Alone, Until I Get Home (1/?)

Summary: In Boston, Henry Swan’s six-year-old brother Ian finds a book titled “Once Upon a Time” hidden beneath the seat in their mom’s old yellow bug. As soon as Henry touches it, he remembers.

Season 3 Canon Divergence-Emma finds out she’s pregnant a few weeks after she and Henry leave Storybrooke with new memories and new lives. Nearly seven years later, another Dark Curse puts her family in danger, and Emma must return to Storybrooke to help them.

Who’s powerful enough to cast the Dark Curse? And how the hell is she going to tell Hook they have a son together?

A/N: You don’t have to have read “I belong to you, you belong to me” to understand and/or enjoy this one, but this is basically a “what if Emma had gotten pregnant with Ian right after Neverland instead of in Camelot” sort of scenario, with a shit ton of other stuff (angst! adventure! fluff! confused pirate dad Killian!) thrown in.

I hope you’re ready for this new adventure because I AM REALLY FUCKING EXCITED!!!!!!!

Thank you to @losttalongthewayy for all your help editing and for listening to all my worries concerning this fic; you’re incredible!!!

Also posted on: AO3

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Title: Berserk | Chapter Eleven

Rated: T (language/violence)

Summary: Berserk. Out of control with anger. This is what Natsu was born to be. A warrior soaked in blood. A murderer. This is what Pergrande turned him into. Taken at a young age by the King, Natsu is a soldier of the Royal Army, a creature of rage and violence—a weapon. Lucy is a thief from Fiore with a price on her head. Natsu is sent to kill her. When they meet it isn’t pretty at all.

Word Count: 4224

| One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten |

*Because tumblr is garbage, nothing with an outside link shows up in the tags. Therefor, I have removed the FF link. The chapter is also now on FF, so feel free to leave a reply there or do whatever you want to do.

{i’ll ask of the Berserks, you tasters of blood}

The trees whisper amongst themselves in hushed tones, low, indistinguishable voices a hum in the silence of the night, echoing through the stillness of the forest. Their gnarled branches twist together like thorns—sharp, mangled, and bare of leaves—winding and curling overhead until the sky above is nearly blackened out by the copse of wicked spines, only thin slivers of the waning moonlight flickering through the bare trees, illuminating the thicket with pale light. A thick, rolling fog hangs low over the forest floor, twisting between the trees like ghosts and swirling around the prone figure lying in the dirt. A biting chill curls through the air, fallen leaves rustling as a breeze sweeps through the woods. The fog dampens the earth as shadows dance across the ground, the scent of rain heavy in the air.

She blinks slowly, her vision remaining blurry and unfocused as her gaze flickers around what she can see of the copse. She shifts, sending messy coils of blonde hair spilling over her shoulder and obstructing her vision as she slips in and out of focus. Blinking heavily, she stares at the trees, distorted oaks appearing as hazy figures in her vision—monsters slipping from the shadows and creeping closer with every breath.

She winces suddenly, groaning in pain as her forehead throbs, a sharp, stinging ache spreading through her entire head. Something slick slides down her temple, though she hardly notices, more interested in squinting at the shadows coming to life around her.

The trees begin to quiver, bending and leaning in every direction, almost as if they were dancing—trembling with fear of something she can’t see. Her eyes slam shut once more, and she whimpers softly as the whispering gets louder. The voices grow closer and closer as the trees begin to shake violently, the wind picking up and whipping the dead leaves across the ground until they begin to swirl around her.

Her eyes snap open wide and the forest falls silent once more. The voices disappear and the leaves still—trees standing tall around her, as if they had never been moving to begin with. Her fingers twitch suddenly—scrapping across the ground almost violently as her nails sink into the fresh earth, rain still falling around her. Her eyes narrow in bewilderment as a phantom, icy finger runs along her spine, prickling the bare skin of her back as pale moonlight dances across her naked arms and shoulders, the ghost of a breeze making her shiver.

Holding her breath, she goes stock still, not daring to move as her fingers freeze against the wet ground. She peers through the curtain of hair falling in front of her eyes, heart beating out of control. Around her is nothing but naked trees winding high into the air, dead leaves littering the ground in warped shapes—nothing else in sight. Just dying trees and the fog curling around her frozen form.

A low, mournful sound splits the air, a single note that disappears as quickly as it came. The trees shriek suddenly, the thicket taking up the violent cry, roaring like a northern beast. Another hum, soft and sad, and the trees echo again. She twists to the side, a hand curled around her throat and squeezing—choking.

“—drowned lover—”

The sound is cut off, a sob building in her throat as she recognizes her mother’s voice.

Around her the trees rattle, branches snapping together high above her head. She startles when a twig snaps in the darkness. Her mother keeps singing, and she forces herself to find the sound through the shrieking and snarling that’s built up around her.

“—come home to me.”

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we are ghosts 
in the summer 

we wander
through the

morning light & 
midnight howls,

deserted streets
buzzing with
the hope of



oh, how time floats!—
a stream to an ocean



in which
we float


oh, how time leaves us
so broken!— as flashes 

our eyes[.]
the sky’s

shifting light, suppressing
somnambulistic tendency,

pirouettes, & the
sunset reflects

in dancing

whirling colors

across your
oblivious face[.] 

a realization—

it’s over.
it’s done.


it had only
just begun.


waves rise

to the

the precipice[.]

a dizzying

better to

tear away

the sheer

reveal the monster
beneath, ripples now

a crashing tide,
stinging foam

inescapable &
malefic in

cruelty &

Something Different  //epilogue

Fandom: Supernatural

Summary: Slow-burn Crowley x asexual!reader. When Crowley notices you actually have a weak point, he becomes very interested in taking advantage of it. But not everything goes as he expected.

Word count: 2,416

A/N: It’s been a ride, guys. I hope you enjoyed it. Please, leave a comment if you did.

[Masterlist][Part1] [Part2] [Part3] [Part4]

Originally posted by starkstony

You breathed in the cool breeze that ghosted over your skin. It was a warm day and a rare exception  from the damp and gloomy weather from the past weeks. On the days like this you could almost believe the world would be able to stay in this state forever, without any problems, defects, and flaws on the perfect shell. You silently wished that one day your life would look just like that. Peaceful. Quiet. Without any risk the life of a hunter required.

It was a pleasant dream, but deep in your gut you knew you wouldn’t be able to leave this life and just forget about everything that has happened. You were a hunter, whether it was easy or not. You craved that adrenaline in your veins and even if it would be easier not to look, not to see, you still looked for any kind of supernatural-centred leads or events.

After a long stay in the bunker with the Winchesters, you received a request for help from an old friend that you couldn’t ignore. The boys understood and even offered you their assistance, or at least a lift, but you refused. You were certain you could make it alone, and they just came back from their own hunt. Having a safe place to come back to was a really nice thing.

They waved you goodbye, making you promise you would call them once you were done. And with that, you left.

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You know what would have fucked with Scrooge more?
Ghosts of Christmas Past, Present and Future that adopted his image…

But like, set in 2015.

He’s just this asshole CEO who was handed a fucktonne of money by his dead daddy or something, straight out of college.
He’s a Republican, never had to work a day in his life, and obviously believes that if you’re poor then it’s your own fault/you need to work harder!

He needs to relax in a jacuzzi more than his employees need a raise, or health insurance. That’s how the whole employer-employee thing works, right?
If they’re good enough, they’ll get promoted up the ladder… y'know, as long as they’re rich white dudes; he can’t even comprehend the idea of any'thing’ else making it that far.

Christmas rolls around, and maybe the company profits are up… but not the same as last year.
Completely ignoring the whole nationwide economical crisis; he realises that clearly the employees are slacking off, so in retribution, he has holidays and holiday pay removed. IF they can surpass the target set by last year’s sales, then he’ll consider it (he says in a company-wide statement); but he won’t, even if they manage it.

Sales double, because employees are desperate and the customers are trying to help out even if they hate feeding the greedy bastard on top of the tree. The target is reached, surpassed… employees begin to relax, they get christmas.
No need to try and find additional childcare, re-route family members… they get christmas.
No. No they don’t.  He does not reinstate holidays, there is silence from his office… he’s taken some of the surplus and gone on a trip to Hawaii for a few weeks.

Returning in time for Christmas.
To find employees striking… but many more still slaving at their jobs, because they need the income.
He has found an effective business strategy… he will use it again the next year.

Yeah, the ghosts aren’t having it.

“Listen up, fucknut…” reads the note that appears on the desk he has his feet resting on; shoes caked in mud (because he pays the maid s to clean, might as well make them earn it, right?). “Tonight, Xmas Eve, you are going to be visited by three spectres who really wanna kick your ass… but have to teach you right from wrong. So play along and you just might learn a thing.”

He scoffs and tosses it, it misses the bin. He pretends it did. He hates to lose.


So, the Ghost of Christmas Past turns up and it’s like, 2009-2011 him… the frat dude in fluro shorts who thought chugging several cups of beer in under 30 seconds was ‘fuckin 'A, dude!’

To make matters worse, the Ghost of Christmas Past still acts like mega-douchebag frat-bro him; and won’t stop using slang that makes him cringe. But still, even though he’s shown the error of his past ways (just by being exposed to this idiot); there’s no convincing him that having everything handed to him on a plate and taking it for granted (to become frat-bro), is in anyway a bad thing.

In exasperation, Past!Ghost flips him the bird as it fades out.
A lingering, “What the fuck is wrong with you, bro?” on the breeze.


Ghost of Christmas present appears, looks like him, current him.
He spends too much time checking out his own ass from behind to really hear the opening speech.

But basically, they go on a whirlwind tour of recent events; of him lounging about being a pampered little fuck with terrible ideas, and of the workers, desperately striving to reverse his decision. Rewarding him with hard work he did not earn from them.
There is no loyalty, only a determination to survive.

He gets smacked for making inappropriate comments about many of the employees.
“They’d have more food if she went on a diet…”
“Hmmm, I’m guessing he got in on the Equal Employment program the government rolled out?”
“Remind me to fire that one later… if I do it now, before she gets to eight months, there’s no maternity leave payout required.”
“Now that one I’d love to wreck… always had a thing for Asians…”
“Hey, since when do I pay maids to take a break in between department floors?”
“I’d fuck that guy, but I’m pretty sure he’d steal something on the way out, you know how those people are…”
“Maybe if they used some self-restraint they wouldn’t HAVE so many kids to feed on their shitty salary?”
“Mmmm, those are some nice tits… I should promote her to my secretary. She can take notes, my coffee order, and this dick all at the same time… well, if she’s literate. You never know with her kind…”
“Wow, look at this dump… why would people even live here? You know, if they actually put more effort into their jobs… they might make enough to move.”
“Pffft, if they’re so damn poor, why do they have a fridge? A phone? How can they afford the bus?!”
“Remind me to fire him later, bad enough he’s probably here illegally… but those fake 'panic attacks’ are being done on my time, and my dime. Go back to Mexico if you wanna pull that shit…”

And so on.

Present!Ghost is starting to think the guy LIKES being hit.
Current!Scrooge is not absorbing anything; sure, sometimes when he reflects on some of the shit he says, it’s not good… but that thought rarely enters his head.

“Can you fucking hear yourself?!” the Present!Ghost eventually snaps, grabbing him by the suit’s lapels. “Look at these people… stop seeing them as pawns, or things you own, or as the stereotypes in your fucking head… look at them as PEOPLE.
People fighting to get by on the shitty wages your company allows, while you frivolously spend it on yourself…”

Like before, they follow employees… and this time, Scrooge is silent. He’s watching, observing… but shoves away any sentiment stirring. They’re still just money-makers, easily hired and fired at will… his financial pawns.

But still, maybe he could make a little concession… maybe bring back the in-store creche/daycares. Maybe it would give the employees a stronger reason to work extra hours…

As if Present!Ghost could read his thoughts, they shake their head sadly and fade out.
“It’s not all about you…”


Scrooge scoffs as Future!Ghost arrives… he looks to be around forty, maybe fifty if Scrooge aged well. The hair is thinning but hey, he can always pay for it to be fixed…

“Sooooo… what? We gonna go see my spooooooooooky grave, huh?” he laughs, wiggling his fingers.

The ghost shakes his head.

Instead, they take a tour much like with Present!Ghost.
The stores, full of different employees, none he recognised; maybe they had worked harder… gotten promoted?
All were just as stressed, the stores bigger than before and fewer staff meant no slacking; an interesting innovation.

His office, empty…
His island beach house… there  he was.
A teleconference with shareholders, boasting record sales boosts; getting praised.

He has only aged physically, otherwise, nothing has changed.

He wasn’t seeing a downside.

And then, they did go to a graveyard… several, actually.
Half-remembered faces, older, more haggard, some wearing the uniforms of his company… most stood quietly weeping over gravestones or sites, they slipped into a funeral once or twice.

He was about to ask the relevance… when the reality strikes.

The children. They were the children of his former employees, older, with families and lives of their own now… burying the parents he knew couldn’t be forty, maybe sixty at most…

He starts checking the gravestones, calculating ages; trying not to see epitaphs of their lives ('beloved mother’, 'much-missed father’, 'dear brother who went too soon’, etc.).

Something wasn’t adding up, they can’t have all died young, right? He turns to the Future!Ghost for an explanation.

“You worked them hard, took away holidays, increased demand and work hours… but never reinstated their health insurance. Most died broken, if only in spirit…” the Future!Ghost points to one headstone, “There lies an employees who killed himself due to the stress of the job, whose panic attacks went unseen and untreated because you would not help.
And there, the young woman whose assets you believed to be 'fuckable’… and over there, the young man you would have slept with if only he was not of a race you considered thuggish… he actually died protecting his younger co-workers during a store robbery. Which could have been prevented, if you hadn’t let the store security go, to cut costs.”

And while all this happened… he was sitting in a remote island beach house, lapping up false praise…
It stirred something. Was this…shame? Horror?
He felt like the Grinch Who Stole Christmas… his heart was hurting; he needed to call his private… doctor…

The private doctor he had on call at all times, while some of his most in-need employees were turned away from the Free Clinics, because there were just too many to see.

There was literal blood on his hands. He could feel it… rubbing his hands on his clothing, as if it would come off; but of course, there was nothing there.

Without a word, Future!Ghost grabbed his arm and forced Scrooge watch himself, from only an hour prior… as he travelled with Present!Ghost. Listened in horror to the way he singled out certain employees, said such slanderous things…

His throat burned, in remembrance of the poisonous comments… spewed rapid-fire, thoughtlessly… not knowing, not CARING that the people below him were working as best they could under difficult circumstances. That they would die, because he thought them nothing but freeloaders, with physical attributes he either loved or hated…

God… he was an asshole, wasn’t he?

“Yes, Scrooge… you were a major asshole, but I think you’ve learned something tonight.” added in Future!Ghost, pring he WAS listening to the man’s thoughts.

“So… no visiting my grave, then?” he asks, almost knowing the answer.

Future!Ghost looks at him, scrutinising. “It would not have meant anything to you, Scrooge. You only care for the here and now.
Seeing the deaths you caused, however, was the one chance I had to reach you… for you to redeem yourself.”

Scrooge brushes sweaty strings of hair from his face, lost.
“So… what do I do now?!” he whines, confused. “I can’t fix this overnight…”

Future!Ghost considers it.
“How about… you start with re-instating their holidays and bonuses, and go from there? Just try to be less of an asshole in general… or you end up being me. The older you who is so set in his ways, who walks over the graves of employees without a second thought, if it means greater profit, greater praise.
You can change, so do it. Because if we have to come back, you will most assuredly not be treated so delicately.”

He blinks, and they are back in his office.
The computer is on, an e-mail to the entire company is ready to be sent…

URGENT MEMO: Holidays Reinstated

Hi all,

Sorry for the hold-up with the information, I was trapped in a foreign airport for over a week waiting for a volcano to stop spewing ash and couldn’t send this.

Christmas holidays have been re-instated, and you will have additional paid-vacation and sick days added to the coming year to make up for those extra ones you worked these holidays.
Good job on making the quota, we surpassed it by a wide margin; so everyone’s getting a bonus this year.

The next company meeting is in January, but the good news is that there will be a push to reinstate company-wide health insurance, security services, the in-store employee daycare and employee loyalty awards.

Happy Holidays,

CEO Scrooge


He was perspiring. That was a LOT to promise.

“You’re going to click Send,” Future!Ghost said, in a bland voice that meant neither threat nor praise. Just that he knew Scrooge would.

His hand finds the mouse… it shakes, but he manages to move it to the button. He clicked send, feeling ill for reasons other than illness or disgust, as the email disappeared.
It was a big order to fill… but he was going to do it.

Future!Ghost claps him on the shoulder.
“Good job. That’s Step Number One.”

He turns as Future!Ghost starts to fade out.
He wants to ask a lot of things, but nothing comes out.

Future!Ghost just smiles genuinely with his older face.
“Hey, just remember one thing, Don’t Be An Ass…ho…l…e…”

And suddenly Scrooge is alone again in his office.
He stands and goes to the door, hovering in the doorway like this was the most important step he would ever make in his life… and step through.

Leaving his office with an entirely different perspective than he entered it with.


The End

What Daddy Did

For @zommbro

Maui let out a tired sigh as he sat back, enjoying the breeze that ghosting over his skin as he stared at his work. Making so many gifts at once was hard labor, but it was always a labor of love. It was the least he could do to make up for leaving for so long and so often. Finding the time to make them had been hard, though. He spent many nights awake while everyone else slept, slaving over his many projects until they were completed. He hoped that the craftsmanship was good enough to please them.

Maui sighed again and rolled his tense shoulders. He hoped he was good enough for them.

“Daddy!” a small, distant voice called.

The stress in his shoulders rolled away and a smile immediately stretched across his face.

More cries of his title filled the air as he climbed to his feet and spread his arms wide, awaiting their love. He watched, his heart swelling with love, as his beautiful children ran to him. Some were crying, some lagging behind, one even carrying their youngest sibling, but they were all smiling. Within seconds the first body barreled into him. It was the twenty-four other bodies that aided in taking him down. The kids squealed in shocked enjoyment while Maui laughed. So many voices were asking questions. So many hands grabbing his skin and holding onto him. So much love filling his arms.

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For some people, summer meant sleeping in to twelve, or tanning, or spending a day watching Netflix because damnit, that’s what they wanted to do. Children saw summer as freedom, as liberation from desks, instructions, and worksheets.

For Levi, nothing changed. Sleeping in? He wouldn’t miss the day. Tanning? He didn’t tan. Watching TV in the dark? Hell no. Levi wanted to be busy. He wanted to work. He wanted to go to bed mentally and physically exhausted. Levi hated the idea of drifting through summer without any schedule or goal.

On the other hand, it took his boyfriend no more than a week to start forgetting what day of the week it was. The moment high school stopped imposing a schedule on the two of them, Eren became erratic. His texts were a constant, but he drifted in and out of Levi’s line of sight. Neither of their families had any plans for the summer, so Levi fell into a comfortable routine while Eren bounced across the sun-baked city. One night, Levi received a snapchat of Eren and Jean sneaking into the aquarium after dark to wade in the shark petting pool. The next day, Eren decided he would build a treehouse. The day after that, he forgot about said treehouse and went cloud-watching with Mikasa and Armin.

They made time for each other, of course, but keeping up with Eren quickly became as exhausting as it was exhilarating. To remedy this, the two of them settled into a routine of weekly picnics. They packed a basket together, but the couple took turns picking a location: rooftops and hilltops. Among the roots of ancient trees or high in the branches of half-built tree houses.

This week, Eren picked the creek behind Mr. Hannes’s land. Soft, spring moss covered the stones while the trees above provided a rare bit of shade. Levi closed his eyes and relaxed in the sound of rustling leaves and babbling water. A gentle, warm breeze ghosted across his checks.

It wasn’t a breeze, Levi realized, as he opened his eyes. Eren’s lips pressed against his skin. The brunet leaned back with a grin. “Do you like it?” He asked, spreading the red-and-white checkered blanket over the ground.

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Based on the word “Haunt”


This is how it goes:

The war ends.

And there’s a scar splitting the pale skin of Draco’s chest, a mark staining his arm, a noose tied around the neck of his conscious until he wishes that he couldn’t breathe anymore.

Because the war is over but the fear, the guilt, the anger isn’t. It’s a pervasive concoction simmering in his gut and hiding in the dusty corners of his brain.

Because he can’t forget how Granger was tortured on his sitting room floor or how Crabbe was devoured by sin-hungry flames, how Fred Weasley died with a laugh in his mouth and Dumbledore had pleaded for his life.

Sleeping is a recipe for nightmares.

Shrill screams that shake the crystal chandelier in the dining room, lurid blood that bubbles and stains the thick rugs his mother had always been insistent on keeping pristine, green lights that flashed like stop signs behind his eyelids – he’s learned that red means go.

That chapter is over. The Dark Lord is going, going, gone. Ashes scattered into the early morning winds as a world rejoiced for the second time and prayed that there wouldn’t be a third.

The chapter is over but Draco can’t quite bring himself to keep reading.


He goes to France.

Packs up his bags and stuffs a photograph of his parents – pointed chins and sardonic smiles and secrets lurking in the empty spaces behind their rib cages – into his jacket pocket.

It’s not a fresh start.

People don’t stare anymore, don’t recognize the war criminal who had been plastered across rain soggy pages of the Daily Prophet, don’t cast surreptitious glances at his shirt sleeves or cross to the other side of the road when they see him coming.

But his limbs still feel heavy and his throat is still choked up with all the words he didn’t say. He’d made his suitcase extra heavy and he can’t quite figure out why.

He keeps his wand tucked into his trunk. Visits muggle places with clandestine, gory histories.

He can imagine the blood soaked cobblestones in the street where Marie Antoinette had lost her head. Gilded gold mirrors in Versailles where the Sun King had looked everywhere but himself. The untold, mistold story behind the sordid brushstrokes of Mona Lisa’s smile.

He meets her on a beach; it’s too cold to get in the water but he cuffs the bottoms of his trousers anyway and stands in the waves as though they could one day get high enough to drown him. There’s a salt slick quality to the air that grates against his skin and tangles in his lungs as gulls cry overhead.

The beach is empty.

Or it would be, were it not for her.  

A pale blue skirt gusting around her knees as she left footprints in the sand and allowed her hair to get caught in the wind’s breath. He glances at her out of the fuzzy corner of his eye.

Because she’s familiar – a searing, unique brand of soft and sharp that might be dangerous, yes, but he’s grown accustomed to having blood in his mouth and guilt laced through his fingertips like magic not only exists but embeds itself into the sponge-soft marrow of your bones.

He remembers her laugh, all the way across the great hall as she’d sat with the rest of the Beauxbatons girls. He remembers the shocked gasp she’d emitted when Cedric Diggory’s body had been dragged out of the maze.

(Harry Potter had been called a liar in their fifth year.

Draco knew full well that he wasn’t.)

There’s an swelling shock as a wave crashes up to his knees and she glances up and –

He wonders if she remembers.

He wonders if she knows.


She never mentions the war. Only recounts her time at Hogwarts with syllables that loop like a fucking record player in Draco’s mind long after their conversation has finished.

“I remember you,” she says. Pauses. Giggles. “You were the one who got turned into a ferret, weren’t you?”

And he flushes, clutches blood drained knuckles tighter and is glad, amidst his embarrassment, that that’s the memory she has of him – far better, he thinks, than the one the papers had to tell.

She shows him France; takes him to a vineyard where they curl their bare toes in the sun-warm soil and stain their lips with wine, they go to museums and hold hands while they look at art that Draco doesn’t like to analyze, anymore.

She comes to stay with him in the cottage that he’s rented; splays against his sheets like she’s meant to be there and stuffs his closet with the clothes she’d brought from home.

He doesn’t tell her how long he’s planning on staying and she doesn’t ask.

But there’s a comforting, warm suffusion to the way that her lace scrapes against his thighs and his mouth fits into the juncture of her neck, how her fingers play with his hair like it’s a harpsichord and his hands mold to the curve of her waist.

She’s there, one night, when he sits upright with sweat streaking down his forehead and his heart stuttering an 8 on the Richter scale, fault lines interlaced with his veins as the buildings in his ribs crumble to the ground.

He’d had a nightmare.

And he doesn’t have to admit it, not when she’s clambering into his lap and laying her head against his shoulder and whispering something – something that sounds like summer and smiles and chilled glasses of ice tea – into his ear.

He shifts. Wraps an arm around her waist and freezes when he realizes –

He’d rolled up his shirt sleeve and her eyes are trained with a peculiar intensity onto the mark.

He waits. One, two, three seconds. Imagines how this will play out and fall apart and he’ll be left with fucking ghosts tangling in the breeze of his curtains, how demons always manage to get a hold of his heart.

But she doesn’t run. Doesn’t scream or cry or –

She traces the outline – faded, now – of the skull and the snake. Presses her lips to the condemning piece of skin and sighs as though she can blow away the memories like candles on a birthday cake.

She doesn’t leave.

He doesn’t expect her to.

The Scars You Can’t See And The Ones You Can’t Hide

Request by @depressedandoverexpressed : Could you please write an imagine where before the reader started to hunt with the Winchesters she was captured and held by (choose any monster) and tortured for a really long time. The boys bring up one of her scars and she panics and Dean calms her down

Characters: Dean Winchester x Reader, Sam Winchester

Warnings: blood, death, angst, somewhat of a panic attack, torture and abuse

Words: 2231

A/N: I chose the Wendigo as a monster for this, even though I had to break its habits a bit in order to make it work in this imagine. And whilst it seems like there are plot holes, I swear everything is planned out in my head but i didn’t include every single detail in the imagine. Also I wanted to include the (well deserved) Dean fluff at the end.
If you have any requests feel free to put them in my inbox. Other than that enjoy :)

As much as you loved hunting, you absolutely hated the dirt. Being a hunter wasn’t pretty, not by any means, it was hard and filthy. Not only in the emotional and human aspect it was like this, but in the physical sense too. Especially hunts in the woods or on farms would leave you dripping with mud, not to mention the blood that often added to the mix.

This hunt hadn’t gone any different. Werewolves were the targets this time; with a whole pack living on an abandoned farm you already knew it’d get dirty. Oh boy you’ve had no idea how right you actually were. By the time you got back to the motel with Sam and Dean, all three of you were sweaty, smelly and covered with blood, mud and something you didn’t even want to know what it was.

Sam and Dean were the first to take a shower, for some reason you rather collapsed on the bed whilst they were taking their showers. Sam laid down on the other bed whist Dean was showering, as soon though as Dean was dressed they both got up.

“Where are you two headin’?” a yawn escaped you, as you got up and walked towards the bathroom. Sam was already standing in the open door, jacket on and the doorknob in hand, whilst Dean picked up the impala keys.

“We’re grabbing some dinner for us, whilst you shower. You did most of the work today so we’ll get you some food.” Dean smirked briefly and added in a lowered voice: “Don’t worry I’ll get you a real meal, not the stuff Sam considers addible.”

“Dude!” Sam slapped Dean on the back of his head, whilst Dean just chuckled. You slightly rolled your eyes at the two brothers, not bothering to hold back the smile on your lips as you saw the boy teasing one other. “Okay, go.” You simply said, already half in the bathroom.

As soon as you heard the door close behind them, you started shedding out of your clothes. The bathroom mirror was huge, a sight escaped your lips and your heart sped up at the thought of what you could see in there and why you’d see it. Even though the mirror was clouded by steam from the previous two showers, you still turned around for good measure.

Making sure to not look at yourself for too long, you quickly shed your clothes and got into the shower. The water was hot, almost burning and probably too hot for most people, but just right for you. It served two purposes, the first being that the hot water would calm you down and ground you; making you realize you were alive and finally somewhere better. The other purpose being that the steam prevented you from seeing yourself too clearly.

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I Got You (EXO; Kyungsoo)

One ring.

Two rings.

Three rings.

Groaning, I roll over onto my side. “Who the fuck are you and where do you wanna meet to fight me?”

“Hello to you too.”

I take a deep steadying breath. “Kim Jongdae, if you are calling for any other reason other than you are fucking near death, I will throw you in the Han River.”

“See? You do spend a lot of time with him. How can you not see it?”

“What the hell are you talking about?” I glance at the time on the phone. “And why the hell are you calling me at 3 in the morning?” I demand.

“Because, you dolt, Kyungsoo called me again and I need to tell you something before I lose my damn mind.”

The mention of Kyungsoo’s name quiets me down a little. “What about Soo? Is he alright? What’s going on?”

“You know, he’s really sensitive.”


“Kyungsoo? He’s a sensitive little soul. Even if he makes threats like cutting off my limbs and throwing them one by one into the River.”

“Yeah, well I can see why he would make threats like that if you think calling at such an hour is acceptable.”

“Can you perk up for me a little? Because I’m not sure how you’re going to react to this.”

I mumble curse words under my breath as I stretch over to turn a light on. Then I push myself up into sitting. “There, I’m up. Now what the hell—”

“Kyungsoo is in love with you.”

My breath catches in my throat. “Jongdae?”

“Let me finish. He’s been in love with you, for I don’t know, fucking ages, but has never had the guts to do anything about it. So he just walks around trying to make you happy. And you need to dump that douchebag you’re dating now… Kim Seokjin?” I can already picture Kyungsoo’s best friend shivering at the name. “Don’t date someone with the same last name as me. It’s weird. And he’s a douche.”

“How do you even know that? You’ve never met him.”

“Because he’s not Kyungsoo. You’re actually the douche bag for not noticing his true feelings, but I’ll project the douchebagness onto your ex-boyfriend.”

I gasp. “Kim Jongdae! I am still dating him.”

“It’s not as if you like him.”

“And where the hell did you get that idea from?”

“You know, you cuss a lot when you’re angry.” I hiss through my teeth and he must hear the venom in it, because he goes on. “Look, if I have to listen to Kyungsoo moan over you near tears, I’ll come over to your place and kick your ass.” As an afterthought, he adds, “I mean you could probably kick my ass, you’re the girl that Kyungsoo’s in love with after all, but still. The intent is there.”

“You will kick my ass with good intentions?” I ask, my eyebrows raised in amusement. “Are you punking me, Dae? Because I’m not in the mood at 3 in the morning.”

“No, I’m not punking you, pabo!” he yells. “I would never joke about Kyungsoo’s feelings like this. They are real and they are valid and they have been there longer than you’ve been dating Mr. Douchebag. So please, do the boy a favour and make his life.”

“Where’s the proof, Jongdae?”

Jongdae goes quiet in disbelief? Tiredness? Death?

“Are you serious?” It was the first one. “You want proo—I’ll give you fucking proof. When you were about this close to failing that calculus class in first year, who pulled through for you?”

“He was being a good friend.”

“I am his best friend and he never did anything of the like for me and we were failing the exact same class.” Jongdae comes up with another one. “How about when Mr. Asshole broke your heart in second year? Who brought you flowers and made you food and encouraged you to go looking when you were ready?”

I shake my head, refusing to believe this. “No. Dae, he’s a good friend. Kyungsoo loves me like a friend and I… I do too.”

“You hesitated!”

“Shut the hell up, Kim Jongdae.”

“You don’t scare me over the phone,” he lies. “But he’s madly in love with you. Cut the guy some slack and just tell him how you feel.”

“Did you forget Jin?”

“Oh, did I forget to mention? I saw that guy macking with some other dude on my floor.”

“You saw what, where, with who?”

“Yeah, I don’t remember who the guy was, but I remember breaking up with Jin on your behalf and promised to tell you for him.”

Well that explains why that asshole never showed up for dinner tonight.

“You didn’t think to fucking tell me this before my dinner date? I waited there for an hour, Jongdae.”

Yes,” he enunciates. “You don’t think Kyungsoo told me? I had to listen to him recount how nice your hair looks and how his heart breaks over—”


“I’m not screwing with you,” he says in a quiet voice. “You don’t know how Kyungsoo talks about you. Like you’re the sun and the moon and all the stars.”

“You know…”

“I know that guys have been complete asshats to you in the past and trust me, Jongin, Chanyeol, and I have fought for your honour each time because Kyungsoo sort of asks us to in his weird way. So come on, the one guy who has literally stuck by you through every single one is still there and waiting for you to notice him.”

It doesn’t take much more of Jongdae’s smooth talking to get me out of bed, in one of Kyungsoo’s hoodies, and straight out the door of my apartment. It’s a five minute walk from my place to Kyungsoo’s and I watch the ground move below me as I go. The ghost hour’s breeze blows softly around me, wafting the smell of Kyungsoo’s sweater to me. It’s familiar and I wonder…

There are a lot of things to wonder about and I wonder about only a quarter of them until I’ve found myself at Kyungsoo’s front door. I used the key to get through the lobby entrance, but it doesn’t exactly feel right to just bust through his apartment like this.

So I knock.

But he doesn’t answer.

And I knock again.

When I knock for a third time and he still doesn’t answer, I get worried. So I unlock the apartment door. There’s one light on in the living room.

As I wander over, careful not to make any noise in case he’s asleep, I’m greeted by a slightly flushed Kyungsoo with a soju bottle in his hand. Forgoing the shot glass on the table, he just takes swigs out of the bottle.


His eyes snap up to me and he almost loses his grip on the bottle.

“O-oh my god, what are you doing here?”

Upon closer inspection, I notice that the bottle has only just been broken into and that his eyes are red rimmed.

“Soo, were you… crying?”

Kyungsoo swipes at his cheeks, as if that’s how I came to that conclusion. But his cheeks are dry. “No.”

“Uh huh…”

“What are you doing here?” he repeats.

“Dae called me.”

Kyungsoo’s already wide eyes widen even further. “W-what did he say to you?”

“That you…” God, words are really failing me right now. So I point to him and then I point to me and I bury my face into the top of his sweater. “He told me that you’ve been… you’ve been…”

“Fuck Jongdae,” I hear him mutter.


“I didn’t want you to…” He puts the soju bottle down, because it makes his shaking hands very obvious. He doesn’t seem to like to look up at me while we have this conversation, so he gets to his feet. “I didn’t… shit.”

“You… what?” I ask, confused.

“No, not… fucking hell, there was no warning.”

“Uh, yeah. I’m here at 3:30 in the morning. I get it.”

My reply gets him to crack a small, if not nervous, smile. “Why did you come?”

“I just… I don’t know. I guess I needed to hear it from you? It’s a little surreal. Because yesterday I had a boyfriend and now Jongdae tells me that I don’t.”

“Oh my… did that asshole actually break up with your boyfriend for you?”

“Something about how he fights for my honour,” I reply.

Kyungsoo tips his head back in annoyance, and in that moment, I find my eyes falling to his Adam’s apple. And how much I wouldn’t mind kissing it.

Well that’s a thought I haven’t had in a while.

“God, you should’ve ignored him.”

“Hard to do that when he’s shouting at you to come see you, Soo.”

“Fine, fuck, I love you. Yes. I do. And it’s stupid and selfish and ill-timed and totally not what you need right now and I should—”

“Shut up.”

Kyungsoo blinks in surprise. “Huh?”

“Shut up,” I repeat. “You should shut up. It’s not stupid or selfish and I don’t know…” I shrug, losing my hands in the armholes of Kyungsoo’s sweater. “You were always kinda what I needed.”

His jaw drops.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“There was never a good time,” he admits.

I run a hand through my hair. His eyes watch me as I do it, so I reach for his hand and bring it to my cheek. Without even really thinking about it, his fingers run through the hair on the side of my face.

Then he realizes what he’s doing and takes his hand back.

Sighing, I step towards him. “Look, I know that I’m an oblivious fuck, but come on, Kyungsoo. Work with me here? I know this moment will never be perfect, but—”

Kyungsoo closes the distance between us, his hands finding their way into my hair, and his lips already knowing exactly what to do. He’s soft and warm and smells exactly how he always does. His lips taste like alcohol and his kiss is dizzying, so I feel a little off balance when he pulls away.

“The moment was perfect.”

“Can we sleep then? Jongdae still woke me up at 3 in the morning to tell me all this and I have class in the morning.”

Kyungsoo chuckles and tugs me towards the bedroom. “You’re really going to talk about school when I finally got you?”


Kyungsoo shakes his head as he takes a seat on the bed. He pulls me between his legs, his hands resting lazily on my hips. I run a hand through his dark hair and smile when he leans into my palm.

“You realize it’s my birthday today?” he murmurs.

My eyes widen. “Oh shit. I—” I had forgotten his birthday between the whirlwind of tests and projects.

He guides my head down to his lips again. “And I got you as a present. So don’t talk about school around me today.”

I laugh against his lips. “Fine, Soo. I’m sorry.”

“Sleep now?”

I hum in response and fall asleep with his skin under my palm, his heartbeat thrumming steadily.

Island Love

Maui stared up at the stars, his dark eyes reflecting each bright light, imitating the beautiful sky above him. His massive arms laid still at his sides. His long curly hair recently freed from a fat bun exploding around his head like the rays of the sun. His breathing was slow, chest rising and falling gently as his lungs filled and emptied in an endless cycle. Far away squeals tickled his ear and Maui turned his head to watch the children playing on the far end of the beach. They splashed in the water, flicking droplets at one another as their parents supervised with smiles on their faces from a little ways away. One of the children, the eldest boy, caught Maui’s eye and began to whisper to the others. One by one they turned to stare at him, watching him as if he were a star. Maui smiled softly and raised his hand to wave at them. The children smiled back and waved enthusiastically, and were just as quickly distracted by the ocean once again. Maui chuckled to himself as he dropped his hand back onto the sand. These were truly Moana’s people.

He turned his face back to the heavens, his whole being seemingly entranced by the stars and the moon. His guard had been dropped so low that he hadn’t heard anyone approach him until there was a crunch of sand beside his ear and a dark figure stood over him. He would recognize that mass of curly hair anywhere. He smiled brightly, the corners of his eyes wrinkling in laugh lines, the only thing about him that seemed as old as his true age. “Moana,” he said, and nothing more. He didn’t need to.

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Bracelets AU (Jungkook) Part Eleven *Final*

Summary: In this world everyone has a soulmate. The day you are born you receive a bracelet. When it turns black you’ve come into contact with your soulmate–only thing is, one of you will eventually have to die by the other’s hand.

Writer’s note: WARNINGS, BLOOD, eventual sadness, fun times. cursing.

Wrtier’s note: Hah, I wonder if this even makes any sense? I dunno how I feel about this written ending. But alas–this is it guys. I hope you all enjoyed the story and thank you all for sticking with me through it all. It really isn’t a happy story so please watch lots of funny videos and read tons of fluff afterwards, okay? <3

Parts: Two / Three / Four / Five / Six / Seven / Eight / Nine / Ten

“Jungkook…I…I didn’t-I love you–I-” Each word that came out of her mouth was a broken stutter, a mess between breathy tears. He’d never seen her composure crack like this, he’d never seen her sob to the point where she couldn’t even speak–hell, he’d never seen tears in her eyes before.  Her hands applied pressure, her gaze looking up at him with a hopeless tilt to her shoulders.

His hand not holding both of hers against his side scooped the back of her neck to press her forehead against his. Everything in him crashed against each other, shards of pain breaking into agony when he saw her face–she hurt him more than any physical pain ever could, just by crying. “It’s okay….shhh…” He whispered because that was all he could manage, sweat beading along the back of his neck only to slide down his spine. “This is nothing–I’ll be fine. You hit enough to the side, I’ll be okay.” It was true, he was lucky his stomach wasn’t bleeding acid into his body right now.

She didn’t believe him, he could tell by the turn of her lip and the slower tears that rolled down her cheeks–those doe eyes only shone with loss.

“It’s not supposed to be you.” She sobbed, “It’s not supposed to be you.”

Her head snapped up to Jin’s as he started losing it, feeling Taehyung running from the door to come beside her as Namjoon focused his attention on Hoseok.  She could feel him taking her place helping Jungkook–he was better prepared for bullet wounds, it’s not like they haven’t been shot before.

She could hear him muttering that Jungkook was going to be okay. She could hear him trying to reach her from the place in her head she had travelled to.

Her eyes were only focused on Jin, on his words and that horrible villain smile that twisted his mouth to match the insanity in his irises. She watched him lift the gun up to aim at Jungkook.

She was gone then, bursting past both Jungkook and Taehyung’s lingering hands that were trying to keep her there with them.  Jungkook spun in his spot to follow her, Taehyung grunting at him to keep still so he could attend to the bullet.  Even Taehyung knew it was hopeless; Jungkook was going to continue to attempt to scramble towards her even if he knew he couldn’t do anything with that wound. Even if he knew how this would all play out.

Jimin met her eyes, his lips parting in a scream for Yoongi.

Her head snapped to the male running at her from her right side, her gaze was nothing but a glare that could easily pierce through bulletproof armor.

“She looks like her sister.” She heard Jimin whisper; just before he noticed Jungkook’s fingers reaching for a gun hanging out of the younger’s flailing reach. He put himself on the job of stopping that, attempting to run past her–only to take an elbow to the neck just before she stepped to the side and swiped Yoongi’s legs out from underneath him with her foot. This sent Yoongi stumbling and crashing on top of him, pinning them both to the floor in a heap. She had barely even looked at them; her gaze was locked on Jin’s and the way his gun had traveled from Jungkook to her.

“You’re a monster–just like Birdie.”

She tried to move towards him, only to feel Yoongi’s grip on her ankle as he attempted to drag her back to him. The sudden stop sent her crashing to her knees, her other foot lashing out to kick at the man’s face. She had to get to Jin; she had to stop him from hurting her soulmate–that was all she cared about anymore. He foot finally snuck past Yoongi’s blocking hand and snapped his head sideways from the hit and he finally released her–only from the fact that she’d successfully knocked him out with that kick.

“She would be proud of you.” Jin laughed in front of her, watching her slowly pull to herself back up to her feet; he’d decided that the grim reaper that resided in that glare of hers. “You’ve turned out just like her.”

“I’m not my sister.” She whispered, her lip curling to her nose in disgust. “Unfortunately I could never love a man as twisted as you.” The words came out as a waterless spit, unable to leave her lips fast enough as she moved closer to him despite the shaky aim of his gun on her.

“She made me this way.”

“I’m not Birdie, I will never be her.” She was nearly in front of the gun, that same cold, uncaring stare on her face–uncannily similar to the one his soulmate had on the day he killed her. The girl in front of him transformed in that instant into someone taller, with more sharply defined but an equally as deadly doe-eyed gaze. It was at that moment his two consciousnesses merged together to create some horrid concoction that were equal parts Birdie and Y/N standing in front of him.

He wanted to hurt her. He wanted to see her scream out in pain, begging apologies through her tears. He wanted her to love him again.

So he knew very well that he couldn’t physically hurt her if he wanted that, she was too good with pain–too immune to the fear of death. Past the chaos in his head–past the cacophony of the room–he put his aim back on Jungkook as she barreled into his side.

Somehow he managed to stay upright, but the force of her caused his gun’s shot hit to haywire into the concrete–not at all what he was aiming for.  He pistol whipped the side of her head, hearing her cry out and expecting her to drop. But she was always stubborn, and even now she refused to let up on him. He flailing version of a fight only increased with her desperate attempt to protect Jungkook.

She wasn’t Birdie; if she was he would be on the ground right now staring into the barrel of a gun.

She was just a girl, hopelessly in love with her soulmate. A girl who’d barely been taught to fight, a girl who’d saved her younger sisters from him–at the price of her soul.

Birdie was dead, and Jin had killed her. And now her poor replacement was trying to make him do the same to her.

“Y/N!” She heard Jungkook screaming, rage in his every tone when Jin pressed the gun into her struggling side.

Taehyung tugged Jungkook back, trying to attend to the wound even as the desperate man reached for a fallen gun in front of him. To his poor luck, Jimin had finally managed to free himself from the weight of Yoongi, rushing to where Jungkook had managed to get his hands on the handle of the gun.

Jungkook shot at Jimin first, hitting the man in the leg just to try to get him out of his shot at Jin. But Jimin didn’t stop gunning for Jungkook; instead he dropped nearly on top of the younger in a vain attempt to steal the gun from him.  Taehyung tried to help pull Jimin off of him, tried to let Jungkook get a decent shot at Jin in the mess that was her fight.

Jungkook watched Jin put the gun to her side, his throat raw from shouting her name on an endless repeat. He didn’t have time to get a perfect aim, so he just pointed it in Jin’s direction and pulled the trigger at the same time that Jimin pushed his wrist slightly to the left.

That was all it had took, one single millimeter of a push.

It wasn’t like the movies. People didn’t die coughing up blood in slow motion; they didn’t die twitching, and pleading with sob stories passing at the tail end of their last breath. Instead their head snapped to the side with the force of the impact, a thin trail puff of blood leaving the entrance wound. Their knees gave out beneath them and they crashed to the ground in a heap. Their eyes stared with a bloody, glassy stare that he can’t look away from. These eyes pierce like dead eyes had never done before this moment, they shout at him until all he hears is a ringing in his ears. But past the sound of the shot, Jungkook quickly realized he was the one screaming.

Taehyung pried the cackling Jimin off of him, while Namjoon ran to nearly fling the man out of the way–Hoseok resting unconscious on his back, staying on by Namjoon holding both his wrists in front of his neck.  He felt the two members looking at his wounds, wrapping it temporarily with a shred of a torn shirt. But he couldn’t sit still–he was moving towards the body on the ground, his mouth open in a scream that no longer came out. He couldn’t form words anymore, couldn’t shout her name or pray to some hopeless god with empty “please"s.

She wouldn’t be able to answer.

Jin looked to the body at his feet and, for a second, it almost looked as if he felt grief for the loss. But that moment quickly faded when he stepped over the growing pool of blood and wandered to go check on Yoongi.

Jin was unharmed, blood spattered, but whole–because Jungkook had hit her instead.

Jungkook burst past Jimin and Jin; neither of them cared about him any longer–it was as if he was a ghost breezing past, a threat that had long since passed away.  He couldn’t even feel the pain of the wound any longer due to a larger gaping wound that he couldn’t even hope to get fixed. The place where his heart had been felt empty–hollowed out only to leave a piercing ache where it used to beat faster upon sight of her. But the sight of her now caused what was left of his heart to leave out his throat. This was the last face he would remember of her, the one of her head tilted up onto his lap, blood leaking past the corner of her mouth as she dead-stared at the nothing of the ceiling. This would be the last memory of her, as he held her in his arms with a broken stuttering cry that didn’t push any tears past his eyes. He curled himself over her head to shield her from the world’s view, rubbing softly at her cheeks as if that would make the blood flow through them again.

He was the one to kill her– he’d fulfilled his end of the curse perfectly.

He heard Taehyung come up behind him, heard him trying to speak but he couldn’t make out the exact words that were passing his lips. He refused Taehyung’s arms around him, wanting to sweat out all the pain and lay beside her. He didn’t want to be healed to a world that didn’t include her. But Taehyung gave him no choice; he forcibly dragged him away from her body–prying his arms off of her. Jungkook struggled at Taehyung flung himself over his shoulder,  his fingers grabbing at air as if he could pull himself towards her that way.

"She would want you to be alive.” Taehyung whispered past Jungkook’s thrashing. “She would be pissed if she saw you trying to do this.”

“I can’t.” It started out softly. “I don’t…I can’t do this. Not without her! I love her.” The broken words ended on a horrible, cracked shout–a choke of grief as the tears finally broke past the barrier of shock that had struck him. “I loved her.” His voice dropped into a version that was half of what it used to be as he adjusted his tenses to the new reality he had to face.

Taehyung didn’t say anything, just carried him past Jimin. Namjoon crossed his way to the body, carefully hoisting her into his free arm–she was always so light.

“She’s one of us.” Namjoon said to Jin, getting comfortable for the long walk back to their dorm. “We’re taking her with us.” The look he gave dared the man to say something, but Jin only put his hands in the air without even looking at Namjoon.

“I don’t care. Just leave–I’ve got my own men to attend to. A body is worth nothing to me if it’s dead.” Namjoon remembered when Jin used to smile, when his voice used to hold some sort of warmth for the people around him. Back when Jin was innocent and still cared–but it’d been a long time since then, and Jin’s voice only held ice now.

The doors closed behind broken group, shutting the world off to the last time anyone would ever see Jungkook cry.

Or smile.


4 Months Later

“Would I forget you?” He paced along the edge of the chain link fence, dragging the edge of his gun across it so it would create a broken, stuttering beat. His voice was loud, horribly singing in favor of projecting to the top of his lungs. He wanted Jin to hear, that was all that mattered–not the guards watching him pass in front of them.

“I’m afraid, afraid, afraid.” His voice raised in pitch, a high pitched wail he hoped was irritating. He wanted it to be obnoxious; he wanted Jin to come out himself. Jungkook couldn’t do it on his own, he’d already promised Taehyung. Hoseok was even watching safely from the street, his hands stuck in his pockets like always–he was the guardian for him today, making sure he came back to their territory alive and in one piece. Jungkook had just finally gotten over one bullet wound; they weren’t ready for another one.  

“Butterfly, like a butterfly.”  He wore a black bracelet on either wrist, and they flashed under the sun. He looked at a guard with empty emotion, slamming the gun into the chain-link fence especially hard before turning his head to the hollow path in front of him. He didn’t want to walk on it any further, Hoseok didn’t promise it got easier like he normally would have; he’d only said he had to look forward, and walk on. So Jungkook did just that.

Jin closed the curtains to his office window, cutting out the scene of Jungkook’s walk. He turned to the desk Yoongi sat at, sitting down at his desk.

Jin spun himself back to the busying stack of paperwork he had been attempting to work on before the singing stared, his pen the only noise in the room until Yoongi inclined his head towards the window.

“He out there again?”

Jin nodded, not looking up to the man. Jin had no distractions anymore, so now he could go back to the expansion he’d envisioned for Bulletproof back when his own soulmate had still been alive. There were no more lost episodes of insanity, instead he was calm–the emotionless robot that became even more fearful than before.

Because now there weren’t any weaknesses to exploit.

“It’s still the same song.” Yoongi whispered to the window.

“She must have liked it.” Jin could easily picture her enjoying that song; it was beautiful and tragic–just like her.

“Do you want me to kill him?”

Jin chuckled darkly, but even the smirk accompanied by a chuckle couldn’t make its way onto his blank face. “That would be kind; he needs to suffer like we all do. He’s a survivor, and unfortunately we don’t die easily.”

Yoongi’s eyes fluttered to his own single black bracelet, the other one long since burned with her photographs. He closed his eyes into the singing–even though it was sung horribly off-tune it still had a nice beat to it.  "It’s a pretty song.“

Jin looked up, his eyes staring at the ceiling so his attention could be focused on the lyrics–the slow rise and fall of the words sung through a grief-stricken throat. "Ah, yes it is.” He licked his lips to rejuvenate them in the dry air. “She was more of a butterfly anyways.”

Tunnel - DP

Drabble request: Tunnel


The tunnel was dark and abandoned, with lights spaced out every hundred feet or so.  It stretched on forever into the distance in both directions.

Maddie walked slowly down the emptiness, listening to her breath whisper through her throat and her footsteps echo in the painful abyss. She didn’t know how long she’d been walking – just that she’d been steadily putting one foot before the other for a very long time.

There was something following her.  She caught of hint of green, a swirl of shadow, now and then.  About half way between two of the lights, a cold wind blew down her shirt, causing her to shiver.  She rested her hand on her small ectoweapon, drawing closer to the wall. 

It was not the first time she’d tried to catch the thing following her.  Each time she would stand there and wait, tense and watchful, for what felt like an eternity before giving it up as something brought on by her imagination. 

As her breath swooshed out of her lungs, she slowly let herself relax. Her fingers loosened.  It was just her mind working against her.

A footstep behind her.  A whisper of a breeze.

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anonymous asked:

Hey do you take prompts? I loved your Emison fic so much, could you by any chance write about Emily telling Alison she needs therapy?

I actually am not taking prompts currently because I wouldn’t be able to get them answered in a timely manner, especially seeing how this took me a week to do(sorry btw). I thought this was an absolutely brilliant prompt, and I loved it so much I couldn’t resist. It’s ridiculously long(34k), I hope you enjoy it. Thank you!

Four Times Emily Tells Alison She Needs Therapy, and the One Time She Actually Listens.

The first time she said it, it’s meant as a joke…they are 14 and all the girls are gathered out on Alison’s porch waiting for her to come outside so they could go to the lake. More accurately they should have been at the lake already if it weren’t for the fact that Ali and her mom had been going at it since they swung by to pick the blonde up…and it sounded bad.

“Maybe we should just go to the lake tomorrow guys?” Hanna whispers, breaking the tense silence between the four girls, she’s wringing her hands nervously and Aria’s pacing and Spencer has sighed for about the 30th time and honestly, Emily is kinda sorta really freaking out.

She’s pretty sure she can practically feel the gray hairs coming in and the girls just keep adding unnecessary stress to the shitload stress she is feeling at this very moment, because Mrs. DiLaurentis has said she’s going to kill Ali three times too many, and if she says it one more time…Emily’s pretty sure she just might. It seems the only background music they can get at the moment is what sounds like an actual recording of war….and it just might be least calming thing on earth.

Spencer rolls her eyes, “Um…no? We go to the lake every Wednesday, it’s just an argument Hanna….everyone argues with their mom.” She however doesn’t look like she’s convinced herself of that either; Emily knows she most likely won’t be expressing any worries anytime soon, at least not out loud because she’s pissed, they’re 30 minutes late…and Spencer hates being late.

“Not like that Spenc, it sounds like freaking World War Three in there!” Aria frowns, “I’m with Hanna, we should just go tomorrow.”

Emily sighs as her urge to strangle all three of them grows by the minute, honestly who cares if the lake is always the emptiest on Wednesdays….how can you care? Not when she’s pretty sure people get aneurysms from fighting like this, but she can’t even glare at them at the moment because she’s too busy burning holes into Ali’s front door with her eyes,“Guys we can’t just leave Ali!” She doesn’t stop staring even as she speaks, maybe if she wills Ali to walk through that door hard enough she actually will…she just wants her to be okay.

They all practically jump off the porch and out of there skin when they hear a loud crash followed by what sounds like glass breaking. And all of a sudden it’s no longer just Emily staring at the front door, all four of them are staring at it in horror. It’s silent after that, the yelling stopped as abruptly as that crash started….leaving the girls stunned in place.

“…Maybe we should knock?” Spencer in the first to speak sounding considerably less confident than before, but before any of the girls have a chance to answer the  door swings open and Ali walks through, her face meticulously donning a dazzling smile….almost as if she wasn’t just ripping her mother’s head off.

“Hey….thanks for wait-” Her brows furrow in confusion when she notices the looks of their faces, “ What’s wrong, you guys looked like you just saw a ghost?” She breezes past them walking off the porch knowing they will follow.

Seriously? Ali are you okay…that sounded horrible!” Aria is the first to catch up to her placing a comforting hand on Ali’s shoulder.

They don’t expect Ali to laugh at them, but she does…”You guys act like you’ve never argued with your mom before, it’s fine I guess she forgot to take her meds today.” She shrugs it off like nothing, so they all uneasily try to shrug it off along with her but it’s awkward because that so obviously wasn’t nothing.

Alison rolls her eyes when she feels the awkward tension, as if they were the ones being ridiculous. “You’re all so dramatic…it was just an argument, it’s normal.”

“If that’s what you call normal, I think you and your mom should consider family therapy.” Emily meant it as a joke to lighten the mood, she really did, but she cringed as soon as the words left her mouth, it definitely wasn’t supposed to sound that way. But as soon as she opens her mouth to apologize she is interrupted by the laughter of her friends, so naturally she laughs along with them..only stopping when she realized Ali wasn’t laughing, she was just staring at her…. or through her?

Emily furrows her eyebrows in confusion…she didn’t exactly look mad, but then again she didn’t look like anything…Ali looked blank. But as soon as Emily could vaguely recognize what looked like sadness behind behind those blue eyes, she blinks and just like that Ali was back again…her face growing into that trademark smile, “Yeah Em, maybe we should…..”


The second time she says it, it’s said in blinding hot white rage, it’s meant to be insulting….it’s meant to hurt.

To say Emily Fields was just pissed, was an understatement because she wasn’t. She’s pretty sure there isn’t even a word to describe what she’s feeling right now. It’s red, and it’s blinding and it’s scary and she’s pretty sure if it wasn’t Ali if it was anyone else things would have gotten physical about five minutes ago, but it is Ali…and despite her anger there is still apart of her that wants to push the blonde up against the wall and kiss her until her lips are bruised. That fact, the fact that she can’t choose between ripping Alison’s head off and kissing her senseless fuels her with even more rage.

“It worked Emily, you’re overreacting!” Alison practically yells exasperated, Emily can see the frustration radiating out the blonde as she runs her hands through her hair for the fourth time, she can see the annoyance building in the way she alternates between squeezing her hands into a tight fist, and stretching them out wide. Alison was actually annoyed with her? She breathed deeply at the thought, her self control was dwindling with every word that left the blonde’s mouth.

I’m overreacting!?! You can’t be fucking serious right now!” She doesn’t want to curse or raise her voice but everything is escalating too quickly and Ali doesn’t seem to get it or she just doesn’t care…and she’s scared she really may not care, because if Ali doesn’t care she hasn’t changed and that means she’s been lying. Lying about everything, about them, about her feelings and Emily honestly doesn’t think she could survive that.

“Alison there is an innocent woman who warmly welcomed you into her home for an entire week scared shitless and crying because she feels like she failed you!” She’s in her face now, words tumbling uncontrollably out through the snarl on her face, “So please tell me again how the hell I’m the one who is overreacting!”

Ali glares back dangerously, giving her a look that would leave her skittering for shelter if this was two years ago..but it isn’t so Emily doesn’t stop, won’t stop until Ali see’s just how wrong she is, “People aren’t pieces on a chessboard Ali,  you can’t just move them around anyway you want, just so you can win.”

“This isn’t about winning Emily, this is about safety, this isn’t a game….Tanner is off our backs now. Why can’t you see that?” Alison is practically growling at her, and she’s just that much sexier when she’s angry and it’s fucking pathetic, it’s frustrating that Emily will never not want to kiss her and she hates herself. She hates herself, because it’s obvious now, more than ever that no matter what Ali does,what Emily does, who she’s with, no matter how she grows she will never be able to not want Alison DiLaurentis…and the thought breaks something inside of her.

And all of a sudden she is blinded by her own self pity and rage, and the words just tumble out of her mouth before she could even hope to stop herself

“If you think this was okay Ali you need serious fucking help, but even with that I’m pretty sure there aren’t enough prescription meds on earth that could save you from your brand of crazy!”

It was inevitable, Emily was eventually going to hit her breaking point and she knew it; everything has been building and building ever since Ali’s return, they kissed, she’s confused, A is back, Ali is lying, Hanna is drinking herself into liver failure, Ali doesn’t seem to care that the minute she found out what happened all she wanted to do was wrap her up in her arms and never let go, she doesn’t seem to care about anything at all and so Emily snapped.

She regrets the words as soon as they leave her mouth, they were wrong on so many levels and she needs Ali to say something, anything….curse her out for all she cares. But other than the thunderstorm it’s so incredibly silent in the room that you could hear a pin drop. Emily wishes she could take them back, she wishes she never said it in the first place but she did and it’s out in the open and Ali is looking at her like she’s slapped her, and fuck fuck fuck.

It’s when Alison’s eyes shoot up, and she begins to blink back tears does Emily finally unfreeze, it was like second nature to comfort Ali when she was hurting…even if she’s the reason why.


“I have to go now…” The blonde darts across the room before she could grab her with her head down, quickly grabbing her bag of clothes before making her way to the door.

“Ali please!”

“Goodnight Emily,” Her voice breaks and she’s out the door before Emily could even get a word in. Emily could practically hear the cracking in her chest as her heart crumbles because she has never in her life made Alison cry and despite all the tears she shed over the blonde, she never wants to again…

Alison doesn’t look at her for three days after that, and she doesn’t speak to her for an entire week…


The third time she says it, she actually starts to believe it…

It’s the heaving that wakes her up, in the haze that comes with interrupted sleep Emily doesn’t register what the sound is or where it’s coming from, she fails to care if she’s actually awake or not and lets her eyes flutter back closed, letting herself fall back into the comfort that comes with sleep.

Until she hears a whimper, and it has her shooting upright immediately, eyes darting across the rooms as they become accustomed to the darkness. Until her mind catches up with her body and she remembers where she is….Ali’s room.

She remembers that Mr. Dilaurentis is out of town for the weekend, as usual, and she offered to stay with the blonde. And It’s the blonde in question that breaks her out of her thoughts with another whimper. Emily looks down at the girl, watching as her chest heaves and how her fingers grip the sheets so tightly that her knuckles are white. Emily frowns concluding the she’s having a nightmare.

She reaches over and shakes her gently, but quickly realizes that was a mistake because it’s goes from bad to worse and Ali starts freaking out.

Nonononono, please…please stop….please” She’s crying now, her legs pushing her further up the bed as if she’s trying to get away from something and Emily’s heart aches.

She shakes her a little harder this time, “Ali…..Alison!” Emily almost lets herself breathe a sigh of relief when the blond shoots up, but then she pushes herself against the headboard and curls up, knee’s against her chest, sobbing.


As if Alison didn’t realize she was there, her head shoots up when she hears her voice, her blue eyes practically glowing in the dark room as they pierce her…and she stares gasping for air, stunned, before quickly squeezing her eyes shut tightly and whispering “Wake up Alison, wake up!” to herself.

Emily’s eyebrows furrow, she thinks she’s still dreaming, she shifts, moving to sit right in front of Ali facing her, the girl in between her legs, “Ali, you’re not sleeping…”

“Alison….” She keeps her voice calm, pushing the blonde’s sleep rustled locks out of her face and resting her forehead on Ali’s, feeling the chill of her sweat, “See…this is real I promise, I’m real….I’m right here.”

When Ali finally, slowly opens her eyes and tearfully looks at her, Emily smiles softly at the blonde.

She’s clutching her chest, “Em…? I-I can’t” gasp, “breath” gasp, “I c-can’t”  gasp,feelmylegs

“You’re panicking Ali, just try to breathe okay? Breathe with me…” Emily grabs Alison’s hand still forehead to forehead and places it over her chest, while she places her own hand over Ali’s hand that’s clutching her chest, she could she feel the blonde’s rapid heart beat.

“In,” She breathes in deeply and slowly, holding eye contact “Out.” She exhales and repeats, and repeats and repeats until Ali is vaguely breathing at a normal rate, and her shivering has died down considerably.

Emily doesn’t know how much time has passed, she doesn’t really care…she just keeps breathing with Ali, she keeps breathing until she can feel the blonde’s heartbeat return to regular, until she sighs dropping her head to Emily’s shoulder and she begins rubbing small circles into Ali’s back.

“Before…when I would wake up and you were here, it would only be because I was dreaming….” Even though she mumbles it into her shoulder, it still makes Emily’s heart flutter…because Ali actually dreams about her and it would be the best thing she’s heard in a long time if it weren’t for the circumstances she heard them in, because Ali just scared the crap out of her, and she can’t seem to get the absolute terror in the blonds voice as she begged for it to stop out of her head.

Ali scoots closer and snuggles into her, “You’re here now…”

“I am.”

They stay like that for while, Emily’s holding her closely and tightly and 100% willing to never let her go, but it doesn’t stop the thoughts running through her head, and it doesn’t stop her need to know.



“What were you dreaming about….?” Almost immediately the blonde tenses up in her arms, and slowly pulls away…and Emily silently berates herself, because she obviously just fucked up.

The look she gets from the blonde sends chills straight down her spine, it’s not the glare she was expecting, the glare that have brought people to their knees…instead her usually radiant blue are eyes are dull and empty and she just looks so incrediblyhaunted.

“I have to take a shower.” Ali’s eyes dart away as she unravels herself from Emily’s grasp, and she immediately misses the blonde’s warm embrace.

“What..?” Emily frowns in confusion at Alison’s abrupt change of pace, eyes following her every step as she crosses the room and grabs her towel.

“Ali what are you doing?” She quickly glances over the clock, “It’s 2 in the morning, just come back to bed.”

“No, I need-, I just really need to be clean right now.” Emily can see the way her hands shook with the towel in hand.

“Ali what’s wrong?” She sighs heavily, it’s like she can physically feel the ten steps back Ali is taking away from her, “Can you talk to me please?” please.

“I’ll be right back, you can go back to sleep in you want.” She deflects, stopping in the doorway of the bathroom, it’s light illuminating her and she looks back at Emily biting her lip nervously “Thanks for….helping me Em…”

And then she’s gone…again, slipping right through her fingers, leaving Emily in the dark to drown in her thoughts. She shakes her head, letting it drop into her hands. Fuck.

Ali is not okay, and she doesn’t know how to help her, she’s feels so fucking useless….She sighs once again before running both hands in through her hair before climbing off the bed to walk over to the bathroom door and plop down in front with her back to in it.

Emily lets her head fall back against the door, it creates a thud that she’s sure Ali won’t hear because she’s blasting the shower and she waits.

About 15 minutes pass before the shower finally shuts off, and Emily gets up to perch herself at the edge of the bed….she’s rather not get caught creeping by the bathroom door..even if it’s just because she’s concerned. When Ali comes out the she jumps a bit when she notices Emily on the bed, and her heart drops a little because the blonde actually expected her to go to sleep without her.

She’s still in her towel, dripping wet and Emily’s breath hitches at the sight in front of her, she doesn’t mean to stare, she really doesn’t, but she’s mesmerized by the way the water rolls down Ali’s neck.

When she notices Ali flush under her gaze, she quickly shakes her head and looks away. The tension is thick in the air as she slides up on the bed and lays down on her back; less then five seconds later Ali crawls into bed with her and Emily’s all too aware of the fact she didn’t put on any clothes, and that there is only a flimsy white towel between her and Ali’s naked body, and holy-shit why does she feel 14 again?



“Can you…” She takes a deep breath, obviously struggling with her words, “Can you hold me?”

She doesn’t even have to ask because Emily was going to do it anyway, and she does, spooning her tightly from behind, not caring about the fact Ali was still completely wet from head to toe, she holds her close and she kisses the top of Ali’s damp head.

“…Does this happen often, your nightmares?”

“Depends….” She replies and Emily hates how vague she is.

“Maybe you should… I don’t know talk to someone about them…like a professional?”

It’s a while before Ali answers, but when she does her voice is laced with the edge of sleep, “It’s too late for me Em…”


The fourth time she says it she’s serious…

It the morning before school, and she offered to drive Ali so here she is perched on the edge of her bed waiting for the blonde to finish getting ready.

“Hey Em, can you pass me the black booties, I think they’re in front of the closet.” Ali is sitting in front of her mirror, doing the finishing touches to her make-up

“Uhhh, yeah sure.” She walks over to the closet, opening it when she doesn’t see the shoes Ali wants, freezing in confusion when instead of shoes and clothes she finds blankets and pillows…like some sort of make-shift bed?

She picks up the pillow turning around to face the blonde, “Ali…what this?” She watches Ali’s face fall through the mirror, she sighs before she gets up and turns to face Emily.

She shrugs, crossing her arms, “It’s nothing Em.”

Here we go again, Emily rolls her eyes, it’s too early in the morning for this, “It’s obviously not nothing Alison, there is a makeshift bed in your closet and I’m not dumb.”

“Emily just forget about it please, I don’t want to argue.” Ali avoids her eyes and starts packing up her books that are spread all over her bed and putting them in her purse.

“Do you- do you sleep in there Ali?” Her heart crumbles at the thought, and when Ali pauses for a second before continuing to pack her purse, she know’s the answer…

Ali ignores her question and walks out the room without so much of a glance in her direction,“Come on Emily, we are going to be late.”

Emily groans as she angrily throws the pillow across the room in frustration, “Fuck!”

She walks over to the bed and grabs her bag, shoving her red French notebook she pulled out earlier to do some last minute studying in it and stomps out the room.

They don’t talk for the rest of the day, and when Emily is sitting in her room, she finds herself completely unable to even attempt to study because the only thing that’s on her mind is the blonde, as usual, and it’s driving her crazy.

She sighs, pulling out her French notebook eyebrows furrowing together in confusion when she opens it and instead of her french vocabulary, it’s calculus written it Ali’s loopy script. She grabbed the wrong red notebook this morning.

When she goes to a close it a folded up piece of loose-leaf falls on the ground, and when she picks it up she knows she should just shove it back in the notebook, but she can’t bring herself to, not when it has a sloppy red heart on the front.  Emily knows better…she really does, and holy-shit does she feel like shit as she unfolds the flimsy looseleaf.

Emily Fields is officially a bad person because of this and she has accepted that as fact, but she needs to know….she needs the truth about absolutely anything at this point more than she needs dignity. Whatever this may be.

She won’t lie, she’s a little disappointed, there isn’t much, it’s just a bunch of detached sentences …it doesn’t even look like a clear singular thought or that they were written at the same time, because it varies from blue to black ink. That however doesn’t stop the chills that run down her spine after she reads the first few sentences, because Ali writes stuff like I miss my mom”…and she when doesn’t think it could get worse, it does…

It becomes a cycle of thinking nothing can be worse…until it actually gets worse because Alison DiLaurentis is obviously not okay, and no-one has noticed.

_ ___

“You would think after finding out his only daughter is actually alive, he’d be home more….at least eat dinner with me.”


“Every time I look at  picture of my mom I want to throw up and break down crying simultaneously”


“I punched a hole in my wall today, actually feeling something for once felt good…even if it was pain.”


“It’s really hard to want to change when everyone is waiting for you to fuck up”


I think maybe being in love is the feeling I get in the pit of my stomach when she furrows her eyebrows. I don’t really know…


Emily just about taps out when she gets to the end of the page, she can’t even bring herself to turn it over. And the sick part of this is that Ali probably won’t even notice her tears drops on the pages, because it meshes it well with the dry ones already there.

She couldn’t even stop herself from driving over to Ali’s house if she tried, she just needs to see her and hug her and kiss her, because Ali misses her mom and gets butterflies when Emily furrows her eyebrows.

When she’s in front of Ali’s door waiting for her to answer, she doesn’t even care who may be inside because as soon as the doors swings open her lips are on Ali’s, she’s pushing her inside the house into the nearest wall so she could kiss the blonde senseless. And when they have to stop, because of that stupid basic human function known as breathing, Ali smiles at her shyly, “What was that for?”

They’re both breathless and Emily smiles back, putting the notebook in Ali’s lap “I thought maybe I should return this, considering you have a Calc quiz tomorrow.”

The blonde smirks at her slyly,  looking up at her through her long eye-lashes, “Are you sure that’s all?”

Emily’s smile grows, and the butterflies in her stomach grow wilder, she places a quick peck on Ali’s lips,“And I wanted to kiss you, because I don’t like when we don’t speak…”

Ali wraps her arms around Emily’s neck, pulling her down into another searing kiss, “Me either…”

And they kiss and kiss and kiss until their lips are all bruised, and their hair is tousled; only stopping because they need to eat. When they find themselves in the kitchen, eating Cocoa Puffs, Emily know’s she should bring it up, she knows she should…but she also knows it will pop the bubble they’re in, ruin the moment because Ali keeps looking down at her cereal and smiling stupidly to herself and she never wants this feeling to end.

But it’s so Ali stays this happy…so she has to. “Ali…”

“Yeah?” She’s still smiling, and Emily hates herself.

“I saw the paper, the one in your Calc book….I didn’t mean to I swear, it literally fell into my lap.” She watches Ali’s face crumble, the light leaving her eyes.

“What?” She replies sharply and the temperature in the room seems to have dropped considerably

“The paper in your notebook, I saw-”

“Get out!” She expected her to be pissed, but when Ali gets up and throws her bowl of cereal in the sink so hard it breaks…she knows she’s in for a shitty night(that she deserves). She just didn’t expect her to be this pissed.

“Ali stop, please just hear me out.”

“No, you had absolutely no right!” She turns to face Emily yelling, “First Spencer spying on me, now you?!?” Emily is stunned by the rage in her eyes “Did you expect to find my plans to ruin your life in there?!?”

“No, Ali I-”

“Get out Emily!” When she runs her hand through her hair leaving a streak of red, Emily notices the cut on her palm.

“Ali your hand…” She grabs it before Ali could pull away, “You must of cut it when you threw the bowl, it looks pretty deep.”

“I-I don’t care…just please leave…” It’s a stark difference from the Ali she was seeing 10 seconds ago, she sounds utterly defeated and Emily almost wishes she was pissed again.

“I will I promise, just let me take care of your hand first?” Its bleeding so much it’s dripping onto the floor.

Ali sighs, rolling her eyes, “Fine, hurry up.”

Later when Ali’s hand finally stops bleeding and they’re sitting at the table again, Ali’s hand in hers as see wraps it gently, she decides to speak again, “ Ali I’m sorry for invading your privacy.”

“I don’t wanna talk about it Em.” She looks completely exhausted.

“You never want to talk about anything Alison, at least not with me and I’m worried about you.”

“So you take it upon yourself to find out my secrets?” There’s venom in her voice and it stings.

“No Ali, I wasn’t looking for anything…it just kind of happened and I spent two years paying for your secrets so trust me I don’t want to know anymore..” Emily sighs, she just keeps digging herself deeper and deeper, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Can you just leave now please?” There’s still an edge to her voice as Ali pulls her hand away when Emily finishes, getting up and putting room in between them.

“Ali, if you can’t talk to me….maybe you should talk to someone else, a professional maybe?”

“I’m not crazy Emily.” And Emily knows she means, she’s not her mom.

“No you’re not, I’m not saying you are, but you’re also only human Ali, you can’t keep all that inside. It’s going to ruin you” Emily gets up and walks over to Ali, stopping right in front herself before she gets any closer, because there nothing else in the world she wants now other than to touch her and her hug but she can’t because she fucked up…

Alison looks down folding her arms, “I’m already ruined Em”

As she feels her heart aching for the blonde she decides fuck her fuck up, and she pulls Ali into a hug “No you’re not.” Relief washes over her when Ali relaxes into the embrace, and Emily holds her tighter.

She wants to say it, to say I love you…it’s right on the tip of her tongue because she does, she loves her so much it’s driving her crazy. And she knows she shouldn’t, no-one should love anyone this much…because it’s dangerous and all consuming and it hurts in the best and worst ways possible. After all this time, after everyone she’s loved…it has never measured up to the way she loved Ali and she’s terrified it never will. So instead of I love you, she settles for, “You’re not ruined because it as close as she can get right now…


When she says it for the final time, it’s in a blur of desperation…

Ali’s  at her house, dropping off a textbook…she’s radiating today, full of energy and Emily loves every second of it. A hasn’t harassed them in three days and they haven’t argued in a while. Even though Ali won’t admit it out loud, she’s excited about dinner with her dad tonight, she could see it in the way the blonde’s face lights up whenever it’s mentioned. So Emily’s mentions it every chance she gets…

“So what are you cooking for your dad tonight?” She’s stalling, she knows, she’s been so use to having the blonde around every night… she can’t help but feel a little bittersweet about it, even if it’s just one night.

“Well, he loves shrimp,” She shrugs, her face breaking out into that same smile she couldn’t stop all day. “So most likely that.”

“He’ll love it.” She states it simply, as fact, because he better love it and he better make up for lost time and make her smile…and be her dad, because Ali misses him so much and it’s painfully obvious in the way her face drops when he cancels plans and how she closes up when he tells her he won’t be home. Emily has been a little annoyed with Mr. DiLaurentis lately to be completely serious, where has he been?

“Thanks Em, I better get going if I have any chance of beating the rain.”

Emily frowns as she watches her walk out of her room, “Ali, wait!”

“Yeah…?” And as if the gods were listening, with a flash of lightning followed by the roar of thunder it’s starts pouring, it’s then that Emily decides maybe she should start going to church. “Let me drive you home, it’s pouring out there.”

Alison smiles gratefully, “Thanks.”

They’re in the car five minutes later driving toward Ali’s house, there aren’t many cars on the road, probably because of the flood warnings she was getting, but she’s grateful she stalled so much earlier, if she let Ali leave she could have gotten caught in the storm. “Imagine, if you had left 5 minutes earlier Ali…you’d be home nursing your pneumonia right now.”

“Yes, thank god Emily Fields rambles when she’s nervous.” Ali teases back, smirking and she could feel the heat rising to her face….she’s practically transparent to the blonde.

“I was not nervous.”

“You’re always nervous when we’re alone.” Emily swallows, her grip tightening on the steering wheel because she could feel the heat Alison’s eyes on her and it’s true.

She stops at a red light and looks at the blonde, biting her lip, “What’s not to be nervous about?” Smooth, she loves this, she loves the smile that breaks out of Ali’s face that illuminates her entire car and the giggle that follows that has her melting. She loves that they are flirting, and joking, and being normal teenagers who kiss a lot and sorta maybe are in love with each other(still figuring it out). She could get use to this, to being normal with Ali…to being with Ali. She wants to get use to it….

But nothing ever lasts does it?

Ali’s phone rings, and the light turns green.

“Hey Dad!” Emily could see that excited smile from the corner of her eye and it has her smiling.

“…..Oh.” Emily could see Ali’s face crumble from the corner of her eye and it has her frowning.

“No it’s okay, I understand…”

“Another time.”

“Okay Dad, have fun, love you too… bye.”

And just like that all the radiance has been drained from her car and she is left with this emptiness in her chest because nothing ever goes right, not for them.

“Ali…what happened?” He fucking canceled, again, that’s what happened and she hates him for it, she hates him with this incredible burning intensity that makes her want to turn this car around and drive to wherever the fuck he is to beat the absolute shit out of him because Ali’s not smiling anymore, and everything is shit. She needed this…she needed him….

Emily’s grip on the steering wheel tightens and her jaw locks..fuck him, fuck him, fuck him.


“Stop the car.” The lack of emotion in Ali’s voice sends chills down her spine.


“Stop. The. Car.” And Emily does, looking over at the blonde after she pulls over, “Ali what’s wrong?”

She doesn’t look at her though, instead she stares straight ahead…blankly, “I’m fine, Emily. I would just like to walk from here.”

“ Do you see how hard it’s raining right now?” Emily frowns, she doesn’t like that fact that there is no look in Ali’s eye whatsoever, she’s just empty….

“Thanks for the ride Em, I’ll see you tomorrow at school.” And before she even has a chance to answer, Ali’s out and walking away.

Emily sighs heavily, before turning off the ignition and quickly jumping out the car, “Ali!”

“Alison!” She calls, already soaked from the heavy downpour, her vision blurry from the water in her eye.

She’s sick of this. She’s sick of watching Ali walk away from her, she’s sick of watching her lose, she’s sick of watching her break…

You’re not fine!!!” She stops, yelling at the top of her lungs…she just can’t anymore.

Ali stops mid-step, but doesn’t turn around. “You’re not okay Ali, so stop fucking lying to me!” She could feel the emotion forcing it’s way out.

“You sleep in the closet sometimes, and you have nightmares that are so terrifying you wake up having panics attacks! You miss your mom and you miss you dad and you’re not fine.” Ali’s silence just urges her on, Emily could feel a familiar tightening in chest and stinging behind her eyes as she continues.

“And you won’t to talk to anyone about anything, and if you are talking about something it’s only about A.” She swallows back tears to no avail because she’s crying now,“I can feel you slipping away Ali, everything is eating you alive and you refuse to let me help you!” Her voice cracks, “I’m losing you…”

She draws in a sharp breath, it’s getting harder and harder to speak through the tears,“I’m losing you and I can’t, not again…it’s been two years and I just got you back, I can’t lose you again Ali…please I’m in lo-” Emily slaps her hand over her mouth, sobbing and she can’t even continue because all she knows is that she’s crying so hard she can barely stand.

Less than three seconds later a body is slamming into her so hard she has to take two steps back to keep from falling, and she wrapped up in Ali’s arms burying her head in her soaked blonde hair,“Sshhhhh, I’m sorry, I’m sorry...don’t cry.”

She can hear the tears in Ali’s voice too and holds her tighter, “I’m in love with you Alison, I love you so much and I-I can’t lose you.” She sobs into Ali’s neck, pulling her impossibly close.

Ali pulls away looking, searching her tearful eyes, “You won’t…I promise…”

She shakes her head,because she’s can’t accept that “Talk to someone Ali….please?” She’s shivering from the rain and she know’s she looks like a desperate mess but she doesn’t care because she’s desperately in love with Ali and she needs her to be okay.

“Okay,” Ali sighs putting their foreheads together,”…okay, I will.”

She doesn’t know how long they stand there in the rain holding eachother, but when they part it’s in silence, when they walk back to the car holding hands it’s in silence, and when they sit it’s in silence…it’s silent for the longest time and Emily doesn’t know what to say.

But doesn’t she have to, because it’s Alison who breaks the silence first,

“I’m in love with you too…”

And her heart grows and grows and grows, because everything isn’t shit and Ali loves her too.

She smiles at Ali, “Yeah…?”

And Ali smiles back, nodding shyly.

It’s all she needs to lean over the console and kiss her till they can’t breathe.


Two weeks later, she’s shopping with Hanna when she get’s a text from Ali.

I scheduled an appointment with a therapist.

And she breaks out in this stupid smile that she knows she can’t stop even if she tried because she’s so incredibly proud, and why hide that?

She texts back I love you. because she does, and she’s pretty sure she always will…


To celebrate the autumn equinox, I wrote a mini ficlet that takes place in the pastel witch Hux/monster Kylo au. Enjoy~


A chilling breeze ghosted through the forest, carrying leaves of reds, oranges, and browns with it. The creatures were gathering the last of the food they could find in preparation for the harsh winter to come. Among them was a monster shrouded in darkness blacker than night, following close to a most peculiar red headed witch.
“What are you doing?” came Kylo’s deep voice.
“Honoring the dead,” Hux replied sweetly, setting acorns and pine cones among the unmarked graves.
“This is where witches before me were slaughtered,” Hux explained. “A nasty, bloody thing. But they paved the way in dark magick for witches like me. It’s only proper I pay them my respects, and request their blessings.”
Hux reached into his satchel and pulled out some oil he made, pouring it out on the large oak that was said to contain the spirits of the witches who died here, their last spell cast to contain their power.
“Here,” Hux called, handing out an acorn for Kylo.
He eyed it suspiciously and sniffed it while still in Hux’s hand, then carefully took the small thing into his large hands and crouched down next to him. Carefully, Kylo set the acorn at the roots of the tree among Hux’s own.
While they crouched there Kylo reached out to feel Hux’s clothing.
He wore a silk yellow blouse tucked into brown trousers with black boots. His ears and wrists and neck were adorned with blue and yellow stones; sapphires, lapis lazuli, and yellow agates.
“Why these?” Kylo asked, playing with the agates.
Hux smiled and looked up at him.
“To match your eyes.”
Hux then stood up and brushed off his trousers, adjusting his satchel back into a more comfortable position.
“Come now, let’s return home and make some wine,” he said, holding his hand out to Kylo.
They walked hand in hand back to the cottage occasionally stopping so that Hux could gather more seeds and herbs, the cool autumn breeze carrying them all the way home.

I Thought You Were Different: Book 2 (Part 32/?) (Rogers x reader)

Part 31

“Second son of Rogers, you’re not even giving it your best effort,” Thor snickered at the infant that he had laid so carefully on the floor next to Mjolnir.  “Your mother can wield it, therefore the likelihood that you might is great.  But we will never know if you do not try.”

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Preference #19 Road Trip

Scott: Spontaneity was Scott McCall’s trademark; he thrived on the tranquil serenity of mundane life, relishing in the opportunity to create cherished memories without a supernatural disturbance. He just wanted to be a teenager, he just wanted to live. He’d whisked you away from the warmth of your quilt cocoon with compassionate kisses and a cryptic promise of remembrance. 2:00 AM flickered across the digital dashboard clock; Scott’s rich soothing voice coaxing a stream of endearment to devour your heart as he sang along to Blink 182, his favorite band, as it arose from the Dodge Neon speakers. The dashboard lights illuminated the contours of his handsome face; allowing you, even in the darkness, to recognize each of his charming genetic endowments. An adorable smitten smirk quirked the corner of your mouth, thumb caressing his strong hand as you lovingly admired your boyfriend. “What?” He questioned with that signature lopsided grin that made you weak in the knees. “I love you.” You shrugged, setting your head on the headrest as he tore his attention from the road. “I love you.” He reiterated, adjusting the navigational GPS so he could remain en route. “Where are we going?” You questioned watching the bright nightlife of a sizable city pass the passenger window. “You’ll see. We should be there by morning. Get some rest, beautiful.”

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