 

The two of you had been dancing around your feelings back then, and you had been convinced your heart and soul were too damaged to deserve someone like her. 

You thought her and Leah had finally unconvinced you. That they had finally washed away the feelings of hands you didn’t want and cracks that you feared could never be healed. 

You were wrong. 

When the news broke, you stared at the headline for hours. You were thankful that you had decided to spend the night alone for once. That your girlfriends were having a date night (something the three of you tried to do every once in a while) because the rush of uncleanliness that rushed over you and settled deep beneath your skin, leaching into your bones was unstoppable. It didn’t matter how raw you scrubbed your skin in the shower.

“Ready?” 

The nudge pulled you out of your thoughts, and you blinked at the blonde forward. 

You hadn’t realized that Jonas was finished, or that most of your teammates had already dispersed. 

“Oh, yeah,” You muttered, unsure of where you were supposed to go, or what you were supposed to do. 

Maybe you hadn’t been paying as much attention as you thought. 

Alessia’s lips tilted upwards, and she sent you a knowing smile. The one you hadn’t seen often since you were both in America. The one that used to greet you after bad camps and hard nights. 

“Come on then,” She nudged your arm with her shoulder again.“Steph’s our third,” 

Your eyebrows furrowed. 

Why hadn’t she picked Leah as your third?

She always picked Leah. 

You were the one who liked to play against your defender girlfriend. She was always physical, and it never failed to get you worked up. 

Alessia liked to play with Leah. Their banter always wound her up. 

You turned, glancing at the Australian defender already collecting a ball. Frankly, you were just thankful it wasn’t Emily. 

That would remind you too much of your time at UNC. 

“Alright,” You nodded, swallowing hard. 

You had no reason to feel this… off balance. 

No reason to be thinking about the things you had escaped. 

Alessia’s head tilted to the side, watching you. “We need to make sure we kick Leah’s ass. She’s got Viv and Lea. It’s unfair,”

You hummed again. 

This you could do. 

You let your brain slip into the safe place where all that mattered were tactics and the ball. The safe place where all that existed was the pitch, and none of the other noise mattered. 

“We’re faster, and we can outmaneuver them,” You mumbled, letting her guide you towards Steph. “It’s the team of Beth, Kyra, and Katie I’m more worried about honestly,”

While Leah, Lia, and Viv were tactically savvy, you knew you could outpace them. They were defensive-minded, and you were far more used to being an attacking midfielder than Lia was. You would use their defensiveness against them. 

Beth’s team was much more balanced. Though Katie liked to attack, she was a damn good defender. Kyra could absolutely play as a box-to-box midfielder and Beth was a lethal striker. 

Alessia made a noise of agreement, her hand gently resting on the small of your back. 

The comfort didn’t send pinpricks up your spine like you thought it would, but maybe that was because you were talking about soccer. 

Whatever the reason, you leaned into it, accepting the familiar comfort. 

Yeah, you could do this.

****

“It’s scary to see her like this,” Leah breathed out, glancing towards the door to the showers. 

You had waited until the rest of the team finished before you disappeared through the doors, with a promise from Leah and Alessia that they would keep everyone out. 

Emily and Lotte both joined in their vigil, forming a little circle of sorts with their chairs just outside the washroom.

Alessia sighed, running her hand through your hair. “Reminds me of our junior year,” 

That year had been brutal. 

The two of you were growing closer, edging past the line of friendship into something more. At least you had been until you attended the USWNT World Cup Qualifying tournament. 

After that, everything changed. 

You pulled away completely and looked like a ghost. 

Your eyes dulled from clear to a murky y/e/c like your soul had been ripped out. You were basically nonverbal by the end of the spring semester. It was all Emily, Lotte, and her could do to make sure you ate and got to practice on time. 

She didn’t want to go back to that. Ever. And she didn’t like how similar this felt. 

How easily you had retreated back into yourself and put all of your shields back into place. 

“The year Paul was an assistant for the senior team,” Emily nodded, sharing a meaningful look with Lotte and Alessia. 

Leah frowned.

She was clearly missing something.

“She would come back from National team duty and look like a shell,” Alessia explained gently. “We knew something was going on, but not what it was,” 

“Or how deep it went,” Lotte added, her eyebrows pinched together as she looked back at the door. 

Emily put a gentle hand on her back, rubbing soothing circles. 

“He was her coach for the U17 team too,” Leah said, phrasing it as a statement instead of a question. 

She had read the article, and the full report, unable to stop herself even as the words sliced into her heart like razor blades. It was line after line branding the horrors you had faced from age 13 into her mind, as the reporter described the abuse you and your teammates had endured in excruciating detail. 

The worst was the photo that he had included in the report. 

Three words were handwritten in font that was left on colorful sticky notes around your apartments, telling her and Alessia how much you loved them. Font that was on every card, every poem you wrote for them. 

Font that spelled out Help me, please. 

A plea that hadn’t been heard for years, until an anonymous source had sold the story to the New York Times. 

“Yes,” Emily agreed. “He used to push her so hard during practice and the things that would come out of his mouth were vulgar, but I didn’t know about the other stuff. She only told me they were extra film sessions to help with her game,” 

Leah snorted. “She told us they were tactics meetings, and that he would make her play games she couldn’t win. She never told us what the punishments were,”

“It was by design,” Emily said, using the same careful tone you had used earlier, shaking her head. “I don’t think she’s ever actually processed what happened. She was too busy trying to protect everyone else,”

“She was a child,” Alessia hissed. 

The article said you were 13. Just a kid. You shouldn’t have to protect anyone. They should have protected you. 

The system shouldn’t have failed. They shouldn’t have to deal with the catastrophic fallout. 

“So was I. So was Mal.” Emily bit back. “She didn’t want what was happening to her to happen to us, so she didn’t fucking tell us. We could have stopped it,”

Lotte held up her hands, telling both of them to calm down. “She buried her feelings so she didn’t have to face them,”

They weren’t angry at each other, she knew. They were both fixers and they couldn’t fix this. Just like they hadn’t been able to fix this while the four of you were in college. 

She was just surprised Leah hadn’t snapped yet either. She was the most protective over you, probably because it had taken you longer to fall for her than it had taken for you to fall for Less. 

“And now she doesn’t have a choice,” Leah said with an eerie sense of finality. Like the matter of fact bang of a gavel after a judge made a ruling. 

The stupid Times writer made it impossible for you to continue to ignore it. He made it impossible for you to outrun it. 

“She’s going to try to pretend it’s fine,” Emily sighed, meeting Leah’s eyes. There was something… haunted hiding in their depths that sent a shiver down Leah’s spine. 

“And then completely implode when she can't,” Lotte added, mirroring the haunted look behind Emily’s orbs. 

They had both seen you at your worst, and they feared they were about to get the sequel. 

Leah dragged her eyes from Emily to meet Alessia’s. 

They knew the struggle you had with your emotions, even the happy ones. The cycles you spent oscillating between locking everything inside and shaking in the shower because you couldn’t stop them from pouring out of you and you were afraid of what you would do. 

They all knew about it. 

They had all dealt with it at some point. 

“We’ll keep an eye on her,” Leah promised quietly, again meeting Alessia’s eyes. “She’s coming home with us, or we’re going home with her,”

“She will not be alone tonight,” Alessia agreed. “Or ever again,”

The three other women hummed, before a comfortable silence enveloped them, broken only by the sound of the shower. 

They didn’t have to wait long before the water stopped, and then it was only a few minutes before you came shuffling into the changing room, dressed in one of Alessia’s oversized hoodies and a pair of Leah’s sweatpants despite the warm temperatures outside. 

You looked small. Fragile.

Leah pushed herself to her feet the moment she saw you, only refraining from pulling you into her chest when Alessia placed a gentle hand on her arm. 

She learned in college that physical contact wasn’t always something you enjoyed when you felt this vulnerable. 

“Ready to go Darling?”

Your head bobbed, and you held your hand out for Alessia. 

Leah tried not to let it bother her that you had bypassed her. She knew it was just because you were familiar with how Alessia handled you when you were like this. You knew what to expect from her, while Leah’s reactions were more of a mystery. 

You didn’t want any surprises.

Not now. 

Not when you were feeling so vulnerable. 

Alessia took your hand and pulled herself to her feet, while Leah grabbed all 3 of your bags. 

“Lead the way then,” Leah sent you a very soft smile, gesturing with her free hand. 

Your head bobbed again, and you headed for the door, not even acknowledging Lotte or Emily. 

You didn’t have the mental capacity to address them anymore. Practice had taken all that you had, and you just hoped you could make it through the night with your girlfriends. 

You honestly just wanted to curl up in your bed and pretend the rest of the world didn’t exist. 

Maybe they would let you for one more night. 

*****

Dinner had been… quiet. 

Frankly, most of their night had been quiet. 

An eerie silence seemed to settle over any space you were in, suffocating and heavy, unable to be broken even by a soft soccer game playing in the background. 

You seemed to be… sleepwalking in a way. 

Your eyes were open, but you were light years away, lost in exactly what thoughts they weren’t sure. 

This was much worse than when you were at UNC. 

But Alessia and Leah both resolved not to push you. 

They let you pull away from them both while you watched a random men’s game, cuddled into the far end of the couch. They didn’t press as you stared blankly at the screen, only chiming in when they directly asked you a question. 

With the way the night had gone, they weren’t entirely sure you would join them in bed, afraid you would choose to sleep in the guest room instead. Alessia knew if you did, they would be keeping watch outside the door in shifts. 

But you didn’t. 

You had crawled in between them, still dressed in sweats despite the high temperatures in the house. 

Things were again quiet while Alessia scrolled through her phone and Leah read her nightly chapter. You steered clear of touching either of them at first, glaring at the ceiling like it had personally offended you. 

Then you shifted. 

You rolled over slowly, pressing your face into Leah’s stomach. 

She lifted her book to give you space, carefully winding her fingers through your hair with her free hand. Her nails dragged along your scalp, and you were relieved at the familiar warmth and comfort that spread through your chest. 

You never wanted to associate her or Alessia with the feeling of him on your skin. 

It was easier with Alessia. 

She had been there to pick up the pieces after each camp. She had been on ground zero for the fallout. 

Leah hadn’t. 

You only knew Leah from the time you played against her. 

This was also different. 

It was like an army of souls you thought you defeated marching their way back through your mind, reigning old wounds, and ones you had so long pretended didn’t exist. They ripped apart the careful stitches you had used to pull yourself back together and pried open the covers you had placed on the things you could not face. 

This wasn’t a new wound. 

It was stupid that an article. Words. Had reopened the festering relics you thought you escaped. 

Leah turned the page above you, seemingly oblivious to the anguish pulsing through you with every heartbeat. 

But you knew she wasn’t oblivious. 

Her and Alessia had been watching you all day, trying to support you in their own ways. You knew they wanted to help. All you would have to do is ask. 

You made the decision before you could overthink it, rolling away from Leah and staring pointedly at the ceiling. 

“It wasn’t that I didn’t want to tell you both about what happened,” You said, your voice far more shaky than you thought it would be, and you felt the women on either side of you pause. “I just didn’t know how. I’ve never really known how,”

You didn’t look at them. 

You knew that if you did, you wouldn’t be able to talk about it. The words would get caught in your throat, and just like all of the other times you tried, you would be rendered speechless. 

“We know,” Leah said, her book closing with a low thump. “We’re not upset with you,” 

“We just want to understand,” Alessia added, setting her phone down on the side table. “The things in that article. It went on for so long,” 

Her voice cracked, and part of you longed to turn over and pull her into your arms. To tell her that it wasn’t that bad. To pretend, just like you always had. 

You swallowed hard. You couldn’t do that. 

They knew the truth now, and there was no escaping it. 

“I didn’t know what to do. There’s not exactly a recourse for stuff like this in America,” You explained. You needed them to understand that it wasn’t that you hadn’t tried to stop it. 

It wasn’t that you liked it. 

You were just powerless. One of many cogs in an outdated machine. 

Leah shifted, sitting up and turning to face you, sitting crisscross on the bed, a deep frown etched across her features. “Even on the youth teams?”

You shook your head. 

There hadn’t been anything you could do until you got to the senior team. Until a certain forward recognized the signs and had been so… stubborn and unrelenting in her support. 

“Alex helped,” You sighed., picking at the edge of your sweatshirt sleeve. “She got me to do the report and had Coach Riley removed. Apparently, I wasn’t the first, nor the last,”

You owed a lot to Alex Morgan. More than you would ever be able to repay. She had been the only one to know the true extent of the damage the coach had done, and she fought for you when you couldn’t fight for yourself. 

It’s why you felt so guilty when you left the team. When you left her. 

“It’s why she visited so much in North Carolina,” She said, rather than asking as realization brushed across her features. “Not because she wanted you to play for Orlando,” 

“She was worried, and my Captain at the time,” You mumbled, unable to help the way your lips turned upwards slightly at the mention of the old fight between you and Alessia. The fights about Alex taking a 2-hour flight to visit every weekend. The fight you knew now was centered around jealousy and fear that Alex was trying to get you to leave her.

Leah’s eyebrows pulled more tightly together. “If Riley was gone, why did you stop accepting call-ups?” 

“Vlatko was a lot like Paul. And Roary,” Your nose scrunched at the mention of their names. They left a terrible taste in your mouth. “He doesn’t understand player health and wellbeing. He told me to play on torn tendons in my ankle or risk my spot,”

Leah’s frown deepened as she tried to understand the full extent of what you had endured. “So you gave your spot up,” 

You nodded once. 

Your greatest regret in this whole thing was that you had given up playing for your country. Given up the thing you dreamed about for your entire childhood. 

“I was too tired to fight him too. Especially when I found places and people where I didn't have to fight at all. People who treated me like an actual human, instead of a playing card to be toyed with,”

You finally met your girlfriend's eyes, the weight of your words. The weight of the choice you had made was not lost on either of them. 

“And you carried the weight of it all on your own,” Alessia said, shifting and laying a gentle hand on top of yours, effectively stopping you from unraveling the hem of your sweatshirt sleeve. 

You shrugged. Sometimes you felt like Atlas, forced to hold up the sky, but it was better than being forced to watch the people you loved hold it. 

“You don’t have to do this alone. We’re here to help, but we can’t if you hide things from us,” Leah said, joining Alessia's hand on top of yours. “So no more secrets, alright?”

You bit your lip, finally nodding. 

Old habits would die hard, but you had to try. 

For them. 

Alessia squeezed your hand, and you turned, rolling over so your face rested in its favorite hiding place against her chest, and Leah shifted to spoon you from behind. 

The smothering sadness around you disappeared, driven out by comfortable silence your girlfriend's breathing, and the feeling of them pressed against you. 

There was something else nagging at the back of your mind. 

Something else you hadn’t been ready to face yet. 

No more secrets, you reminded yourself. 

“Emma called me last night,” You admitted softly against Alessia's chest. “she wants to talk at the game against Chelsea,”

The coach had been very polite in her voicemail, leaving an apology you knew she didn’t owe you, and suggesting that the two of you have a chat. 

Leah hummed behind you, lips brushing your ear. “Do you want to talk to her?” 

“She’s probably going to try to convince me to play for the US again,” You said, ignoring the question she asked you. 

“And do you want that?” Alessia prompted again. 

Your shoulders lifted and fell helplessly.“If anyone could convince me, it would be her,” 

“That didn’t answer the question sweet one,” Leah said again, pinching your side. 

You made a low noise, finally pulling your face out of its favorite hiding place. 

You knew what your answer was, and you knew that Alessia and Leah would support you. 

They would help you hold up the weight of the sky, and it would all be ok because you would do it together. 

Article and all. 

[mayearies]

BAD HABIT miles g. morales x fem!reader

SUMMARY. miles can’t communicate. he has trouble recognizing his emotions, rio knows this. uncle aaron knows this. you don’t know this. you don’t really know anything is wrong, but you always wish him the best. but you can only wish upon the same star so many times until something changes. CONTENTS. miles being head-over-heels, mentioned break up, rio worrying for her son, uncle aaron being against the whole relationship thing, mentioned meeting his parents AUTHORS NOTE. haii i’m not back but ill feed you once every few months also format ib: luvjunie

rio .

mother knows best. we all know this. a mother knows when she sits on the couch and her 15-year-old sits next to her and starts going on about his girlfriend, how he’s everything she’s ever wanted that he’s in love.

but, a mother also knows her son. “miles, let me ask you something.” she sighed, “how much does she know about you? you tell me all these things about her, does she know the same?”

he paused, taking a soft breath, “i mean, no. but she doesn’t seem like she wants to know all that much.”

her brow creased, “if she’s dating you obviously she wants to know more about you. ¿de qué hablas?”

“yeah, i know, but she doesn’t really ask me.” his brows raised then creased a little.

confusion and concern.

“i’ll tell you one thing, girls tend to not say a lot of stuff that’s on their minds,” she cleared her throat, “they want you to tell them first. it takes a while for them to be comfortable with you.”

miles sighed and bit his cheek. now he was doubting you weren’t comfortable with him. you had only been dating a month.

“i just… want you opening up more. your uncle does too.” her voice turned softer. now miles felt a bit bad because he thought she was being unreasonable with the whole uncomfortable thing.

plus, uncle aaron knows he can’t open up like that to her. he barely has time for his hobbies because of this whole… prowler thing. so what the hell can he talk about? not to mention he can’t even talk to his mother about this because she doesn’t know that either.

“talk to her about comics-con!” miles groaned when she said that. “ma. no.”

rio pouted, “you gotta open up at some point, miles. i mean it.” she noticed one of his braids was slightly undone and braided it for him, “you’re like a shell now. i worry about you.”

miles kept quiet, after a bit he leaned on her shoulder and kept his eyes straight. “i know.”

they didn’t say anything else. rio knew miles knew already. he mumbled a ‘sorry’ and they left it at that with a kiss to his head. there wasn’t a point in talking anymore.

aaron .

“i’m tellin’ you, this isn’t gon’ work out well for you, man.” he warned, “someone’s gon’ end up getting hurt. both you, and her.”

“not like you liked her that much anyway.” miles muttered under his breath, sitting on the couch ans watching the news. just the same thing every week. sinister six this, sinister six that… god damn.

“i never said that, i just don’t want you making a mistake,” he huffed.

aaron was more rough around the edges than his mother, that’s for sure. he didn’t hate him but he was so serious sometimes for no reason. takes part in why he doesn’t talk about this stuff with him. not like he has a father figure to turn to anyway.

“how do you know i’ll make a mistake?” miles felt a bit more defensive now.

“because that’s how it goes—you fall in love, think everything is great, something goes wrong, everything crashes, you move on. it’s a cycle.” he paused before saying this next sentence. “how do you think your ma’s marriage went? think about it.”

miles softed a bit, but he was still a bit irritated. “you didn’t have to go that far.”

he knew that. but it was a perfect example of the worst thing that could have happened. miles sighed, sinking into the couch and turning off the tv. there was tension, and it filled the silence.

“you’re saying i shouldn’t be in love? it’s that bad to like someone?” he kept his eyes on the ceiling.

aaron sighed, finding a better approach to it. “be in love all you want. tell her all about you. your hobbies, what you like. you know how closed off you are, man.” he paused, “just… don’t tell her too much. don’t make a stupid mistake.”

“…alright.”

present day .

miles walked through the apartment door, looking the same as normal. but rio sensed something was off. “qué pasó?”

“nothing. hi, ma.” he kissed her forehead before walking off down the hallway. he didn’t really act like this. his mom could always tell the difference.

“how are you and your little girlfriend doing?” he chucked lightly, trying to make light.

“oh, uh… we broke up.” there was a long silence, “like, today.”

rio was not entirely surprised, but she couldn’t help but ask why. miles shrugged, not facing her.

“just because.”

@ MAYEARIES ‘24

[sorcerous-caress]

Companions with a Halfling Tav

[Fluff, kind reader, chubby reader, halfling reader, nb!reader]

[Wyll, Karlach, Gale, Lae'zel, Shadowheart, Astarion, Halsin, Minthara]

Wyll

Anyone seeing the two of you together wouldn't have believed that you were strangers who met less than a month ago. The playful teasing, the wholehearted smiles, and the comfort at being at each other's sides.

You really had a way to wrap every human you meet around your fingers, like you were an old friend they haven't met in a long time. It didn't take long for Wyll to feel at ease around you.

Your kind nature, your beautiful smile and your cheery demenour. You've always known how to brighten the mood and lift someone up even on their worst days.

Each meeting with Mizora left a sour taste in the aftermath, yet you've washed it down with each warm drink you handed to Wyll afterwards. Looking up at him from below, he felt his heart melt at the concerned look in your glossy eyes as you lifted the cup up towards him, a reassuring smile on your lovely lips.

A smile that said things will be better, that he will be okay.

He felt like the luckiest man in the world to have met you, met someone as precious and caring as you.

Karlach

And here she thought she'd be the only person in this camp who is looking to have fun and forgo the storm for rainbow.

The others are fine, but Karlach had what felt like a lifetime of misery already, of constant struggle and endless days to wallow in her sadness.

She has missed life, missed living and the excitement of it. The tenderness of a hug, and yours are absolutely the best she has ever had.

The way you fit perfectly into her arms whenever she gets on her knees to wrap you in her embrace. Your soft chubby body was brimming with love and care. Each warm hug reminded her of why life is worth living, of why she fights so hard everyday to stay a little bit longer.

She understands know why the goddess of halflings is also that of life, you're the embodiment of the one thing she was robbed of and god she never plans on letting you slip through her fingers.

The sound of both of your laughter can be heard in the early breakfast as Karlach sits next to you, her head laying on her crossed arms on the table while admiring you from the side. A time where everyone else is grumpy and sleepy, the two of you manage to be bundles of sunshine.

Your energy feeding into one another, returning the same effort and regifting the same happiness back.

Gale

Enjoys cooking food with you by his side. There is something to be said about the homely magic halflings bring with them wherever they may go.

Somehow, you sitting near him on the table and helping him chop down the vegetables for the stew, makes him feel at ease. Your smile is infectious, and Gale finds himself humming a song as the two of you make dinner together for the rest of the camp.

Your kind had a clear appreciation for the arts, for the many things humanity invented. Gale would invite you back to his tent after the meal, offer to read you stories as your small body curls on top of him. His blanket keeping the both of you warm.

Gale is sharing one of the most prestigious literature books, yet you've easily managed to keep up with the complex lore, identifying the many plot twists before they could happen. All while laying on top of him, letting him greedly cuddle your soft chubby body and speak his heart out.

Halfling and humans truly had a bond like no other, so similar and yet so distinct. To Gale, you were the warm home he'd come back to at the end of an adventure, the warm cup of chocolate during a rainy day.

Lae'zel

She doesn't treat you any differently. One day, you bring up the fact of being halfling, and she says she didn't really notice.

If you ask more then she admits that she judges and memorise people by their combat abilities, rarely by their looks or shapes. As far as she was concerned, she wouldn't have been able to tell you apart from a tiefling. To her, there are only gith and others.

While you do fall into others, you're not exactly like them. There is something special about you, the fact you take a step back each time the party fails or encounters something damning, let them recollect themselves and have some time to relax before embarking again.

She admits she has always looked down on those ways, thought they were meaningless and a waste of time. Yet you've proven her wrong many times, and that she admits.

To rest, sit back and stay in the current moment. She feels restless, gets more agitated the more she has nothing to do. What do you mean her sword is sharp enough and doesn't need more sanding? You don't know what you're talking about, there is nothing such as too much sanding.

But you hold her hend in your own, entangle your finger with hers. Guide her back to the fire with the rest of the companions, hand her a warm bowl of soup and tell her to take it easy.

She hasn't touched her soup, yet there is a great warmth spreading through her. Your hums of a melody, quiets her brain, your touches, relaxes her drumming heart.

She looks at the stars and longs for a home she has never seen before, a place where she should belong. But at this moment, nothing in her life felt more like home than sitting by your side.

Shadowheart

She's been taught to hold on to her sadness, to use it to guide her. That her suffering gives her purpose, that hear tears give her meaning.

The two of you have a lot to learn from each other, the moon and sun in an endless dance, chasing one another whilst avoiding the other.

She relives her sadness too much, reopens her wounds too many times. You bury yours, stretch your smiles too thin and downplay your injuries too often.

She returns your kindness and is there to see you at your worst of states. When you can't be the person who is expected to cheer everyone up, when you feel like the ground is crumbling beneath your feet, she catches you in her arms.

And you teach her forgiveness, of her self, current and past. Of her sins, current and future. You extend a hand of mercy and she in return offers an embrace of empathy.

The two of you share a special bond of mutual respect and understanding.

Astarion

He never thought he'd fall for someone shorter than him, truth be told. High elves were always raised on these less than ideal views for the smaller races.

And maybe this is the irony of the fate, that the single person to manage to steal his heart was you. Barely reaching his waist and easily lifting him up.

He was cautious around you at the state, after all the most chipper and goody two shoes people hid the darkest secrets behind that facade. You can't possibly be all smiles and rainbows, can you?

Yet no matter how many times he rummaged through your closet, not a single skeleton could be found, not even a loose tooth or a spine.

Astarion didn't realise how much he was starting to warm up to you, until that one morning you were helping him brush his hair while he sipped on a cup of a blood you've kindly prepared for him.

As he held the cup with the cute cow prints on it, the same one he stole from you, it hit him.

You've been coddling him and making him feel at home without him realising it for so long! And like an idiot he absolutely ate it up. God, is this why his ancestors warned him about Halflings? They really sneak up on you when you least expect it, and the next thing you know, you're spending hours making friendship bracelets for each other.

No, of course, he'll never take it off. Are you crazy? Anyway, you sneaky traitor, it's his turn to do your hair, so come sit on his lap so he can leech of your warmth while hugging your plump body and stomach. No shush, he has earned this. Look, he even has a friendship bracelet as proof.

Halsin

He is very gentle with you, aware of his size, and makes sure never to make you feel uncomfortable or take too much space around you.

Halflings are one of the many gifts of nature, their kind souls and inviting homes have been written about in many elf history books. The best friends of the infamous humans.

You ground him back into reality whenever he gets too lost in his head, worrying about the shocking reality of the modern cities, or the forgotten essence of nature. Your tender touch against his cheek and invitation to sit near the fire and talk it out is everything he could've ever asked for.

You bring home with you wherever you go, be it amidst the misty shadowlands and withering trees, or inside the basement of an abandoned building the party sought cover in from the outside rain.

In fact you'd be the type to embrace the rain and dance in it, barefoot and all. Reigniting Halsin's connection to nature by reminding him of all the beautiful gifts of these earths.

Minthara

Just who do you think you are? Waltzing in here like a drop of sunshine, all cute and small, making Minthara question her sanity.

You stand for everything she has been raised against, the loud laughter that'd get you killed in the underdark, the friendly kind nature that'd get you taken advantage of by the drows, the lovely smile that you flaunt around so easily.

And yet, you're the hero of her story. The person who saved her, let her keep her identity when they tried to erease her existence.

Your light never dims no matter how grumpy she is, your smile never falters no matter how deep her frown gets.

She respects you, admires you and is enthralled by your beauty. The way your thighs look so mesmerising whenever you walk, your chubby fingers that look so short in comparison to her larger hand.

Minthara have pressed the edge of her sword against people's necks for simply thinking they get to pick you up without permission. Have threatened people's lives over some insensitive comments about your own kind and how halflings don't belong in the battefield.

You're brave, truly brave. It takes true strength to remain kind in the face of a harsh world, to remain soft inside. And Minthara knows that, for it is the one thing she couldn't amount to.

[ilovefootballwrs]

With Me Forever - Part |

A part of the So Long, London series.

Reader x Jessie Fleming

Based on a Norwegian song called "For Evig", by Chris Holstein.

"If that was all we got, was only a moment. Then it's with me forever. If it's the last night, and we'll never see each other again. Then it's with me forever."

..................

The news of Jessie's departure didn't shock me, I already knew about it long before the others. What shocked me was how far she was going, and everything went so fast. Soon she was going to be living almost a 10 hour flight from London, from me. I would never try to stop her, it wouldn't be fair, but at the same time the distance wouldn't be fair for either of us.

. . .

"It's so weird that it's Jessie's last day in London today. When is she leaving again?" Guro asked me. Guro was always like a big sister to me. We both play for Norway, and with her being a couple of years older than me, she basically watched me grow up and our bond grew into a sibling like friendship.

"Uhm...I think her flight leaves at midnight, so probably some time before that." I said with a sad smile on my lips.

"Listen, I know how hard this is for you. You know you can always come to me if there's anything wrong, right?" She asked with a look of concern on her face.

"So cliché." I laughed. "I know Guro, I will." I gave her a genuin smile. "I have to go now, I'm helping Jessie pack the rest of her stuff, bye!"

. . .

The feeling I'm feeling right now got to be the worst feeling on earth. Packing away her stuff for her to move away is the last thing I want to do. My heart clenches for every item I pack away.

I'm just placed the last of her items in the box when I hear footsteps behind me.

"It's much more emptier now." Jessie said as she went to sit on the bed.

I looked up at her. "Well, I guess you were the one that owned most of the stuff in here.

I stood up and went to sit beside her, putting head on her shoulder and interlocked our hands.

"I'm sorry for leaving" I could her the sadness in her voice. I took my head of her shoulder to look at her. Her cheeks were slightly more red than usual and she had tears in her eyes.

"Please don't cry, Jess." I put my hand on her cheek and continued to talk. "I don't blame you for leaving, I will never ever blame you. This is just something you have to do." I tried reassuring her.

"I'm still sorry. I don't know what I'm gonna do without you." The tears fell down her face and I could feel my eyes starting to tear up.

"I don't know either." I whispered. "I never wanted to lose you."

"You don't have to you know. You don't have to lose me." She said.

"Jess-" I started before getting interrupted by her.

"Y/N we, us, don't need to be over just because I'm leaving. Obviously I would never ask you to leave Chelsea for me, but we could do long distance." She said with a pleading look. "Please Y/N- don't let this be the end of us."

"I really wish it was that simple Jess, I really do, but I don't think I could do it. My heart couldn't take it Jess." At this point I was sobbing, not giving a care in the world. "I'm really sorry Jess, I really am."

. . .

We ended up spending the last couple of hours in each others arms before Niamh came to pick Jessie up. We both figured it was easier for the both of us if it was Niamh driving Jessie to the airport.

Niamh was sat in her car to give us space to say our goodbye. We hug before Jessie pulls away. "I'll always love you Y/N. No matter what happens, you will always be the love of my life."

She pulls me back in to give me a kiss. "Our memories will be with me forever, Jessie. As will my love for you." I tell her before she has to go.

I watch her get in the car and give her a wave and a smile when she's inside it. She returns the wave with a sad smile.

. . .

It's been two weeks since Jessie left. The two most horrible week. My whole routine has changed now that Jessie is gone. I don't wake up the smell of fresh coffee and a kiss anymore. I don't get to steal my favorite hoodie of hers anymore. I don't get the "I love you"s from her anymore. And there is no one to hold me in the nights anymore.

When vacuuming the bedroom, which Jessie usually used to do, I stumble across a box under the bed. It must've been Jessies. I pick it up and put it on the bed, while I also go to sit on the bed. I don't know what to do. Should I open it? Maybe she wouldn't want me to do that? Was that the reason for why it was under the bed? Because she didn't want me to find it? I thought about it for a while before thinking "What the hell." and opening it. The box was full of pictures. I recognized some of the pictures from being from our dates together, but most of them was just of me. It was literally just of me doing the most domestic things ever, like cooking or cleaning. I look through the pictures for a while before seeing a smaller box inside the box. I can feel my hands shaking as I go to pick up the box. I open the box and see the most gorgeous ring I've ever seen. I take it out of the box and try it on. It fits perfectly.

I immediately pick up the phone.

"In how long can you come over?" I ask.

………………….

A/N: The other parts of this series are going to be longer, this was just a start of it.

[gaybananabread]

Hi! For day 1, could you please do ramshackle with ler skipp and lee stone? Thank you!! :))

TickleTober Day 1 - Anticipation

~Alright! Kicking off the month with one of my newer obsessions is always fun. I’m excited to get all these done; hopefully all 30 days this year! Thank you for requesting, and I hope you Enjoy!~

Lee: Stone

Ler: Skipp

Summary: Stone is in a mood, snapping and sassing his friends for almost no reason. Skipp gets more than a little tired of it, deciding to use some unconventional methods to get Stone out of his funk; however, he doesn’t get started right away. After all, the best things come to those who wait.

Warnings: brief cigarette use! This is a tickle fic, so if you don’t like that, scroll away!!

Kicking around trash in their slum alley, Stone huffed and grumbled about. He’d been in a sour mood all day - probably because they’d had shoes for dinner the night before. Taking his anger out on an empty liquor bottle, he sighed as the glass shattered and shot tiny fragments across the alleyway.

Skipp snapped his head up, his fear fading to concern and a slight annoyance as he pieced together what happened. Not another mood…

“Stone, buddy, you can’t smash bottles. We kinda sleep on the ground, if you forgot, and I don’t think broken glass makes for a good pillow.” Walking over to the grumpy man, Skipp tried to reason with him. When he placed a hand on Stone’s shoulder, it was quickly shrugged off and scoffed at.

“Whatever. Wha’ does it even matter? I barely ever sleep at night anyway,” Stone grumped, lighting a cigarette and ignoring his fellow scrap. That made Skipp’s small smile fall, concern dominating his expression.

“I know, but still. We don’t wanna dirty up our place anymore than the city already has.” Skipp kicked a bit of the broken glass around, trying to use his foot as a broom. It worked…kinda. He’d have to ask Vinnie where she put their actual broom when she got back from her supply run.

“Ugh, like we care abou’ the mess. We are a mess, Skipp - all three of us. Probably gonna die as one, too.” His words were harsh, much harsher than he meant to be. Still, he was in a mood; there was no way he was gonna apologize.

That stubborn thought nearly died as he saw Skipp’s lip quiver for a moment.

“Skipp…” Stone lowered his cigarette, reaching a hand out to rest on the blonde’s shoulder. He pulled away before the gloomy man could touch him, still looking down.

“Fine. If you’re just gonna be grumpy and mean for no reason, I guess I’ll have to…” Skipp slowly got closer to Stone, raising his head; the mischievous grin on his face was immediately recognizable, making Stone’s stomach flip. “Tickle you.”

Oh shit. Oh shit!

Stone dropped his cigarette, internally cringing at the waste as he took off running. A light was worth less than whatever was left of his sanity, though. He pumped his legs as fast as they would go, not sparing a single second to look behind him.

Skipp snickered as he ran off, but didn’t take off after him; their alleys only went so far before looping back to the street. The blonde calmly jogged over to the connecting road, ducking into the alley spit-out. Lo and behind, Stone came racing towards the opening, his eyes flying wide as he saw Skipp.

Before the broody man could backpedal, Skipp lunged and pinned him to the ground. They were still inside the alley, concealed well enough to have privacy. Stone was straddled in seconds, thrashing beneath his fellow scrap.

“Ge’ the fuck off, Skipp! I swear, ’m gonna-” Stone’s threat was cut off by Skipp’s hand resting on his stomach. It definitely wasn’t his worst spot, but he was still ticklish there.

“Oh, what was that? Gonna…what? Apologize for being so mean?” Skipp teased, wiggling his fingers ever-so-slightly against the taller man’s stomach. Stone bit his lip, holding back his small giggles. A feeling of anticipation settled in his gut, making him giddy and nervous.

“F-fuck you! Don’ even try it, or yer dead!” Stone continued to threaten him, refusing to apologize. I mean, yeah, he probably did owe the blonde a good one, but he was busy being stubborn.

Skipp shrugged, flattening his hand against Stone’s stomach. He wasn’t gonna tickle him - yet. With Stone, it was best to let things marinate; he reacted a lot better after he got in his head.

“Hmm. That’s not very nice, Stone. I mean, it’s almost like you’re asking to be tickled,” Skipp mused, sighing with phony ponderance. The fingers on Stone’s stomach started to drum, sending tiny little shocks of ticklishness through his abdomen.

“Skipp, you bitch- gehet off!” Shoving at Skipps hand, Stone struggled to stay composed. Though the man above him was barely doing anything, the anticipation made everything ten times more intense; even if he wasn’t touching him, the grump would probably be giggling.

“Was that a giggle? I’m not even doing anything, man,” Skipp teased, gathering the moody man’s wrists above his head. Stone was incredibly on edge, too focused on the eventual tickles to fight back much. “I didn’t say anything funny, did I?”

Stone groaned at the teasing, tugging at his arms as he wriggled around on the pavement. Thanks to his thick, long clothes, he was protected from pain and most discomfort. His nerves were on fire, unprovoked giggles building in his throat. He was thoroughly in his head, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

“Shuhut up, Skipp!” The blonde’s fingers scratched once, moving in a quick up-and-down motion to tease him. Stone squeaked, his gruff pitch skyrocketing for a moment as Skipp actually did something. He tried to scowl afterwards, but the giddy smile on his face made it awfully difficult.

“Sh-shihit! Skipp, youhu motherfucker-” Stone giggled through his “harsh” words, trying and failing to think of a good threat. Skipp wasn’t even tickling him anymore, but the giggles continued.

“Aww, poor Stone. Dooming himself to tickles because he won’t apologize…” Skipp shook his head, sighing sadly. Was that a little mean? Eh, yeah, but it was fun! Like Stone wasn’t enjoying himself regardless. He left his fingers to sit still on Stone’s stomach, waiting for the grouch to cave.

It was barely another minute before he broke.

“F-fine! Fihine! I’m sohorry for bein’ so mean. Hahappy?” Stone relented, looking away as he apologized. Every nerve in his body was buzzy with antsiness, begging him to squirm and giggle his heart out. His pride refused to let him, though.

“I mean, I’m happy, but I think you could still use some cheering up.” Suddenly, without any more teasing or taunts, Skipp wiggled all five fingers into Stone’s belly. 

Again, the man’s stomach wasn’t that bad a spot; if anything, it was one of his most bearable ones. With all the anticipation built in him, however, it might as well have been the holy giggle-grail.

“SHIHIHIhihit! Skihihipp! Fuhuhuck youhu!” Stone arched his back against the pavement, testing Skipp’s grip strength as he giggled. All attempts at stoicism were gone, replaced with giggly protests. The blonde couldn’t help but smile at his giddy compatriot’s reaction.

“Aww, Stone! I didn’t think your belly was that ticklish, but those giggles are adorable!” Skipp cooed, continuing to tease the ravenette. He knew he was being a little evil, but he just loved the wide, unapologetic smile the teases provoked.

“Ihi hahahahate youhuhuhu!” That was bullshit, and they both knew it; Stone just needed something to say, and barbs came so naturally to him. Unluckily for him, that counted as being mean.

“Stone! You just apologized for being mean, yet you’re insulting me? Really?” Skipp shook his head, feigning disappointment. “Guess I’m gonna have to try harder to get you outta this mood.”

“Wahahait, Skipp, dohon’t you- fffFFUHUHUHUHUCK! NOHAHAHO!” Five fingers wiggled into the backs of Stone’s ribs, making him arch his back with a shout of laughter. Thanks to his giddiness, the attack on his worst spot tickled five times as badly.

“Yes! See how happy you sound? This feels way better than being all grouchy, doesn’t it?” That was just adding insult to injury. Stone’s cackling was incredibly loud; even in their semi-secluded alley, he was sure someone would hear him. Swallowing what little pride the man had left, Stone tapped out.

“I-IHIHIHI CAHAHAN’T! STOHOHOP!” Upon the forfeit, Skipp immediately stopped tickling and switched to gently rubbing the taller man’s back. Whenever someone tickled the snot out of him, the massage would help him calm down.

“Uhuhuhugh…y-youhuhuhu lihittle shihihit…” Stone huffed, struggling to catch his breath. Now that his hands were free, he hugged his middle to try and regain his composure. The pavement wasn’t exactly the most comfortable place to lie down, so Skipp shifted the other man to lie in his lap.

Stone huffed at the touch, but didn’t move away. After all, Skipp’s chest did feel better than the dingy alley floor.

“Hey…wanna head back to our alley? I’m sure Vinnie’s back with some beans by now.” Skipp nudged the tired man’s arm, knowing they probably shouldn’t stay in the random alleyway for too long.

“F-fihine. C’mere,” Stone groaned a little dramatically, using Skipp to help himself up. The shorter man giggled at that, supporting his weight before starting their small walk home. 

While their silliness wasn’t exactly the most mature way to cheer Stone up, it certainly was their favorite. Hearts lighter and moods lifted, the two men eagerly awaited the beans Vinnie would hopefully offer upon their return.

[the-guilty-writer]

The Faces of Emily Prentiss

Request from anon: Could I request Emily Prentiss & teen!daughter? Maybe Emily doesn’t notice how her daughter pulls back and keeps to herself more and more because she struggles with her mom being gone so much recently and school being a lot for her (procrastination, problems concentrating when worrying about her mom, …). You can do with this whatever you like Gill, I’m just excited to read more of yours 🥰

Emily Prentiss x daughter!reader (can be read as teen!reader)

Summary: reader’s grades have been slipping and it brings up many feelings between them and Emily.

A/N: Okay, wow, I did not expect for this fic to come out this long. Maybe I should write more mom!Emily because apparently it’s inspiring. Kinda angsty with a fluffy-ish ending. There were no places to put in pronouns, so even though it’s daughter!reader it can be read as teen!reader.

CW: brief mention of psych evaluation, Emily is an absent mother, one mention that Emily wears weapons, nickname for reader is “kiddo” (if you think you know why let me know and I’ll give you a pat on the back for the right answer), reader has hair but length is not specified.

---

Manila, in your opinion, was the worst color. Not because of the color itself, but because of the things adorned with it - walls poorly painted by landlords, rags that should have been thrown out years ago, the hair of the snooty girls at school, the tug-of-war rope used in gym class that always burned your hands.

Folders.

If you could have tossed the one your teacher gave to you into the trash, you probably would have. I might as well, you thought to yourself. The thing was destined to get lost in the pile of similar ones on your mother’s desk. Would you rather go to a landfill, or sit with a bunch of cases on serial killers?

The folder, expectantly, didn’t respond. If it did, you would have been worried for your sanity. Then the next folder that landed on Emily Prentiss’s desk would have been a concerning psychiatric evaluation instead of your report card. At least with the evaluation she might have to pay a little more attention to you.

The door to your mother’s home office was always open. She locked you away from too many parts of her already - and even though she was well aware that some of the information in that room was supposed to stay classified - the idea of locking you out of a room that was in your own home, was too physical for her to bear. Not that she would ever tell you.

You knocked on the wood softly, though you didn’t know why. She wasn’t home. She was never home anymore; knocking was just a polite habit. You put your hand to the knob and swung open the door, then found yourself disappointed when she wasn’t asleep at her desk. Knocking wasn’t a polite habit; it was a hope that, for once, she would be there to answer. A hope that was far out of reach.

You put the report card folder on top of the stack, becoming just another document that had to be marked with the initials E.P. before it could be filed away.

In a house this big, the quiet should have been eerie, but it wasn’t. The quiet was normal. You sat down at the kitchen table and pulled out your phone, opening to your messages with your mom.

Badass Maman:

Hey, kiddo. Leaving for an emergency case. Be back soon. (Received 2 days ago)

You:

Okay. I love you. (Delivered 2 days ago)

Yep. Normal.

It was still that way an hour later when you did your homework, and when the nanny came to check on you. It was that way when you went to bed that night and woke up the next morning. Everything about it was normal.

You wished it wasn’t.

---

Phones weren’t allowed in classrooms, but they were allowed in the hallways. A familiar ding went off as you walked with your friend to second period math. Your friend pulled their phone from their pocket and frowned.

“Did something happen?” you asked.

They shook their head. “No notification.”

You pulled your phone out, and the world stopped entirely when you saw it was a message from your mom.

Badass Maman:

Flying home now. I’ll be back when you get home from school. I love you. (Received Now)

Relief flooded over you.

“Did something happen?” your friend asked.

“My mom is on her way home.” For the first time in days, you felt air could fill the entirety of your lungs. The million-mile-an-hour heart that was beating in your chest slowed to a regular pace. The tension in your too-tight shoulders loosened.

You:

Okay. I love you too. (Read Now)

---

You had all but forgotten about the manila folder holding your report card. It hadn’t crossed your mind since you placed it on your mother’s desk. You hadn’t bothered to look inside when you received it, too focused on the cursed cover to think about the letters inside.

When you unlocked the front door and stepped inside, you called out immediately for her. “Mom! I’m home!” but there was no answer. “Mom?”

It wasn’t unusual for her to fall asleep on the couch, waiting for you to get home from school after being sleep deprived for days. Still, the living room couch was void of any life. You turned to the kitchen, but found nobody there. So you made the walk to the only other place your mother might go in the house after a case: her office.

The door was half-way open, but still, you knocked. A polite habit.

She turned from her seat at her desk, took in the sight of you, and smiled. Within seconds you were wrapped in her arms. Your head landed on her shoulder, while she ran a gentle hand through your hair.

“God, I missed you, kiddo,” she said. The exhaustion in her voice contradicted the strength of her embrace.

“I missed you too, mom,” you whispered. She held you for a little longer than normal, and when she did let go, you couldn’t help but profile her a little.

There were three different faces Emily Prentiss wore:

The Agent Face: a raven-haired, modern fem fatale that runs off enough coffee to kill a small horse, she walks through bloody crime scenes unfazed. She’s a no-nonsense attitude dressed in heeled boots and a glock. With intelligence sharper than a blade and a smart-mouth to match, it’s only fitting that she works for one of the most elite units of the FBI.

The Emily Face: always classy with a little bit of fun sprinkled in. She’s got a wicked sense of humor, a brilliant laugh, and a bright smile to match. The kind of friend who is down for a night on the town or a quiet movie night. This, you know, is the face she wears outside of work, around her friends; you can only imagine what this face looked like before the agency, and before you.

The Mom Face: the one you see the most. It’s the face that can’t cook to save her life, though she tries very hard. The one that celebrates your ups and supports you in your downs. She’s started to find a few more gray hairs as you've grown older, but that’s to be expected from a strong woman raising a child alone. The only one of the faces that’s unsure about if she’s good enough; everything in you wants to tell her she is.

The face she wore right now, seemed to be a combination of all three. She hadn’t been home long enough to have changed from her work attire into a normal tee shirt and jeans. You could see the traces of mascara on her shoulder where either Penelope or JJ had needed a friend’s shoulder to cry on. The unsteadiness that crossed her expression only ever appeared when it came to parenting… when it came to you.

“There were kids, weren’t there?” you said. And though her past was full of secrets, she didn’t bother keeping this one in.

“There were,” she sighed. Once again, she brought her hand to your hair, as if she were trying to sooth herself with the texture of it while making sure that you were real. “But it’s over now.”

You didn’t know if that meant the case ended good or bad, and you were thankful that you weren’t a good enough profiler (yet) to read the answer in her expression. “I’m gonna finish up some work and then we can catch up, okay?”

You nodded. “Yeah. I’ll go do my homework.”

She pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead and you gave her a tight-lipped smile before she moved back to her desk and you moved towards the door.

“Open or closed?” you asked her, standing in the threshold.

“You can leave it open,” she replied.

It was her answer every time, but you still always asked. A polite habit.

---

Two hours later, you were still struggling through your math homework at the kitchen table and your mom was still in her office. Knuckles tightened around your pencil before you let it go with an exasperated sigh and crumbled up the loose leaf paper you were working on. You sifted through your notes, trying to find the formula, but you had either written it down incorrectly or not at all.

You pulled the textbook from your bag only to find that you’d forgotten to write down what section the class was studying. With your brain feeling fried inside your head, it made skimming through the chapter more difficult, and by the time you’d gotten to the end, you were no closer to figuring out the answer than when you started.

Fueled by frustration, a trail of French expletives left your mouth.

“Well, I’m glad you’re at least keeping up with your language studies.” You looked up to see your mom standing on the threshold of the kitchen.

Even in duck-print pajama pants, she still looked intimidating, leaning on one hip with her arms crossed over her chest. As soon as you noticed her stance, she began walking towards you, uncrossing her arms. In one of her hands was a dreaded manila folder. With the ease that only a master interrogator could have, she sat down at the table and pushed the folder towards you, opening it so you could see the grades inside.

You were sure the many files on her desk showed far more hellish images than your grades, but it even caught you off-guard to see that you were failing or close to failing every class. It dawned on you suddenly that your grades had been slipping, but you didn’t imagine that they had gone down so fast.

“I-” you started, but the shock was flooding you. Emily took the folder and closed it, pulling it out of your line of sight and snapping you back to reality. Your genuine reaction must have been enough to tell her that you were as unaware of the situation as she was.

“Kiddo,” she sighed. “What happened?”

Her voice and features softened - The Concerned Mother Face. It wasn’t one that appeared a lot… just when big things happened, like moving to a new country or faking both your deaths. That kind of stuff.

You shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know. This year has been…” With a shaky breath everything rose to the surface. “It’s hard to do things when I’m never sure if you’re dead or alive.”

A new face of Emily Prentiss formed in front of your tear-filled eyes. This one was vastly different from the others. It was exhausted from sleepless nights in random police stations across the country, when all she wanted was to be home; it was pain-filled from every wound she wore on her body that she insisted she didn’t need help cleaning; and it was that of a mother who had just brought home a newborn, with no clue as to how she was supposed to raise an innocent being into a human.

She said no words, only embraced you. After the familiar comfort of her arms calmed you, you went to pull away. She didn’t let you go. A spot on your shoulder had become wet with her tears. You held her tighter, and when a sob racked through her weary body, you hummed the tune of the ballad she used to sing you as a little girl.

Only when she began to sing the words of the song, you knew it would be okay. Only then, you could be sure that Emily Prentiss - the smartest, strongest, bravest person you had ever known - wouldn’t fall apart if you let go.

In French just as smooth as her English, she began to whisper the rhyme. A dozen times you had wondered why that was the primary tongue she chose to raise you with. You were passable in Spanish and Arabic, but it was the language of love that your mother had wanted you to speak fluently.

That reason was good enough.

The song came to an end and she pulled away to look at you, caressing your cheek with a gentle hand. “I’m sorry,” she said.

You shook your head. “You don’t have anything to be sorry about, mom. You save people.”

Emily sighed. “But I can do better letting you know that I’m safe. I can at least find time to make sure to answer your texts.” You looked down, feeling the slightest bit guilty. But your mom wasn’t a profiler for nothing. “Don’t you do that,” she said sternly - The Agent Face.

“But-”

“No buts. It’s you and me. It’s always been you and me.” A sneaky smile escaped from her lips. “Plus I promised myself I wouldn’t be like your grandmother and put my job in front of my children.”

That had the both of you giggling - The Emily Face.

She pulled you back into her arms, stroking a gentle hand through your hair. “I love you, kiddo.” - The Mother Face.

“I love you too, mom.”

[housewarningparty]

For the 3 words + character/pairing ask:

Blood

Past

Bronze

For one Faith Lehane :D

oh my god, i missed you, bud! thanks for the prompt. i apologize in advance for making this one SUCH a bummer.

set during s07e19 - "Empty Places" (if this piece has a theme song it's "Bloodied Up" by Alkaline Trio)

-

“Hey, what about the vineyard?”

Faith knows she shouldn’t have said it, knows that even before she’s finished speaking, not that it makes any difference. Not that knowing she’s fucking things up worse has ever exactly stopped Faith from taking a situation from bad to fucking irretrievable before, especially where Buffy’s concerned but, fuck, she’d been trying to be better.

It’s just that Buffy has always been able to get under her skin the way no one else could, especially when she’s doing this. That self righteous, condescending scolding thing she does, like Faith’s the biggest loser on the planet, like the worst thing about Buffy’s life isn’t the looming apocalypse or the monsters trying to kill the herd of teen girls they’d amassed, but trying to talk to Faith. 

Buffy stops and turns to face her again. “What?” her voice is quiet, cold. There’s an edge to it, sharp, familiar — a warning. 

But Faith’s in this deep already. And maybe she’s a dumbass for trying to talk about this when Buffy’s already pissed, but, fuck, Faith thinks she’s right this time. For once, out of the two of them, it’s Buffy who’s blowing it, at least as far as the potentials are concerned. Buffy’s always been the one with friends, a boyfriend, a family that talks to her — she’s the one that knows how to be with people, to make them love her.

So why is it that now she’s icing these girls out, when they need her, need someone to make them feel like the fight they’re in is worth it? Why is Faith the one learning their names, taking them out, listening to their worries and wishes and idle chatter while Buffy withdraws and shuts them down and pushes everyone away?

So, yeah. Fuck it. Faith’s going to do this. It’d probably be better for them both if she just kept her trap shut, but she’s learned a thing or two about tough love in the last few years. Maybe it’s time for her to dish it out herself.

“How safe were they when you dragged them off to meet Caleb?” Faith pushes. Something in Buffy’s expression shutters, face going blank in a way that opens a sinkhole in Faith’s gut. But she doesn’t stop. “How safe was Rona, or Amanda, or Molly?”

Faith knows that Buffy’s going to hit her. She can tell when Buffy takes her first step closer, is dead certain by the second step. It’s a telegraphed hit, too — big windup, so B can put her shoulder into it. Faith sees it and she doesn’t move. A feeling flashes through her, quick and electric like lightning — it’s sick dread, it’s guilt, it’s anger and it’s something else, something familiar in the worst way.

Maybe it’s the Slayer, maybe it’s something wrong deep inside Faith in particular, but she sees Buffy’s rage crack the cold facade she’s thrown up between them and she welcomes it. She sees what’s coming and she lets it happen. She hopes that it will hurt.

And it does.

It’s the second time in as many days that Buffy’s hit her. The first time wasn’t so bad. Almost a lovetap — oh, it hurt like a son of a bitch, and it left her flush with humiliation. That’s what it was meant to do — put Faith in her place, especially in front of Buffy’s latest boy toy. The sucker-punch in the graveyard was straightforward enough. Faith didn’t take it to heart — she owed Buffy that one. More, actually.

But this feels different. Not only because Buffy hit her harder this time, not only because there’s no audience to show off for this time. No, this time it’s worse because it’s the first time Buffy’s ever hit her when Faith hasn’t deserved it.

Maybe for all the stuff in the past between them.

But Buffy didn’t hit her for any of that. Buffy hit her because Faith was calling her out, because she didn’t want to hear that she was being a hypocrite, maybe because she didn’t believe Faith had a right to tell her jack shit.

Mostly, because she wanted Faith to shut the fuck up.

Faith goes with it, one knee slamming to the asphalt hard before she manages to catch herself, both palms to the pavement. Her cheek is singing in pain, blood rushing through her ears so loud she almost can’t hear the swish of Buffy’s coat, the sound of her retreating footsteps.

She’s not sure if it’s better or worse that Buffy takes off so fast. Part of her wishes she could have seen Buffy’s face, to know if she was sorry. The rest of Faith is too scared to think she might not have been.

Slowly, she twists, kneeling and pressing her knuckles to the bruise she can already feel blooming under her skin. The skin is hot, her cheekbone aching and throbbing beneath her fingers as she moves to gently probe it, but there’s nothing broken. 

All that buzzing, self righteous anger has flooded out of her, replaced with that old, lonely cored out feeling that Faith knows all too well. She closes her eyes, lets the blood from her re-opened split lip pool at her gum line, breathes in the scent of garbage and spilled drinks from the Bronze alleyway and fuck, she could be fifteen years ago — that filthy apartment, the sting in her cheek from a slap she’d earned from her ma because she couldn’t just shut the fuck up when she needed to.

Did this to your damn self, she thinks bitterly, gritting her teeth in rage and disgust at the feeling of tears welling up behind her eyes. 

She’s always doing this to herself.

Faith sniffs hard and shakes her head, biting down on the broken skin of her lip until the pain cuts through the sorry feeling swelling up in her chest. She blinks back those stupid, useless tears, pushes herself to standing.

Alone in the alley, Faith pauses. She wonders for a moment if she’s welcome back at Buffy’s house, after this. Then it occurs to her that it doesn’t matter all that much how welcome shes is — there’s nowhere else for her to go. There’s no other slayers for Buffy to turn to. They’re stuck with each other.

Faith lets out a deep breath, brushing her fingers over her cheek one more time before she tilts her head to spit a mouthful of blood onto the pavement. Then she starts walking home.

[iovetecchou]

Pairings... Jouno Saigiku x Reader

Contains... hurt, no comfort. angst. toxic!jouno, lowkey yandere!jouno. cheating, getting caught, suggestive themes, strong language

GN Reader.

1,156 words.

Jouno was being… shifty. Coming home later in the evening, leaving earlier in the morning. You were becoming increasingly concerned with his strange behavior.

You were both snuggled up in bed, reading a book aloud so you and Jouno could enjoy it. But there was just one small problem. His phone was ringing off the hook all night. It was beginning to get on your nerves.

You finally reached over for his phone. Curiosity got the better of you. But before you could get so far, Jouno grasped your forearm and harshly, at that. Your eyes shot up to his face in an instant. That gut feeling washed over you.

“Ah, I do apologize, princess. Duty calls.”

That was all he said before he dropped your forearm. Climbing out of bed in the process. He swiftly slipped on his shirt, not bothering to button it up completely as he took his leave. You heard the apartment door swing open, and slam shut.

You didn’t want to assume the worst, but how could you not? He was less affectionate recently, shrugging you off every time you pulled him in for an embrace. Blowing you off when you planned out a whole date night. Not bothering to reciprocate your kisses. Your heart cracked each time.

You wanted so desperately to snap out of this nightmare. Facing the reality of the situation seemed far worse.

He didn’t come back home that night. But he left all his belongings here, and you knew he had work today. You figured bringing him his things would be best before you ran a few errands.

What could go wrong?

“Good morning Teruko! Is Sai here already?” You smiled down at the petite woman. Trying your best to conceal your anxiety. Teruko’s face went pale. “Y/n… what are you doing here?”

You were taken aback. Why was she so stunned by your appearance? Everyone knew you and Jouno were in a relationship. I mean, the Hunting Dogs would come over to your place for the holidays and special occasions. Celebrating alongside you and Jouno.

But the way she was looking at you… it was almost as if you were a stranger.

“I… came to drop off some things Sai left at home today. What’s the matter Teruko? You’re scaring me.” You blurted out. You could feel your heart beating out of your chest. She frowned at your words, averting her gaze before she spoke up once more.

“Y/n… Jouno told everyone that you two broke up. He said that two weeks ago. I’m sorry.”

As rapid as your heart was beating was as quick as it stopped. A lump formed in your throat. You couldn't wrap your head around what Teruko confessed to you.

“Y/n… he’s in his office… with another person… If I knew what was really going on, I would have beat his ass long ago.”

You could barely breathe. It felt like you had just been punched in the gut. This could not be fucking happening right now. After everything you’ve done for him?

You sacrificed so much for Jouno. He molded you into the perfect little partner. Tailored you to meet his needs, keeping you in the dark, and isolating you from your friends and family.

He claimed you only needed him. That he was the only person in the whole world that would ever love you.

You felt the tears welling up. You couldn’t think straight. You could hardly even function. You fumbled down the hall towards Jouno’s office. “Y/n wait- don’t do this to yourself-!”

Teruko shouted, following you in tow. But it was too late. You pushed the door open, and the sight in front of you left you speechless.

Jouno had another person pinned to his desk. They were both half undressed, kissing all over one another. The sound of the door swinging open startled both of them. They were quite literally caught in the act.

The stranger who was receiving all the love and affection from the man who was supposed to be yours abruptly stood up. They hurriedly fixed their clothes. Pushing past you and through the door without a word. Causing you to fumble slightly.

Jouno emitted a deep sigh. Shaking his head slightly as he began buttoning up his work uniform. “Teruko, give up some privacy.” He deadpanned, taking slow strides toward your frame. You were so heartbroken, your face losing any semblance of life as the tears freely rolled down your cheeks.

“Jouno, you fucking asshole. How could you?” Teruko spat out. She shot you a look of apology before she shut the door. The fear began to creep up on you.

Your blood ran cold, and your fingertips went numb. Jouno now stood in front of you. He craned his neck down, bringing his hand to cup your chin. Tilting your face up in his direction. The moment you scanned over his features, you couldn't control the sobs that wracked through your whole being.

He was smiling widely, no trace of love painted across his features. Jouno was enjoying your pained cries and irregular heartbeat. You could tell, and it hurt. So fucking bad.

“You sound so pathetic right now. What, don’t tell me you actually thought I… loved you?”

His voice was laced with amusement. How could this be happening right now? You had been with Jouno for years. Was it so wrong of you to assume that… he did love you? You felt so hopeless. All you could focus on was that wicked fucking smile.

“You really are a pathetic little thing. You were nothing more but an easy fuck to me. You see… I only kept you around for so long because I didn’t want anyone else to have you. It was so easy— no, you’re so easy. You fell right into my trap. I mean, how stupid are you?”

Your legs gave out. Jouno retracted his grasp on your chin as you fell to your knees. All light was lost from your eyes as you hiccuped through your body jerking sobs. Jouno let out the most maniacal laugh at your pathetic state.

“Ah, can you leave already? Your turbulent emotions are starting to give me a headache. I’ll be home around seven, so work dinner around that time. Are you even listening to me, mutt?”

He kneeled in front of you. Gripping your jaw harshly with his thumb and index finger. He was pressing so hard into your cheeks. You winced out through the pain. Causing Jouno’s smirk to grow wider.

“Oh, and princess… if you so much as think of leaving me… I will know, and I will kill you.”

His face fell entirely at the end of his sentence. Completely devoid of emotions. It struck fear in you. How was it possible that you truly knew nothing? Especially about the person you’ve spent the past few years with? Jouno was right. You really were stupid.

You reap what you sow.

“If I can't have you, no one can.”

yummy! i love pain! anyways... im sorry... i just had this cute lil idea. i had to share...

special tag: @win-writes

[drkmgs]

Unfair

Wednesday Addams x Reader

Warning: mention of two-timing, not loyal, hurt, sad, just painful, torture, beaten, starved, dehydrated, this took too much effort...

"You're being unfair, Wednesday. I have ignored what you have been doing behind my back. Your everyday meeting with Tyler and Xavier? Worst kissing Tyler, while you have a partner who is constantly worried about you, and when were you going to tell me about your engagement? huh?! When?!" You screamed at her, it almost broke your vocal cords. This was the first time you screamed at someone, specifically someone you love.

You couldn't help it. The last month being with Wednesday was torture for you and your heart. Everything came crashing to you this week, her random rendezvous with Tyler and Xavier you have known for a while but didn't confront her about it, and the engagement was just a day ago when your mother asked if you were going to attend.

"What do you want me to do, Y/N? Cancel the engagement? You know I can't do that. Tyler and Xavier were merely my subjects for the investigation. The kiss with Tyler? I didn't regret it, because it lead me to solve the mystery." Wednesday says with her logical tone.

You could hear your heart shatter at her comment. You couldn't believe what you were hearing. You gave her everything, but in return, that's all she had for you? She didn't even make an effort to cancel her engagement. Did she even love you?

"Tell me, Wednesday Addams. Did you ever love me?! All the sweet things you said to me, were they all lies? Did you just use me for your pleasure? Is that all I am to you? Cause if it is, then we should break whatever we have now and you go on with your engagement." You wiped your tears away and composed back to your confident self.

"As I told you I cannot easily break off the engagement. I need time." Wednesday argued back with ease. "How much time do you possibly need to call off an engagement? What reasons do you need to delay it? If you don't love them you won't make this hesitant decision! If you love me you would have chosen me already, but you don't! You keep procrastinating!" You fire back at her.

There was silence engulfing you both. This was the sign you were waiting for. She didn't love you as much as you love her. You sighed and turned your back to her, you gave her a glance over your shoulder.

"Then I may congratulate you on your engagement, Ms. Wednesday Addams. I wish, we never see each other again." Your tears completely stopped by now and you gave her a thin smile. You left her dorm quickly.

___

After that incident, you completely vanished from Nevermore Academy. Nobody knew where you were, and a lot of students speculated that you dropped out, because of what happened between you and Wednesday.

But that wasn't the case. You had some unfinished business back in your hometown that needed to be done before you graduate from Nevermore. You didn't drop out, Principal Weems put you on temporary leave for future purposes. When you came back, everyone was shocked at your drastic change. You didn't look like how you left. You had bruises, cuts, and healed wounds all over your body and face. It looks like you got ganged up on.

For Wednesday the bruises, cuts, and healed wounds didn't bother her, what bothered her the most is your eyes. They were soulless. They weren't like the ones before, full of life, full of sparkles, and galaxy colors. Now it's pitch black, like the color of a raven. Also, your smile was far gone. This made Wednesday's heart clench as if someone is squeezing the blood out of it.

"What happened to you?" That was her approach to you. "Hello to you too, Addams. or is it a different surname now?" You said, not looking at her. You kept your head low, hiding underneath your hoodie. "Still Addams. Answer my question." Wednesday is very determined to know. "None of your concern." You answered. You head to the office of Principal Weems, and Wednesday still follows you, which irritated you. "Look, Addams. I'm not going to tell you anything even if you follow me into the bathroom. So, stop following me and piss off." You snapped at her. She was about to say something when you turned around and walked off.

Soft knocks got the Principal out of her thoughts. "Come in" was the only thing you heard from the other side. "Oh, Y/N." She stood up as soon as she saw you enter the room. You ran up and hugged her. That's when you broke loose to any emotions you were holding. "It's okay. You did great holding on. You're safe." She soothes you by rubbing your back. Before you left, you did talk to Principal Weems about your family situation and when she lost contact with you, it was her mission to get you back safe and sound, but when she found you, you were already covered in scars and wounds.

Your family is one of the major shareholders of an assassins association, when you learned about this you didn't want to be in it. So, your family and you agreed, before you graduate from Nevermore, you'll have your first and last mission as an assassin in exchange to be set free. To hear that at a young age, it was a perfect deal but when you came to realize it was a way to get rid of you for disgracing the family name, you needed help, that's when you reached out to Principal Weems.

You were tortured, beaten, and nearly starved to death when police raided your family's mansion. They found you shackled on the wall, dehydrated, and lumped. Principal Weems saw the raid go down and couldn't believe how your own family could do this to a such wonderful child.

Now you're in her care and safe back in Nevermore. "I hear from a little bridie Ms. Addams called off an engagement." She whispered as she comforts you. "Is that little bridie as big as a person, has blonde hair with blue/pink highlights?" You snickered. "Hm. Maybe?" She moved out of your hug and looked at you. "Wednesday's mother called. She confirmed it." You looked at her confused, but then you smirked up at her. "Y/N. Don't get cocky. I am still your Principal and I was invited to the engagement party." She shrugged. "I wasn't going to say something, but okay. I don't think it's smart to get back with Wednesday." You say avoiding Principal Weems as she sits back on her swivel chair. "And why is that?" She asked eyeing you as you drift your eyes everywhere but hers. "because who would want a broken me?" You whispered but loud enough for someone to hear who just entered the room.

"Me. I want you. back." Wednesday answered standing behind you and glaring up at you. Principal Weems smiled at the sight. "Ms. Addams, would you show Mx. Y/N their new room? Mx. Y/N, I'll talk to you again after supper." Principal Weems shoo both of you out of her office. "Come with me." Wednesday leads you to your new room. She opened the door and let you in. You looked around to find all of your belongings there.

"Isn't this your Typewriter?" You stopped in front of an extra desk and chair with a black Typewriter. "Yes. I have used this room for writing my novel and it reminds me of you." Wednesday said as she stepped forward towards you. "I apologize. For everything. I wasn't considering your emotions and feelings in the past. When you stormed out of the room, I have come to realize how important you're to me. I searched for you the next day, but you were already gone." Wednesday came very close to you. "I have never considered torture as painful but when you left me that torture was unbearable." She continued. "Come back to me, amore mio." her eyes pleading. "I can't. Wednesday. I have been through hell these past months. I can't throw myself into a relationship right now. I'm broken." You say looking into her eyes.

"I'm willing to wait until you're ready, amore mio."

[a-very-sparkly-nerd]

bday present: Don't Leave Me 'Til My Sorry Life Has Ceased

Happy birthday, @m4rs-ex3! Headcanons weren't headcanoning, so I'm dedicating a snippet of a Rayllum Daedalus AU wip to you! Enjoy the angst!

Callum stumbled forward, catching the cool iron bars in his palms before crashing into them, shoved forward by a member of the crew, a muscly Earthblood elf with maroon face markings and sad eyes. He stood guard by the door, watching as Callum slumped to the ground, Rayla's hand reaching through the bars to rest on his knee.

"Callum." She breathed his name like a prayer, stroking her thumb over the suddenly-stifling cloth.

"I'm okay," he told her, setting one hand on top of hers and reaching the other to cup her gaunt face. "How are you?"

"I'm fine. How-" She could only reach so far through the bars separating them, biting a quivering lip as she ran a hand through the shocks of white at the front of his hairline. "What is he making you do?"

"His dirty work." Callum attempted a broken, strangled laugh, and took that hand to press his lips to. To comfort her, even though his black heart was the worst thing to show love, his stained skin the worst to offer affection.

"I'll come up with something." Rayla shifted to sit on her knees, as close to him as she could get, hands taking his face and making him look at her. "We can get out of this."

“I know,” Callum said, none of his heart in it. Like she’d said; sometimes, a person had to lie to protect the people they loved. Even if it tore his own apart in the process. “I’ll- I’m thinking, too.”

Rayla shifted. “Are- have you been in contact with Ezran or anyone? Is anyone…” Is anyone coming for us?

No. Not to Callum’s knowledge, at least. No letters yet. And it was better that way. If Finnegrin got even the slightest inkling that he or Rayla were planning to revolt, he’d make sure she’d die a slow, agonizing death. And Callum would be forced to watch the entire thing– not that he’d be able to make himself look away.

“No,” he said truthfully, glad he could give her a truth that wouldn’t break her own heart worse than the cell was already doing to her body. “I’m- I’m sure something will happen, though.”

Rayla glanced around, biting her lip to prevent any more tears making their way down her cheeks. “Callum, I’m scared,” she breathed for only his ears.

Callum held her tighter. She scarcely ever let herself feel fear, much less admitted to it, so the fact that she was here and presenting that trembling part of her heart… He evidently hadn’t been doing a good job of keeping the true gravity of their situation under wraps.

“I know,” he said. “But I’ve- I’ve got it under control.” Another lie. ‘Under control’ was simply keeping her alive, as far as he was concerned, and the list of reasons why could wrap around the continent.

Ezran and Soren and the rest of Katolis, and whatever they were planning, had to stay far away from the Sea Legs. His brother and the Crownguard, plus Villads, had been unceremoniously shoved into a tiny rowboat and pushed far away the second Finnegrin realized he only needed one thing to have his very own personal Dark Mage to do his bidding: the elf sitting before Callum in a cage, thin, paler than usual, and scratched and bloody.

He stroked her chin, tilting it up to meet her eyes. “Hey. Are…” Dumb question. Of course she wasn’t okay. He rerouted. “Talk to me. Please?”

They dropped down, pools of violet becoming literal pools made of tears. "Full moon's in a week," she whispered shakily, as if he didn't already know. He'd begun to keep track of things like that a long time ago.

"Yeah," he said, gazing at her. That's when she'd be in the most danger, the crew likely afraid of her heightened abilities and suspecting she'd try something.

She always would. Rayla's spirit could never be broken.

Callum's had. He couldn't let her- she couldn't try anything. She'd die, and she wouldn't care.

It was selfish, but she had to stay here, hating him for it in her cell but at least alive (even if this was by no means living), because he couldn't live without her.

Gods only knew what he'd do if something happened to her.

“We’ll get out of this,” Callum repeated, a stone calling him a liar sinking into the pit of his stomach and dragging his heart down with it.

Rayla bit her lip as she nodded, clearly not believing him, and he leaned in to kiss her awkwardly through the bars.

“I’m going to keep you safe,” he swore, just as she had in the letter still sitting over his heart even now.

No matter what he had to do for it.

[chlobliviate]

Wolfstar Microfics - Hurt/No Comfort

Words: 903

@wolfstarmicrofic

***

TW - mention of suicide, declining mental health

***

“I came as soon as I heard. How’s he doing?” Remus shrugged off his coat and hung it on what used to be ‘his hook’, shivering as he adjusted to the weather in the UK.

James paused, taking him in. “He’s not great, honestly.” He pulled Remus into a hug, “We’ve missed you so much.”

“I missed you too, I never should have gone.” Remus wrapped his arms around James. “I should have stayed. Maybe then—”

“You can’t do that.” James pulled away from him and looked at him sternly. “I will not have you taking any kind of responsibility for this. Understand?”

Remus nodded, “Yeah, thanks.”

“How was your trip?” James led him into the kitchen, where there was already a cup of tea waiting for him.

“Grim.” Remus sat at the table and took a sip of the tea, “Fuck, that’s good. Thank you.”

“I don’t know how much Lily told you.” James leant against the counter.

“She told me that he went to Walburga’s funeral alone.” Remus frowned.

“Moony, he insisted. Do you think I just let him?” James said, defensively. “We were parked just outside the church the whole time.”

“Sorry.” Remus covered his eyes and groaned. “I just feel like I should have been there.”

“That’s possibly the only way it could have gone worse for him.” James chuckled, “Hi, remember me, oh, and here’s my half-blood, werewolf boyfriend.”

“Ex-boyfriend.” Remus said quietly.

“Shit, of course, sorry.”

They remained in silence for a while, until Lily came downstairs. She flew at Remus, tears already streaming down her face.

“You’re here.” She breathed, “I didn’t know if you’d come.”

“I left as soon as you hung up.” He rubbed her back as he looked at James over the top of her head. “You need to tell me what happened.”

Lily moved away, wiping her eyes, to stand next to her husband. “He won’t talk to us.”

“You think he’ll talk to me?” Remus scoffed.

“We think it’s better to try than just let him spiral even more,” James said. “He’s been spiralling for… a while. Then Walburga dying stirred up a whole other bunch of confusing shit for him, and then Reg. I don’t think anyone could have prepared him for that.”

“Reg?” Remus looked confused.

“You didn’t tell him about Reg?” James looked down at Lily.

“No.” Lily shook her head, "I didn't-"

“What happened with Reg?”

“He’s dead.” James spat. “He died the day after his mother’s funeral. Left a note, blaming Sirius for every bad thing in his life. It was honestly the worst thing I’ve ever seen.”

Remus sat down again. “No. No, he can’t be.”

“I’m sorry, I know you were close at one point.”

“How?”

“He drowned.” Lily shook her head. “In the pond in the garden at Grimmauld Place.”

“Drowned? He’s scared of water, why would he…” Remus looked broken. “What did he say in the note?”

“He wished Sirius had never been born, as far as he was concerned he had no brother, a load of homophobic shit that sounded just like Walburga. He ended it with something like ‘I wanted to know that this is all your fault, and it always has been’.” Remus' mouth dropped open involuntarily and he stared at the floor, tracing the faded pattern on the tiles with his eyes.

“I hate to ask.” Remus mumbled after a while, “I feel like... Are we absolutely sure that Reg wrote that?”

“What do you mean?”

“It doesn’t make sense to me. Reg spouting a load of homophobic stuff before drowning himself. That’s the most out-of-character shit I’ve heard.” Remus looked up at them, “The kid was gay and scared of water.”

“He was gay?” James’ jaw dropped.

Remus chuckled sadly, “Yeah, he had a thing for you for ages. Last I heard he was living with Rosier? But that was a while back, six months maybe.”

“Remus, what are you saying?”

“It doesn’t add up.” He closed his eyes. “I know I’ve been gone for two years, but this doesn’t make sense with the Reg that I knew. Were they still in contact?”

“That’s the thing. Yes.” Lily frowned, “Sirius showed me texts from the day of the funeral and they seemed to be close again.”

James looked physically unwell, “So what are we saying? Someone killed Reg and staged it as a suicide, and what? Hoped to do the same with Pads? Who would do that?”

“At least half of their family,” Remus said. “Maybe I’m wrong, but—”

“I don’t think you are,” Lily said quickly. “And not just because I want you to be right. Something hasn’t sat right with me since Walburga died.”

“So what do we do?” Remus asked.

“You fuck off back to New Zealand, that’s what you do.” They all spun around to see Sirius looming in the doorway. He was incredibly pale, his hair pulled back and greasy and Remus noted that what used to be a tight t shirt was now hanging off him. His bloodshot eyes blazed. “Why are you here?”

“We invited him,” James said calmly. “We thought he could—”

“I don’t want him here.” Sirius spat, then turned to Remus. “I don’t want you here.”

“Pads.” Remus stood up and Sirius shrank away from them. “Sirius.”

“Get out!” Sirius stormed back upstairs, “Fuck off just like you did last time.”

“I should probably go?” Remus looked at his friends, but couldn’t quite bring himself to make eye contact. “I’ll go.”

[i-am-still-bb]

Whumptober 2024 - Day 1

Race against the clock (search party / panic attack / “if only we could hold on”)

A/N: A month late, but I'm still here. NaNo started on Friday. My goal is 25k not the full 50k and I'm glad I made that decision because I would already be so far behind if 50k was the goal.

--

The Hobbit, T Gen Words: 2,128

--

The air was cold. 

That was all Thorin could think about.

It was cold.

It has already snowed a handful of times. The roads over the Divide had already closed once. That snow had melted quickly. And the road had opened within 48hrs of closure. But it had closed. And it was getting colder. And the days were getting shorter by 3 minutes each day. 

And there were low clouds on the horizon. And they loomed threatening. And Thorin could smell that more snow was on the way.

And Fili and Kili were missing.

He looked to the mountains. It was sunny right now casting the peaks in sharp relief. In the dark shadows the white patches of still unmelted snow lingered where they had been untouched by the sun in days. The sky was bright blue, deeply saturated. It was a beautiful day. The yellow aspens practically glow in their groves nestled among the round topped ponderosa pines.

But he shivered. 

It had been a beautiful day and he had been looking forward to taking the boys to the park where they would sprint down the short trails that ended where they began, run from swings, to slide, to climbing apparatus, and back again, all of which were fenced in. Safe. He often lost sight of one of them for a bit, but he usually found them hiding behind a tree, climbing a slide, or he had jus somehow missed them when he had scanned the scene. 

But the woods had no fences. No safe trails that were gently graded with no real way of getting lost in any fashion. 

Dis’ voice yanked him away from his dark thoughts. 

She was squared up to a sheriff in dark brown and yellow uniform. Her voice increased in volume, and Thorin recognized the sharp edge to it from their childhood. Dis was settling in for a fight. “They’re just little boys! What do you mean it’ll take time for people to get here? I’ve lived here my entire life! The worst thing that has ever happened to occupy was when one of you—” here she stabbed a finger at him, and Thorin completely dropped his thoughts to intervene to prevent his normally logical, greater-good minded sister, from doing something she would regret. “--was embezzling! What is there going on? A big horned sheep in the road? Who the fuck fucking cares?!” Her voice cracked. “My boys, my sons are missing.”

“Ma’am…” the sheriff deputy started. 

“Are you just going to lea—” her voice was quiet now, cracking. 

“Hey,” Thorin stepped between Dis and the sheriff, angled so he was entirely blocking out the sheriff.  He took her shoulders in his hands, heavy, reassuring. “I can do this.”

Dis’ eyes were wide, wet and she nodded. She reached up and took one of Thorin’s hands in both of hers. Her grip was crushing, but her hands trembled and spasmed against his. He gave her hand a squeeze, quick, fast, a remnant from their childhood, a silent I’m here. I love you. And then loosened his grip a modicum. 

“I can have some guys here within thirty minutes, and more will be able to come as they get off work, make the drive, whatever, to join with your guys. What I need from you is someone to co-ordinate.” 

“Sir, it really is best if we handle the search—”

“You’ve already said that it will take time to get your people here,” he held up a hand to halt the deputy’s words, “I don’t give a flying fuck why it will take time. All that matters is that the can’t be here right damn now. And we need people looking right fucking now. And we need more than just two people looking. We looked until we saw your car coming and covered basically no ground.”

“I understand your concern. But too many people tends to create more problems than it solves. It’s best to let us deal with everything from the start.”

“I don’t think you do! Are your kids out there? Fili is only 7. Kili is 5. He only just learned how to tie his shoelaces. Surviving in the woods overnight is probably going to be a bit beyond him,” Thorin’s voice is acerbic. “If problems happen you can tell my guys to fuck off, but until then I want eyes looking for my nephews to bring them home. I will be calling my guys no matter what you say. I’m really just giving you a heads up and giving you the opportunity to make us more effective because we’ve never had to fucking do this before.”

“I understand, sir. Let me talk to my superiors and see what they say.”

Thorin’s voice is still sharp, “You do that.”

He glares at the straight back of the officer as he crosses the lawn to his cruiser and his radio. Thorin did not look away until he saw the officer pick up the radio and hold the mic to his mouth to speak. That’s when he pulled his phone from his pocket and opened his contacts. 

“We should have just done this first,” he grumbled.

“I called you.”

“You did. And I should have called all of the guys instead of thinking I could just…” he sighed, sounding defeated. “I don’t know.” He slammed his thumb into the phone icon under Dwalin’s name. It rang out; Thorin’s blood pressure increasing the entire time. 

Redial.

“He has Do Not Disturb on,” Thorin said, explaining to Dis and to his own hammering heart. 

Five rings later…

“What do you want?”

—

Dwalin was at the house within fifteen minutes with Ori and Nori in tow. Dwalin was still wearing his welding gear and Ori’s bewilder expression said that he had not been told why they were leaving the job sight in the middle of the day. Dwalin had turned monosyllabic, answering with grunts and yeahs before he hung up the phone with Thorin. His mind already turning over ideas, plans, and trying to ignore any negative outcomes that came to mind.

The others slowly trickled in over the next hour or two. 

The sheriff's deputy returned with the information that Search and Rescue was being activated. Thorin had nodded and still taken the local topography map that Dwalin had stored in the glove box of his car for whatever reason. Together they muddled through half-forgotten information about how lost people behave that they had heard over the years.

But Fili and Kili were not grown ups. And sometimes the logic just did not seem to work for them.

They itched standing over that map. Arms were crossed, feet shuffled, but everything about their bodies screamed for action. Ori and Dis had set about gathering backpacks, and bits of gear, ropes, baselayers, emergency blankets, food, a comfort item for each of the boys and stowing them in backpacks for each searcher. 

—

“Wait!” Kili shouted.

Fili stopped and turned around. Kili was crawling up the slope behind him. The hanging straps from his backpack kept snagging on low hanging, sharp branches. Fili scowled. His cheeks were red and he felt hot, but his fingers, nose, and ears were stinging with cold. 

“Are we almost back?”

“I think home’s just that way,” Fili pointed.

Kili grinned. “I hope mom has dinner ready! I’m starving.”

“How are you hungry? You ate all of your snacks.”

Kili shrugged and took off, sneakers sliding in the leaf detritus that covered the ground and he headed down the slope. Fili followed quickly. It was getting dark under the trees. If Kili was more than 10 or so feet away Fili could no longer see him and that made Fili feel sick and scared. But with Kili there, he was still a little scared, but not as much.

—

“Fili!”

“Kili!”

Voices echoed around the house. 

The parties had driven down the mountain to the curve in the road where there was better signal for their radios. They had finished searching between the house and there and had found nothing. So now Dis was alone. 

Dis stood on the front porch. Her arms were crossed, clutching a too large sweatshirt around her body. Her throat was raw. She had fought them when they told her to stay here. “What if the boys come home? Someone should be here. We don’t want them to come home and leave again because there’s no one here.” She had screamed at them in frustration. But here she stood. She shivered despite the fur lined boots, the sweatshirt, the blanket, and the hat she had pulled low around her ears. Her fingers tightened.

“They must have found them. They will be home any moment. I’ll see lights coming up the drive in just a minute…” she didn’t let herself think about her boys being cold. She had already covered their beds with all the spare blankets she could find. She had fished stuffed animals out from underneath the bottom bunk, and found baby blankets and tucked them beneath pillows just in case they were wanted. Logs were piled high beside the fireplace and coals had been banked. And she had put things in the big crock pot that she had hauled up from the basement. Anything to keep her hands busy. But now there was nothing to do but wait.

And the warm colors of sunset were cooling over the mountainous horizon.

And she was cold.

—

“I’m cold,” Kili whined.

Fili rubbed his nose, it stung as it ran. “I’m cold too.”

“I thought you said we were almost home.” Kili’s voice wobbled on the verge of tears. 

Fili’s voice was small. “I thought we were.” He peered at the brass compass he held in his cupped hands. It was too dark to read the face and the hands had stopped glowing a while ago. 

“I’m scared.” Kili’s voice was barely above a whisper, and Fili almost did not hear him. Fili stuffed the compass with the engraved initial on the lid into the pocket of his sweatshirt and took Kili’s hand. They both squeezed the other’s hand twice.

—

Dis was sitting on the porch swing, knees drawn to her chest, a blanket tight around her shoulders, when lights turned the corner and started up the driveway.

She did not even consciously think about moving before she found herself standing at the top of the drive.

Waiting.

Thorin’s black truck came to a stop. She knew the answer to her question before he even got out of the truck. He paused. There was the space of a breath or two before his door opened. 

Fili and Kili were still out there.

Her knees buckled.

—

“And what do we have here?”

Fili froze when he heard the voice. He had been looking at his feet; trying not to trip as they worked their way up a ridge. 

The voice belonged to an old man with long white hair and a beard. His cream colored cable knit sweater and light colored pants almost seemed to glow in the darkness. 

—

Dis never did remember how exactly she ended up on the living room couch. But that was where she was when she woke up. A couple coals glowed dimly in the fire. A glass of water sat on the coffee table next to a bowl of the food that she had thrown together in the crockpot. Thorin was stretched out on the recliner, head thrown back with an arm over his eyes to block out the light that was starting to make its way into the room.

With a nauseating roll of her stomach she remembered why she was here and what had happened. 

But then she heard the sound that had woken her up again—the creak of the screen door’s hinges. Blanket around her shoulders, one arm outstretched for the wall to help with her unsteadiness she went to see what it was with no real expectations.

She opened the solid wooden front door to find Fili and Kili on the doorstep, conferring with each other about how to get into the house. 

Thorin found them there several minutes later, woken by their excited shouts and Dis’ joyful sobbing. 

When asked what had happened, where they had gone, just what, all the boys could say was that they went exploring, got lost, and then some old man wearing white had found them, taken them home, fed them, let them wash their faces, and then he and a man that wore all brown told them stories about the mountains until both boys had fallen asleep. 

Thorin looked for years. But he never saw, heard, or found any trace of two men that matched the descriptions that Fili and Kili gave him.

--

Taglist: @silvermoon-scrolls @metztlilua @I-am-pinkie @dubhlachen

[chaoticpuff17]

Amygdala

Chapter 9

“He what?” Tae-il cried, deep lines etched between his brows as he listened to Margot recount what had happened at the hospital and the following lunch “date”. “He paid the hospital bill?”

“In full.” 

“Aiyah.” He groaned, sinking down to sit in one of the restaurant chairs. “We’ll never be able to pay him back.” 

“I think that may be the point.” she admitted, tiredly sinking into a chair of her own. 

“Does he say what he wants?” 

Margot groaned, burying her face into her arms. “I think he thinks we’re dating.” 

“Why would he think that?” 

“Because he’s delusional! Possibly insane!” She cried, raising her head to look at him tired, pleading eyes. “I think I need to move.” 

Tae-il shook his head, taking off his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I don’t like this, Margot. I don’t like this at all. Maybe…” he hesitated, looking at her as though the words he was contemplating hurt him to even think. “Maybe you should go away for a while.”

“What?”

She’d been thinking about moving herself, but she hadn’t expected for Tae-il to be the one to suggest she go. 

“You start summer break next week. Maybe you could go stay with my brother. He’s a doctor out in the countryside.” 

Margot paused, thinking the offer over. 

It wouldn’t be the worst thing ever to get out of the city, to get away from Yoongi. There was still a heavy chance that he was going to know where she was. Namjoon had told her about the tail that just because she couldn’t see the tail, it didn’t mean that Yoongi didn’t still have people following her. 

The thought sent a chill down her spine. 

“Maybe it would be for the best.” she agreed, with a heavy sigh. “Do you think Uncle Tae-ho would be willing to let me stay with him for a bit?” 

“You’re the only niece he’s got. He’ll take you.” Tae-il assured her. “Besides, he’d probably like the help. You can handle scheduling appointments for him, help keep him on track.” 

“Thank you.” She stood up, kissing the old man on the cheek before heading home to  her apartment. She had packing to do. 

Margot spent the next two days blessedly free of Yoongi. No new gifts arrived on her doorstep. He didn’t appear out of the blue, and as far as she knew he hadn’t figured out that she was leaving the city yet. 

No good thing lasts forever though. 

Margot was leaving school having finished their last day of the school year, chatting with her colleagues when she caught sight of Yoongi leaning leisurely against a car without paying any mind to the stares of the other teachers as he waited for her.

Margot considered her options. With the dark glasses covering his eyes she couldn’t tell if he’d spotted her yet. In her estimation, she had a seventy-thirty shot of being able to sneak away without him noticing. They weren’t great odds, but she would take any chance she could get. 

“Mari-ah!” he called, spotting her among the scattered teachers, and Margot cursed under her breath. 

Yoongi pushed off the car, sauntering over to where she stood frozen. 

Before she could collect herself, he’d already thrown an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side and pressing a kiss to the side of her head, stunning both her and the two other teachers she had been walking with. 

“Ready to go, jagiya?” he asked, paying the two women gawking at them no mind but grinning internally at the look  of utter astonishment on Margot’s face. 

He found her shock adorable while Margot found the familiarity, the intimacy of the actions to be more concerning and uncomfortable than anything else. 

“Go where?” she asked, attempting to duck out from under his arm, but Yoongi wasn’t allowing it, keeping her tucked tightly into his side as he walked her back to the car. 

“Today was your last day.”

“Yes…” she admitted hesitantly. It was her last day, but she didn’t know how he knew that. She certainly hadn’t told him. “What does that have to do with where we’re going?” 

“Why shouldn’t I treat my girl on her last day?” 

“Because I’m not your girl?” 

“Of course you are.” he scoffed, a smile on his face, as he opened the door for her. 

While she was determined to correct his delusions, Yoongi was just as determined to make them a reality. In his mind, they were inevitable. They always had been. Now that fate had brought them back together he wasn’t going to let anything tear them apart. 

“Yoongi, you can’t just show up at my place of work!” she huffed as he guided her into the car, shutting the door behind her once she was in. 

Margot tried the door only to find it child locked against her just like the last time he’d kidnapped her for some sort of outing. 

“Really?” She asked exasperated as he slipped into the driver’s side. “Again?”

“I’m not taking chances with you.” He shrugged, reaching over for her hand.

Margot watched in stunned disbelief as he lifted it to his lips, placing a kiss to her knuckles before setting their still entwined hands on the middle console as he set off for his destination. 

He’d done something similar at the end of their lunch date. He’d kissed her forehead just as he had earlier. It was a gesture somehow more intimate and therefore that much worse than an actual kiss. It was a soft gesture, sweet and gentle, meant for lovers who were sweet and gentle, but in his head, that’s what they were. Margot’s apprehension at the situation had only worsened upon the realization that that was what Yoongi considered them.

In his mind there was no reason that they shouldn’t pick up exactly where they left off. To him, this was their second chance. He was taking them back to before she left, before the fight that had ensued because of her going home. He was proceeding as though he’d asked her out then, as though the feelings that had existed unspoken by both of them were exactly as they were six years ago. 

It didn’t matter to him that they were both different people now. It simply didn’t matter. Much to her irritation, he found her protests to the contrary cute. The differences did matter to her though. 

The person he was now scared her. His reaction to her trying to leave their lunch date scared her more than she would have liked to admit. The Yoongi she’d known had had a temper. She could admit that, but it had been carefully hidden under layers of patience and seeming apathy. He’d certainly never been violent or physical with anyone, least of all her. But he’d restrained her physically twice now, and she had to keep reminding herself that this was not the Yoongi she knew despite his insistence that he was still her Yoongi. 

She was startled out of her thoughts by the sound of Yoongi’s phone ringing. 

Yoongi released her hand, grabbing his phone with an irritated huff. 

“What?” he barked into the phone, clearly displeased by the disruption. “What?” he repeated more sharply, eyes narrowed into a glare that she was sure would have had the person on the other end of the call shaking in their boots if they could see it. They might have been anyway simply because of the tone he was using. 

“Don’t do a thing.” He hissed. “I don’t want you fuckers doing a thing till I get there, you here me?” he ordered, hanging up the call abruptly. 

“I’m sorry, jagiya.” He turned to her to apologize. “We’ll have to celebrate later, but I still want you to enjoy the pampering.” 

“What pampering?” she asked in confusion as he pulled up to the curb.

“I wanted you to relax.” He nodded towards the nail salon they’d pulled up in front of. “Everything’s taken care of. Go enjoy yourself.” 

“Yoongi, I’m not going to…”

He leaned a little closer, pushing a strand of hair that had escaped her ponytail out of the way. “I’ll see you later, yeah?” 

Her door opened, and she whipped her head around to see a man in a suit waiting for her. 

“You take care of her, Yeong.” Yoongi ordered as the strange man, apparently Yeong, held out a hand to help her out of the car. 

“Nothing will happen to Ms. Brooks on my watch, sir.” he promised, waiting for Margot to exit the vehicle.

Where had he even come from?

“I’ll see you later, jagi.” he promised, leaning across the center console to place a kiss to her cheek before prompting her to exit the car.

Yeong took her hand, helping her out despite her state of absolute confusion as they watched Yoongi drive away, clearly yelling at someone on the phone as he did. 

She stood there for a moment trying to process what had just happened and coming to no good conclusion, turned to Yeong.

“I can take the bus home. You don’t have to stay here.” 

“I can’t do that, ma’am.” He apologized, inclining his head respectfully. “If you’ll follow me, Mr. Min has arranged an appointment for you.” 

He placed a hand behind her, not quite touching her but clearly meant to guide her. 

She didn’t move. 

“Are you going to get in trouble if I don’t go to that nail appointment?” 

“This way, ma’am.” 

She knew a non-answer when she heard one, and with a sigh, she allowed him to herd her into the nail salon. 

Margot stood back and watched the rather intimidating man take care of everything. He checked her in and explained everything to the lady working the front desk and all she had to do was sit back and pick a nail color.

“Right this way, Min-buin.” One of the nail artists came up with a customer service smile shining brightly on her face, and Margot reeled back at the title. 

“I’m sorry?” 

“We’re ready for you, Min-buin.” 

“I think there’s been some sort of mistake.” she said standing up. “I’m by no means Min-buin.” 

The woman simply continued to smile, giving her some bland apology for the misunderstanding and ushering her back so that someone could get started on her toes. 

Throughout the entire appointment no matter how many times she corrected them, the staff continued to refer to her as Min-buin. 

Each time she heard the title, a bit of bile rose in her throat. She knew that Yoongi was delusional. She hadn’t thought he was quite that delusional, and as much as she wanted to scream at the women for calling her that, she couldn’t. It wasn’t their fault. They had been informed that was who she was by the person who had made the appointment and were trying to remain respectful to who they assumed was the wife of a very powerful man. 

By the time both her toes and her nails were done, painted a pretty dark red, she felt as though she was going to throw up, her nerves a complete mess.

Yeong was waiting for her at the front of the salon with what appeared to be a boba tea in hand.

He nodded as she approached, handing her the tea. “Lychee green tea with lychee flavored pearls.” he informed her. 

It was her favorite and that made the nausea swirling in her gut worse.

“Shall we go, ma’am?” he asked, assessing her with a critical eye.

Margot was sure she looked about ready to fall over by this point.

“I can take the bus home.” 

“Mr. Min has requested that I drive you wherever you need to go.” Yeong informed her, ushering her towards the door. 

“I really can take the bus.” she insisted, though her voice was small and wholly unconvincing. 

“I can’t allow you to do that, ma’am.” 

Yeong ushered her out despite her weak protests and helped her into the back of the waiting car.

“Are you sure you’re alright, ma’am?” Yeong asked, glancing back at her through the rearview mirror as he drove her home. 

“Are you the one who's been following me?” she asked, meeting his eye in the mirror.

Yeong was silent for a moment, contemplating his answer. “I’m one of the guards assigned for your protection.” Each word was carefully chosen and spoken in a measured tone that was meant to reassure her or at the very least not to spook her further. “Mr. Min is very concerned with your safety.”

“One of the guards? So there’s more than one.” she laughed, the sound having a slightly hysterical edge to it. 

“Mr. Min is very concerned with your safety, ma’am.” he repeated.

“Oh, I’m sure he is.” 

“Are you certain you’re alright?” 

“I’m not planning to jump out of the car if that’s what you’re asking.” 

Margot wasn’t sure she could even if she’d wanted to. She hadn’t tried, but she had the sneaking suspicion that these doors were child locked as well. 

They sat in silence the rest of the way back to her home. Yeong didn’t offer up any type of conversation, and she found herself grateful for that. She didn’t know if she could handle any more surprises today. 

Within the span of two weeks, Yoongi had completely flipped her life on its head. He’d turned her into a nervous, paranoid wreck. The anxiety had completely wrecked her body. Her stomach was constantly in knots, her skin was a mess, and she’d been experiencing headaches with increasing frequency. She was also fairly sure that her hair was falling out due to stress, but the hair loss had been enough to become alarming as of yet. She was a mess, and she was incredibly grateful to be leaving for the countryside the next day. 

Tae-il’s brother Tae-ho had agreed to let her come stay with him in the countryside for a while. She’d only ever met the man once or twice, but he’d always seemed amiable and welcoming. She would have been grateful even if she knew him to be horrible. She needed the time away. She needed space to breathe, to think. 

“We’re here, ma’am.” Yeong announced, pulling up in front of the restaurant. 

“Thank you, Yeong.” She gave him a weary smile, reaching to open her door only to find it locked against her, just as she’d expected. 

Yeong was quick to release her, helping her out of the care in a respectful, gentlemanly way. 

Margot stopped by the kitchen to say hello to Tae-il before heading to her apartment on the third floor, exhausted from the day.

She supposed that the manicure and pedicure had been meant to be relaxing. It should have been a sweet gesture, but the entire excursion had been more disconcerting than anything else and had left her feeling even more drained than before. She didn’t have time to be exhausted though. She had packing to do.

Part 10

[wandering-winchesters]

Premonitions

Pairing: Dean x Reader, implied feelings. Word Count: 2,239 Summary: The reader has always had visions, but now they're changing and causing her physical harm. Trigger Warnings: Mentions of death, implied vomiting and pain. Requested: Yes, by anonymous. The reader has visions of future events since her childhood, but since the last hunt and burn of a witch her visions are getting more powerful and begin to affect her health condition. The visions weakening her, she suffers from heavy migraine and also dizzy spells and nausea. She tries to hide it from the Winchesters but as observing as they are, they instantly recognize her pale and sick appearance.  A/N: Requests are open! I hope you enjoy my take on this request, please let me know!

Masterlist

Visions are something I’m very familiar with, I’ve had them since I was a child. They felt like dreams, mostly peaceful and serine. Predicting the things that were to come, always happy occasions. I knew the days to come that I would enjoy, the places we’d visit and joys I’d experience before they ever happened. It was a good thing, I was thankful for it. It brought reassurance in times of doubt, joy in times of sadness and it didn’t really affect my day to day life. Dean would try to use it to their advantage, running lottery ticket numbers by me in hopes of me having a vision of him winning, he hadn’t been successful yet. Sam always rolled his eyes at Dean’s childishness, but would listen intently to whatever I recounted for them. 

Since the last hunt that we been on my visions had changed, they were no longer predicting joyful occurrences, they were dark. Foreshadowing death and torture, often continuing on for twenty or thirty minutes. The amount of time a drastic change to the maybe five minute long visions that I was used to having. They caused me to get sick almost every time, a wave of nausea taking over the second the vision ended. My body felt weak, muscles ached and I had a headache that had taken up permanent residence since these new visions had started. I was doing my best to keep it from the boys, not wanting them to worry about me anymore than they already did. They already watched me closely, concerned that I would get hurt while on a hunt. If they knew about this, well, I don’t know what they would do. Probably bench me, if we are being honest. I had managed to keep it to myself, thankful that most of the visions seemed to appear at night, to the point where I could almost call them nightmares. Yet I knew better, I know that they’re predictions, some of the things I have already confirmed to be true. A train derailing in Michigan, a bus crash in Ohio, the list goes on. Every time I have one, I search the news headlines, praying that I won’t find what I am looking for. However, it’s always there, a day or two after it happens. 

For the life of me, I cannot figure out why my visions had changed, the only plausible explanation was the witch that had escaped on our last hunt. Despite our every effort, she had fled moments before we would have killed her. My guess is a spell, what spell you might ask? No clue. All of the research I had been doing, has been turning up empty. No explanation for the full body symptoms I had been having in response to the visions. 

Which is how I wound up here, hugging the toilet in the bathroom connected to my room. My head is spinning and throbbing, the pit in my stomach nauseating and unbearable. My body was aching from the constant shivers running through my body. There was nothing I could do but sit and wait, and hope that it faded overtime. This was by far the worst one, it had pulled me in and completely overcome my every thought and action. Flashes of red and orange flames, the screams of innocent people trapped within the building, being burned alive or smothered by smoke. All of it so real and vivid, forcing tears to fall from my eyes as I laid there paralyzed, unable to snap out of it, until it was over. Just as abruptly as it had begun, it was gone. I was back in my room at the bunker, sick from fear. I had painstakingly made my way to the bathroom, my eyes closed and my feet shuffling. Avoiding any sudden movements due to fear of passing out or throwing up. Judging by the time on my phone, it had lasted nearly an hour, fifty-three minutes to be exact, the longest vision I had ever had. I remain on the floor of the bathroom for almost an additional hour, taking slow, even breaths, waiting out the nausea. Which eventually faded, I had hoped that the migraine would fade too, however no luck. I opened my eyes, allowing them to adjust to the harsh light in the bathroom, a light that I didn’t recall turning on. I stand slowly and turn to head towards my bed, hopeful that the rest of my sleep would be uninterrupted and dreamless. 

I am awoken by a knock on my door, followed by a voice calling out my name. I ignore it, hoping they’ll go away. I am tired, so tired. The thought of getting out of bed felt like the most insurmountable task, I was already being lulled back to sleep by the warmth of my blankets. 

“Y/N, it’s almost noon, are you okay?” Sam enters the room, his voice much louder than I would prefer. I would rather he not be here at all and to just leave me to my sleep. 

“‘M fine, Sam. Go away, tired.” I mumble, throwing my arm back behind me and motioning for him to leave, not bothering to open my eyes. I hear light shuffling and I assume that he is leaving, but I am proven wrong when I feel the bed next to me dip down. Sam has not left, but come to sit beside me. I open one eye to glance at him, but close it again quickly, the lights flooding my senses with searing pain. His hand comes to rest on my shoulder and when I still don’t stir to look at him again, he speaks.

“What’s going on with you? You might think you’re doing a good job at hiding whatever it is, but you’re really not. Dean and I both know that something is going on that you’re not telling us about and its getting concerning. You’ve been sleeping a lot, in constant pain when you’re awake and you’re pale as a ghost, Y/N.” I know he isn’t going to leave me be without an answer of some sort. So I do my best to come up with one, something that sounds believable but not too concerning. 

“Just haven’t been feeling the best, must be food poisoning or something.” I whisper, again willing that he will leave me alone to sleep. My body physically exhausted, head throbbing, pain pulsating through my every nerve. He shifts again and I rejoice, hoping he’s headed for the door. But instead, his hand comes to rest on my forehead, a hiss leaving his lips as he makes contact. 

“Shit, Y/N, you’re burning up.” He says, tugging back the blankets that I have pulled up around my face, revealing my sweat soaked t-shirt. “How bad?” I hear Dean mutter from the doorway, the sound of his foot steps indicating that he has crossed the room to stand next to my bed as well. I hesitantly open my eyes, squinting to try and lower the amount of light that is allowed to enter. 

“Feel for yourself, Dean.” Sam says, standing up and letting Dean take his place on the bed next to me. Dean rests his hand against my forehead, grimacing. It must be bad judging by the look on both of their faces. I push myself up into a sitting position, tugging the blankets up to cover my bear legs. Painfully aware of how little clothing I have on compared to them, not that they hadn’t seen me dressed like this before, it just made me feel weak in this moment. 

“I’m fine, just need a shower.” I mumble, I throw my legs over the edge of my bed and begin the short walk to my bathroom, ignoring both of Sam and Dean’s protests and offers of help. I barely make it three feet before my world is spinning, darkening at the edges and crumbling around me. 

My body collapses, colliding with the hard wood of the floor and I can faintly hear my name being yelled, but it is all drowned out by the vision dancing before my eyes. This time it is different, it’s not strangers in a different state, it’s Bobby, Ellen and Jo. They’re surrounded by vampires and it doesn’t look good. All of them injured in some way, Bobby worse than the girls. They stand in a circle, their backs together and weapons raised in front of them. I know what is about to happen and I try to scream, try to warn them in some way, to move faster to run! But nothing comes out, my voice but a silent whisper in my throat. I am forced to watch as the vampires kill them, their bodies falling to the ground and, and then it is gone. 

My eyes fly open a scream bubbling out of my throat, terror filling my every nerve ending. Dean’s above me, his voice shushing me, telling me that I am safe, nothing happened and that everything is okay, but nothing is okay. Bobby, Ellen and Jo, They’re all in danger. 

“Sam, call Bobby right now, tell him not to go on that vampire hunt.” Sam hesitates, his eyes trained on me and filled with questions. But there’s no time. “Now, please! I had a vision!” I snap, putting all of the emotion I can into those words, trying to convey just how urgent they really are. Sam nods, still silent, but pulls out his phone and leaves the room to call Bobby. I take a couple of breaths, trying to focus on my surroundings once again. I am on the floor, Dean cradling me in his arms, his eyes trained on my face concern and confusion written through every inch of his skin. 

“How did you know about that hunt, Y/N? Bobby just told us about it five minutes before we came in to wake you.” He says, his hand brushing a strand of hair out of my face, his touch comforting me slightly. 

“I-I, promise not to be angry with me?” I ask, letting out a rather large sigh. He hesitates, but nods in agreement and I begin to explain. “You know about the visions that I have, they’re normally happy predictions. But ever since the last hunt, with that damn witch that got away, my visions have changed. All of them are now predicting death and tragedy. I’ve had one everyday this last week, all of them have come true. I’ve seen it on the news or in an article online. Before today, they were all strangers, but now, today, it was Bobby, Ellen and Jo. I couldn’t bear to let anything happen to them Dean, God what if I wasn’t in time?” I ask, tears beginning to form in my eyes. He hushes me, reassuring me through his touch, pressing a quick kiss to my forehead. Sam comes back into the room, his phone still clutched in his hand. His face slightly pale and concern etched throughout his features. 

“I got through to Bobby, he’s okay. So are Ellen and Jo. They were about to leave when I called, but they stopped when I told them you had a vision. Bobby wants to talk to you about it all when you are feeling up to it, Y/N.” He says, I nod in response, relief washing over me, they’re okay. They’re not going, which means they won’t die. 

Dean takes a minute to repeat what I had told him to Sam, the tension in the room growing every second. Sam is angry, Dean is angry and I am tired, oh so tired. These premonitions have really started to take it out of me physically and mentally. I listen to the boys discuss the steps that need to be taken, the witch has to burn. Sam volunteers to go and Dean agrees to stay behind with me. 

“You should both go, I’ll be fine here on my own.” I argue, trying to offer them a reassuring smile, but neither of them buy it. Sam shakes his head, his mouth parting to answer but Dean beats him to it. 

“In your dreams sweetheart, there’s no way in hell that we’re leaving you here alone. You fainted, you could’ve smacked your head if I hadn’t caught you as you fell. One of us is going to stay with you until this witch is dead. Don’t even bother arguing, you’re not going to win.” He adds on the last part as he notices my enthusiasm towards disagreeing with him. I close my mouth, exhaustion sweeping back over me. Dean notices and carefully carries me back to my bed, again ignoring my protests. He sets me gently on the mattress and I eagerly roll onto my side, resting my aching head onto the cool, soft surface of my pillow. He tugs the blanket over my body, pressing another kiss to my forehead. He makes up some excuse about it being the best way to check my temperature, but I don’t mind. He plants himself in the chair by my bed, pulling out his laptop. His presence enough comfort and safety to lull me into a peaceful sleep. They’ve got me. Sam is going to go take care of the witch and I will be okay. Those were my last thoughts before I was pulled into the blanket of sleep.