#we’ll see what frames I find at michaels tomorrow

[piraticoctopus]

The mantis print I ordered from @sinobug arrived this morning and I’m like stupid excited to get it framed and up on my wall

#this isn’t an ad but #i got one of the mantis collages #of which I have several of the individual shots already saved in my references folder lol #so I saw it on the shop and was like !!! #not sure if I wanna put in the extra 100+ bucks for framing and mat #we’ll see what frames I find at michaels tomorrow #i would’ve ordered it pre-framed but I wanted to be sure it’s non-reflective #OP #bugs #insects

[caramelcal]

His Favorite Secret.

“I’m tired of being your secret.”

You can find the rest of the prompts here.

i really took this and ran with it huh...IT’S 4.3K WORDS

warnings: mentions of sex, gangs, alcohol, bondage

kinda obsessed with this gang!luke idea. also, i’m not sure if i wanna make “bambi” the reader or an oc, it works as either i believe? bambi is a nickname btw and i honestly feel like making more parts based on this concept tbh 

kinda wanna make another part LMAO idk what i’d do it on though </3

Luke was better to her than anything you could possibly expect. He was surprisingly gentle when it came to her, hugging and caressing her that seemed impossible for the way he was and the life he lived. People saw Luke as the 6-foot-odd man that could rip you apart without an issue, without even breaking a sweat but he was so much more than that.

He was so much more than the leather jacket-wearing gangster that everyone depicted him as; heartless and stoic. He was a great lover if he let people in, and she had never been loved that way with anyone before. Surely though, with his life, there were complications to their relationship.

He was different from other people, more violent, more dangerous. The gang, which was run by Luke and three of his closest friends, Calum, Ashton and Michael, was well-known and feared among many, but they were left alone by the police. The police were aware that they existed, but they didn’t do anything about it. There were more cons to arresting them than there were pros.

Luke’s life made everything very interesting. He was rich, of course, and after a while of them dating she had moved into his condo. It was massive, bigger than any house she had ever lived in before and it was just for the two of them. It was a luxurious life that she had not experienced before, and she was still getting used to it.

If there was one thing about Luke that she had learned, it was that buying her things was his love language. He never had been great at the romantic side of their relationship considering he hadn’t had a girlfriend in a long time and normally just had one-night stands, but he tried his best. That didn’t meant that he ever softened up during sex, though. 

Another thing about his life that made stuff interesting was that Luke had to drop things for work. Sometimes stuff would go wrong on a run, or other gangs would try stuff with them and he would have to leave. It was understandable, but still frustrating for her, especially the one time where an emergency had occurred right in the middle of them having sex.

Luke had been very busy the past few weeks, having to deal with numerous issues with the gang and barely having enough time to spend with the needy girl who craved his attention. There had been issues in the club, that was what he had said, but he didn’t go into much detail on the matter, he never did. He liked to keep his relationship and gang life very separate from one another. 

A lot of the mornings this week she had woke up alone, void of the warmth she liked to cuddle into in the morning. At least she was getting him all to herself this weekend, she thought. After barely spending anytime with her that weekend, Luke had promised they would spend the weekend together, even if the club was set on fire. Calum, Ash and Mike will deal with it. 

“Bambi?” The nickname fell from his lips when he stepped in the front door. She brought her eyes up to look at him, happiness filling her features. She hadn’t been expecting him home for another few hours, but she definitely wasn’t complaining.

Running over to him, she jumped, knowing full well that he would catch her as her arms wrapped around his neck. Her head snaked into the nape of his neck, comfortingly taking in the scent of her favorite person, his arms holding her protectively close to his body. They were alone, thankfully enough. After all, she really hadn’t thought out her jumping hug because her short skirt had ridden up, showing off her underwear which Luke most definitely would be furious if anyone but him saw.

“Welcome home,” She whispered into his neck, hand coming up to play with the hair on the back of his neck. Her eyes fluttered, eyelashes tickling the skin on Luke’s neck as he rubbed her back, taking in the comfort of having the smaller girl in his arms.

He walked forward so that he was fully in the house, using his leg to kick the door shut behind him before walking towards the middle of the room near the couch. He slowly lowered himself until he was sitting down on the plush cushions, the girl now in his lap, still being held closely.

“Bambi?” Luke started, making sure that the girl was listening, to which she hummed into the side of his neck, not willing to move just yet, “I know you wanna hug and kiss and stuff right now but we don’t have much time to pack your bags, you have to stay at the safe house for a few days.”

Almost immediately, the warmth of her face was gone from his neck, and her hands were no longer playing with his hair. She was still held tightly on his lap, mostly because he held her there with a semi-firm grip, her looking up at him with furrowed eyebrows and sad eyes.

This wasn’t the first time this had happened. In fact, it had happened quite a few times and each time it made her rather frustrated. She had to remove every single piece of evidence that she even existed in the apartment, and get hidden away in a safe house for the entire weekend, on the edge of town, where she wasn’t allowed to leave until Luke got her himself.

She hated the safe house.

“But you said-”

“Bambi,” Luke cut her off rather firmly, sending her a look which she knew meant that there were no arguments in this. She almost wanted to whine, to argue with Luke and tell him that he said this was going to be their weekend together, just them, no gang stuff, but now she wasn’t even going to get to see him at all this weekend, “I need to have a few low levels over to go over plans, and they’ll be over tomorrow which means we can’t let them know you’re here or that you exist. They still can’t fully be trusted yet, which means that they could be moles and I’m not putting you at risk for that.”

His speech was ended in a soft tone, looking down at her with a small amount of sadness for the girl. His hand comfortingly raked through her hair, piercing blue eyes looking at her but her eyes stay looking down. Slowly, without saying anything, she climbed off of his lap and started to retreat to their bedroom.

“Bambi? Where you goin, baby?” He called out, looking at the girl who stopped in her tracks, looking over her shoulder.

“I’m packing. That’s what you wanted me to do, was it not?”      

Not many words were exchanged afterward with the girl silently packing away every aspect of her life into two duffle bags. She wasn’t even allowed to properly live in her own house, no decorations, photos in frames, nothing. Everything she owned had to be easily removable so it looked like she didn’t even exist in her own home.

Luke watched her from the bedroom door, leaning against the frame coolly as he analyzed her movements. He knew she was frustrated, but she had to know he was doing this to protect her, she should have anyway. Rather harshly, she finally zipped up the duffle bags, throwing them over her shoulder and walking straight past Luke without acknowledging him.

He understood that she was frustrated, but was she really angry at him?

She was quickly at the door, grasping at the handle when Luke had snapped out of his thoughts, walking over to her quickly with ease, taking a grip on her arm.

“You okay?”

“Dandy,” She replied bluntly, looking away from the slightly concerned man, almost as if she was itching to get away from him. Normally, even if she wasn’t happy about being sent away to the safe house, she still gave him a goodbye kiss, but it appeared that he wasn’t going to get one of those tonight, “Gotta go. Wouldn’t want to keep Jacob waiting, would we?”

She walked out of the apartment without another word, but Luke’s eyes were on her retreating figure, “We’ll speak about this on Sunday, okay baby?”

He barely even seen the nod that she sent him before she disappeared down the hallway.

. . . “Please, Jacob,” She pleaded with the driver, with puppy eyes and everything but he tried his best to remain stony-faced. Jacob was the only driver that Luke trusted Bambi with, he had grown up with the boys too, childhood friends with Michael apparently, who Bambi had never even met before.

Jacob was the leading driver for the gang, one of the getaway drivers for bigger and more important heists or events, but normally he just got called in for private transport of any important members of the gang. He, as well as practically anyone who had ever met the girl, had a soft spot for her, and she knew that.

“You do realize if I take you there that I am directly disobeying orders of the leader of one of the biggest gangs in California?” He asked ridiculously, shaking his head with his hands placed firmly on the wheel.

“Jacob-”

“No,” He replied firmly, looking at the girl through the rearview mirror, seeing her begging eyes and sad face.

The man knew that everything was frustrating for the girl, especially when she had to get up and move out of her own house just so that Luke could host meetings and debriefings for the gang.

“Please, Jacob. I’m going to be cooped up in a safe house for three days without talking to anyone, at least let me go to Anna’s for a few hours. She’s been my best friend since I was three, she’s trustworthy.”

The black-haired man didn’t reply for several moments, and a frown fell onto the girl’s face before he started to signal off the highway. It was a familiar road, the one that she had taken many times before to her best friend’s house, and honestly, she had never been happier to see it. At least she would get some enjoyment this weekend.

“Thank you so much, Jacob, just tell me how I can repay you,” The girl said once she was out of the car, bouncing lightly in excitement while she stared at the man who was still inside the car.

He gave her a small smile, one that showed he knew how much appreciation she felt towards him before his eyes turned to the door behind her, “Just enjoy yourself and make sure he doesn’t fire me for this.”

“Consider it done.”

It was nice to see Anna again, it had been two weeks since their last meet up and they had both missed each other greatly. Anna was drinking alcohol, but the smaller girl wasn’t. It wasn’t like she was afraid of what Luke would say if she did, because she certainly wasn’t afraid of Luke, but even though she was angry she didn’t want to disappoint him.

Not that she had exactly abided by his rules anyway, considering she was with Anna right now instead of locked inside the safe house. The safe house had slowly become the girl’s own personal prison, it was bare, bland, and had nothing for her to entertain herself, and there was no company. That’s what she hated most about it, the lack of social interactions she could have while she was in there.

“-we were talking about the weather and shit right? Then he asked to see my tits! I was like are you being serious right now?” Anna rambled on, talking about another failed love interest that had been using her for her body. Anna never seemed to be lucky in the dating apartment of life, but she was a successful girl, and a beautiful one at that, she would get there. 

“Was he?”

Anna scoffed, taking another drink of her alcohol, “Yeah! He blocked me after I sent him pictures of minecraft chests and asked him what ones were his favourite.”

The smaller girl let out a laugh, looking at her best friend who had a sly grin on her face, trying to hide it with the glass in her hands. 

“Speaking of guys though, how’s Mr. Hemmings then?” Anna jokingly asked the girl, cocking an eyebrow with a smirk on her face, swaying to the music that was loudly playing in the background.

“He’s good, I mean he’s doing good,” The smaller girl quickly corrected herself before her dirty-minded friend could make a joke about their sex life or ask about it. Anna hummed lightly, still smug and still swaying to the music, “I was supposed to be going to the safe house, but I’m here instead, I don’t think he’s very happy.”

“Girl, you’ve been here for nearly two hours!” Anna cried out in shock, eyes wide at the clear defiance that the small girl had for her 6-foot-odd gang leader boyfriend.

“And?”

“He’s bound to know by now! He’s not going to bust through my doors with his gang and shoot the place down is he?”

The girl shrugged lazily in reply, letting some of her hair fall in front of her face as she smiled at her friend, “Yeah he does know, he’s been blowing up my phone for an hour and a half.”

Anna fell dramatically against the back of the couch, hand still tight around her glass of lemonade and pink gin. Her free hand was laying across her forehead with her eyes shut, “Oh please tell me you’ve replied.”

“Nope.”

“Oh come on, I really like my door, believe it or not, I don’t want him or any of his gang members kicking it down!” Anna cried out, giving her best friend a pout to which she just laughed lightly in response.

“He won’t knock your door down, he probably won’t even come. He’s too busy debriefing his gang to even spend time with me and instead shipped me out of the house. Why does he care whether it’s yours or the safe house?”

However, she couldn’t have been more wrong because less than ten minutes later they heard a roaring engine speeding down the road. Anna, who shared a quick look with the smaller girl, got up and looked out the window, seeing no other than Luke gets out of his very expensive sports car and towards the house, “Guess you were wrong.”

He threw the door open, thankfully not breaking it down, his eyes quickly landing on the small girl, grabbing her and pulling her off of the couch, planting her by his side. His grip was tight on either side of her hips, almost as if it was a warning to stay by his side and cooperate for once in her life.

“Anna,” His accented voice wrung through the room as he gave the blonde a curt nod. She waved back awkwardly, maybe too hazed by the alcohol in her system to stay anything intelligible back, and Luke seemed to realize this, “don’t stay up too late, get a good sleep, okay?”

“Aye captain, yes sir,” She saluted him back with a smile on her lips, almost diffusing the tension in the room but it was barely a second later where Luke’s grip retightened on his girlfriend’s hips.

“Okay, good night.” He bid her farewell, walking out of the house with his slightly anxious girlfriend behind him. It seemed as if suddenly she was filled with regret and guilt, especially after seeing how angry Luke was with her.

“It isn’t Jacob’s fault I-” She started when the door shut behind them, the cold wind of the night surrounding her.

“Don’t,” He spoke gruffly, turning around to look down at her with angry blue eyes before grabbing onto her wrist and dragging her over to his car.

Luke hadn’t even locked his car when he had rushed inside to Anna’s house, not that he would be too bothered anyway, it wasn’t like anyone was going to steal the gang leader’s car, especially not in this neighborhood. He didn’t speak another word to the girl as he took her around to her side of the car, letting her get in before he leaned over and strapped her in, closing the door without a single word and getting in his own side.

He started the car up and the only noise heard in the car was the engine as it roared to life and they began to speed down the street. His blond hair was messy, jaw ticking with his eyes glued to the road, never once straying to the girl in the passenger’s seat. Her eyes, however, never strayed from him, picking up every sign that he was furious with her. His posture was rigid, he was impatient, breathing loudly and not even acknowledging her existence beside her; he was seething.

She wasn’t sure if they arrived too fast or too slow to the safe house honestly. Luke still didn’t utter a word, getting out of the car and slamming the door behind him. She knew not to move already, she knew that Luke didn’t want her to move and honestly she didn’t want to aggravate him further.

True to her belief, Luke opened her car door, undoing her seatbelt before pulling her out of the car. His eyes didn’t stay on her as he stormed into the house, a tight grip on the smaller girl’s wrist. She tried to get his attention, for him to say anything to her as he entered the house but it appeared he wasn’t in the mood to talk.

The main room was still dark, but just the feeling of being in here makes her feel sick. She wasn’t overexaggerating when she said how much she hated the safe house. It felt as if she was defeated, back where she didn’t want to be, somewhere she hated, and with her boyfriend furious at her.

In the time that she had been thinking of how much she loathed the building she stood in, Luke had let go of her wrist and wordlessly made his way towards the front door again. The thought of him leaving her here, frustrated and alone all weekend made annoyance bubble in her stomach and before she can help herself she’s shouting over at him, “So that’s it? Are you just going to lock me in here and leave again?”

Luke stilled, but he doesn’t bother to reply or even look at his girlfriend, just standing there like a statue. She can’t find it in herself to regret the words that come out of her mouth, especially after she awaits the nonexistent reply, causing annoyance to bluster in her stomach. Her eyes roll and her arms flail slightly before they slap against her thighs with a low scoff falling out of her lips, “Typical.”

“Excuse me?” Luke turned around, his voice hard and powerful, one that would normally make her shake, make her look up at him with wide eyes unsure of what to say. Their eyes meet, his blue piercing into hers. He took a step forward, tilting his head slightly with an eyebrow raised, almost as if he’s encouraging her to repeat what she had said moments before, “What did you say, Bambi?”

Her mouth was agape as she stuttered lightly, any feeling of bravery that she had mere seconds ago fizzling away into nothingness. Her eyes darted from one of his eyes to the other, looking at the expectant and slightly smug face as he looked at the stuttering girl in front of him. She tried her best to find the right words to say but she had, ultimately, been rendered speechless.

“Come on, if you’re so big and brave, baby, why don’t you speak up a little? Tell me what you said.” He walked towards her until he’s right in front of her, chests barely ten centimeters apart. Two of his fingers make their way under her chin, pushing her face up until she had no other choice but to look him in the eye, holding her face in such a way that she can’t move easily.

Silence filled the room once more, simply with the two of them staring at one another. Luke stared down at her with a slight smugness and with her looking up at him still frozen almost. When he does talk next, he muttered quietly, almost condescendingly with anger trailing in his voice, “You ruined an important meeting tonight all because you couldn’t follow a simple instruction-”

“Well, believe it or not, I don’t like to be locked up in a house for days on end like a caged animal,” She doesn’t even register that she’s speaking until she’s finished, the words flowing out of her mouth cutting off Luke’s lecture.

“This house is to keep you safe,” His grip on her jaw doesn’t loosen at this point in time, blue eyes swimming with rage. In all of their time together, he doesn’t remember his Bambi giving him this much attitude or a time where she’s tried to argue with him like this. Sure, there were times where they had disagreements or times where there had been a little bit of attitude but he had quickly sorted that out.

“I was safe at Anna’s and I was happy. Isn’t that what you want? For me to be happy?” Her voice is quiet, bottom lip threatening to quiver. She hated how she cried whenever she got frustrated, and right now she’s barely holding back from her eyes becoming glassy. She’s frustrated and annoyed, but she doesn’t want to look like a baby right now, especially when this was her first fight with Luke.

“Don’t try and guilt trip me now, Bambi. It isn’t going to work tonight.”

“I hate it here! I hate constantly having to move into this stupid fucking house where I have nothing to do and no one to talk to! It doesn’t even fucking have wifi or anything! It’s dumb and all because you’re paranoid!” After she finished shouting, she ripped her head out of his hold, standing back and away from him, back coming in contact with the marble counter of the kitchen island.

Her arms are crossed over her chest, and as Luke processed her words, he shook his head. His next words are low, like it’s a warning, “Don’t shout at me like that.”

“I’m not-”

“Listen here, doll, because I’m only going to tell you this once,” Luke doesn’t even let her finish before he’s talking. His voice is forceful and strong, something he normally reserved for when his men do something stupid like ruin a drug run, “You don’t call the shots here, I do. I’m in a gang and there are a lot of people that would put a bullet in your pretty little skull just to get to me,” He pressed a finger against her temple, hard enough for her to feel the pressure but not enough for it to hurt her, “People die in this lifestyle and I send you here so it doesn’t happen to you. Don’t tell me that I’m paranoid because I’m trying to keep you safe.”

“I get it, I do-”

“Then why won’t you just do what I say?”

“Because I’m tired of being your secret.” She whispered, looking up at Luke’s blue eyes sadly, tears gathering in her own eyes. His head dipped a little, shifting his weight onto his hands which are on either side of her, trapping her against the kitchen’s island counter.

It took Luke a few seconds to finally muster up words, and just from his tone she can tell that he’s disappointed, maybe in himself, maybe because of how she thought of their relationship, “You aren’t my-”

“Then why have I never met Cal? O-Or Mikey? Why is the only time I’ve ever met Ashton an accident? And why do you constantly send me away even if it’s only people you trust going to be there? And-”

“Bambi,” Luke groaned lightly but got cut off straight away when the girl continued to rant, barely even realizing that he had tried to cut her off.

“This was supposed to be our weekend and you just sent me away. I was so excited to finally get a whole weekend of you to myself but no, I was shipped off to this shithole again-”

“This was all because you just wanted me to yourself?” Luke asked incredulously, an eyebrow raised at the girl whose eyes snapped up to meet his.

“That’s what you want, Bambi? You got it.” Luke said, his eyes staying on hers, never wavering as he commanded. He pushed back, hands off the counter and now standing at his full height, towering over her with his eyes never leaving hers, “Hands out. Now.”

“Luke what-”

Her eyes frantically search his face, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. She can feel her heart rate pick up, beating loudly in her chest.

“No, Bambi. You’ve done plenty talking tonight. No talking unless I ask you a question, got it?”

She nodded her head, gulping down the thickness in her throat as a thick leather wrapped around her wrists, constricting them. Her mouth parted slightly, she hadn’t even seen or heard Luke take off his belt, but now she can’t even part her hands anymore.

His head dropped to her neck and she can feel her stomach flutter simply by his breath fanning over the skin on her neck. His hand made its way up to the nape of her neck, grabbing a handful of hair and yanking on it so her neck is fully exposed to him, “You’ve me all to yourself tonight, Bambi. And you’re all mine.”

#luke hemmings 5sos #luke hemmings #luke hemmings x you #luke hemmings x y/n #luke hemmings x reader #luke hemmings x oc #5sos #5sauce #5 seconds of summer #5 seconds of summer x reader #5 seconds of summer x oc #gang!luke hemmings x oc #gang!luke hemmings #gang!luke hemmings x reader #mafia!luke hemmings #mafia!luke hemmings x oc #mafia!luke hemmings x reader

[greenisnowevenmoredisgusting]

Michael Myers x Tow Mater

It’s a cold and rainy night on October 18th. All the patients at Smith's Grove Warren County Sanitarium have just settled down to rest. All patients except one. Michael Myers’ thoughts are racing. Tomorrow will be his birthday.

‘Oh boy, tomorrow is my birthday!’ thought Michael excitedly, ‘I hope Dr. Loomis dies a gruesome, slow, and painful death! What a wonderful birthday surprise that shall be for me, Michael Myers, the birthday boy! ’

"Hey Michael…"

‘Who said that?’ though Michael tilting his head as he stares at the window of the door. There he sees the face of a lovely old woman. She is wearing her gray hair up in a bun and small wire frame glasses rest on her slightly arched nose.

"Pssss Michael! It’s me! The birthday fairy!" she sings.

‘Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy,' Michael Myers jumps up and down excitedly like a kid in a candy store.

"I am here to grant birthday wishes to my sweet boy, Michael."

Michael Myers squeals with joy. He knew exactly what he wanted.

‘Oh beautiful birthday fairy, I wish for three things. ’ Though Michael.

"Speak up, sonny. I can’t read your damn mind, oh beautiful baby boy."

Michael bows his head in apology and rushes to his bed to pull out a small piece of paper from underneath his pillow. On the paper was a small list of three things.

MICHAEL MYERS’ BIRTHDAY LIST

1. Dr. Loomis dies horrifically

2. To be free

3. A lover with an ass that don’t quit 💨🥴

Michael Myers bashfully hands over the paper to the Birthday Fairy through the bars of his cell. "Oh my goodness, Michael! What a wonderful list! Consider it done. Now rest your head, and when you wake up in the morning, all your wishes will come true.

When Michael woke up, he wasn’t in his cell and he was no longer wearing his clothes from Smith’s Grove but instead his old blue coveralls. ‘Where am I? Am I moving? ’

Michael sat up and saw that, yes, he was indeed moving. He’s in the passenger seat of a vehicle. When he looked over to see who was driving, it was to his horror to find out that there was nobody there in the driver's seat. The only thing that sat in the driver's seat was his old white mask that he’d taken off before bed. It was the only thing he was allowed to have in his cell at Smith’s Grove. He grabbed it and slipped it on.

"Rise ‘n shine birthday boy!" Cries out a voice with an accent straight out of the back woods.

"Well shoot sorry there buddy I done forgot to introduce myself. I’m Tow Mater. We've got a lot to do today! We’ll be at our destination in less than a minute."

They pull up to a red light, and low and behold, there was Dr. Loomis crossing the road.

"Happy birthday Michael!" cried out Tow Mater as he gunned it for the oblivious doctor. Crash. Loomis is reduced to roadkill.

"Wanna hit up Golden Corral?"

"Yes, my copper king."

Michael had spent the last 15 years in total silence until that moment.

"Woah, you sound like a thousand angels singing from up above."

While at the Golden Corral, Michael Myers bonds with Tow Mater.

"…and that’s how my bestest friend in the whole wide world won the piston cup!"

Michael Myers applauds his new friend’s story. Mater smiles widely at Michael.

"Thank you, thank you."

Michael stops his clapping.

"Anyone ever told you that you’re cute?" Mater asks sheepishly.

Michael answers Mater with a shake of the head, "No."

"What a shame. Anyways, Michael, let’s head out. "

When Mater and Michael were back on the road, there was nothing but silence.

"I hope I didn’t offend you with what I said back there." Mater said, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

"No…" Michael said, almost inaudibly, "…I think you’re cute too. "

"Aw shoot! Why thank you."

Michael gives out a grunt in response.

They pulled up into a park. Not a single person was in sight. Mater and Michael had the park to themselves. Michael steps out of Mater and walks to the front of the truck to face him. He has a seat in the dew covered grass and pulls off his mask.

"God you’re gorgeous, Michael."

Michael felt his cheeks grow red. Michael didn’t know what to say.

Mater drives a little closer to Michael and the two lock lips.

Michael can taste Dr. Loomis’ blood still on Mater’s lips. The two remain lip-locked in a heated passionate kiss until something unexpected happens.

POW

"Oops, sorry I backfired a little." Mater says bashfully.

"Don’t apologize." Michael tells him, placing a finger on his lips to slush him, "I’ve always wanted a lover with an ass that doesn’t quit."

Mater backfires again. He moans a little.

"I want you to tow on my truck till I Mater." Mater says lustfully, as he playfully bites the finger being used to sush him.

After many hours of passionate love making in the park, the two finally wear out.

"God, you’re good." Huffs Mater as a naked Michael Myers falls back into the grass below. The two rest there for a few minutes in peace until sirens interrupt them.

"We have you surrounded. Put your hands up."

Out come several cops from every angle, all armed with guns.

"Oh no…" cried Mater.

Michael quickly remasks himself and stands up with both his hands and penis in the air. Officers closed in on them and swiftly apprehended Michael.

"You have the right to remain silent and anything you say can and will be used against you."

One year later…

Michael has fallen back into silence ever since his reincarceration the previous year on his birthday. He had been given word that Mater was sentenced to the car crusher for the murder of Dr. Loomis. Today would have been their one year anniversary. His birthday was so amazing last year, but he supposes that this year’s will have to be just as lonely as all the ones before.

"Hey Michael, you’ve got a phone call," says one of the guards.

They take him to the phone, and he holds it to his ear.

"Happy birthday, darlin’."

Tears welled up behind his mask. He was glad the guards couldn’t see his face from behind his mask.

"I’ll be seeing you real soon. Hang in there. "

And just like that, Mater was gone. It was a short reunion, but Michael didn’t care because he knew his Tow Mater was coming for him.

#slashers #slasher #slash fanfiction #michael myers #halloween #cars #tow mater #horror #halloween kills #horror movies

[murderousginger]

She’s A God - Part 2

Peaky blinder fic (Part 1 here)

Masterlist

Warnings: Sass. Alcohol. They’re criminals guys, they do bad things.

Word count: 3,954

Finn was standing at your desk, shyly smiling down on you exactly ten minutes after your shift ended on Monday. Most of the women had packed up and left quickly, shooting odd glances at you as you continued working past the bell. You might as well do more work as you waited for the boy.

Finn's face was flushed and he looked like he had just ran there -- probably from whatever errands his brothers had him on. His clothes were slightly baggy, probably to give him room to grow in, and his hat hung off his head at an angle that gleamed the razor sewn into the cap. Your face broke into a warm smile as you stood up from your desk. 

"Hello Finn, I'm (Y/N)," you said as you extended your hand to him. 

He smiled and shook it, surprise etched on his face you even offered. 

"Hello Miss (Y/N), Tommy told me to meet you here for lessons?" Finn fidgeted as you took his shoulder and guided him into Tommy's office, grabbing a book from your desk at the last moment. Tommy had been elsewhere most of the afternoon, so there was no awkward passing after his housewarming, thankfully.

"Shelly told him a woman had snuck into his study," Lizzie whispered to you at lunch, her face a mix of amusement and annoyance. "He had bought a London whore for the occasion and thought it might have been her. Imagine his surprise to find you there. Shelly knew it was you, of course. Jealousy looks ugly on all women."

"Yes," you said, trying to keep a kind tone. The poor boy seemed nervous and out of place. "Your brother said you had trouble with reading and asked if I could help. Is that alright with you, Finn?"

Finn looked at the floor and shuffled his feet. 

"I don't have no issues with reading," he grumbled. "The letters and words rearrange and get all weird sometimes. I can read."

"I have no doubts you can, Finn," you reassured as you motioned to one of the two chairs in front of Tommy's desk. "You seem like a bright boy. Maybe you can just read some of this book to me, then? You'll be doing me a favor, really. Tommy said he would pay me to help you out. And I brought candy, so any page you read, I can give you some."

You pulled a handful of hard candies from your pocket as you sat down next to Finn. He eyed you cautiously. 

"They treat me like a baby," he said. "I'm not. You shouldn't treat me like a baby, either. I'm 16. I've cut people. I'm a Blinder."

"I have no intention of treating you like a child," you said solemnly as you looked out the door and leaned into Finn conspiratorially. "I just thought, since you have no issues with reading, we could sit here and read together, eating sweets, and tricking that brother of yours out of money. You help me with this, and I'll happily bring you cookies tomorrow."

Finn leaned in with his brows raised. 

"Cookies?"

"Any kind you like," you said as you handed him a candy before popping one in your mouth. "Now read me a page or two, please."

Finn put the candy in his mouth as he squinted at you much like his brother had at the party days before. You held your gaze to his and pushed the book closer to him.

"It's about pirates," you lilted as you nudged him with your shoulder. "They have even better adventures than your brothers do."

He ran his hand over the front before he opened it. 

"Treasure Island," he read slowly, "by Robert Louis Stevenson." 

You nodded for him to go on and he began reading slowly. You let him read at his own pace, only helping him sound words out after he could not get them figured out himself. You praised him, handing him another candy after a particularly hard word or completed page. It was slow going, and you had only finished a chapter or two in an hour, but Finn was looking more and more confident in his reading and he was quickly becoming interested in the story. 

"I think that's enough today, Finn," you said as you reached for the book and dogged the ear of the page and closed it. "Tomorrow we'll start chapter three."

"But I want to find out why Billy Bones attacked Black Dog!" He said excitedly. "That fight was legendary. And why do these people like rum so much? Everyone knows whiskey is better."

"And how would you know that?" You raised a brow as Finn blushed. 

"Everyone knows it, (Y/N)," he said. "That's why all my brothers drink it."

"Maybe it's only pirates that appreciate rum," you mused as you nudged him. "Rum is for mischief."

"Whiskey is for business, and we are businessmen."

The low rumble reverberated, making both of you jump and look at the man in the doorway. Tommy leaned against it, watching you with a small smirk on his face. 

"Just thought I'd check to see how you two fared," Tommy said. "Finn, how do you like her, eh?"

Finn slowly looked between Tommy and you, giving you a mischievous curl of his lip before he grinned and nodded at Tommy. 

"(Y/N)'s a good tutor, Tommy," he said as he stood from his seat. "I think I'm getting better already."

"Good good," Tommy nodded before he jerked his head to the side. "Off you go."

Finn looked back at you to be met with your grin and nod goodbye. He bound for the door and his brother, only to spin and take his hat off to look down at it in his hand. 

"Can you make lemon bars for tomorrow, miss (Y/N)?" 

You chuckled at the boy's attempt at propriety in front of Tommy. 

"Yes, Finn," you said smiling. "Read me chapter three and four tomorrow best you can and I'll send you home with the whole pan."

"Promise?" He said excitedly before elbowing Tommy. "We never get lemon bars at home."

You nodded and Finn spun around Tommy and ran out of the room, excited for the next chapters and his reward. Tommy stood like a statue leaning against the frame. 

"Did he mind well?" He asked, searching his pockets for a cigarette and light. He took his eyes off you to light the end, shuffling the lighter back into his pockets and blowing the smoke above his head. He quirked his head to the side as his eyes found yours again and he waited for your answer. 

"Finn was darling, Mr. Shelby," you said stiffly as you gripped your chair. "He will be an avid reader with wonderful comprehension in no time. Now if you'll excuse me, I'll leave for my own home."

He didn't move, so neither did you. 

"I've talked to my brothers, (Y/N)," he said. "Arthur couldn't pick you out of a crowd and John said you've only ever been professional with him despite his normal comments. Michael works in the office ten feet away and he says you are the only woman in the office that doesn't gossip and keeps to your work when the bosses aren't looking. I'm convinced the lot of them only heard you say 'Yes Mr. Shelby' or 'No Mr. Shelby.'"

You mirrored the tilt of his head with yours.

"Yes, Mr. Shelby," you said with a raised eyebrow.

"Is there a reason you hate my family?" He said as he squinted his eyes. "Have we killed someone you love? Are you related to someone I'm not aware of? Or is it just me you actively despise?"

"Have you ever seen locusts swallow a field, Mr. Shelby?" You asked, meeting his eyes with the same intensity of a forest fire. "Without the right checks and balances, they'll decimate a field in a blink. You've swallowed Birmingham and you're already moving on to London."

"We've always made sure families were taken care of," he started. "Especially Birmingham families. And I've said to call me Tommy."

"In the aftermath, Tommy," you said as you stood up and went to grab your coat. "It's an afterthought. A reaction after your family hurts others. After your plans have consequences."

"And Finn is the only Shelby without blood on his hands, is that it?" He said as he kicked off of the doorway, taking up the exit as you stood under his gaze. 

You refused to flinch. You had been under a Shelby's nose your entire life, this wasn't new, just more literal than usual.

"Finn is a sweet boy that is willing to learn," you huffed. "I can find traits in all of you that I find admirable, but together you care for nothing but yourselves."

"Admirable traits, is it?" He said as he crossed his arms and raised his brow. "Do tell me. You've read enough books from the library I'm sure. Tell me about my family."

You faltered as your eyes went back to the ground and your tongue rushed to press against your teeth. 

"No," he stated simply as his hand tapped your chin to raise your eyes back to his. "I want to know. From a self-learned outsider, tell me about my family."

You sighed and rolled your eyes before you took a deep breath and straightened your back.

"Polly is strong but impulsive," you said quickly, as if reciting notes. "Arthur is obviously a sweet-hearted empathetic man that's been broken by his leaders and his vices to become the erratic explosive man he is today--"

Tommy scoffed as he raised his eyes to the ceiling. 

"Obviously," he said somewhere between a statement and a question. He waved his hand. "Go on."

"John wants the world handed to him on a platter and knows his charms and smile are the best way to get it. His aspirations barely go above women and drink. Ada, who I've seen rarely, is smart for wanting nothing to do with this operation. She tries to help those around her, from what I've heard of her in London. Michael was raised a nice village boy but has your ambition. I fear the day he actually gains power. And Finn is sweet and wants so badly for you to include him that he's willing to do anything. Dangerous for a young man his age."

"And?"

"And you," you exhaled tiredly. "Are very smart but your ego could suffocate anyone else in the room with you. Are you happy now? May I go?"

"No," he said as his arms dropped to his sides and he eyed you. His tone gentled to the point of startling you and you eyed him back. "You've noticed us, our strengths -- what you consider weaknesses--"

"Are weaknesses," you corrected as you crossed your arms and leaned on one hip to better look up at him. 

"Our weaknesses," he ground out. "Why?"

"You can't walk three steps in this town without hearing about a Shelby," you sighed. "You may not have noticed me but your family is impossible to avoid. Why do you think I work here? Better to work for the wolves than be preyed upon by them." 

"Is that some other latin phrase I should know?" 

Your smile held no joy as you watched Tommy Shelby finally remove himself from the doorway to let you pass. 

"No," you said as you stopped beside him and looked into his eyes one last time. "But here's one your family should learn if you ever want to stop ruling this town in fear: Ut ameris, amabilis esto."

"And that means?"

Your smile finally reached your eyes and you stepped out of the doorway. 

"You're a smart man," your mouth held in a tight line. "Look it up."

----

Tommy rolled his eyes and closed the door to his office behind her before he walked to his desk to put out his cigarette. He rummaged for another in his pocket and lit it. He inhaled slowly with his eyes closed before he sank into his chair and started shuffling the paperwork he needed to finish before he headed home. 

He looked at the door for a moment, knowing she would have been out the front door and walking through the city to get back to her place by now. He smiled softly as he leaned back and scoffed at the ceiling. He took another long drag of his cigarette and watched the smoke above him disappear. After a moment he finally leaned forward to work on his papers, pushing her and her words from his head. 

Once he got home, he nodded to the maid that greeted him and declined her offer for tea. 

"Not tonight, no thank you," he murmured as he moved silently through the house. 

He went into the study and poured himself a drink before he leaned on the shelf and looked back at his desk. The image of her leaning on it floated into his mind and he scoffed again, rolling his eyes at himself as if to shake her image away. 

Walking to the bookshelf that she had been looking through, he fingered a book out and sat down at his desk, taking a drink of his whiskey before he leafed through the pages. After quite some time, he chuckled and leaned back in his chair, looking at the ceiling. He closed the book, chuckling to himself as he finished the whiskey he had forgotten about. 

"If you want to be loved, be loveable," he said softly.

----

The next few weeks went as they ever did. Other than the addition of working with Finn for an hour after work and the extra roll of money once a week at your desk, nothing seemed to have changed. You did your work, kept your head down, and thankfully the other Shelby's returned to ignoring you. 

You enjoyed your afternoons with Finn, and had easily made enough baked goods to fatten the boy up had he not been so active otherwise. He was always hungry and you had no problem feeding him as a reward as he progressed. He was quickly devouring the first book -- reading faster and more pages every day -- and you had happily picked out a few more books you thought he would enjoy that now waited in your desk drawer.

Tommy had been polite and distant, always out of his office before Finn appeared. One afternoon, you had walked into his empty office to see a note folded with your name on it. You looked at it, frozen for a moment, before you picked it up and opened it. It was a simple phrase, printed carefully. 

Amore et melle et felle es fecundissimus.

"Love is rich with honey and venom," you murmur with a smile. 

You slipped the paper into your pocket before you picked up a blank piece of paper and wrote your reply, Vincit qui se vincit. He conquers who conquers himself. You folded the paper and placed it on top of his seat as Finn came in. 

"Ready for today?" Finn asked, sitting down in his seat. "I bet we finish the book."

"I think you can," you answered with a smile as you rounded the desk to take your seat. "I have another I think you'll enjoy for after."

Finn opened the book to his marker and started reading. You allowed yourself a moment as you bit your lip, looking across the desk to Tommy's chair. Were you smart to play this game?

After that, a note appeared on your typewriter. You smiled when you opened the paper to read 'Aut viam inveniam aut faciam,' I will either find a way or make one. You scribbled your response, 'Malum consilium quod mutari non potest,' Bad is the plan that cannot change, and left it on his desk after your lesson with Finn. 

You continued passing Latin phrases back and forth every few days. Some of them were silly, others were motivational, but all of them had an undercurrent of a double meaning that you couldn't quite place. You both continued to be proper and professional with each other in person, but the cheeky Latin notes felt like they should be between two people far more close.

One afternoon, Finn showed up with a lopsided grin on his face. 

"Tommy told me to give you this," he said as he shoved the paper at you. "I tried to read it but that's not English, innit?"

You opened it carefully to read a scribbled 'Flectere si nequeo superos, Acheronta movebo.'

If I cannot move Heaven, I will raise Hell.

You smiled. 

"No, it's not English," you said before playfully glaring at him. "What are you reading other people's notes for anyhow?"

Finn smiled sheepishly. 

"They never tell me nothin'," he said. "I wanted to know if it was about me."

You laughed. 

"It's not about you, Finn," you reassured. "Now, let's start your book."

An hour later, you hugged Finn bye. 

"Finn!" You called as you finished writing and folded the paper. "Give Tommy this."

"Tommy?" He questioned with a smile. "I think that's the first I haven't heard 'Mr. Shelby.'"

"Just give him the note, cheeky brat," you laughed. 

Finn stuck his tongue out at you and opened the note. 

"Desti-" he read and knotted his face, "destitutes vent--"

"Destitutus ventis, remos adhibe," you laughed. "It means 'if the winds fail you, use the oars.'"

"What's that even mean?"

"It's not your note, is it?" You taunted. "You don't need to know."

Days later, you found a note stuck under a bottle of wine in front of your door. You opened it, immediately recognizing the messy writing that had replaced the clean letters of the first few notes as time passed. 'Audentes fortuna iuvat,' Fortune favors the bold. You smiled and looked around to find no one. You brought the bottle in and locked the door behind you. 

You wrote your response, unsure of how to give it to him after the bottle of wine on your door. You held onto it, hoping you would find a perfect opportunity. 

----

"I don't think you'll need me anymore after today, Finn," you said as you hugged the boy one Friday months later. "You've read through that last book with no problems. Just keep reading and you'll be great."

"If I woulda known that, I wouldn't have read so fast," he frowned as he closed the book he just finished. "I liked seeing you in the afternoons. I even looked forward to it after the weekends."

You laughed. 

"You can still see me around and we can talk books if you like," you smiled. "Tell you what, you can come around on Sundays. I'll feed you lunch and you can tell me what you're reading, how's that sound?"

"You promise?" Finn asked as his eyes lit up. "Deal."

"Inviting Shelby's into your home now?" Tommy called from behind them at the doorway. "Did Finn break the Shelby curse and warm your heart?"

"Tommy," you said evenly. "I was just telling our Finn that he won't need me anymore, but he was welcome to talk books with me anytime."

"If you think he's done, I suppose it's done," he said. "Our Finn, run on home and we can talk about your future once I get there. I'll need a word with (Y/N)."

"Yessir," Finn said as he looked at Tommy's serious expression. He gave you a friendly smile and was out in a flash. 

"Thank you for the wine," you said quietly once Finn was gone.

"Thank you for getting my brother's reading up to speed," he said. "In only a few months, too. I should make my other brothers see you."

"I don't think they would be as receptive," you laughed and he smiled. 

"Probably not," he chuckled. 

"I haven't found a note knocking around my desk," he said, taking a step forward from the doorway as you stood from your chair. "Did I lose it?"

You watched him carefully, but couldn't help but smile. 

"No, Tommy," you said. "You haven't lost it."

"Tommy, you say," he teased as he stepped in front of you. "I've finally lost the chill of using proper names."

"Tends to happen when you trade notes like children. Or spies."

"Well?" He said as he smiled and raised his eyebrows. "Where's my note?"

You tilted your head to look up at him to properly meet his eyes. 

"Do you pour over them by candlelight, trying to decipher them with your books you hadn't read until I upset you in your study?" You teased, smiling up at him. "Do you look forward to my responses, desperate for the challenge?"

"I've not been desperate in a long time," Tommy said, looking over your face as he leaned closer. "But I do look forward to a challenge."

"Happy to give you one, then," you said, looking down to his soft lips before meeting his bright blue eyes. 

"Are you talking about yourself or my next latin phrase, (Y/N)?" He growled as his own eyes dipped to your lips, causing you to smirk. 

"Acta non verba, Tommy," you said as you circled around him and out the door. "Goodnight and have a good weekend, Mr. Shelby," you called as you walked away. "I'm sure it will be filled with dubious adventures and women who find criminal activity all too attractive."

----

One afternoon a few days later, Tommy called for you and Lizzie from his doorway, leaving the other ladies in fits of whispers as to what was going on. Lizzie and you both shared a look, cautiously walking together into Tommy's office. 

"Close the door," he waved at you as he sat down, "I need to speak with both of you."

You closed the door quietly and turned as Tommy sat behind his desk. He shuffled some paperwork and motioned for you both to sit. 

"Now," he said as he cleared his throat. "I've been thinking about investing, or rather creating, a foundation for the orphan children of Birmingham."

Lizzie immediately stiffened before she went to say something. 

"Now Lizzie is already bogged down with my other ventures," Tommy said as he spoke over her before looking at you. "And you have a good head on your shoulders as well as an eye for bullshit. This foundation is to be above board and not to be mixed with my other operations, and I'd like you to set it up and run it." 

"Me?" You stammered, "I don't--"

"Lizzie will help teach you the paperwork and such," he said as he leaned back with his hands on the desk. "I'll trust you to set it up and keep it running. You'll report directly to me about it, and hopefully it will do some good around our city. What do you say, (Y/N)?"

"I don't-- I'm speechless," you said, looking between Lizzie's shocked face and Tommy's cool expression. "I'm not sure I'm fit for the job."

"You're fit as much as anyone else," he said evenly. "I trust you'll make yourself an expert overnight with that brain of yours. That'll be all, ladies, I'll fill you in more as I gather the pieces."

Lizzie stood up and went to walk back out the door but you sat shocked, still looking at Tommy's placid face. 

"Why me?" You asked barely above a whisper. "Why not Polly or Ada or Lizzie?"

"Someone once told me 'deeds not words,'" he said with a twinkle in his eye. "I fully intend on living by that."

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby #storytime with murderousginger #lizzie stark #finn shelby

[g0ldengubler]

12 ~ But Tonight, You Belong to Me

A/N: this is just the beginning of the chaos....also i’m almost at 1k followers!! that’s insane, and because of that i might just have something special coming for once i do hit it ;) one more thing, i’m doing a summer semester this year, and because of that the next couple of months might have more slow posts. i just ask that you please be patient with me when it comes to posting for now. thank u so much for reading!

Category: Angst

CW: Talks involving a case, talking about panic and stress and how dark the mind can go. please don’t read if you don’t feel comfortable with reading.

Summary: Y/N and her friends search for the person who left the note. Things don’t go quite as planned once they find them.

Words: 4530

masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~

The weight of the world was on your shoulders. You could only feel the pins and needles from your elbows to your fingertips as if they were numb. Everything was heavy, from a single case file to someone speaking. At one point you couldn't hear words, you just heard muffled voices through the white noise. Your mind couldn't stop running a million miles a second with the worst of the worst while trying to keep it together. Agents were walking in and out of your apartment, checking for any bugs or clues from the hallway camera footage. Your team went asking others in your building if anything strange had happened and Garcia came straight over to multitask work and comfort. She sat next to you on the couch with her laptop in front of her. You kept your focus on the clicking and clacking of her nails hitting the keys as you ate the donut she got you and drank your tea, the sweet comforting taste of pumpkin almost calming your nerves, but not by much.

Not looking away from her screen, Garcia placed a hand on your back, rubbing up and down softly. Being pulled out of your thoughts, you took a quick glance at her. The team all looked so tired and drained. When you found the letter at your door, you immediately called everyone including Gacia, sobbing and trying not to scare your dogs too much. They solved the case the next day and then came straight to your apartment. Garcia came as quickly as she could after the call. Spencer was worried sick, he didn't want to leave your side and almost argued with Hotch about it. But you told him that doing his job will help immensely, and he listened to you. Still mad at Hotch, he stormed out with Emily to ask around.

After hours of searching and not finding much, all the other agents packed up their gear and equipment and headed out, while your friends stayed behind. Spencer sat next to you on the other side of the couch while everyone else sat in the chairs in the living room or grabbed a chair from the kitchen. Seth came by as soon as the whole bureau left, as they wouldn't let him in to take care of the dogs for you. He sat on the floor by your feet, petting Draco while you were holding Benedict. The softness of his hair helped you calm down enough to talk to your friends.

"Y/N," said Rossi, "are you sure you know who left you the note?"

"I'm positive," you weakly spoke, trying to hold in everything, "It's him. It's Michael Gabin."

"How do you know Gabin?" asked Jj, holding the letter in its plastic evidence bag.

"He was my high school 'best friend', although he wasn't really a good one..."

"How so?" asked Hotch.

"He never supported me in my dreams. He made fun of me like everyone else, he would ditch me for parties and use me. I was just something to do to him, we weren't really friends now that I think about it."

Spencer put his arm around you, pulling you in and kissing the top of your head as he rubbed your shoulder. "I just don't understand why he would do this. He didn't give a shit about me."

"Maybe there's something deeper going on with him. We'll figure it out." said Morgan.

"How do you know it's him, though," asked Emily, "What in the letter stood out to you?"

You slowly grabbed the letter from Jj and moved the bag around so then it was better to see. You drifted your finger along the first sentence. " 'Did you connect the dots, you nerd?' That was what he called me. Almost every sentence towards me ended in that and it got annoying at one point. I wasn't even upset anymore about the name just the fact that he used it all the time to get on my nerves."

"You'll get the bastard, I know you can!" said Seth. There was silence. You looked down at him and smiled, knowing that he was really saying that he's right beside you in this. You looked around the room, feeling the same thing for all of them. They were your family, and they were willing to do everything and anything to keep you safe and help you. You didn't know what you did to deserve people like them.

"We'll pick up again bright and early in the morning," said Hotch, "When we come in, Garcia, I need you to look into Gabin's backstory-work, school, family, friends. Morgan and Emily, talk to his parents or any family member to get their side of the story. Jj and Spencer, I want you both to stay with Y/N tomorrow and help her go through his story, compare what she knows to what we find out. Maybe there's something that's there but just never clicked. Rossi and I will handle protection for you, Seth, and your father."

"As for now, let's all try to get a bit of rest," said Rossi, standing up from his chair and fixing his suit. He walked up to you and put a hand on your shoulder, "Don't you worry kiddo. We're all here."

As everyone got up, gave their tightest hugs to you, and started heading out the door, Spencer stopped Hotch. "Hotch, is it ok if I stay with Y/N tonight?" He asked.

Hotch looked at him, then at you, then back at him, and nodded. Then left and closed the door behind him. Seth left with the crowd, saying he'd come tomorrow to look after the dogs for you. The two of you lay on the couch, you on top of Spencer as he played with your hair. Your head was on his chest, laying on your stomach with your arms rested on top of his shoulders. It shouldn't have scared you that badly. Yeah, he wasn't a good friend. But Michael doing this years after high school, he was being the loser this time. Not you. Spencer reminded you, though, that anyone leaving a note like that at your door is scary. If they didn't leave a clue that would help you figure him out, anyone would be terrified.

~~~

Waking up to the smell of french toast and coffee, you learned as you walked in on Spencer setting the food down on the coffee table, that he knew what to do to cheer somewhat up in some ways. He knew what to do to make you smile even if it's small like making you breakfast. You watched from the hallway door frame as your dogs chased each other around your apartment, almost knocking Spencer over while he had your glasses of water in his hands. What gave you away was your little giggle. He looked up after setting the glasses down, smiling. You walked over to each other, right in both your arms and his, almost seeing who can give the tightest hug possible.

You tried to look as best you could for going into work, but you really weren't feeling it. You were told to not come in today but you could still do work from home since you're now both agent and victim. Jj came over early that afternoon with lunch in her hands. She had gotten subs from a place around the block and some peach flavored ice teas, and when she walked in and sat everything down, she let you and Spencer know that you weren't needed yet until Garcia, Morgan, and Emily got their info so then we could try and match them up. She played with your dogs with Seth while you tried to watch tv or YouTube videos to keep your mind of something you didn't need to really think about at the moment.

Spencer sat next to you on the couch, one arm around you while the other held his coffee mug. One leg over the other, he used his knee to balance the book he was currently reading. That's what was really helping you distract yourself after a while, as you had turned on a lofi video to have music going in the house, the way his fingers would go down the page like he was pretending to read. His middle finger would travel the page while his ring and index fingers were in the air, not missing a single word. You nuzzled the back of your head on his shoulder, hands to yourself. Everything finally felt fine.

~~~

Later that afternoon, Garcia, Morgan, and Emily came in, the dogs running up and jumping on them. The two sat in the chairs while Garcia sat on the other side of you on the couch setting up her laptop. Jj was still with Seth and the dogs on the floor, petting them and giving them belly rubs. After asking if they wanted anything, you got up and went to the kitchen to make them coffee. Spencer didn't want you to at first, but you reassured him that you were ok enough to make it. You never met a man like him that had so much trust in you after speaking up on his concerns and worries. Setting them down on the coffee table, it was time now to compare.

"Garcia was able to find his mom easily," said Morgan, "She moved to D.C. a couple years back."

"And Michael had been staying with her for the past year," Emily chimed in, "He had got into trouble in Detroit with drugs and his mother had him move in with her so he could get help."

"That's a big lie," said Garcia, typing away at her laptop, pulling up different windows that showed his spendings and purchases, "He's been sending money to someone through Venmo and by the looks of the prices, he's not just giving this person gas money."

"Did he experiment at all in high school?" asked Jj.

Taking a moment to process the info that was just told to you, you think back again to the days he'd sneak into your room from the window after a party, trying to tell you all he did and be either be too drunk or pretend to be too drunk to care about you in the slightest. You'd be asleep and you'd feel him shake you awake at 3am. He never asked how your day went, not that you cared if he did after a while, but you listened and listened until you were drifting in and out, trying to stay awake.

"Not really," you finally said, "he would drink sometimes at parties but most of the time he was faking it to seem cool. He was lying to everyone back then and everyone knew he was just puffing his chest. He thought he was so cool because all the popular kids and druggies and alcoholics would always talk with him and hang out, but really they were playing him like a game, or like some form of entertainment."

"His mother said she let him stay with an old friend of his after a few months living with her. Do you recognize the name Sarah Sammuels?" asked Morgan.

"Yeah. She was one of the popular girls."

"Looking into her backstory," said Garcia, "she had been a stoner all throughout high school. And from what it looks like, after high school her and Michael bumped into each other, became friends, and she got him into weed and other drugs like LSD, cocaine, molly. When he found out she also had moved here, he convinced his mom that it was best if he lived with her. Since then, they've been going to the same guy."

"Where does he work?" You asked.

"He works at a burger joint and...eww it's a really crappy burger joint called Ben's Burgers," She typed away, pulling up more windows, "Doesn't pay him enough as he's said in multiple posts on Facebook..." Her face looked as if two people ran into each other and got seriously hurt, almost like a 'That's going to hurt in the morning' type of expression, as she read one of the posts. We all looked and everyone else had the same reaction. You, on the other hand, weren't too surprised by this.

"That definitely sounds like him," you said, "Michael could never hold even the shittest of jobs."

"What else do you know about him," asked Emily, "Did he ever talk about home?"

"That's all he talked about when he was drunk. His dad was abusive to him when we were kids and then left him when we were in middle school. His mom really did try throughout the years but he wasn't having it. He was always so mean to her for no reason. Come to think of it, it's quite shocking he and Sarah get along so well. He never really treated any girl or woman with respect."

"Was his father like that?" asked Spencer.

"I'm not sure, but I wouldn't be surprised."

"I did look into both his parents," said Garcia, "His father was definitely not nice to women at all growing up. His mother was very abusive towards him, going so much as making him stay home from school a lot to get her alcohol and hurt him. She'd lock him in the shed with no food or water for days and no one knew. By the time he was ready to report her, she passed away due to liver failure."

"So...maybe this is Michael's way of getting back at women. Maybe his father told him something before he left." said Jj.

"Maybe. But right now, let's give this information to Hotch and Rossi and then we'll continue our search from there." said Spencer.

Morgan got up from his chair and pulled his phone out of his pocket as he walked to the kitchen. Seth softly rubbed your knee as a way of showing support as he got up from the floor. He said he was thinking about walking the dogs at the park and offered to everyone if they wanted to join. You focused on the conversation, but your ears were also paying attention to Morgan and what he was telling Hotch.

"Hotch," said Morgan, "so we found some more things on his back-..." He was cut off mid sentence, listening to what Hotch had to say. From the look on Morgan's face, it didn't sound like good news. "Wait he did what?!...Um, ok we'll be there in five...are you sure?...yeah you're right. Ok, we'll be there as fast as we can." He hung up the phone and looked at all of us worried.

"Seth, you're going to have to walk the dogs on your own today. Something happened at Quantico and Y/N needs to come with us."

"What happened?" asked Emily, everyone looking quite concerned.

"Michael somehow managed to sneak another note in one of the case files. Everyone in the building checked everything but he was nowhere to be found, so either he somehow disguised himself as an agent or we have a mole helping him out."

The weight was coming back. Everything was slowly getting heavy again, and Spencer could tell. He held your hand tightly and squeezed, letting you know he was there. It shook you from your thoughts and suddenly a little of the weight lifted once you looked into his hazel eyes. He smiled, and for a moment you felt safe all over again. That only lasted until you got to the 6th floor, where you found Hotch and Rossi sitting in Hotch's office. When they saw you guys come in, they came out and stood at the railing. Looking around, you saw some agents from different departments running in and out, collecting all they could to help out yours. Phones were ringing like crazy, and the amount of talking that was going on turned into white noise again.

Hotch advised everyone to go to the conference room, and as you all walked in Spencer still held your hand firmly, even when you sat down. He rolled his chair closer to you, and while you thought that Hotch would say otherwise, he surprisingly didn't say anything about you two being so close. He stood with Jj in front of the screen, looking around the room. His eyes met with yours and you could tell he saw right through them. The worry and the panic, the fear and the pain.

It was almost as if he understood so much that he was letting you be.

Rossi later walked in with the new note already in an evidence bag in his hands. Jj soon put it up on the screen for everyone to see (read), but looking around the room you saw confused expressions.

"So the guy is a fan of codes?" asked Morgan.

"Does any of this mean anything to you?" asked Hotch.

You nodded. "Michael was obsessed with codes. He'd give me one that he didn't think I could solve and when I did he'd give me one even harder. I knew he was doing this to get under my skin, but honestly I had a ball solving them. Codes are always fun."

"Go with Garcia and Spencer to her lab while they look over the letter and figure it out. Jj, the press somehow found out about today's note, so I would like you to talk to them and tame the situation. Emily and Morgan, you're with Rossi and I to go to the morgue and look at the bodies again. Compare what you find with what happened today and anything the three can find."

~~~

"We've cracked some of the hardest codes an unsub can come up with, yet THIS ONE is the one that's giving us so much trouble. Even for our boy wonder over here and it's numbers! His favorite."

"That's Michael for you, Garcia," You said. You were sitting next to her at her desk while Spencer sat on the table behind you, watching the monitors from above, "It's shocking that he got better at them. I thought he'd be over it after we graduated." You turned around and saw your boyfriend, looking stumped.

There was a moment of silence. "Hello? This is where the doc comes in with some other ways of solving the code." said Garcia.

The more you stared at him the more you realized he wasn't stumped, he was in his head figuring it out. "Bubs?" Spencer snapped out of his thoughts, blinking a few times. "Yeah...yeah sorry," He got up from the table and walked closer to the screen. He and Garcia got to work, pulling up all different alphabets and putting them in grids. The three of you came back together and compared the note to each one, but still nothing.

The more you stared at the note, the more you began to think. It was right on the tip of your tongue. It felt so familiar to you, so nostalgic. It then hit you like a train, the numbers and how they were specifically arranged. They didn't belong to any real alphabet, only yours. "I know what this is."

"You do?" They asked at the same time.

You signaled Garcia out of her chair and once sitting, you went to work. "The one thing he used on me to make me think we were actually friends was our code. He created a code for us to use in class or any situation where we wanted to talk to each other without anyone knowing what we were saying. He liked using stuff like that because he knew I was a sucker for this kind of stuff." As they watched, you put the numbers from the note on one line, and your alphabet in a line below that. The computer matched them up and generated a message that read:

'Why was the princess locked in a wine cellar? So then she could spend her days planning an escape. But the grandfather clock kept ticking, and when she sobered up, she soon realized it was all a lie.'

"Who knew we had two geniuses in our pockets!" said Garcia, who you switched spots with so she could put it together in her file.

"Not a genius, just gullible." You said, trying your best to sound ok. Spencer could tell, however, that you weren't. You pulled your sleeves down so then your hands were covered before crossing your arms over your chest. You looked down to the floor, staring down into space. Was this starting to get too much for you? The more you figured out, the closer you were to getting him. Sure, he wasn't a good friend to you in the slightest, but what if it got bad? What if he had to be shot at?

"You ok, bubs?" He whispered to you, but you didn't hear him. Your mind kept building up your worries, making you shake a little bit. You felt like you were about to explode until you felt someone grabbing your hands, making you look up and see Spencer looking worried.

You grabbed his hand and gave a half smile. "I'm ok." You said, giving you a half smile in return. He understood you were trying to be strong, but didn't like seeing you in so much stress. He wished he could hold you tight while laying on the couch and make you feel safe. He wanted to protect you from whatever was going to happen, protect you from Michael. Even though he was of course going to let you do your job if Hotch allowed, he wasn't going to not do anything if the chance came.

"Ok, looking at this there is one obvious clue," said Garcia after a few moments of silence, "like how the princess is you, but I'm stumped on the rest."

You looked at the first sentence again, trying to put something together. "Garcia, are there any abandoned restaurants in D.C. that would have a wine cellar?"

She looked through her database and came across one that was surprisingly down the street from your apartment. "It was just recently closed down about 6 months ago and it's expected to be demolished two days from now." said Garcia. With this info, you ran with it and took it to Hotch, who gave his orders to the team before calling in backup. You walked to the cars with your vest on and gun ready, thinking you were going to go on the field with them until Hotch walked up to you as you were about to get in one of the cars.

"Y/N, I need you to step back only a little bit. You are going out on the field but only to talk to Michael. In no way are you going to fire at him if it does come to it, understand?"

You nodded. "I understand. I wouldn't want to shoot him even if I had to. He deserves to be locked up, not killed."

Hotch nodded as he put a hand on your shoulder, patting it a few times as he walked off to the other car. You sat next to Emily in the back while Morgan and Spencer sat up front. A ride that took only 10 minutes felt like hours, as the nerves in your stomach grew and grew the closer you got. For a split second, you almost got mad at Morgan because you thought he was taking his sweet time driving, which wasn't like him at all-or really any agent for that matter. You weren't really ready to see Michael again, especially in a situation like this. Graduating high school, you remember giving a big middle finger to the building before you got in your dad's truck. Not only was it generally to the school, but also to its students, including Michael. You thought you'd never see him or anyone from your class ever again.

What would he be like? Would he be completely different and act as any other unsub would, or would he be himself? Michael, who used his charm to get what he wanted out of you. The one who would pretend to be nice to you around certain people and then turn into a douchebag around others. What would he do this time? Would he even try to do anything at all? There was more to the note that you didn't even touch on, which usually isn't like them. Maybe they just wanted to get the bastard as fast as they could, but the last part, 'But the grandfather clock kept ticking, and when she sobered up, she realized it was all a lie'.

What was the lie?

~~~

The building was deteriorating bit by bit, ripping away all its history. According to the file on your phone, this restaurant was a family business for almost 100 years and they were getting ready to build a whole new, more modern take on the place before it completely crumbled to the ground. There were apartments above it, where the whole family lived. This was the perfect spot for Michael to hide-old, broken, and so weak that one touch could be dangerous.

Getting out of the cars, you gathered with swat in front of the building and began coming up with a strategy. Spencer held your hand tightly and kissed the top of your forehead before separating. You were with Hotch and Rossi while Spencer was with Jj and Emily and Morgan with swat. You carefully entered the front, as the door was already unlocked. Immediately you knew this was a trap and you hoped that the rest of the team knew that, too.

Flipping the switch to see that the electricity was still working, you checked all over the bottom floor from the dining area to the kitchen. Nothing seemed out of place, nothing looked like an obvious clue. Everything was clear, but before you could get upstairs the lights went off and everything became a blur. You heard gunshots, yelling coming from everyone around you. Then you heard an even louder scream, lower in tone but very familiar, and the panic began to set in.

"Spencer?" You called out.

Silence.

The lights shortly came back on and everyone gathered in the dining area again. You looked everywhere for him, but you thought you were just too frantic that your brain wasn't working right. Bumping into someone, you thought it was Spencer but instead when the person turned around and saw that it was Rossi, you broke. Without even thinking, you wrapped your arms around him, crying on his shoulder. Rossi held on tightly to you, not knowing why until he heard you whisper Spencer's name repeatedly.

"HOTCH," yelled Morgan as he came out of the kitchen, "Where's Spencer?"

"He wasn't with you?" asked Hotch.

"He was until the lights came back on. I thought he went to Y/N."

'Michael didn't," you thought, '...Michael couldn't have.'

#spencer reid #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fan fiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #cm #criminal minds angst

[demivampirew]

With love, Syverson

Captain Jackson Syverson x Reader 1

Michael (Mike) Syverson x Reader 2

Trigger warning: young parents, unexpected pregnancy, family issues, arguing; some angst (but also lots of fluff), subtle mention of sex (no smut)

You can find more of my writings in the Masterlist    

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

“He’s just a boy!” Jackson exclaimed and sighed.

“He’s almost five years older than you were when you had him, babe” you argued calmly.

“It was different” he replied bitterly.

“Was it? Are you sure?” you questioned raising an eyebrow.

“I wanted him to live a different life. I wanted him to enjoy life to the fullest before he had the age to have a family and responsibilities. I wanted to live the life I couldn’t.”

“I know, darling but, there’s no point getting angry at how things turn out to be and how they could be different. It is what it is. He got his girlfriend pregnant and now wants to face the consequences of his actions. If you would ask me, that’s proof of how good of a father you are; he didn’t excuse himself for being young and left the girl alone with the problem.” you replied and took his hand and kissed it. “He needs you right now, more than anyone else. He needs his dad to give him a hand and let him know that everything would be ok and that you have faith in him.”

Syverson looked absent-minded to the room. You sat right next to him and cuddle. He continued to squeeze your hand while he was lost on his thoughts, sitting there in complete silence.

Considering the emotional draining day you had, you thought that you weren’t going to be able to eat at all but, as soon as the waitress brought the food to the table, you started to devour it. Mike played with it, moving it around in the plate with the fork. He barely said any-words since you two left his dad’s house -except for “We’re alone in this but, don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.” To say that you felt guilty would be an understatement: you were as guilty as him for no being careful; you wouldn’t be able to find a job while being pregnant and you had no one to ask for help. Now, all the weight of providing for you and the baby laid on him.

“Mikey, the food is going to get cold, baby.” you pointed out. He seemed to suddenly wake up from his trance, surprised as if he had just realized where he was.

“Sorry, I was thinking about things” he apologized and took a bite of the steak he had on his plate.

“Penny for your thoughts? you asked.

“I have some money that I was saving for a surprise trip for us for the summer. It isn’t a lot, but it should be enough to buy groceries for a month or two. Also, I could sell my console. I’ll start to look for a job and, I’ll talk to my roommate to see if he allow us to stay in my dorm for the moment until I found us a home.”

“ I have like $300 save, that should help. And I can sell my laptop,” you added.

“No, baby, you need that for college” he replied.

“I’ll have to quit. My father kicked me out of the house and cut me from all my expenses, including college. According to him, if I’m old enough to get pregnant, I’m old enough to take care of all matters by myself,” a tear rolled down your face as you remembered the conversation you had that day with your father.

“You won’t quit college and, it’s final. I’ll do whatever it takes to pay for it myself,” your partner assured without any doubts. You nodded and continued eating.

As you walked heading to his college dorm, he got a message from his dad, which read “Come home, I want to talk.” He stood in the middle of the street and, he looked as if he was arguing with himself. Knowing him, you assumed that his proud self didn’t want to talk to his father after the fight they had but, he must have known that he didn’t have much choice that to comply.

“What’s your plan?” Jackson asked, at that moment he wasn’t Jack or Sy, he was ‘Captain Syverson’.

“Look for a job to provide for my family and a place for us to stay” Mike replied.

“What is it that you wanted from me?” Sy questioned.

“All I wanted is for you to use the money you pay for college to pay for her studies. She’s a much better student than me and deserves to finish her degree. I’ll get a job so I can pay for a place, food and other stuff.” he said firmly.

The southern man looked at his son for a moment and the walk around the room in silence with his arms crossed on his chest. His son and his girlfriend were sitting on the couch looking at each other worriedly and you were sitting in a chair on the other side in silence.

“This is what we would do: You would continue college and make sure you get better grades. As for her, I’ll pay for her studies with the money I’ve saved for the car I was expecting to gift you for graduation.” your man said and the couple sighed in relief. “As for the place to live, you can stay here and I’ll take care of food and other things.”

“I will help you, too,” you added. “I can babysit so you can go to classes and study. I’m great with kids and also I’m my own boss so I can work and take care of the baby at the same time," you exclaimed, cheerfully.

“So, you’re great with kids, hu?” Jack questioned with a playful smile.

“Yes. I have a god-daughter and two nephews and I take care of them sometimes and they love me,” you explained, proud of yourself.

“Have you ever thought about having one yourself?” he asked curiously.

“Yes, with the right partner.”

“How about me? Do you think that I could be the father of your kid?”

“Honestly? Yes, I’d love to have a kid with you but, we should wait until after your baby’s baby is born. Two babies at the same time could be a lot.

“Yeah, you’re right. But, in the meantime, we can do the thing you do to have babies but using protection,” he suggested with a smirk.

“Oh, absolutely.”

Sy got on top of you, grabbing your face and kissing you, sweetly but passionately.

A week went by since your life changed drastically. Although your parents allowed you to grab clothes and books from your their house, they were firm on their decision of cutting you out of their lives. Mike moved from his college dorm to the house so you could be together as much as possible. Mr Syverson - Jack, as he asked you to call him, was incredible: he would cook and clean. The first two days he seemed to be upset about the situation but later he went back to his cheerful mood. His girlfriend was helpful as well. She found you an obstetrician and knew a lot about baby-related stuff.

A sudden noise woke you up. It was Mike complaining to his father for waking him up so early on a Saturday morning.

“Sorry kid but, as a parent, there are no days off,” Syverson said as he threw some clothes on the bed. “Get dress and come downstairs. I have a couple of tasks I want you to help me with,” he ordered and left the room.

Mike sighed and sat on the bed, still half asleep as he put his pants on. You caressed his back and asked him if he wanted you to go with him but, he told you to keep sleeping. You would have insisted on helping him if you weren't so exhausted. As soon as he crossed the bedroom’s door, you fell asleep again.

“So, what do you want me to do, dad?” Mike asked as he yawned.

“Put on this” his dad indicated as he handed him an apron. The young man raised an eyebrow confused. “I’ll teach you how to make bread and pizzas.” the man continued.

“Why?” questioned Mikey.

“Because it’s great that you have a partner and parents but, just like me, someday you could be on your own with your baby and, you need to know some basic stuff like cooking and cleaning,” he explained and started to teach his son how to prepare bread.

While the food was on the oven, Syverson put coffee beans on the coffee-maker and told Mike the plans for the next day: “Tomorrow I’ll teach you how to knit”.

“What?” the college kid asked, surprised.

“Yes. We’ll make a blanket for the baby. And, next week we’ll make a crib,” Jackson confirmed.

“Ok, the crib I get it but, why I’d need to learn how to knit?”

“That’s a skill that’s always useful, Mikey” he assured him.

“Do you seriously know to knit?” the younger Syverson asked, amused. His father walked towards the living room and a moment later re-appeared in the kitchen holding a picture-frame.

“That’s grandma holding you,” he said, pointing at the photo. “Do you know who made that blanket?” there was no need for him to reply because his father point at himself proudly. “I learn to do a lot of things for you, son. Grandma and grandpa helped until they were gone when you were still pretty young but, for most of the time that I’ve got you, it was just the two of us and, I’ll have to take care of you: cook for you, bathe you, take you to the doctor, etc. I want to pass all my knowledge to you so you too can take off your baby,” hi finished and playfully touched his son’s hair.

#henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #captain syverson #captain syverson fanfic #syverson fanfic #mike #mike fanfiction #demivampirew #Henry Cavill

[jordanstrophe]

This One is Mine, part 6

The Dinner, part 1

CW: Whump, Pet whump, Abuse referenced, Anxiety 

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​“He is so cute!” Mia exclaimed, having Michael twirl in his new clothes. He obeyed of course, without complaint. “You like them? We can get you more if you like.” Charles chuckled. “N-no sir! I really like these. It feels really nice to have my own clothes I can pick from! Thank you.” Michael politely bowed. 

He was used to only wearing whatever Malcolm had thrown at him in the mornings. Sometimes it would be an over-the-top outfit to show him off, and sometimes it was just a pair of jeans. He already knew what would happen that day if he was given the jeans, as it was something Malcolm didn’t mind getting torn and bloody. If he was dressed nicely, that meant nothing bone breaking or shredding would happen that day. Even though the outfits were uncomfortable, it still felt safe. As safe as he could feel. 

But these were different. His new master spared no expense, and got him clothes that were nice, and comfortable. It was an odd feeling, like he could just relax and feel safe, but that usually wasn’t the case, he learned the hard way.

“Lets get these clothes up to your room and unpacked, alright?” Charles smiled. 

“M-my room? What room?” He asked, looking up at him with a tilted head.

“The room you’re going to stay in.” Charles chuckled. “There’s a guest room upstairs I think you’ll like. Bonus point is it’s just a couple doors away from the master bedroom, so if you need anything at night, I’m just right there.” He smiled

“I... I don’t understand. I get a room? Why?” He asked, almost panicked.

“Of course you get a room! Where did you think you were going to sleep?” He asked.

“.. Under the coffee table..” He muttered.   “Under th-..” Charles repeated in a stutter. Did he think he went through the trouble of bringing him home to just throw him under a coffee table and sing “home sweet home”?  He was treated so badly he expected it all the time now. The spike of anger in his chest only fueled how much he wanted to care for him. When he brought him home, it was in a last second call out of a protective instinct. He didn’t think he would even have time to properly take care of him, but for some reason, that's all he wanted to do. 

“Come on sweetheart, why don’t we go check out your room, then.” Charles smiled. He hoisted up the last of the bags in his arm. 

“W-wait! Let me carry those, it’s the least I can do!” He cried. Charles hesitated a second, despite the bags draped around his arm, he still made his best attempt to ruffle Michaels hair, who held his head down in response. 

“As kind as that is, I know you’re still hurt. Let me do this for now, okay?” He smiled. Michael jolted with reaction.  “N-no! I’m fine! I’m okay! Really!” He cried.   “That’s great if you feel that way, but I still sent for a private doctor, he’ll be here tomorrow.” Charles smiled.  “What?!” He cried. He did lie with the first sentence. His back hurt when he moved, and his arms were sore and weak, the slices down his legs burned, and his ankle was sprained. But he trained himself to walk normally. No... He didn’t train that, Malcolm did.

Miles seemed to appear whenever anything was going on, as he swooped up half the bags off Charles’s arm.  “Hey!” Charles complained, as Miles giggled. “I’m helping you, these are mine!” He chuckled. “But I had it.” He pouted.  “Jeez Charles, let me do my job.” Miles mocked.  “I gave you one job Miles! And that’s please don’t let anyone kill me.” He laughed. “And that’s what I’m doing, what if you fall down the stairs because you carried all these bags?” He complained.  

The two men joked and bickered amongst themselves, but Michael was still upset. He had been given what felt like the entire world, but he hadn’t earned it with the only thing he could give. Blood and tears.

“I’m useless.” He muttered under his breath. He didn’t mean to say it, but it came out quiet enough surely no one heard. Right?

Charles immediately whipped around “Here, this one is a bit heavy for me, do you think you can get it?” Charles smiled. It was the lightest one he could find in the pile. Michael perked up, he joyfully took the bag, it was light enough it didn’t cause him any pain. “O-of course!” He said happily. He wondered why Charles struggled with it’s additional weight, knowing he was a pretty fit guy. He was truly an oblivious soul. 

He wanted to swing the bag around, but thought against it, and behaved himself as he followed Charles up the stairs. Miles opened up a wooden door, and set his half of the bags down inside. Charles did the same, then beckoned Michael into the room. He would be lying if he was a bit scared of what could be in there. Despite the fact he would be getting an entire room, it could still be filled with shackles, cages, whips, and... Wait is that a bed? 

There was a large light cream bed against the far wall, with golden details threaded into it in beautiful patterns. There were lace wispy white curtains that framing a window that lit up the room with a soft gleam. Small potted plants sat at it’s sill, with a tiny watering can. The floor had a light cream carpet covering the half center, the rest of the floor was a dark wooden floor, the same color as the drawers and mirror.

“It’s not too much, it was the guest room, so it just has the basics, but I had Liam and Mia throw some decorations around. You can change things around later, but it’s yours now, if you like it.” He smiled. 

“I can’t take this.” He muttered. He stared at the soft carpet at his feet. Tears formed in his eyes, and streaked down his face. “It’s t-t-o much... I can’t take this.” He sobbed. He clutched his arms and fell forward as tears fell to the floor. He felt gentle comforting arms wrap around him from behind, and cradle him. He cried, and cried. 

He should be overjoyed, instead he was overwhelmed. He was plucked from hell, and plopped into heaven. It was all too good to be real.                            “Do you remember what I promised you?” Charles whispered in his ear.

“Y-you promised you would t-take care of me...” He sobbed. Charles pulled him over to sit him on the bed. They practically sunk into the plush soft bed.

“I’ve hardly done enough for you, all I’ve done is give you clothes, food and a bed. Let me take care of you.” He pulled him into a deeper hug, as he sobbed into his chest. He brushed a hand in his hair and gave him a moment, before quietly shushing him, wiping his tears, and placing a hand on his cheek. “Will you let me take care of you?” He asked. 

“Y-yes sir!” He cried, as Michael wrapped his arms around Charles neck, and hugged him. For the first time, he started to feel safe.  Charles couldn’t stop grinning as he hugged him back. 

“Alright now, why don’t you start unpacking. You can put them wherever you want. There’s something I have to do, but I’ll be back in a moment.” He smiled. He wiped away the rest of his tears, as he gave a quiet “mmhm” in response. It was all he could really muster. 

Charles left him to his task, and headed down the stairs. His hands shook a bit, and he crossed his arms to hold them still. 

“Sir!” Mia called. She was waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs.

“I see you uh... You added something to your schedule tonight.” She said with a concerned tone. Charles silently nodded.

“Dinner with Malcolm, here, at six.” She reminded. 

“I need a favor from you.” He gave her a sad look. “Michael is a bit more comfortable with Miles, but I need him at the dinner tonight. Do you think you can get close to Michael, and keep him distracted during the dinner?” He asked. “Oh Charles... That boy is going to be scared to death...” She sighed.  “No, he’s not going to know he's here.” He responded. “What? How are you going to pull that off?” She raised an eyebrow.   “I’m not, you are.” He gave her a shy smile. “I’m not getting paid enough for this... Fine, I’ll do my best.” She sighed. “You are the best.” He complimented, before leaving her to it.

“Liam! Did you hear about the dinner tonight?” He called. 

“Unfortunately.” Liam growled, aggressively hacking at dripping raw meat.

“For no reason in particular, what’s his least favorite meal?” Liam asked.

“Joy and happiness, probably. Just a basic meal is probably safe.” 

“Me? Basic? Do you know me?” Liam smirked.  

“Fair enough...” Charles muttered. 

He was going to show up in two hours, and was most likely staying for as long. He said he had “important” papers to discuss and a deal, but he knew the real reason. And he was determined to disappoint him. He climbed the staircase, and walked up just as Mia was leaving Michaels room.  “He’s getting tired. He might be able to sleep through the whole thing if he’s lucky.” She said, quietly shutting the door behind her.  “That would be perfect, thanks Mia.” He said, as she nodded. 

He opened the door, Michael and Mia had already hung up all the clothes, and he was sitting at a desk in front of the window staring out. He perked up and gave Charles a sweet excited smile as he walked in. 

“Hey sweetheart.” He smiled back. Michael stood up and looked at him expectantly. “I know it’s a bit early, but why don’t you get caught up on some sleep. I’ll have Liam bring you up something to eat later, but the schedule got thrown off today, so dinner isn’t going to be very formal tonight. We’ll have a proper dinner tomorrow, I promise.” He smiled. 

Michael had noticed his tone was off, but he nodded in response. Charles pulled back the covers to the bed, and Michael climbed in. He sunk into the center, and hugged a fluffy white pillow before looking up at him. Charles tucked him in, and placed a hand on his forehead as he closed his eyes. He seemed like he had a small fever, but he had a doctor coming to see him tomorrow, so he tried to not worry.

“Doing okay? Are you comfortable?” He asked.  “It’s unreal.” He whispered back. “Thank you.” He closed his eyes. Charles smiled, and did some finishing touches to the blankets. 

“Stay here for me tonight, I’ll come check on you later.” He smiled, before closing the blinds to the window, and shut off the light. 

BANG BANG BANG

Someone hammered at the door. Miles opened it, to reveal Malcolm, purple suit, top hat, arms crossed, evil grin flashing across his face. He had driven up in a limousine of all things. He had his own bodyguard standing behind him, a towering man with a suit and sunglasses, who looked like he was purely made out of muscle. 

“We have a doorbell, you know?” Miles shrugged.  “Is that anyway to greet your honored guest?!” He hissed. They awkwardly looked at each other, before Malcolm took a deep breath and smoothed out his hair. He clearly still had a bone to pick with Miles after they’re last encounter.

“Of course mister Morfran, please come in.” He stood back and allowed him to enter. His eyes immediately shot around the house wildly.

“Looking for something?” Charles asked. He approached with his arms crossed behind his back. 

“Yeah! Is that table new?” He asked, nodding towards the coffee table.

“No, that’s been sitting there for thirteen years. I trust your trip down here was fine?” He asked.  

“Oh it was dreadful! We had to pass a town, and it looked awful! They have these things called drive-throughs, can you imagine not sitting down at a five star restaurant?” He said, repulsed. 

“No, no I can’t possibly imagine that.” He smiled. 

“So! Old friend, how’s thing going? Eh?” He gave his usual toothy grin.

“Things are going lovely! Thank you. Come on now.” He nodded towards the dining room. Malcolm took off his hat and carelessly tossed it at the man with him, who caught it effortlessly. 

“How’s a certain someone?” He flashed a grin, still scanning every room as he followed down the long hallway. 

“Mia is doing great! She’s a lovely secretary.” Charles smiled.

Malcolm let out a low growl, before he could get anything else out, Charles flung the door open, revealing a beautiful decorated dining room. A long table sat in the center, with a red cloth covering it, with a loose white woven detailed cloth sat over it. Candles were lit, and the chandelier shone bright, the room had a warm yellow glow to it.

Malcolm grumpily took his place at the end, while Charles took his on the other. Liam walked in pushing a large silver container, and unpacked large amounts of food onto the table.

“Charles? You got your first Pet and you’re not showing him off? I like to dress mine in fancy outfits and have them serve drinks. Really shows off their obedience!” He complained.

“That’s not quite my style.” Charles shrugged.

“Is that so? I haven’t found a new favorite yet, by the way. I’ve been searching, and training, and digging through my endless supply, but none of them are good enough!” He yelled, slamming a knife hilt shaking and clattering the whole table. Liam annoyingly cleared his throat, as he tried to set food onto the table.

“Liam! I’m glad you’re still busy, I always loved your cooking. You always cook and season everything perfectly.” Malcolm complimented. Liam tried not to look uncomfortable, as he pulled out a large roasted turkey. 

“My thanks, mister Morfran.” He bowed politely. 

“My offer still stands if you want to leave this place and come work for meeee!” He sang, aggressively stabbing a fork into a turkey slice. 

“As much as that honors me, I’ll have to pass.” Liam smiled. 

‘Ahh, pish posh.” Malcolm waved his hand in disappointment, before viciously tearing into the turkey. "I'll give you another chance to return Michael." He added through a mouthful.

“Malcolm, are you here to talk business, or to poach my entire household?” Charles raised a brow and took a sip of a drink Liam had poured. 

“Well it was worth a shot. Yeah, I got something for you right here.” He snapped his fingers twice, as his guard approached Charles. Miles stepped between the two, and stared the man down. The guard pulled a file from his coat, and handed it to Miles, without breaking eye contact. He plucked the file from the man’s hands and passed it to Charles behind him, still refusing to break the contest. Despite the man being a foot taller than him, he wasn’t going to back down in his own house.

Charles opened the file and took a moment to read. He slapped closed the file and slammed it into the table.  “What is this!?’’ He asked angrily. 

“That’s a deal for a removal on the covert rule.” He smirked.

“What’s your plan here Malcolm?! The covert rule is what’s keeping this business safe! If we get loud with our work it will attract attention! Do you want the government to start looking for us?” Charles growled.

“They’re already looking for us, they just don’t know where to look.” He smirked. “That’s exactly what the covert rule is doing for us!” He crossed his arms.

“Well I’m pitching that we stop silently living in the shadows, and get loud! Think of it as expanding the business! We can worm spies into the government and have people cover our tracks. Hah! Think about it, one day I might be able to walk my Pets out in public on a leash, and no one will bat an eye!” He laughed.

Charles slammed both hands on the table and stood. “This will never pass! There’s no way you’ll get everyone's vote! You’d be a fool to think you have mine!” He shouted. His voice could get scary when he was angry. He had that deep voice that could be either soothing, or booming.

“You’re vote? No no no, I already have three votes on my side! I just need a few more. Barron is swaying, sure, but I’ll get him to crack. I always do!” He hissed. 

Charles stayed silent, and quietly sat back down.

“It’s not a bad thing, old buddy, really. It will hardly change things for you. You work quietly, manipulating this and that with a phone call, or a click of a button. Me? Oh no no. I have to get out there and do dirty work. If someone gets caught, I’m the one who cleans up they’re mess. I’m the one who keeps the witnesses out of court. I’m the one keeping everything quiet!” He stated, shoving one past piece of turkey in this mouth. He stood up and lifted his drink with him, as he slowly walked around the table.

“If we got ourselves out there, and did our work publicly, people would fear us. We would run this town. We would run the world!” All we need is everyone’s support, and combine our companies, no one could stop us. No one would try. But don’t get the wrong idea, I don’t need you. As nice as it would be to have you by my side, I can do just as well with the rest of the companies.” 

Miles tapped Charles shoulder, who looked like he could murder someone.

“Malcolm’s bodyguard slipped out the door.” Miles whispered to him.

“What? When?” He whispered back.

Before he had a chance to reply, loud beeping blared through the house, as all the men jumped. Smoak could be seen seeping through the cracks of the door from the kitchen.

“Shoot!” Miles yelled. He opened the door, as smoke and heat shot out.

“Kitchen is on fire!” He called, as Charles jumped to his feet. 

“Fire department?” Miles asked.

“No! We can’t risk anyone investigating this place.” Charles said, grabbing a fire extinguisher from the door.  “You! Don’t go anywhere!” He called to Malcolm, who shrugged innocently. An evil grin spread across his face, as he swirled his drink in his hand, and enjoyed the show. when they seemed distracted, he slipped out the door.

“I’m coming baby...”

Tag list:  @lave-whump @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @green-eyed-whumpster @grizzlie70 

Thank you for reading! <3 

#Whump incoming #whump #whumpee #whumper #caretaker #caretaking #creepy caretaker #whump stories #whump writing #Michael is going to have a rough time next part #rescued whumpee #hurt comfort

[gifted-burnout-archive]

Jim’s Best Friend

Part Twelve - Heaven On Earth

Word Count: 2154

Author’s Note: So, I hope you are all enjoying this story. I’m really loving writing it, and I think it might end up being quite a long story. Would you guys want shorter stuff? Mini series or one shots? If so, let me know! Happy to open up ask box for prompts.

WARNING: none.

March, 2007.

"You're so tan!" Pam squeaked as she pulled away, taking a hold of your hands. Jim was still hugging you from behind, his arms resting on your shoulders. "And skinny! Oh my God you look like a model." She complimented, and Jim laughed.

"You really thought we wouldn't come get you?" He said, registering your shocked face. You were lost for words in all honesty, and Jim broke away to take your bags for you. "Come on, airport parking is way too expensive." He marched ahead, bags in hand, as you and Pam shared a quick hug, arms linked as you followed after him.

"I can't believe you guys came... I just..." you felt tears in your eyes, and Pam cooed at you, squeezing your hand.

"Like we would let you do this alone? You need to check whatever voicemails Jan left for you, by the way. Jim was talking with her all afternoon." Pam said, and the pair of you exited the building into the warm May evening air, Jim waving you over from the car. You hurried towards him, Pam getting in the back and you taking shotgun. Jim started the engine and sped away, continuing to glance over at you expectantly. You looked back, laughing.

"What?!" You said, and he rolled his eyes.

"The voicemails!" He said, and you pulled out your phone, flipping it open and putting it on speaker as you dialled the voicemail number.

"You have 4 unheard messages." The automated voice announced, and a beep followed.

"Hi Y/N, Jan again. We got confirmation here, no doubt that you have been told too. I have a few leads going on, give me the day." Another beep. "Jan here. Jim got in touch with me, and we have some ideas." You glanced over at him, unable to stop the smile on your face appearing. Beep. "I talked with my boss at lunch, fought your case to stay with the company. He's going to talk with his boss... Progress, Y/N." The final beep. "Good news, finally! Get yourself to the Scranton branch by noon tomorrow, we'll be discussing your new role in the company with Michael... He's still unhappy about the whole leaving thing, but Pam softened him up a little. See you tomorrow... This is Jan, by the way. Right, goodnight." The call hung up, and you looked between the two of them.

"How did you..."

"We had some help... Dwight even pitched in, and Karen from Stamford." Pam explained, and you felt your heart close to bursting. Whatever fears and worries had been swept away by your friends, and you shook your head in amazement.

"I... I cannot believe you both. Thank you. Thank you!" You squealed, letting out a laugh. "I still have a job!"

—

You arrived in Scranton around 2 am, and after dropping off Pam at your old apartment, you and Jim headed towards his new place. With the transfer to Stamford came a pay rise, and Jim was now in a bottom floor two bedroom apartment in the Scranton suburbs, the guest bedroom already made up for your arrival. The drive over there was quiet, the radio playing some pop ballad as Jim turned into a quaint little street lined with blossom trees.

"Scranton sweet Scranton..." you muttered as the car parked in Jim's driveway, and you stepped out. Jim ran round to the trunk, grabbing your bags and insisting on carrying them, tossing you his house keys to let yourself in. You did so, and walked into the hallway.

Jim had been living there for a few months, but it was already home. His old couch in the living room up ahead, the pictures he used to keep on his kitchen pinboard now framed and decorating the wall to your left. Memories of his college years, of his years at Scranton, of you and Pam and Jim together, of his parents, and finally, of a woman you didn't yet know.

As Jim came through the door with your bags, he saw you looking at one photo in particular, and he closed the front door quickly, setting down your things and walking over, hands in pockets.

"That's Karen." He informed you, and you smiled wider.

"I can't wait to meet her." You said softly, and looked up at him. He hadn't changed much, still that goofy smile and mess of hair. But he looked more toned, losing what was left of his 'baby' fat, and he had seemed to have adopted a better dress sense.

"I have pizza arriving in about ten minutes." He said with a nervous laugh, and you reached up, hugging him for the first time in eleven months. The tension dissolved with it, that hug. His arms instinctively went for your waist, and he lifted you a little as you held onto him, your heel toes brushing against the floor.

"I missed you..." you said softly into his shoulder, breathing in the smell of Jim you had lost while you traversed the European continent, and he squeezed tighter.

"I missed you more..." He responded, and you stayed there a little longer, not wanting to let go. You had three-quarters of a year to make up for, after all.

You broke apart after a minute or two, pressing a kiss to his cheek as you pulled away and he placed you back on the floor.

"You watch for the pizza, I'll dump your stuff in your room?" He suggested, and you nodded, slipping into the kitchen and opening the fridge for some beer. You pulled out two cans, and headed through to the living room. You scooped up the cash Jim had left out as the doorbell rang, quickly paying for the pizzas and meeting Jim on the couch.

"I was going to pay, but all I have is euros..." You admitted, and Jim laughed, turning on the tv and taking a sip of his beer. You sat down beside him, and his arm went over the back of you, and you rested your head on his shoulder, sipping at your beer as Jim rambled, trying to grab your attention for picking a movie. You eventually sat up from your spot to get a slice of pizza, and Jim picked the first Men in Black.

And as you got comfy again, realising how much you had missed Scranton pizza and Jim's couch, you couldn't help but feel completely content. This was what you had left for work? In hindsight, it felt like the wrong decision, because this, Jim's laugh vibrating through your body and his finger drawing circles on your arm, this was heaven on Earth.

No European city could top pizza with Jim Halpert.

—

Jim didn't expect to be left breathless.

But when Y/N walked through those doors, he couldn't look away. In the harsh airport lighting, you almost glowed, and it caught him off guard how much eleven months could change you: your hair was darker, and had grown out a little, curling down past your shoulders now. You had gotten a tan after spending your time travelling southern Europe, and, despite the heartbreak that had led to you leaving in the first place, the smile that appeared on you face as Pam screeched and began running over was more than enough to steal away Jim's breath.

And it was a reminder of how much he missed you, every syllable that passed your lips, the scoffs and laugh, the way you rolled your eyes. And, once you were back at his place, it was the way you cuddled into him, your corny jokes,and those bright eyes that sparkled in low light.

When you passed out mid-film, he carried you up to the guest bedroom, laying you in the bed and turning off the lights before heading to his own room. The clock read 3.47 am, and Jim was ok not sleeping that night. It would have usually annoyed him, having to go into the office sleep deprived, but with you finally back, he couldn't help but be happy.

So, Jim didn't really sleep, instead closing his eyes and letting the silence wash over him, lying over the covers and breathing deeply. Resting, but never quite tipping the scales to unconsciousness. When his alarm clock went off, he jumped off the bed and headed to make you a fresh cup of coffee, with a splash of milk and a bucket load of sugar, how he always used to make it for you. He knocking gently on the door guest bedroom door, waking you.

"Y/N?" He called, and chuckled when you responded with a groan. He walked in, sitting on the edge of the bed as he waited for you to register his presence.

"Jim... Why the fuck did you let me sleep in jeans?" You whined, rubbing the sleep from your eyes and sitting up against the headboard. You gratefully accepted the coffee, and smiled after you tried it. "You remembered how I like it." You said with a gorggy voice, and Jim nodded.

"So, Jan is going to be at the office at 12, so if you want to stay here and sleep longer I can leave you a set of keys?" He suggested, and you shook your head, taking another sip and blinking fast, trying to wake up.

"No, I'll come in with you, I'd love to distract the office for a morning." You giggled, and Jim grinned. He loved that sound.

"Well, I'll leave you to get ready. Shower and stuff are through there... Leave in an hour?" You nodded along with his words, and Jim disappeared out the bedroom door. You sat in bed for a little longer, finishing up your coffee and admiring the view of the cherry blossoms you had from the window. Once the mug was truly empty, you sorted through your suitcase, retreiving the basics, and went about the process of getting ready: showering, drying and styling your hair, applying makeup, brushing your teeth, the works. And after picking out a white boat neckline blouse and burgundy pencil skirt, your slipped into some complimenting heels and double checked your handbag still had everything you needed.

You left your bedroom to find Jim searching for his other shoe, his shirt half tucked in to his trousers, odd socks on his feet.

"Halpert..." You got his attention, and he looked up at you, stopping in his tracks. You gestured to the coffee table, under which sat his other shoe.

"Ah, thanks." He said with a goofy smile, half-embarassed. You walked over after he had slipped it on, and buttoned the top buttons of his shirt, fixing his tie into place.

"There we go, now you don't look like a guy leaving a strip club." You teased him, and he rolled his eyes dramatically.

"Start the car? I just need to grab my bag." Jim requested, and you nodded, taking the keys from the bowl by the door and heading out into the driveway, unlocking the doors of Jim's silver Subaru and putting your handbag in the back, slipping into the driver's seat and starting the engine. Jim appeared a few seconds later, locking the front door quickly and jumping in the passenger side, raising an eyebrow to you.

"What? They drive on the right in Europe. We'll be fine." You promised, and Jim turned on the radio as you pulled out of the driveway. "I will need directions though." You added.

"Left at the end, next big junction take a right, follow the road until you spot the usual turn for the business park." Jim said, settling into his seat. The previous song on the radio ended, and the DJ announced a new track, the beat making you and Jim share a look. It was far too early for a sing along car ride, true, but neither of you could resist.

"Love me, love me, say that you love me!" Jim sang out in a falsetto, handing the imaginary microphone to you.

"Say that you love me!" You sang along through laughter.

"Fool me, fool me-"

"Go on and fool meee." The back and forth of the song, followed by Jim's rendition of 'Piano Man', arrived you both at the office out of breath from giggles and five minutes early. And you looked up at the building, taking a gulping breath.

A whole year, and you were back again. Parked in the same spot, looking up at the building you had so willingly left for Europe. It hadn't changed, but you had, and a sudden pit opened in your stomach. What if everyone hated you? Resented you for leaving?

"You go ahead Jim... I need to make a quick call." You lied, but Jim seemed to buy it. He gave your hand a squeeze and left you to it.

You had come home, and you had never been more terrified.

--

Tags: @imsuperawkward​ @rosie2801​ @onceuponahuntersrealm​

#au #jim halpert #michael scott #pam beesly #dwight schrute #the office #jim halpert x reader #jim x reader #office au #reader #reader insert #reader is female #romance #friendship #pam and jim #jim and pam #slow burn #from season 1 #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom #john krasinski #steve carell #jenna fischer #rainn wilson #jackryanplz #part twelve

[sparklingichigo]

Ova II - Time Travel

Haha, jokes on Barbatos, those three are still going for this time travel. He needs a raise, man, poor Barb.

Barbatos: Okay, one rule, don't meet yourselves, especially interacting with them.

Solomon: Got it!

With that, Barbatos moves them to the past where Simeon was not close with Haruka and still dating Satan. Of course, as we can see, they have a pretty beautiful relationship if we put aside Satan's anger. Now....to put the past selves to sleep.

Barbatos: [sigh and did what he can to cause the past selves to sleep]

Solomon: What about the body?

Barbatos: I'll handle it! Go!

The three humans go in different directions. Solomon enters the purgatory hall since that's where he's supposed to be. While Haruka and Ichigo go to the house of lamentation. On their way, unfortunately, they met a particular tall demon.

Ichigo, internally: Sht-

Beel: Oh, you're home already! Luke is looking for you.

Ichigo: Oh really? Where is he?

Beel: Well, he did go to our house, and he dropped these [shows a basket]

Ichigo: Oh! More desserts, alright then. You can have them if you want :D

Beel: Are you sure?

Ichigo: Yep, I'm still a little busy now, but I'm sure to join you!

Beel: oh..okay then :D

With that, Haruka and Ichigo finally escaped Beel. Now onto the mission. This was days before the exam where Ichigo, Haruka, Satan, and Solomon are supposed to be in the library taking books, and that's the exact moment Simeon keeps on texting Haruka to come to purgatory hall. So here they are, doing exactly what happened in that time frame, but this time Haruka shuts down her phone so Simeon won't be able to reach her.

Ichigo, internally: Good choice

Haruka: Right? This way, Simeon won't be able to contact me, and Satan wouldn't be annoyed.

Solomon: That's smart

Satan confusedly stares at these three humans in real life because they suddenly blanked out in the middle of the library.

Satan: Are you guys okay?

Ichigo: Yeah, yeah, we're fine!

Satan: Alright. Haruka, come this way [drags Haruka away by her hand]

Haruka: Eh? Why?

Satan: The history section is this way. Those are magical books. They're for Ichigo and Solomon.

Haruka: Ah... Alright^^

As Haruka gets dragged, she can hear Solomon and Ichigo cackling in her head.

Solomon: Okay, now imagine that but Simeon-

Ichigo: nooo [cackling hard]

Solomon: I think we'll see the day Simeon dragging her around like that.

Ichigo: It'd be too funny-

Haruka: Can yall stop;-;

Ichigo and Solomon: [still cackling]

Ichigo: Okay, I think we gotta stop. The librarian is staring at us

Solomon: Oh yea-

The two finally get out of the telepathic chatroom, leaving Haruka alone. In the history session of the library, Satan is, of course, collecting books for her and putting them into a trolley.

Haruka: That's a lot of books...

Satan: Oh, don't worry, you're only getting around 10% of those. The others are for me to read^^

Haruka: I see... [sweat drops]

After collecting the books, Haruka also finds some books exciting, but she can't reach them because of her height. She keeps jumping, trying to get that until she finds Satan behind her and goes for the book.

Satan: Here you go^^

Haruka: Thanks.... [realizes they're close] Uhm-

Haruka's heart is beating quite fast while the man behind her? He looks as smug as ever.

Satan: Well then, indeed. Didn't know you'd press back against me-

Haruka: What- no! No, I didn't! Can we just get a seat? Please?

Satan: Sure^^. Didn't know I'd seen you as red as a tomato. Adorable- [walks away like nothing happened]

Somewhere Solomon and Ichigo are cackling again. This is one hell of a funny time travel. Of course, they'll probably get punished by Barbatos for not doing the mission, but it's hilarious-

Haruka: Just shut up!

Ichigo: It's too funny, help-

Solomon: BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!

Haruka: Shut it, Solomon!

Solomon: I can't help it, it's too funny! I mean, it's more fun this way, isn't it? You have more thrill in your relationship-

Ichigo: Ah yes, the sexual tension-

Haruka: What-

Ichigo: What?

Solomon: I-

Suddenly Haruka hears footsteps and a concerned Satan in front of her.

Satan: Haruka, aren't you coming?

Haruka: Y-yeah! I am! I'm just getting this book-

Satan: Okay, come on, your exam is tomorrow, right?

Haruka: Y-yeah o///o

Somewhere, Simeon is trying his best to contact Haruka, but nothing is working until he finds Barbatos by his door.

Simeon: Barbatos?

Barbatos: Hello^^ Do you mind some tea?

Simeon: Oh sure, I'm free^^

Barbatos: Perfect, the Lord is inviting you for some tea today^^

Simeon: He is? Why hasn't he contacted me?

Barbatos: He sent me instead^^. Come along.

With that, Simeon and Barbatos go to the Demon Lord's castle to have tea together. Mission 1, done! Now back to the library, Haruka and Satan learn together, and there is no sign of Ichigo and Solomon.

Haruka:...Are Ichigo and Solomon coming with us?

Satan: Guess not. Perhaps they're on their own section. So, any questions besides that?

Haruka: So... Michael is the one who stabbed Lucifer, throwing him all the way here. What about the others?

Satan: I don't think it's stated here. Let's go find another book, maybe with more details, perhaps this.

Haruka: ...that's a bible-

Satan: I know-

Haruka: How are you not burned?!

Satan: Nah, Nah, I'm joking. It's a casual book. It does look a lot like those Christian bibles I see in the human world. They are pretty interesting, I must say.

Haruka: What do you mean?

Satan: They have interesting stories, but I hate that they view Lucifer and me as the same being. But anyway, that's not why we're here.

The day went on casually. Luckily Haruka and Simeon still don't end up together since Simeon is busy thanks to Barbatos or Solomon, perhaps Michael as well, but he's swamped. Haruka is, of course, still happily dating Satan even though he got offended a lot, but it's all good since he's trying his best to be better.

But now it's time to go back to the future. Once Barbatos and the humans are back, Haruka finds her ring turning into an emerald stone with a diamond surrounding it.

Haruka:...

Satan: Babe!! Dinner is ready!! [entering the room unannounced]

Haruka: Huh?

Satan: What's wrong?

Haruka: It's nothing, it's the ring...

Satan: What's wrong with it? Is it not your taste?

Haruka: N-no, it's fine. I just find it pretty as always^^

Satan: Aww, okay then^^

Lucifer: Is she up for dinner yet? It's Ichigo's turn today, so I'm sure the food is trusted-

Haruka: I am, I am! Hold on! [finally gets out of her room]

But once she's out, she doesn't find Simeon and the other angels. She looks around, trying to find the angels, but none of them are there.

Satan: What's wrong?

Haruka: Did we travel with the angels?

Satan: Oh, we did^^ They're just quite busy today since there is a lot of work up there. They'll be here soon.

Haruka: I see...

Satan: Come on, I think they're back already.

Haruka: Okay, let's go^^

As they walk to the dining room, the two pass by Barbatos, calling for Lord Diavolo. Barbatos gives her a code that they succeed with the mission. The two of them finally sit down at the dining table. The conversation starts with Asmo,

Asmo: So, Beel, when are you proposing to Ichigo-

Ichigo: Eh?!

Beel: What? [chokes on his food]

Lucifer: [tries not to laugh]

Belphie: pfft-

Solomon: Yeah, when?

Levi: She can't wait anytime longer. You guys have been dating for 1 year!

Mammon: I can help if yall need some jewelry advice!

Lucifer: I'd certainly not trust you with this kind of thing!

Mammon: Oh, come on!

Ichigo: [laughs nervously] I don't think we're ready for that...

Beel: You're not?

Ichigo; What- Uh- o///o I mean if you are...

Beel: We'll see^^

Ichigo: Shut it and just eat your food >///>

Suddenly the door was opened with the angels finally done with their work up there, including Luke.

Luke: We're baaaacck!!!

Haruka: Oh! You guys are back!

Simeon: We are ^^ Oh my, that's a lot of food, who cooked all this? :o

Diavolo: Ichigo and Barbatos, as always^^ Such an outstanding performance as always Barbatos.

Barbatos: All the best for you, M'lord ^^

Simeon: Well, if it's Barbatos and Ichigo, I'm sure it's delicious! Come on, Luke, let's dig in!

Luke: Yay!

That night ends with a peaceful dinner as everyone has fun. Luckily, Simeon has 0 feelings for Haruka and is now more focused on taking care of Luke and being a pure angel. Haruka and Satan are now happily engaged and are now planning their wedding soon.

Asmo: Wedding? I'm glad you asked. I've planned this since day one- [throws in a big binder]

Satan: What-

Haruka: oh my goodness!

Asmo: I know, come on, let's start discussing!

Yeah, that's pretty much the result of the time travel clownery. Guess, either way, Haruka gets her happiness, which is good for her. Also, kudos to Satan for making the relationship more thrilling.

#obeymefanfic #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me simeon #obey me luke #obey me solomon #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos

[sheerbeautyreigns]

DESIRE

Part 49

Paul returned about 30 minutes later to find Joe a wreck. He was gleaming with sweat, his hair wet and a mess of his own cum in front of him. He looked desperate as Paul came towards him. “Messy boy, look at this.”

“Please…no more.” Joe begged, his eyes pleading for mercy as his body trembled. Paul felt sorry for him and switched the machine off. The room fell silent, apart from Joe’s panting. His body slumped as much as his restraints would allow. “Jesus baby, the sybian really did a number on you this time.” Paul observed, starting to undo the shackles around his ankles. His legs hung limply on either side of the bench. Next he undid his arms and then next it was the collar. Joe leaned onto Paul’s front as he tried to regain his composure. “Let’s get you off this thing.” For the first time that he could remember, Paul lifted Joe over his shoulder and set him on the bed. He fell back onto the pillow, still breathing heavily. He looked weak. Paul retrieved a bottle of water from the fridge and uncapped it.

“Here, drink this.” He instructed, lifting his head. Joe weakly swallowed a few mouthfuls. “You OK?”

Joe nodded slowly. “It was too much. I thought I was going to pass out at one point.”

“Like one of your blackouts?” He asked, leading Joe to nod. “I’ll have to bear that in mind next time. You managed to get that looked into yet?”

“No Sir. To be honest, It’s kinda embarrassing trying to explain it to someone.” Joe explained.

“I worry about you. Stay here and I’ll run you a nice bath. Keep drinking the water.” Paul kissed him on the forehead and left the room. Joe lay there for the next five minutes or so, still feeling his insides tremble. He was starting to get some feeling back in his anus. Paul returned a few moments later. “C’mon baby.” He held onto Joe as he escorted him into the ensuite, easing him into the bath. “There, gently.”

Joe lay back, resting his head on the rim. “Want me to leave you to it?” Paul checked. “Please stay.” Joe reached for his hand. “Of course babe.” Paul eventually got in and sat behind him, massaging his back, cleaning him and finished up by washing his hair. “Thank you Sir. You’re always so good to me.” Joe said turning to face him. “Even when I’m beating the crap outta you and wearing you out to the point you can barely stand?” Paul joked.

“There’s always a reason for it and regardless of how I am in that moment, I always feel better for it. Even though I don’t always look it.” Paul stroked his cheek tenderly. “I’m just glad you’re willing to put up with me. I don’t know what I’d be doing without you right now. Work’s so stressful and sometimes I just feel like I’m losing my mind.” Paul confessed. “I know. I see how it gets to you sometimes…” Joe started. “You’ve been on the receiving end of my moods lately and I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok-” Paul cut Joe off “It’s not though. I want you to speak up if you’re not happy…about anything. Your been so good for me. I want you to feel fulfilled. Understand?”

“Yes Sir, I understand. Why now? If you don’t mind my asking?” Joe stroked Paul’s thigh as he said this, trying to keep him soft. “I feel, like sometimes I ask things of you that you might not necessarily be happy with but you’re afraid to say no. Do you agree?”

“I dunno…I guess. I mean, I was nervous about the session in New York. So nervous, I thought I was going to be sick but it wasn’t that bad.” Paul interrupted him “You never told me what happened there…”

Joe blushed “ He’s similar to you in the dominant role. When I kinda realised it, I felt more at ease. It was when he tried to kiss me that when I felt weird. I felt like I was betraying you.”

“You were right to feel that. I never gave him permission to do it. Kissing is off the table with anyone.” Joe had remembered this was the case with Drew. “He just likes to try his luck.”

“I’m sorry Sir.” Joe apologised. “It wasn’t your fault baby. He had you restrained so it’s not like you could fight it.”

“What about this gathering in LA? Have you spoken with your friend who’s holding it?”

“Not yet but I was planning on calling her today. I just want to make sure you’re definitely OK with it. I don’t want to pressure you.”

“As long as you’re there, I’m fine.” Paul leaned in and kissed him. “Don’t worry baby, I’ll take good care of you.”

That afternoon, they chilled for a little while by the pool. Since his ass was still feeling pretty fragile from the flogging the day before, Joe didn’t go into the pool. He was happy just to lay in the sun lounger and work on his tan. Paul, meanwhile had a couple of meetings for NXT to take care of.

An hour or so had passed and Paul found himself back out by the pool with Joe. “How was your meeting?”

“Good. Just trying to get everything in order for the next Takeover. It’ll be worth it though.”

“Have you heard anything about my match at Clash of Champions yet?” Joe asked gulping a mouthful of water. “Not yet but I should have the Raw draft through in the next day or so. Sometimes, it’s not even worth looking at them since Vince changes then at the last minute most of the time.”

Joe pursed his lips in agreement. He decided to change the subject since he didn’t want to get him worked up. “I managed to get a flight for 11am tomorrow.”

“Good baby, I’m glad you stayed. I really can’t wait to sign off on this house in Tampa. I can make that more of a base for us. I should hear more on Monday or Tuesday. I can build a new dungeon, you can have your own room-”

Joe looked over at him, sitting forward. “My own room?”

“Just in case we have a disagreement. Knowing us, we’ll make up in a few hours.” Paul joked. “I didn’t mean that. I just meant in general, you’re giving me a room there?”

Paul looked at him, puzzled. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Well, I’m already based in Tampa-” he started. Paul sat up. “Yeah but I want you to stay with me when I’m there, which will be a lot.” He noticed a small smile creep onto Joe’s face. “I want this to be our place babe.”

“Are you sure?” Joe checked. “Of course I’m sure.”

“I just…I just don’t want you to get tired of me, is all.” Paul gave a questioning look. “What’s brought this on?”

“Nothing, I just…wasn’t expecting it.” He blushed. “Babe, I want this. For us. I want you to help me to decorate it. I want somewhere nice for us to come back to. It’s so big here. I don’t necessarily need something this size.” He mused. “What are you thinking?” Joe asked. “Well, I need a base here for head office but…I dunno. Let’s just take one thing at a time.” Paul rose to his feet. “I just need to make a phone call.”

“Nadja hey. It’s been a while.” Paul started, closing the door of his office behind himself discreetly. “Hey stranger.” Came her husky German accent. “I was wondering when I’d hear from you.” Paul padded around the room in his bare feet. “It’s been a while hasn’t it.” He smiled fondly. “Michael told me I’d probably hear from you soon.” Paul stopped to look out the window. His eyes fixed on Joe as he lay relaxing on the deck chair. “I’m sure he did.”

“You two. The tension, after all this time.” She laughed gently. “You can’t change him unfortunately. He’ll always be an asshole. An asshole I respect none the less.” Paul sighed as he lowered to his computer chair. “So, you’re coming to my gathering on the 17th yes?”

“I was thinking about it-” He started, leaning back on the chair, palming the back of his head. “What do you mean, thinking about it? You’ve never missed one in a long time. Besides, you wanna see my new pad. It’s to die for.”

“How many people are you planning on having over?” Paul asked. “Well, I don’t want it to get too messy so I’m thinking around 30. That would include you and your new pet.” She remarked.

“Do I sense a bit of jealousy?” Paul sat forward. “How can you tell?” She gave in. “From what Michael has told me, he seems quite the specimen. I’m curious.”

“I bet you are.” His blood started to boil at the thought of Michael telling her about Joe. He peered out the window again, distracted as Joe stood, pacing around the pool, on his phone, wearing only his cut offs. He always found time to marvel at his body “So I can count on you both to be there?”

“We’ll be there. I can’t wait for you to meet him. He’s perfect.” Paul said calmly. “I’m glad. You need someone to keep up with you.”

“Oh, that he does. How’ve you been anyway?” Paul asked starting to pace around the room again. “You know me. Always busy. I just bought this place six months ago and putting my own mark on it. I think you’ll like it.”

“I’ll look forward to it.” After they said their goodbyes, Paul opened his laptop and answered a few emails. It was about 4pm when there was a light knock on the door.

“Yeah?” Paul looked up from the screen as Joe cautiously opened the door. “You OK?” The younger man checked holding on to the door. “Sorry baby, I got carried away with work again.” He apologised with a small smile before rubbing his eyes. “It’s OK. I know you’re busy. I just wanted to see if you need anything.” Paul closed down the screen and stood, stretching. Joe held the door open as he approached. “How could I neglect this face?” Paul cupped his face and planted a kiss on his lips. Joe reciprocated as they stood in the frame. Paul took his hand and lead him into the living room. With a devilish smile, he forced him down on his knees in front of the sofa while he took a seat in front of him. Joe didn’t need to be told. He leaned forward between Paul’s legs and undid his zipper. He lowered his cut offs and pulled out his hard dick. “Good, baby.” He commented as Joe took the head in his mouth, massaging the undershaft with his tongue. Paul’s hands roamed his hair which was in a low loose bun, which he eventually took down, allowing it to tumble down on either side of his face. “So sexy with your hair down like that while you’re sucking my dick.” He could see the smile in Joe eyes as they trailed up to his. “Aww baby.” He said, fisting a handful of hair as he began to fuck his mouth. Trails of drool escaped Joe mouth as he took Paul’s cock. Moans and groans escaped his throat as Paul hit the back. “That’s it, take it.” He urged. “Aww I’m gonna come so hard on that pretty mouth of yours.” That he did, moments later, filling the back of Joe throat with his cum. He watched as Joe devoured it eagerly. “Good boy.

#roman reigns #wwe #tribal chief #roman reigns fic #fanfiction #smut #d/s #paul levesque #triple h

[trrriple-rrr]

Thorin Advent (01. - 08.12.)

Today is the last day of the second part of the Advent Calendar stories and the end of the story starring the lovely Michael. I hope you enjoyed reading the story. It was so much fun to write. Here you can (re-)read the earlier parts of the story before it’s the handsome Luke Marsden’s turn starting tomorrow:

09.12. * 10.12. * 11.12. * 12.12. * 13.12. * 14.12. * 15.12.

***

DEC 16th

***

The sight of his smile stays with you. In the next few hours, the next few days. It’s there when you wake up and it’s there when you go to sleep. It’s there when you get a text from him and when you send him a photo of Mickey playing in the park.

And it’s definitely there on the day when you realise you don’t feel lonely anymore. There’s a light snoring coming from beside you and a wet nose pressed against your arm but you don’t mind. You let your fingers run through your dog’s black fur. He’s sleeping on the couch next to you while you think about the last few days.

The walks you took with him.

Michael.

The talks you had. The little touches and smiles. The more you learned about him the more intrigued you became by him. You keep wanting to know more. You’re falling for him. There is no other way to describe what you are feeling. You’re falling for his smart humour, for his way to see the world around him, his gentleness and patience with the animals, his handsome face that only looks more beautiful when he laughs, his broad shoulders in his leather jacket that he even wears in the cold winter weather, his long legs and his determined stride next to you.

Your heart is beating quicker as you realize just how much you like him and you grab your phone before you can change your mind.

“Do you want to come over?” The words tumble from your lips the moment he picks up.

“Yes.” His voice. You even love the sound of his voice. It’s the only word he says and then he ends the call.

You swallow hard and startle Mickey when you suddenly jump up to run into the bathroom. Brush your teeth, comb your hair, check your outfit….maybe you should have thought this through more?

But then there’s a knock on your door and he’s there and you don’t give a fuck about anything else anymore.

You pull open the door, feeling breathless and excited, all at once.

His hands frame your face and he holds your gaze for one moment before you both close the distance between you.

His lips are soft but the kiss his hard and fast and just the right amount of dirty. You groan quietly as he licks along your bottom lip and nips it quickly before his tongue finds yours.

You move together. Pull him into your arms. Your hands sliding over his shoulders, his broad back. He holds you tightly, kisses you harder.

You moan his name and he pulls away for just one moment. But it’s enough time to pull him into your hallway and to kick the door shut behind him.

He presses you against the next wall and licks into your mouth.

“Bedroom.” You manage to get out before your tongue curls around his again. And suddenly the hallway wall doesn’t seem like such a bad place anymore.

His entire body is pressed against yours. You can feel his thighs pushing yours apart. You pull on his clothes.

He groans and gets rid of the layers between you right then and there. His jacket. His shirt.

His skin feels soft and incredibly warm underneath your hands. Your palms cover his chest, feel his muscles twitch and his nipples harden. You rub them and gasps into your mouth.

“Need to… please…” He murmurs and sucks on your bottom lip.

Yes. You need it too.

Your clothes fall to the floor next. Your jumper. Your bra.

You take his hand, his entire body pushes up against your back, his hand covering your breast as you stumble into the next room. His thumbs find your nipples and his lips kiss your neck. Your head falls back and you nearly crash into the doorframe.

This stupid… fuck.

Finally you can fall down onto your bed and he follows you immediately. He kneels above you, breathes hard. His face his flushed and his eyes are gleaming.

You lean upwards and kiss his chest. He moans, his eyes sliding shut. His hands slide through your hair, along your jaw and shoulders.

You suck on his skin. Leave a mark. It makes you happy to see it. To hear his low moan. He whispers your name and pulls you closer again. His lips find yours while you blindly try your best to get his trousers open and off.

It doesn’t take long till you feel dizzy and breathless and triumphant when you can push your hand into his boxer briefs.

He hisses and thrusts his hips into your touch. You feel his hard and hot length. He feels so good already.

He groans when you squeeze his cock and start moving your hand.

“Please…. More.” He manages to get out and moves away to get rid of the rest of the clothes.

You quickly follow him, get undressed in record time.

His eyes wander over your body. His gaze filled with want and admiration.

“I just…”

“I know.” You murmur and pull him close again. “I feel the same.” You spread your legs and he falls between them. His hard cock nudging against your thigh.

He licks and kisses along your neck as you fumble with the drawer of your night stand. Your eyes roll back when his fingers slide between your legs. His sure touch makes you still. He spreads you open, slides into you. Deeply. You press against him. Move with him. Feel the wet trail his cock leaves on your skin and suddenly remember what you were looking for.

You nearly sob with relief as your fingers close around the condom wrapper and you can press it into his hands.

He sits back and puts it on. You watch him. You can’t get enough.

His hands slide up your thighs and you spread them wider for him.

He mumbles a curse and slides forwards. The tip of his cock breaches you. Thrusts into you. Smoothly. Yes. Your body holds him. Takes him in. Completely.

He stills. Buries his head against your shoulder.

Your fingers slide through the short hair on his neck and he whispers your name. You breathe him in. Kiss him gently. Time seems to stand still.

You feel him. He feels so fucking good.

Your inner walls clench around him and cause him to moan loudly. His hips start thrusting. Pushing. Pulling. He fucks you. Long and slow thrusts. His lips finding yours again and again. Your tongue in his mouth. His cock inside of you. You move together, wrap your arms around him. Hold him tight.

You don’t ever want to let him go.

He shudders in your arms as if he knows. He presses his forehead against yours as if he feels the same.

His hips start to lose their rhythm. Go harder. Faster. Deeper.

You lift your hips and meet his every thrust. Please. Yes.

You can feel your toes curling, your muscles tensing, pleasure rising. It’s too much and not enough till he rolls his hips, pushes forward, his cock hitting the right spot, pulsing, coming, his warmth filling the condom and you, his hot breath puffing against your skin, your name falling from his lips in a flood of deep moans that make your skin tingle and your every thought black out blissfully.

You come.

Soar high with him. Drowning in lust for a few glorious trembling moments. Till you cling to him. Gasping. Your skin tingling, your eyes shining. Your lips are swollen. Your entire body feels too sensitive to touch.

But then he kisses along your jaw. Your eyebrows. Your nose. So gentle.

His eyes meet yours and he slowly pulls away and lies down next to you. He looks happy.

“I’m about to say something incredibly cheesy. Could you please not look at me while I do that?” He murmurs and you laugh quietly but turn to look up to your bedroom ceiling.

“I’m glad you came to the shelter. I’m glad I met you. I was lonely. Now I’m not.”

You bite your lip and reach over to take his hand still not looking at him. You just let his words seep into your heart and soul.

“I’m not feeling lonely either. Not anymore.”

*

Bye, Michael. I’ll miss you. But I am sure we’ll meet again in the next few days... ;)

@atoffandhisbobby: You are soooo close to finding out! It’s one of the four on your list (as much as I love Disney I refuse to make that huge amount of space in my heart for Mickey Mouse)! Which Mickey will be your final guess?

The incredible banner was made by the wonderful @once-upon-a-mystrade. Thanks, hon!

#ralph fiennes #michael prime suspect #advent calendar stories #advent calendar 2020 #fiction #reader insert #fantasy #ralph #two down...one to go #time flies

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Promises Not Kept Part 12

Summary: Tommy Shelby made a promise to Jonah Ward while in the war. A promise he didn't keep. But it comes to haunt him when he tries to drown out his sorrows with a young woman.

Part 12: Tommy makes drastic decisions while Leah finds out where she stands with him.

         "Tommy, I don't know if I should be here," Leah said quietly to him as he sat himself down behind the desk. The rest of the Shelby family began to filter in. "If this is a family matter..."

           He cleared his throat and reached for a cigarette. "You're practically family now."

           That was debatable to her. She enjoyed Tommy's family; they never gave her a fuss. Ada was always kind as was Polly. His brothers were rough around the edges but they were in good spirits just as Jonah had written all those years ago. But there would always be something holding Leah back from feeling like she was a part of the Shelby family.

           "Perhaps I should go wait upstairs with Charlie instead."

           Tommy was quiet for a moment. He pondered the suggestion with his cigarette. "Right, you can go upstairs." He agreed. If she didn't feel comfortable at the meeting then he wouldn't make her stay. "This won't take too long." His eyes fell to Arthur and John.

           "Alright." Something in the atmosphere of the room felt a little strange. But Leah couldn't place what it was. Instead, she kissed Tommy's temple before leaving. He felt like a stone.

~~~~~~~~

           Leah went upstairs to Charlie's room. She played with him to distract herself from the tense feeling she had in the big room.

           "What's that?" She placed his toy car on the floor in front of him.

           The toddler picked up the toy and smiled. "Car!" He chirped proudly.

           She smiled warmly. "Such a smart little boy." There was a lingering thought she'd been having for a few weeks. The idea that she wanted to see Charlie grow. It was a natural reaction to caring for the child for an extended period of time. She could imagine it was exactly how Grace once felt. She simply wanted to see her son grow up.

           Charlie leaned forward and grabbed the hem of Leah's skirt to grab her attention. "Lee!" He waved the car about in the air. "Car!"

           "That's right." She held out her hand so he could wrap his little fingers around hers.

           "Mumma."

           "Hm? Oh, yes, Mummy's over there." She pointed to the side table by Charlie's crib. There, Grace's photograph sat after Leah asked Tommy if she could move it to the baby's room.

           Charlie stared at her with his big eyes. "Mumma." He tugged at her hand.

           "Want me to go get the picture?" Leah stood and retrieved the silver frame. She carefully placed it in his hands.

           He stared at the picture of the woman he was slowly forgetting. Each memory he had of her, slipping away every day he grew just a little bit older. Then, he looked up at the woman who had been there for what felt like ages in Charlie's young mind. "Mumma." He pointed at Leah.

           "No, that's your mum." She redirected his gaze to the picture again. A feeling of guilt crept up on her and she tried her best to reinforce Grace's presence.

           Confused, Charlie furrowed his brow and stared at Grace. He returned the picture to Leah's hands, not sure what to make of it. His short attention span turning back to his toys.

           Leah stood again and placed the picture back on the table. As she did, she began to hear shouting from downstairs. It was faint at first but it grew louder. Not sure how Shelby meetings usually went, she wasn't sure whether to be concerned or not.

           "We'll fucking hang!"

           Leah was startled by the words and hurried to the door.

           "Lee!" Charlie stumbled to his feet and waddled over to her.

           "Sh, sh, it's okay." She scooped the boy up, resting him on her hip. Loud footsteps stormed into the house and the shouting only got more out of hand. Afraid, she went to the top of the stairs and saw Arrow House had erupted into chaos.

           Police had rushed the house and began to arrest the Shelby family members. The brothers kicked off, shouting at Tommy, their wives screaming angrily. Leah stood frozen, horrified and confused at the scene below.

           "I've made a deal with people even more powerful than our enemies." Tommy's voice could be heard above the fray. He walked out of his office while the officers were dragging his family out of the home.

           And just like that, it was all over. Everyone had been removed and driven away.

           Shaking slightly, Leah walked downstairs with Charlie. The little boy was whimpering fearfully and clinging to her.

           Tommy was standing in front of the open doors, watching the last paddy wagon pulling off.

           "Tom?" Leah's voice quivered. "What've you done?"

           He turned around and walked over to her. "You wouldn't understand. I needed to make sacrifices to keep everyone safe." He ran a thumb over Charlie's cheek to soothe him.

           "W-will they be alright? You're going to get them out, aren't you?" She whispered.

           "It'll take some time." Tommy nodded. "But yes."

           A chill came in through the open doors. The day seemed gray and Leah realized her bad feeling from earlier had been warranted. "What will happen to you?"

           "Everything will be alright. We'll be fine, aye?" He rested a hand on her hip.

           "I still don't understand." She didn't know how or why he'd done such a thing to his own family.

           "I wish I could explain everything to you." Mixed emotions crossed his face. He needed to be certain that everything would work out according to his plan. It was far too late to doubt himself.

           Leah nodded silently. She stepped closer to him and wrapped an arm around him. Tommy hugged her and Charlie close, his back to the open door.

~~~~~~~~

           A month after the police raid, Leah was still in Warwickshire. She couldn't find the strength to leave. She'd grown too attached to Charlie and was too in love with Tommy. However, she'd seen a change in the man after what he'd done.

           He worked behind open doors and often traveled to attend meetings. It was difficult to keep the business running without his family's help. But he always returned to his son and the woman he intended to marry.

~~~~~~~

           Friday, Tommy arrived home earlier than expected. When Leah went downstairs to greet him, Charlie at her heels, she saw the vardo outside.

           "I thought you wouldn't be home till tomorrow?" Leah asked when he kissed her cheek and picked up Charlie.

           "Canceled a meeting. I was thinking you'd like to go on a little trip with me?" He wondered.

           Leah's parents often took her camping during the summer holidays so she wasn't afraid of roughing it in the English countryside. "Okay." She agreed. "Where would we be going?"

           "There's a woman I need to speak with. She's a traveler but I know her usual whereabouts." He answered. "Shouldn't take more than two weeks."

           Leah silently hoped it would take the full two weeks. She'd been extremely concerned about Tommy. He hardly ever spoke about business to her. Never told her who his meetings were with or what they about. Never spoke about his family, although Leah knew from Ada that John, Arthur, Michael, and Polly were all still in prison for murder. She worried about them.

           She also worried about Tommy. Every night he was in Warwickshire, she had to remind him what time it was. Even then, he wouldn't go to bed. Instead, working right through the night and into the morning, surviving off of whiskey and cigarettes.

           Leah hoped that the journey would be good for his health. "And we'll bring Charlie along?"

           He nodded. "I'm sure he'll enjoy time outside."

           She smiled for the first time in what felt like weeks. "I'll pack a bag then."

           It was a completely different side to Tommy, one Leah never knew existed. She’d been so used to the man who always wore three-piece suits and appreciated luxury items. But it didn’t matter if he had everything he had always wanted as a child. He was still a Traveler by blood and would never forget that.

           But it was still obvious that he was troubled. He tried to keep up a stoic front but Leah could see the thoughts racing in his mind. She couldn’t blame him for feeling so unnerved, but she had to give him credit for what happened to his family. He had orchestrated everything. Whether or not it was for the greater good or not wasn’t for Leah to decide.

           They found Bethany Boswell a day after they arrived in Wales. Tommy asked Leah to stay behind with Charlie while he approached her. The meadow they met in was open so Leah could see them speaking but couldn’t hear anything.

           It felt strange not knowing so much about Tommy’s business dealings. Leah wasn’t sure whether she should be more assertive and demand he disclose that information to her. In reality, she didn’t know whether she wanted know or if it would really change her view on him. She knew he did bad things; she had done bad things as well. There was a huge period of time after Jonah’s death that Tommy didn’t know much about. He didn’t know the things she’d done to stay alive.

           What she wasn’t unsure about was her love for him. Perhaps she was foolish and didn’t realize that one day she might have to pay the price of loving him. The price that most people in Tommy Shelby’s life paid. Sometimes with their life, sometimes with their freedom. Why should she be spared?

           They camped that night by a lake in Wales. Tommy hadn’t mentioned anything about what he spoke to Bethany about. He simply put Charlie to bed, kept the fire going, and checked on the horses every so often.

           Leah stayed up with him, her mind too active to sleep. She curled up by the fire, wrapped in a fur blanket. Tommy sat beside her, smoking and watching the sparks pop and fly out of the flames. His hand kept fidgeting, tucking into the pocket on the inside of his coat.

           She felt guilty for doubting him so much in the past few weeks. She was sure that he was taking on enough of a burden for what he did.

           “Tom?” Her voice disrupted the quiet sounds of the nocturnal creatures around them.

           “Hm?” He didn’t look at her, too consumed with his thoughts. Had he done the right thing? Would his family ever forgive him? Did he deserve to be forgiven? Would this be enough to silence his enemies? Would any of it be worth it?

           Leah’s warm hand touched his cheek and guided his gaze to her. Almost instantly, the anxious thoughts in his head quieted. “I’m worried about you.”

           He reached up and rested his hand over hers. “I know. I’m sorry, things aren’t good right now.” He agreed.

           “They’ll get better, won’t they?”

           “Yes.” He needed to be confident with his decision or things would fall through. With a heavy sigh, he stood up. “Can you swim?” He asked.

           “Not very well, but yes.” She nodded with a confused look. “Why?”

           “Need to clear me head.” He answered vaguely and began to unbutton his shirt.

           Leah’s eyes went to the lake and she laughed quietly. “Are you mad? It must be freezing.” She replied.

           “Good way to clear your head.” A faint smile formed on his lips. He stripped down to his boxers and walked away from the fire, heading for the lake’s bank. “Stay by the fire if you’d like.” His tone was a little taunting and Leah rolled her eyes.

           She stood and folded the blanket. She left it on the steps of the vardo, peeking inside to make sure Charlie was still asleep. Turning, she heard Tommy enter the water with a small splash, diving under for a moment. She walked over to the edge of the lake, waiting for him to resurface.

           The moon was bright, uninhibited by clouds and it cast a crisp glow over the small lake. The colors of the world had bled and faded, resulting in what looked like the scene in a movie picture.

           Tommy’s black hair reappeared a few feet away and the moon highlighted his pale skin. He pushed his hair from his face and looked out to Leah. “Not that cold.”

           Leah sighed and began to remove her blouse and skirt. She could feel Tommy’s blue eyes on her when she stepped into the water clad in only her undergarments. It was colder than she would’ve liked but could be tolerated after fully submerging.

           Tommy swam over to her and wrapped his arms around her waist. He kept his feet on the mossy stones covering the bottom of the lake. His eyes were electric in the pale moonlight, almost glowing. “Would you like to know what I was speaking with Bethany about?”

           It was completely out of the blue and Leah wasn’t expecting it. “If it’s your business, then don’t feel like you have to tell me. I respect your privacy.”

           He chuckled softly and dragged his fingers up her bare spine, catching on the water droplets. “You treat me like you work for me sometimes.”

           A blush spread over Leah’s cheeks. “Sorry, I know I don’t fit in sometimes.”

           “You fit in just fine.” He assured her. “You’re just unsure of yourself.” He pressed his forehead to hers and let out a slow breath. “I brought Bethany a ring to make sure it was free of any bad luck. It’s for you.”

           Her eyes widened a bit. “Oh, Tommy, you didn’t have to get me anything. There’s no reason…”

           “I would think a proposal would be a good enough reason.” He replied.

           “Proposal?”

           “Leah, would you consider marrying me?” His tone was serious but eyes were filled with hope.

           “Tom…”

           “I know this isn’t a orthodox situation.” He prefaced before she could decide on a whim. “But I love you and I want Charlie to have someone like you in his life. He deserves that much. And I feel like you’ve brought me back to life, even when I was at my lowest.”

           Leah swallowed and cupped his cheek with her hand. “I love you.” She insisted.

           “But you don’t want to marry me.” He could hear the doubt in her voice. Although he wanted nothing more than to be hers, he knew he didn’t deserve someone like her. She was far too gentle and patient for a man like him.

           “That’s not it. I just don’t know if I’m right for you. Or right for Charlie.” She chewed on her lip and averted her eyes from his.

           “You’re afraid of me, afraid of what I’ve done.” He leaned into her touch. At least he could have this last night with her if she truly wanted to leave.

           “No.” She shook her head. “Should I be?”

           “Would never hurt you. Would do everything I can to protect you. Lee,” He tilted her chin up. “I just want you as you are.”

           “You really want to marry me?” Her eyes finally returned to his.

           “Yes, of course.”

           She waited in silence for a moment before kissing him. Her hand pressed into the back of his neck to keep him close. Her touch was needy and quick.    

           He wrapped his fingers around her wrist, slowing her down, wanting to savor the moment. She kept him on the edge, waiting for her decision while they kissed.

           After what felt like ages, she drew away and nodded. “I’ll marry you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

      “She’ll throw me, Tommy, I know she will.”

           “She’s harmless, wouldn’t put you on a horse that would throw you,” Tommy assured her and walked the gentle mare over.

           They were back at Arrow House after the trip to Wales. Tommy’s spirits had lifted considerably after Leah agreed to marry him. It made him much more confident that he would be able to restore his family to the way it used to be.

           “I’m sure she’s sweet but…” Leah sighed and chewed on her lip. “Promise you won’t let me fall?”

           Tommy stopped in front of her, reins in hand. It was a beautiful day in the countryside and he offered to teach Leah how to ride. The groom had tacked up the ten-year-old mare that had been retired off the track for years. A beautiful roan that hardly ever spooked at anything. “I’ll be right beside you.” He nodded.

           She took a deep breath. She’d gotten more accustomed to the horses on the grounds. Charlie went to visit them every single day. Although the little boy was a little braver than she was when it came to the large beasts. It took some convincing to even consider getting up on a horse.

           “I’ll give you a boost.” Tommy offered and held out a hand.

           Leah walked over and carefully stroked the mare’s shoulder. “Hello, Molly.” She said softly. “Go easy on me.”

           “I’ll push you up by your knee,” Tommy explained. “Go on three.”

           Leah took hold of the saddle and rested her knee in Tommy’s hand. On the count of three, he helped boost her up into the saddle, grabbing her leg to make sure she didn’t over jump and slip off the other side.

           “Oh boy…” Leah laughed nervously. “A lot higher up than I thought.”

           “You’re alright, I won’t let go.” He assured her and helped adjust the stirrups’ length. “Better being out here than inside, aye?” He checked the girth and handed her the reins.

           “It is a nice day.” She agreed and nervously took hold of the reins.

           “Thumb on top, that’s it.” Tommy caught sight of the engagement ring on her hand. It gave him a feeling of pride and joy that he cherished during those tough weeks after his family’s arrest. “Alright,” He clicked his tongue. “Walk on, Molly.”

           Leah’s fingers tightened around the reins when the mare began to plod on at a slow walk. Tommy kept an easy stride with them.

           “See you’ll be galloping ‘round before you know it.” Tommy smiled up at her.

           “Oh, I don’t know about that.” She laughed nervously. “Better take it slow.”

           It was stunning to see the differences that made them so compatible. Tommy couldn’t remember the first time he’d ever ridden a horse. Most likely his family of Travelers chucked him up on one the second he could walk. But he was reckless as young as he could remember. He’d suffered a few brutal falls for being so sure of himself and always wanting to go faster.

           He always wanted more out of life and Leah was content to take her time and be patient. For so long she wasn’t given the privilege of being able to take her time. Life seemed to be a never-ending cycle of sleeping during the morning and entertaining strangers at night. Not once could she ask for time off or to be given a break. Now, Tommy gave her the opportunity to truly find her identity again.

           Despite their differences, Leah did her best to keep Tommy’s anxiety and stress under control to a certain extent. Of course, there wasn’t much she could do when he was away for work but when he returned back to Arrow House, she offered him a haven. A place to escape everything.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

           Summer faded and one day, Tommy announced that Polly, Arthur, John, and Michael were all out of prison. He didn’t tell her that they were half a second from been hung. Despite this news, the family still seemed to be shattered beyond repair. Tommy didn’t like talking about it much.

           Arthur and John had moved out to the country and refused to speak to Tommy. Polly was lost in the tablets and suffering greatly from the trauma she’d met with. Michael and Ada were the only ones who stuck around.

           Leah knew that Tommy pretended not to care. If they couldn’t see the good he’d done for the family then that was on him. But it was obvious he was deeply troubled by the rift in the family and company.

           The upcoming holidays didn’t make anything easier. The large house seemed so lonely with just the three of them, and then just the two of them when Tommy was away for business. Leah could feel him drifting away. She assumed everything would remain strong, especially after the engagement. But once the weather changed, Tommy became cold as well.

           Leah assumed it was just because of the family issues. There wasn’t much she could do to remedy it because he never spoke of it, all she could do was just try and be there for him when he needed her. But he stopped needing her or at least pretended he didn’t need her.

           On rare occasions, he was home, he often wandered upstairs to the end bedroom. The door that was always locked.

           Leah passed by it a few times, only guessing what could be inside. One night, she was restless. Tommy was home but hadn’t even attempted to sleep. She’d heard him wandering around downstairs for a bit. Kept her ears open to listen to every footstep he took. Eventually, she heard him travel upstairs but he walked right past their bedroom. She could smell his cigarette smoke and became a little annoyed. Normally, she tolerated his behavior. Let him sulk about the house, smoking, drinking, and hardly ever sleeping.          

           But it had just gotten worse. Leah was starting to wonder if he could ever pull himself out of such a mood.

           Deciding enough was enough and she deserved a little bit of explanation from the man she intended to marry, Leah got out of bed. She wrapped herself in a dressing gown and walked down the hall, following the lingering scent of cigarette smoke. The light in the last bedroom was on so she knocked on the door.

           There was a pause of silence. No footsteps and no words. But eventually, Tommy opened the door for his fiancee.

           He locked eyes with her and waited. He’d been waiting for that day. The day Leah would get tired of his attitude. Whether it was self-destructive tendencies or just a cycle, Tommy knew it was inevitable.

           Leah didn’t want to be angry with him. She wanted to understand why he was torturing himself. Certainly, he had to be miserable but he continued on. “Can I come in?” She asked quietly.

           “No.” He answered flatly.

           Although it wasn’t the response she was expecting, she tried to take it with stride. With a deep breath, she continued on. “This was the room you shared with Grace.” She surmised.

           He nodded slowly.

           “Then I’ll stay out here.” She didn’t mind the restriction. If he wanted to keep the room as it was, he could do just that. She wouldn’t intrude or pretend he was being foolish for wanting to keep that memory of her.

           Tommy rocked back and forth on his heels for a moment. Although she was patient, he half expected her to demand to enter the room. Maybe he wanted her to yell at him. Give him hell for all the hell she put her through. It would ease him a little of his guilt.

           “You miss her?” She asked softly.

           He kept behind the door, the clear line drawn between him and Leah. “I miss everyone.” The words came out before he could stifle them.

           “Of course you do, Tommy.” She murmured and longed to embrace him but stayed in the hallway. “But there are people who love you, people in your family who are still alive and love you. Sometimes you can’t hold onto the people who are gone.”

           Tommy’s entire body was tense. He wanted to argue with her, wanted to tell her she was wrong. He could hold onto Grace, his mother, Greta, the friends he’d lost, hell he could hold onto his father if he damn well wanted to.

           “If you’re holding onto people who are gone then you’re missing out on the people who are alive.” She insisted. “Please, I just want the best for you. It hurts so much to see you like this.”

           “Then why do you stay?” He confronted her with the question that had been haunting him for so long. “Why did you say yes?”

           Leah swallowed and wrapped her arms around herself for comfort. “Because I love you. I think you’re a good man even if you don’t believe it yourself.”

           He took a step back and finished his cigarette. Drifting away.

           “Why did you ask me to marry you if you didn’t want me to say yes?” Leah turned the question back on him. Dread was starting to seep through her bones and her heart began to ache.

           He didn’t answer and his eyes didn’t meet hers.

           “Tommy.” She refused to walk away from him. “Please, you’re breaking my heart.” All she could do was try and extend words out to him instead of reaching out.

           “I do that.” He muttered.

           “You’re only trying to hurt yourself, Tommy.” She was too upset to be patient anymore. “Everything you do to push away the people who truly love you…I-I don’t get it. Why do you keep opening up old wounds? Why do you keep doing this to yourself?”

           Tommy rubbed a hand over his eyes. He was so tired. Couldn’t even remember the last time he’d got a full night’s sleep. “Lee…” He finally stepped out of Grace’s room and shut the door.

           “Answer me.” She insisted. “I don’t understand why. You just want to hurt yourself and I-I can’t stand it. I don’t want to watch you hurt yourself!”

           “I’ll try to be better.” He stepped towards her.

           “It’s not about being better, Tom, it’s about allowing yourself to be loved by other people. Sometimes I feel you don’t want me to love you. You don’t want your family to love you. And I don’t get it. How am I supposed to love a man who doesn’t want to be loved?”

           “Lee.” He tried to touch her waist and pull her close.

           She pulled away from him and shook her head firmly. “No, don’t touch me. Not if you’re just trying to patronize me.” Hurriedly, she tried to wipe the tears from her eyes. “I’m tired, Tommy, I’m so tired. Maybe I don’t totally understand what’s going on. Maybe I have no right to say anything but…” She sighed and her shoulders drooped with defeat. “I don’t know what to do anymore.” She finally admitted.

           Tommy stared at her quietly for a few moments. “I’m sorry. Maybe I don’t know what to do anymore either.”

           Leah just shook her head and turned away from him. There wasn’t anything else to say to him. She returned to the bedroom and shut the door behind her.

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[talkfastromance4]

5sos Christmas Playlist-- Day 4 ‘I’ll be Home for Christmas’ Ashton

Day 4!!

Obviously had to end it with my man. If you’ve read any or all of these little one shots, thank you! and i hope you all have a wonderful christmas if you celebrate!!

Word Count: 1,988

Warnings: none just dad!ashton

Enjoy! :)

Masterlist

Day 1 Michael

Day 2 Luke

Day 3 Calum

_________________________

Christmas Eve will find you where the love light gleams, I’ll be home for Christmas if only in my dreams

Christmas was always special for you and Ashton. It was when he proposed to you six years ago and when you’d first told him you were pregnant a year after being married. It was a time for family, love and memories. This year was a little different. 

You had decorated the house alone this year for what with Ashton flying from LA to New York to London since Thanksgiving. The band was doing promos, interviews, appearing on almost all the Late shows and performing at two Jingle Bell balls. 

You baked cookies with your three little ones and made sure to send their frosting-and-sprinkle covered faces to Ashton, with some videos. Fletcher, your oldest at four who was a mirror image of Ashton, was more than happy to help his younger brother and sister. Henry just turned three and Ivy will be turning one come January so you had to help her a little bit more but it was still fun with all three of your babies. 

All five of your stockings hung on the fireplace, the tree was adorned with soft white lights and red and green ornaments. A little village was set up in the main foyer which the kids loved to watch as the tiny figurines skated on the ice, or the train rolled in and out of a tunnel. 

The house was warm and full of holiday cheer but with Ashton being gone you felt his absence. 

“Mama, can we call Daddy?” Fletcher asks you as you place the plethora of sugar cookies into tins for later. 

“Sure baby, let’s see if we can get him on video,” you smile snapping the lid on one container and grabbing your phone. “Come on Henry, let’s call Daddy.”

“Dada!” he exclaims sliding off the kitchen chair. His blond curls bounce at the back of his neck as he follows you and Fletcher into the living room, Ivy on your hip. 

Your two boys huddle next to you while you reposition Ivy into your lap and you press the FaceTime button under his name. The mirrored versions of you and the kids reflect back at you before his smiling face appears. The boys shriek along with their father in excitement for finally seeing each other. You laugh as Ivy makes her own loud noises trying to get in on the fun. 

“Hi honey,” you smile once everyone has calmed down a little. 

“Hi babe,” he greets with a grin then looks at each child individually. “Hello my babies, what were you doing that made your faces all messy, hm?”

“We made cookies for Santa!” Fletcher exclaims. His dark blond curls frame his face making him look more and more like Ashton, dimples and all. 

“You did?! I hope you saved some for me,” Ashton smiles. 

“I helped Henny with his frosting,” Fletcher says proudly.

Hearing his nickname, Henry perks up and smiles at Ashton who coos back at him. 

“Hi buddy,” Ashton laughs happily at his shy boy. 

Fletcher is Ashton’s mini me and Henry is you to a T. He has your hair and eye color and the same soft, kind demeanor. He’s a little charmer though and you think he knows it because he smiles and giggles when he’s doing something he shouldn’t. 

“Did you like making cookies with mama and Fletch?”

“Yeah! I did the-the spinkles!” Henry responds joyously. 

“And he did a very good job,” you smile pressing a kiss to his head. 

“I can’t wait to eat them. How’d my little Ivy Rose do with the decorating?” Ashton turns his eyes to Ivy who is chewing on her fingers, her big hazel eyes staring at Ashton. She’s still only has soft little hairs on her head, their little bald baby but her features are pretty half and half of you and Ashton. 

She’s got Ashton wrapped around her tiny little fingers. 

“She ate it mostly,” you chuckle rubbing her soft head. “But I think she had fun.”

“When are you coming home, Daddy?” Fletcher asks leaning on your thighs. 

You can visibly see the change in Ashton’s features at your son’s question. You had a feeling this year would be a little different because of the release of the new album approaching, but you waited to let Ashton explain. 

“Hopefully soon, bub,” Ashton sighs, “there’s a lot of snowstorms and that doesn’t make it safe for flying. But you, mama, Henry and Ivy will have a great Christmas and you’ll show me everything you got from Santa, yeah?”

“What if Santa brought you on his sleigh!” Fletcher exclaims and Henry yells ‘Santa!’ in excitement. Ivy shrieks again with her brothers, her little hands waving in the air and almost knocking your phone from your hand. 

“Shh, shh, inside voices please, babies,” you hush them with a smile readjusting your grip on the phone. 

“I don’t think Santa has room for me,” Ashton laughs. “But I promise when I’m home we’ll have a second Christmas, okay? Can you go play with your brother while I talk with mama?”

“Okay, Daddy,” Fletcher says and kisses his hand in Ashton’s direction. “C’mon Henny.”

“Bye boys, I love you. Be good for mama,” he waves before kissing his hand as well. Henry tries to copy his father and older brother by kissing his fist. 

“Bye Dada!” Henry smiles then takes Fletcher’s hand letting him lead him upstairs to their room. 

You sigh sadly resting your chin on Ivy’s head. Ashton is sad as well. 

“I’m trying, angel, I really am. No flights are going out right now because of the weather,” he explains. 

“I know you are,” you nod, “and I’d rather you be safe on the ground. Christmas is going to be a little altered this year, that’s all.”

He stares at you and Ivy for a moment. “My beautiful girls,” he hums, “I miss you all so much. Maybe we can FaceTime tomorrow before the kids’ bedtime?”

“Of course we can,” you smile. “We miss you, too. How are the guys holding up being away from home?”

“Same as me, I guess. We’re all homesick. I’l be--” he stops mid-sentence looking up at someone behind his phone. “All right. Baby, I gotta go, the car’s here but I’ll call you tomorrow?”

“Okay,” you nod smiling softly. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. Bye Princess, Dada loves you,” he kisses his hand waving his fingers to Ivy who coos at her dad. 

You hang up then sighed once more, rocking Ivy in your lap as you allow yourself to be sad at this moment. You had to keep a brave face on for the boys because they’ll be more upset if they see you upset. 

********

Like the rest of your and Ashton’s traditions, you held Christmas Eve dinner with the other wives and kids of the band. The newest addition to the 5sos family was baby Stella, Luke and Sierra’s adorable little girl. You all took tons of photos of all the kids together so the guys wouldn’t feel left out on tonight’s festivities. 

After dinner you all gathered in the living room with cups of hot cocoa and mini marshmallows while The Polar Express played on the large screen TV. Just after the hot chocolate song there’s a knock and ring at the door. 

“Who could that be?” Crystal asks fluffing the blanket over her and the twins. 

You get up from the couch with Fletcher hot on your heels. Ashton has told Fletcher that when Daddy’s away it’s Fletcher’s job to to protect his mama, brother and sister. Fletcher took that responsibility very seriously.

You push Fletcher behind her as she opens the door and sees Santa standing there.

“Santa!” Fletcher exclaims popping out from behind you.

“Ho, ho, ho!” Santa bellows heartily rubbing his belly.

“What are you doing here, Santa?” You ask narrowing your eyes. 

“I was informed that there are some good little girls and boys here without their Daddies for Christmas,” ‘Santa’ winks an all too familiar eye at you. You gasp quietly as he bends down to Fletcher’s height. “Can you go tell everyone to close their eyes for Santa’s surprise?”

“Okay, Santa!” Fletcher runs into the living room telling everyone to close their eyes. 

Behind ‘Santa,’ Luke, Calum and Michael appear with big grins mumbling ‘Merry Christmas’ happily to you as you step aside to let them in. They shuffle past you into the living room. You close the door and ‘Santa’ grabs hold of your waist just as Luke shouts “Open your eyes!” and shouts of happiness are heard.

“Santa has a special gift for you, Mrs. Irwin,” Ashton says in your ear. The fuzziness of his artificial beard tickles your ear. 

“Yeah?” you grin spinning in his arms then tugs his beard down so you can you see his face. “Am I on the nice list?”

“Gimme a kiss and I’ll let you know,” he smirks already leaning forward to give you a kiss. 

His arms tighten around your waist as the kiss deepens, his lips soft and cool. Regretfully, you pull away with a smile. 

“I’m so glad you’re home, but you have three little babies who want to see you, too,” you stroke his cheek gently. He squeezes your waist. 

“I’m dying to see them, too. We’ll continue this later, yeah?” he kisses you again, his tongue teasing yours deliciously. 

“Yes sir,” you say breathlessly watching him yank off the Santa suit. You raise your eyebrows at him in confusion. 

“Don’t want them catching Mommy kissing Santa Claus, right?” he grins tossing the outfit in the closet behind him. 

He kisses your cheek then grabs your hand moving into the living room. Hugs, kisses and chatter are still being exchanged then Calum says something to Fletcher who’s in his lap. 

“Daddy!” 

“Dada!”

Both boys leap off the couch and laps of uncles darting into Ashton’s outstretched arms. 

“My boys!” Ashton says giddily, hugging them close and kissing their heads. 

“Daddy, Santa was here!” Fletcher informs him.

“I know! He gave me and your uncles a ride here,” Ashton tells them brightly. 

“He did?!”

“Wow . . .” Henry sighs and you laugh at the wonder of your sons’ reactions. 

Ivy wails from her spot next to Sierra and Luke who’s cooing happily at Stella. You retrieve Ivy from the couch pointing to Ashton. 

“Look who’s here, baby. Is that Daddy?”

“There’s my princess!” Ashton smiles rising from his boys’ heights. He holds out his arms and Ivy wriggles in yours until Ashton has her. 

She hugs his neck tightly then lifts her head to look at him with a big smile as he murmurs, “hi” and she flings her arms around his neck again causing him to laugh. He rests his head on hers rubbing her back. 

“My sweet girl,” he hums kissing her peach fuzzed head. 

Eventually the movie resumes play and you’re seated next to Ashton with your boys between you and Ivy fast asleep on Ashton’s chest. Henry has his head in your lap, he’ll be dozing off soon as well since you’re playing with his hair. 

You feel Ashton pinch your ear lobe lightly, you turn to him and he mouths ‘I love you.’

“I love you, too,” you whisper.

His fingers rub the back of your head and you smile, your body filling with warmth and happiness that your family is together for Christmas. Your stomach does a little flip thinking of the small present that’s sitting under the tree for Ashton.

It’s a picture of you and the kids wearing special shirts. Fletcher has the number one, Henry with a number two, Ivy has the number three and on the belly of your shirt is the number four that you’re pointing at with a big smile on your face.

#ashton irwin #ashton irwin imagines #ashton irwin imagine #ashton #ashton irwin one shot #ashton irwin fanfiction #ashton irwin writing #ashton 5sos #ashton fluff #ashton smutt #ashton writing #dad!sos #dad!ashton #dad!ash #ashton irwin fluff

[lifblogs]

Title: Livin In You: Chapter 7

Fandom: Supernatural

Rating: Explicit (for later chapters)

Pairing: Destiel

Summary: Castiel is a mental health worker who is just fine with the way his life is. The only thing that really bugs him is how much his co-worker, and friend, Meg, mentions Dean Winchester, the most famous rock star in the modern age. Meg drags him to a concert, and he ends up getting tied into the wild and angsty life of Dean Winchester. Suddenly his old life seems boring, but so much calmer. Suddenly, it matters to him that he's still a virgin. Suddenly, this rock star that he despised the mention of, now matters to him.

Dean Winchester is a rockstar who's on top of the world when it comes to music. Yet there's more that he wants. He misses Lisa and Ben, he craves connection, craves being himself. Any hope for that amidst his alcoholic life all changes when Zachariah, the head exec of Heaven's Records, pairs with a new exec, Michael Edlund -- the Archangel of Music. Under Michael's dominance, he's no longer in control of his own life. There are rules. No more sex with fans. No more alcohol. And in Dean's view, no more god damn free will. Yet he stumbled into Castiel.

A/N: They finally meet!

Buy Me a Coffee!

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

Meg had gone to a hotel after the performance, but Castiel wasn’t ready to sleep. He needed to calm down, needed to get his ears to stop ringing. And was his heart beating too fast? Maybe the concert had been a natural high. Or too much stimulation all at once for someone who’d never been to such a thing before.

He shook his head, feeling an ache coming on behind his eyes, and he pressed his fingers against the bridge of his nose.

“Would you like honey with that?”

Castiel breathed in and out evenly, and took his hand away from his face to look at the college-age student working behind the counter at the café he’d stopped at.

“Uh, yes please,” he responded, hoping that it would get rid of the scratchiness in his throat. Besides, honey was good, and Castiel loved bees. Ironic that he’d found a café that was called “The Beehive.”

After paying for his tea, and waiting a few moments, he was given a cup with a cartoon bumble bee on the side, its previous flight path designated with a dotted line coming from the end of its body.

Castiel took a seat by one of the large windows, and sipped at the chai he’d ordered. He breathed deeply, trying to get himself to relax. He felt the hot cup in his fingers, heat radiating down the appendages, even singeing his fingertips a bit.

About to take another sip, Castiel was startled from his reverie, spilling hot tea all over his abdomen and legs as there was a loud crash from outside. It’d sounded like thunder, and then screeching.

“Fuck,” he muttered.

Castiel had crushed the cup in his surprise, and hot liquid was also on his hand.

He grabbed a bunch of napkins from the table, trying to hurriedly mop himself up, even as he stood to see what all the noise was. His skin twinged and burned.

“Fuck!” he heard from outside, and then a car door slammed shut.

Oh no, was that Castiel’s car that was rammed into in the back? Had someone seriously ruined his 1978 Lincoln Continental? There was a black car that seemed mostly free of damage, stuck in the end of his car, the metal crushed against the gleaming frame.

“Oh god, sir, do you want me to call 911?” the barista asked, her voice panicked, phone already out.

“Not yet,” Castiel told her, still mopping himself up. “I’ll see what’s going on.”

Wind blowing against the flurry of napkins in his hand, he stepped outside.

And he stopped dead when he saw who was prowling about the two cars, swearing his head off.

No, no, no, he begged. No, no, no, no, no.

But no amount of begging and pleading changed whose car that was.

The celebrity ripped off his leather jacket, and threw it through the window of the 1967 Chevy Impala, and then kicked Castiel’s car before starting to try and pry them apart. Metal squealed, but they didn’t budge.

“Uh, sir, that’s my car,” Castiel told him.

“It was in my way!” he yelled. And then he tried to straighten, and swayed.

Dean Winchester met him with hard eyes, but then they soon zoned out, looking slightly to Castiel’s left.

Oh! Oh, he was drunk!

Typical. Of course a celebrity was drunk after a big performance.

“I was parked on the side of the road, you… you… assbutt!” Castiel argued. The tea that had been spilled on his clothes started to chill in the night air, and he stuffed the remaining, and somewhat soggy, napkins, in the pocket of his too-tight jeans.

“Assbutt. Okay. And some side of the road,” he huffed. “Now come on, help me pry ‘em apart.”

Stunned, Castiel got up beside him, and started to push at his car, as Dean Winchester did so with his own. It didn’t escape Castiel’s notice that Dean’s right hand was poorly bandaged with a blue and white bandana.

After a great deal of struggling, nothing happened.

“Great. Just great,” Castiel told him, surveying the scene with lowered brows. Dean had collapsed across the hood of the Impala, seemingly strung out and definitely drunk. “I gotta call the police.”

“No, no, don’t!” Dean urged, righting himself with a lurch. He reached out to Castiel, grabbed him, and Cas just stared, not sure what to do. “You gotta help me, buddy. I can’t have the police here. Then there’ll be paparazzi, press. It’ll be a mess. Please. I’ll… I’ll pay you.” He let go, Castiel squinting at him in befuddlement, and Dean began to go through his pockets. “How much you need for the damage? Or uh, a new car. How much?” He pulled out a wad of cash, and started going through it, fingers clumsy as he counted. “Uh… six thousand? Seven thousand?” He slammed it against Cas’ chest, and he found he had no choice but to accept it. “Here. Here, take it.”

Castiel stepped back, confused as he clutched the money in his hand.

“Is this seriously your life?” he asked. “You just make a mistake and think you can get rid of it with money?”

Dean shrugged, almost fell and sat back against his car. “No.”

Castiel raised an eyebrow, hoping the look would prompt him to go on.

“Okay, not most of the time. I just need help.”

“Yeah, you’re drunk.”

“Smooth observation, baby.”

Baby? When had he decided to call him baby? Cas couldn’t decide if that was inappropriate or not.

“Look, I’m a mental health worker,” Castiel told him, slowly approaching. “I can help you get sorted out, at least for the night. You shouldn’t be out here, or on the road.”

“Ha, my brother would say the same thing.”

“Maybe you should listen to him.”

“What about your car?”

Castiel eyed the money, and held it up. “Well, you paid me.” He gave a couple thousand back, too stunned and shocked to even think about how much money he was holding and said, “I only need repairs. This car means something to me.”

“Yeah, mine too.” There was silence as Dean took the money back, and then they stared at each other.

“How come you’re not freaking out?”

“I am.”

“About me, I mean. You know who I am, right?”

“Yeah, you’re Dean Winchester.”

“Oh.”

“And?”

Castiel went around to the driver’s seat of his car, seeing if he could start it up, thinking he could drive it a few feet, get it out of this bit of wreckage.

That idea worked, once he signaled for Dean to get out of the way, and the drunk rockstar finally realized it.

“Now what?” Dean asked.

Castiel was shocked that he was the one supposed to be taking the lead here, but Dean stood with his arms crossed, looking towards Cas. How had he suddenly gotten authority?

“We could go our separate ways,” Cas suggested.

“You said something about helping… about helping this.” Dean pressed at his head like he himself was the problem.

It was Dean, per se. Alcoholism was a mental disorder, but aside from sobering him up, he couldn’t fix him in a night.

“Don’t you have a bodyguard or something?” Cas asked. “Or uh… what are they called — handlers?”

“Waiting for me at the hotel. Told ‘em I needed some air.”

Castiel held his arms out. “Well, you got it.”

“Can you help me?” Dean asked.

“You just crashed my car! And you were driving, drunk. It’s beyond me why I haven’t called the police on you yet. I don’t even like you!”

Dean’s face fell, crestfallen.

“You don’t even know me.”

“Exactly.” Castiel looked around, and observed himself as well. This tea all over him was super annoying, but he told himself it was just in the moment. It wasn’t a big deal. And his car, well, he could get that fixed. That was a big deal, but he’d already shown anger about that, so it was time to get himself to focus on dealing with it. Coping. That’s what he always taught his patients. He hadn’t reined in his reactions like he should’ve, but he could control what he was doing now. He even tensed and relaxed a few different muscle groups as he stood there, letting his body know he was fine. “But, I can’t just let you be alone like this. You could hurt someone, or uh… someone could hurt you, I guess. You have an address for where you’re staying?”

Dean licked his bottom lip, bit it, and then started digging through his pockets. It took him awhile to find the right pocket, and then to find what he was looking for. He handed Cas a horribly crumpled piece of paper with faded lettering, but he was able to make out the address.

“Uh… my car’s not going anywhere.”

Dean pat the hood of his car. “And I’m not leaving Baby behind. Just let it get towed. We’ll take care of it tomorrow.”

Cas, with keys in hand, looked at the Lincoln Continental. He’d had it forever, had gotten it from his dad, Chuck, who then up and left. It was all he had left of him, aside from some family photos he didn’t like to look at. Could he just leave it like that?

“It’s…”

“Just call a tow company now if you want,” Dean said. “And we’ll be gone before they get here.”

“Insurance is gonna want to look at this,” Cas said, leaning down to get a look at one of the headlights that seemed like it was close to just dangling off.

“No, no!” Dean responded in a panic. “We can’t have that.”

“Don’t you have a guy for this or something?”

“My people don’t want me out. Uh, hold on.”

Dean got out his phone and then walked a distance away before pacing back and forth. Castiel heard him muttering, “Pick up, pick up, pick up!”

Cas didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but he was soon able to hear one side of the conversation. He stayed by his car, trying to pat down his clothes with napkins some more.

“Look, I know you told me not to call… No, I’m not at the hotel… And you are?... Come on, I got into a mess… No, a girl is not involved… Uh, maybe a guy?... Okay, look, not in that way. But insurance is gonna be all over this, and I was wondering if you could…?... Yeah, I want you to make it disappear… Well, if you don’t, Zach’s gonna rail me!... Please, for me. I’ll uh, I’ll do anything, even hook you up with someone… Okay, right, duh, you don’t want that. Look, I’ll owe you a favor… Yeah, of course I can follow through with a favor… Just help me out here. I’ll be in serious trouble if you don’t. I’ll give you the details after, alright? Towing company, everything… Yes, it was Dad’s car… No, it’s not ruined. The other guy’s car is, and no, he hasn’t called the police… You think he should call the police?... Sam! Ugh, I’ll get back to you tomorrow, and you’re gonna help… Fine… Fine!... Love you, bro. Bye.”

“Who was that?” Castiel asked.

“My brother. He’s gonna clear this up. Call the tow company, and he’ll take care of insurance.”

Castiel raised his eyebrows, getting his own phone out, which he realized had gotten spilled with the tea. And it was refusing to work. Great.

“Mine’s… not working,” he admitted. “Can… Can I…?”

Dean rolled his eyes, but held his phone out.

Castiel used it to call, ignoring how it was a much better model than his own, and was running on very high speeds. The battery probably cost more than his month’s salary. It seemed custom made.

He gave him the phone back when he was done, took one last look at his car, and then held his hand out for the keys.

“What?”

“You’re not driving.”

Dean put a hand on the Impala near the wind-shield.

“You’re not touching her.”

Cas put his hands in stuffed, damp pockets, trying to seem nonchalant, but really feeling irritated, tired, and awkward. And the headache from earlier was pounding at him with full force.

“Alright, good luck then.”

Dean grabbed his shoulder as he passed, and Castiel nearly gasped. How had he not realized how nice his hand was before? Wow, that was a gorgeous hand. Cas wondered if his own hands were bigger. For some reason the idea of that made him feel a bit warm.

The rockstar sighed, and then handed him the keys.

“Not a scratch.”

“Promise.”

#Destiel #Destiel fanfiction #Destiel AU #Supernatural #SPN #Supernatural fanfiction #SPN fanfiction #fanfiction #writing #my writing #Livin In You

[the-original-b]

Archangel--Chapter 1: the Silvio Stakeout

Format: Prose / Ficton, multi-entry

Part in Series: 2 of 9 (Previous chapter)

Word Count: c. 6,100

Summary: Specialist Krueger follows a lead on the traitor to an exclusive vacation club in Miami, where he finds that there’s more to the plot against the Branch than initially suspected.

Trigger Warning(s): blood, violence, enhanced interrogation

“Good evening, Krueger,” Khai said over her headset. “Again, Mr. Wells extends his thanks for your help with the delivery the other day, and he’s begun to look for the leaks in his circle of trust, per your advice. He’d like your help with some of them.”

“I’m listening.” Krueger held an old flip phone to his left ear as he muted the television and sat down in front of his dinner—a lean cut of chicken with steamed broccolini and brown rice.

“We’ll start by addressing the bug you found in his office phone. Of all his lieutenants he only trusted three of them enough to grant access to his conference room. He’d like you to get some information from them.”

“Who’s the first one?” He held the phone in place with his shoulder while he cut a piece off his chicken.

“C.J. Silvio: internet personality and son of the Southeast Region’s Managing Partner, Charles Silvio. A man of night life, excess, and debauchery, your usual popup celebrity.”

“Charming.” He put the piece in his mouth and started to work on the vegetables.

“Once a month he retreats to Miami to confer with other Branch managers in the Region. They’re set to meet in South Beach, where he’ll spend the week indulging in all the decadence there before and after the conference.”

Krueger swallowed. “So we act when his guard is down.”

“Precisely. He’ll book his usual stay at the Aurora Club in a week, so I’ll arrange for your stay there to coincide with his.”

“Transportation?”

“I’ll take care of that, too. Business class flight to Miami International and car rental reserved for Sebastian Weber.”

“Rules of engagement?” Krueger took another bite.

“Observation only,” Khai clarified. “Mr. Wells was clear on that. Remember, the rest of our Branch still has no idea you’re with us, so there’s no need for unnecessary violence. And the last thing we want is to have the son of Silvio killed.”

Krueger swallowed. “I’m still going to need tools.”

“I’m curating your selection as we speak. You’ll just have to finalize it.”

“I’ll be there in forty minutes.” Krueger folded his cell phone shut to end the call.

 ``````

“I thought this was an observation job, Miss Khai.” Krueger examined the hardware before him and shot Khai an incredulous look. He’d already selected a directional microphone and declined a pair of military-grade binoculars.

“It is,” Khai confirmed, “but Mr. Wells and I agree it’s better to be prepared for the worst. Due to the nature of this task, however, I’ve narrowed the usual selection down and eliminated the more, conspicuous, options.”

“That wasn’t a complaint.”

“Excellent.” Khai sorted through the firearms and handed him one. “FN Five-seven USG.” Krueger took up the weapon and inspected it. “Lightweight polymer frame and slide, twenty-round magazine. Low caliber, high-velocity, armor-piercing. They might not go down at first, but accurate follow-up shots won’t be an issue with this one.”

Krueger was familiar with the weapon, having trained with one in preparation for a protection job some years ago. He racked the slide back and held it out with both hands to acquire the sight picture. It was as easy as pointing his finger.

Khai smirked. “Do you like it?”

“Tempting,” Krueger said. “But the idea is to not be noticed.” He put the gun down and picked up one of its 5.7mm rounds—a tiny replica of a rifle cartridge. “And these are very loud.”

Khai nodded. “I figured you might want something quieter.” She handed him another candidate, a .45 ACP Colt Government.

“Old Faithful,” Krueger noted, taking the gun into his hands. He examined the threading at the end of the barrel.

Khai handed him another piece. “AAC TiRant 45 suppressor.”

Krueger affixed the tube to the end of the pistol and looked down the sights, acquiring an accurate picture before dry-firing to test the trigger weight. He nodded in approval at Khai and placed the .45 on the tabletop beside him. “I may need to be quieter than even this,” he said.

“Do you want the karambit again?”

“I was thinking something less… permanent.”

“Right,” Khai nodded. “Rohypnol, then.”

  ``````

Krueger stepped off the plane and reclaimed his bag from the conveyor before heading over to Enterprise to pick up his rental car—a nondescript barebones mid-size sedan that was good for little other than getting him from point A to B. He had another stop to make before getting settled in.

Khai had his tools sent to Miami in the days before he arrived. They waited for him in the trunk of an unattractive coupe at a municipal parking lot. Krueger used a valet key duct taped inside the wheel well to unlock the car and reclaim his goods, and then headed to his lodging.

The illustrious Aurora Club. A sleek hotel located in the middle of South Beach, and a destination popular among Spring Break travelers with fake IDs young enough to be Krueger’s children. He pushed the thought of his seventeen-year-old daughter spending time in a place like this out of his head and strode to the front desk.

“Hello, sir. Welcome,” the receptionist said from behind his desk. “Are you checking in?”

“I am.” Kruger said. “Name’s Sebastian Weber.” He made a point to pronounce the W to make the receptionist’s job easier.

“Weber… Weber…” the receptionist checked the reservations. “Ah, there you are! Your reservation was made by a Liz K... paid in full, seven nights’ stay. Ocean view..! She must like you, huh?”

Khai had only shared with him where he was staying and for how long. She was mute on the details of the trip she booked for him. “She spoils me, yeah.”

“I’ll say...” He retrieved a keycard from under the tabletop and handed it to Krueger. “Room 1946. Enjoy your stay at the Aurora Club, Mr. Weber.”

“I certainly intend to. Thanks.”

``````

Krueger tapped his keycard on the reader immediately left of the door when he arrived at his room. He turned the door handle downward and pushed it to reveal a neatly organized room with a desk and lamp, flat panel television, marble-top night table with matching bed linens, a cozy couch in the corner, and just enough auxiliary luxuries to justify the cost of staying here.

Mr. Wells could write it off as a business expense, or see it as an investment. It didn’t matter to Krueger, ultimately.

Krueger placed his bags on the floor and walked through the sliding glass doors overlooking the beach. He retrieved the burner phone included in his kit to dial the only number stored in it.

“This is Khai,” she said after it rang thrice. Her tone was all-business, one he’d only previously heard when she first reached out to him so long ago.

“It’s me,” he said. “I’ve arrived on the premises.”

“Hello, Krueger.” Her tone pulled a one-eighty back to the warm, friendly one she usually spoke to him in. “How are the amenities?”

“Stellar. You really didn’t have to go so far out of the way for me.”

“Mr. Wells said to keep you happy, no matter what.”

He could see her grin in his mind’s eye. “I’m a man of simple tastes, Miss Khai, it doesn’t take expensive gestures like this to please me.”

Khai chuckled on the other end. “You’ll have to enlighten me some time, then.” She took a breath, getting herself back on track for the job at hand. “Young Silvio’s flight gets in tonight,” she said. “He’ll most likely commemorate his arrival at a nightclub, followed by an after-party at his suite… feel like getting in touch with your wild side?”

“I think I’ll stay in. It’s a school night after all.”

“I’ll leave you to prepare, then,” she said, laughing under her breath. “Best of luck.”

``````

Krueger’s Sunday night was spent in his hotel room studying the information Khai put together for him. Young Silvio’s picture, height, weight, build, preferred beverage. When he wakes up, goes to bed, when and what he eats, how frequently he uses the bathroom, the kind of women he attracts. He put a composite profile together and designed his plan around it.

Monday morning came and Krueger ran three miles along the beach before returning to the hotel for a lean breakfast. He studied a hotel brochure over black coffee and made mental notes of the services and suites offered there, deducing where in this labyrinth his prey was likely roosting. He went back upstairs to change into his swimwear.

That afternoon, when Silvio and his entourage were just starting their day at the pool area, Krueger lay on a bench drying off in his trunks and a sleeveless shirt, a small gym bag on the floor immediately to his right. He had his directional microphone tucked under the small of his back and pointed where he knew Silvio and his buddies would be while he listened in with a single wireless earbud. He would periodically turn pages in a copy of Michael Crichton’s Prey and peer over his aviator sunglasses at a passing woman every now and then to maintain the illusion.

Silvio returned to the pool area that evening, surrounded by young bikini-clad women he displayed like trophies to all the on-looking boys who didn’t know better. Krueger had the microphone tucked under his thigh toward the crowd as he stayed seated at the bar just far enough into Silvio’s peripheral vision that he blended into the background.

Krueger uploaded the recordings to a laptop supplied to him and studied the audio that night, finding no mention of Wells or the conference room. Between his public displays and audio logs, Krueger could safely hypothesize one or a combination of three things: C.J. Silvio was either clean, very smart, or very dumb. But tomorrow was a new day, he would solidify his theories then.

``````

Tuesday was mostly a repeat of Monday: Krueger went for his run in the morning and had his breakfast at the hotel and a swim afterward. He returned to the pool that afternoon for more surveillance on Silvio and his crew. He chose this time to not wear a shirt and display a lean athletic build that he maintained despite his age, left shoulder half-sleeve tattoo of dense tiger stripes, and stylized skull and crossbones tattoo on the right side of his chest to more casually fit in as he observed Silvio and his entourage from his pool bench.

He stopped when he noticed a more effective opportunity to gather information pass right in front of him. Krueger covertly shut off the microphone under him and slipped it back inside the bag just out of sight before standing up to follow this new lead, taking his equipment bag with him.

A young, supple woman with long, wavy dark hair in a canary yellow bikini and see-through sarong made her way to the bar and leaned against it. Krueger had seen her yesterday evening hovering around Silvio along with so many other impressionable women, but there was something different about her. And here she was again, associating with him although her body language practically screamed she’d rather not. She peered back over to Silvio again, the look in her eyes was almost contemptuous.

Krueger stood next to her and ordered a mojito. “Excuse me, miss?”

She turned to face him, taken aback at first by the lack of effort he put into successfully getting her attention.

He motioned Silvio. “I saw you hanging around that young man there,” he said sliding a few bills in her direction. “Let him know his next margarita is on me.”

The girl looked down at the money and back up at Krueger. “Uh, yeah. Sure, you bet.”

Krueger smiled and nodded. “Thank you.”

His play worked to perfection. Krueger watched peripherally as the girl in yellow and black handed Silvio a fresh margarita, and thumbed back in his direction. And before long Silvio stood up to swagger over to him, drink in hand.

“Hey man,” Silvio said, grinning behind a pair of single-lens sunglasses “I just wanted to say thanks for the drink!”

Krueger turned to look at Silvio from behind his aviators. “No problem. I saw how much fun you and your friends were having over there.”

Silvio laughed and bobbed a little. “I like this guy,” he said, apparently to an imaginary audience. “I’m Charlie!” He held out his fist.

“Sebastian.” Krueger met Silvio’s fist with his own.

“I’m hearing an accent, Sebastian. Where’re you from?”

“Germany.”

“Aah, Deutschland! Am I saying that right??” Silvio’s smile was earnest.

Krueger nodded in approval. “You’re very close.”

“Ha ha, nice!” Silvio gained his footing again. He was intoxicated even at this hour. “You here on business or pleasure?”

“I find, at times, they’re one and the same.”

Silvio laughed louder. “I love this guy!” he said. “You gotta come hang out with us!”

“Some other time, maybe. I have to get back to it, unfortunately.”

“No, no I’m serious,” Silvio said, patting Krueger’s shoulder and holding on to it. “You have to party with us tonight!”

Krueger tilted his head slightly, projecting the illusion of mulling it over. “Yeah, that might seem possible.”

“Yes!! We’re meeting back here at 9:30, be there!”

“Looking forward to it.” Krueger held his fist out for Silvio.

Silvio tapped it with his own. “My guy,” he called after Krueger as he left the area. “I love the tats, dude!”

``````

Krueger arrived at the pool area at 9:35, in a lightweight short sleeve blue shirt that buttoned up the middle and khaki swim trunks. Silvio warmly welcomed him among his entourage with a hug and a smile that he matched. He took a seat among the crowd—three other heavy-set men in t-shirts and shorts he had previously seen around Silvio, and about a dozen women in various assorted swimsuits who kept marveling at his eyes, telling him they’d never seen eyes like his before.

At about 11:20, Silvio broke away from the group, saying he didn’t feel great and citing how little he ate all day. He encouraged the rest of the group to keep partying in his absence, but by 11:40 all that remained was Krueger and the dark-haired girl from before, this time in a green bikini top and white capri pants. Even his buddies were nowhere to be found.

“I hope Silvio’s okay up there,” Krueger said.

“I don’t,” the girl said. “I hope he got food poisoning and it ruins his whole week.”

Krueger shot the girl a look. He could see she was deadly serious about what she said. “Why get close to him if you hate him so much?”

The girl recoiled a little. “My big sister, uh… got pregnant with his kid.” She shook her head. “That scuzzball dumped her as soon as she told him. I wanted to ruin him. Humiliate him somehow.”

Krueger knew that wouldn’t have ended well for her. For all his extroversion and charm, C.J. Silvio was still a man with connections to very dangerous people. “What did you say your name was?”

“Andrea,” she said.

“Andrea,” he echoed. “My daughter was almost an Andrea. She’s a few years younger than you.”

Andrea gave him a look. “No kidding. What’s her name?”

“Victoria. Her mother, my ex-wife, preferred it.”

“Victoria.” Andrea nodded, looking down briefly at Krueger’s left hand and confirming the absence of a ring on his finger. “It’s a good, strong name. My sister’s name… and you said you were Sebastian, right?”

“That’s right.” Krueger hated having to lie to Andrea, but he had a job to do. Fortunately, he thought of a way to both do that and help the girl out. “Andrea, do you want to get Charlie back for your sister?”

“Hell yeah..!”

“Meet me at the bar in fifteen minutes,” he said, getting up. “I’ll be back.”

``````

Krueger tapped the keycard at the reader just beside the door to Room 2000, the Conquistador Suite, where Young Silvio was staying. He’d known where to find him after recording him boast about booking the suite for the week, and lifted the key moments after it fell out of Silvio’s pocket earlier that night. He crossed the threshold to find the lights still on, empty liquor bottles and condom wrappers on the floor of the common area, and Silvio himself passed out on the couch across from his open suitcase. He figured Silvio staggered back to the front desk to get a replacement key when he realized he’d lost his first one and didn’t make it to his bed before succumbing to the Rohypnol Krueger slipped into his margaritas.

It was almost poetic, to do unto Silvio what he had no doubt done to others. Still, Krueger almost pitied the man, and he still had a job to do. He scanned the room quickly, spotting an open laptop in the kitchenette, and then moved silently across the floor to peer into each of the four bedrooms to find them all empty. Once he identified Silvio’s space, Krueger scooped him up under his arm pits and dragged him to bed.

Silvio murmured in his sleep as Krueger laid him on top of the mattress. “Don’t ever trust somebody you meet at bar, Mr. Silvio,” he said in response as he went for the door. “Especially not one who sends you a drink.” On the way out he flipped the lock in the doorknob and pulled the door shut behind him to lock it.

Then he went for the laptop. He tapped the mousepad twice to wake it up. The desktop icons and open windows greeted him.

“Kein passwort,” he said to himself. “Dieser idiot…”

He retrieved a USB flash drive and antenna from his pockets, plugging them in to Silvio’s laptop and running the scripts stored in them, designed effectively to run a copy-paste command of the entire computer—programs, files, keystrokes, everything—and transmit it downstairs to a receiver connected to Krueger’s laptop and write it to an external solid-state drive. It was over in ten minutes. Krueger recovered his devices and left the room the way it was.

Then he made his way back to the poolside bar, where he told Andrea to wait for him. He presented her Sivio’s room key. “Charlie’s in room 2000,” he said. “The Conquistador Suite.”

Andrea’s eyes widened. “No freaking way..!” She took the card. “How’d you get this from him?”

“He dropped it. His suitcase is open in the common area. Why don’t you throw his things over the balcony..?” he added with a smirk.

Andrea couldn’t help but laugh. She looked down away from Krueger to the key card in her hand and then back at him. “Why are you doing this for me? You don’t even know me.”

“Let’s just say I know a few people who would like to see Charlie Silvio calm down. And you seem like a nice girl who loves her sister and would do anything for her.”

Andrea gave Krueger a warm smile. “You know,” she said, tucking her hair behind her ear. “You’re probably the coolest, most genuine and honest person I’ve ever met at this place. And Victoria is lucky to have you as a father.”

Krueger blinked. “It means a lot that you’d say so. Thank you for that, Andrea.”

“No, Sebastian” she said, gesturing the key card in her hand. “Thank you for this..!” She smiled again and hesitated for a little before letting an excited squeal out and hugging Krueger, then backing away just as quickly. “That’s if I don’t see you again,” she said with a nervous laugh and shrug before trotting toward the elevator to Silvio’s suite.

``````

After Krueger’s run on Wednesday morning and breakfast on the hotel grounds, he took his laptop and the external drive to the Miami Beach Regional Library to study what he pulled from Silvio’s computer; when the library closed for the day he took it back to his room. Upon returning he turned on the local news to see the celebrity gossip reporter cover a story about C.J. Silvio scrambling to recover his clothes from the bushes surrounding a South Beach hotel before returning to his work. He sifted through the materials for hours—a collection of music, movies, pornographic images and video, Skype records, anything he could find—but finding nothing implicating him in the plot against Wells. He still had half the transcription to cover, he’d pick it up tomorrow morning.

Silvio left the hotel grounds Thursday afternoon with his three male companions to attend the conference with his father, the Southeast Region’s Managing Partner. Krueger didn’t need the directional microphone to know how that conversation would play out. The way he saw it, he and Andrea did Young Silvio a favor.

He returned to his room that night to continue his examination of the external drive. At 11:30pm he arrived at a string of Wrike instant messages sent between Silvio and another user, HeimdallrsEyez.

It was more a string of attempts at contacting Silvio. HeimdallrsEyez would initiate the conversation with a dollar amount. Silvio wouldn’t respond. A few days later HeimdallrsEyez would write back with a higher amount which Silvio would ignore. This happened three more times before Silvio finally responded with Fuck off already! I’m not doing it!

Krueger sat back in his chair to reflect on it. HeimdallrsEyez knew how close Silvio was to Wells, and was probing him for a price that would entice him to betray his boss. But when Silvio refused and the offers stopped coming, HeimdallrsEyez found someone else. This crystalized Krueger’s prior hypothesis.

He was taken from his thoughts by a knock at his door.

Quickly and quietly, Krueger hid the laptop and external drive in a dresser drawer and traded them for his Colt Government and suppressor. He fixed the extension to the end of the barrel and quietly approached the door, keeping the weapon trained on it as me moved.

He pressed the end of the suppressor can against the door and looked through the peephole at a young, attractive wide-eyed woman dressed in the hotel staff’s uniform. “Mr. Sebastian?” she called through the door to him. “I’m sorry if I woke you, but Mr. Silvio had me send this up to you.” She presented a bottle of champagne.

Krueger acknowledged the numerous red flags in this scenario, but holstered his weapon under his pale, loose button-up shirt and opened the door to accept the champagne. “Thank you, miss,” he said. He took another look at this woman; her name tag read Tessa. “That’s very generous of him.”

“Yeah,” another male voice to his left said. He recognized it belonged to one of Silvio’s boys. “It is.”

Krueger expected it. He turned his head to see down the barrel of a MAC-10, and the three of them lined up against the wall behind it. Krueger slowly put his hands up shoulder-high.

“Let’s go for a drive, Fixer,” the one holding the gun said.

``````

They escorted Krueger to an SUV in the rear parking lot of the hotel, got inside and all sat in silence as they took him south along Route A1A, turning left on 5th Street toward the MacArthur Causeway.

Krueger sat between two of the hit men in the back seat while the third one drove. He noted the MAC-10 in the lap of the man to his right and a semi-auto pistol in the hand of the one to his left. Krueger finally spoke when they made it to Watson Island. “When I checked on Silvio the other night,” he explained, “you three weren’t in the suite with him. Which tells me you’re not with C.J. Silvio, Wells, or even the Partners. You’re with the competition. And I’m guessing your room service girl Tessa is too.”

Their silence confirmed his theory.

“You were installed next to him to spy on him, report his daily activities to your superiors, and at some point in the future kill or kidnap him to lean on his father Charles Silvio.”

Right again. Their uncomfortable shifting confirmed it.

“The only question that remains,” he mused as he crossed his arms, “is what gave me away?”

Silence at first from the hit men, then the driver spoke up. “Well…”

“Mackie, shut it,” the man to Krueger’s left said.

“Gaz, come on, he’s gonna be fish food in five minutes. What difference does it make?”

Gaz shrugged. “Fair point, I guess.”

Mackie continued. “It was your eyes. One green, one blue.” Mackie steered the SUV onto an exit ramp as he continued. “There were rumors floating around the community of a fixer. A specialist with different-colored eyes and tattoos who offered his services to anybody willing to pay him enough.”

“Top dollar,” the man to Krueger’s right said.

“We suspected it was you when you sent Silvio’s kid the drink, but didn’t know for sure until that night, when we could see you without the sunglasses.” Mackie steered the vehicle off-road, finding a secluded place under an overpass in the northwest corner of Watson Island, away from prying eyes and ears. “We called the Company after baby Silvio went upstairs, then got the order to get rid of you.”

The Company: the ones responsible for the attacks on Wells’ shipments over the prior weeks and the Partners’ chief rivals. Of course it was them. “And you’ve chosen a fine place for it,” Krueger said. “Only problem is, you made a rookie mistake.”

“What’s that, dead man?” Mackie put the vehicle in park.

“You forgot to check me.”

Krueger grabbed hold of his handgun’s grip from over his shirt and sprang to face the man to his right, squeezing the trigger twice to shoot out the back of his own shirt and kill Gaz while he swatted the MAC-10 off the other man’s lap. Then he threw a hammer fist into his throat to stun him before Krueger pressed himself against Gaz’s body, drawing the gun from under his shirt, and shooting the other man once in the chest and head.

By the time Mackie realized what was going on behind him and he scrambled to recover his gun in the passenger seat, the muzzle of Krueger’s .45 was pressed against his head behind his ear.

“Mackie, right?” Krueger said.

His shock began to subside and was replaced with fear. “Y-yeah…”

“Let go of the gun and place your hands on the wheel, Mackie,” he ordered, his command void of emotion.

“Okay.” Mackie placed the gun back onto the passenger seat and did as commanded.

Krueger switched hands to keep his gun pressed against the back of Mackie’s head and reach over to the front seat and recover the gun—a .40 caliber AMT Hardballer. He switched hands again to open the rear driver side door and push Gaz’s corpse out through it before stepping out himself and keeping the gun trained on Mackie. “Step out of the car and keep your hands up,” he commanded.

Mackie did as instructed, leaving the still-running car and walking away from it, turning to face Krueger.

“Now take off your shirt.”

“What?”

Krueger fired, catching Mackie in the right kneecap. He let out a yelp as he fell to the ground and grabbed hold of his wound. “Your shirt,” Krueger ordered. “Take it off.” Between the blood and bullet holes in his, Krueger would need another one.

The Specialist’s lack of inflection and stern tone solidified Mackie’s terror. “Arrgh, alright! Alright, I’ll do it!” Mackie writhed out of his t-shirt and threw it aside.

Krueger kept his .45 trained on Mackie as he moved the shirt further away from him with his foot. He knew he only had the one magazine and had fired five times, so he would have to make his last two bullets count. “How many of you are at the hotel?”

“Wha—?”

Krueger shot Mackie in his left kneecap. “How many, Mackie?”

Mackie cried out in pain. “They’ll kill me if I tell you!” he shouted.

“I’ll kill you if you don’t. And then I’ll kill them.”

Mackie cursed under his breath as he winced in pain. “There’s ten of us. We were all watching Silvio.”

“And how many of them know about me?”

“Just us and the girl, I swear!”

Experience told Krueger that Mackie was telling the truth. He had no reason to lie after all. “Danke, Mackie,” he said. Then he raised the gun with both hands and put his last round between Mackie’s eyes. He looked off in the distance toward the mainland as he replayed the conversation over in his head. “Amateure,” he added.

Then he went to work. He fished in Mackie’s pockets for hotel keycards, finding one for Silvio’s suite and a second for Room 1014. He loaded Mackie’s body back into the SUV with the others, picked up the casings from his spent bullets, and tossed them into the car along with his own empty gun and underarm holster. He went back in for Mackie’s Hardballer to tuck it into his pants behind his back, and removed his ruined shirt to absorb as much of the blood on the ground as possible before throwing it into the car with everything else he was getting rid of. Then he walked over to the still-running car and put it into drive, letting it idle forward into the water. Finally he picked up Mackie’s t-shirt and slipped it on over his head before heading back up to return to civilization… by walking, he soon realized.

``````

Tessa rolled the room service cart to Room 1014, reading the note on the door to come right in, as it was propped open with the bar portion of the swing lock. She thought nothing of it as she crossed the doorway with the cart into the dimly lit room, kept a few lumens from pitch black by the tabletop lamps.

“Mackie?” she called out to him.

“I’m afraid not.”

Krueger’s voice took her by surprise. She stifled a terrified gasp as she sprang around to watch him walk out of the bathroom while he dried his hands off with a towel, wearing the same black t-shirt Mackie was wearing when they took him from his room. He turned to the room door to release the swing and shut it properly.

Then Krueger faced her and brandished Mackie’s Hardballer, thumbing back the hammer and pointing it one-handed at Tessa.

Tessa recognized the handgun. She began to tremble visibly as she shifted uncomfortably and reasoned what happened to Mackie and the others.

“I can see you’re new to the fold, so I’m going to give you a choice,” Krueger said. “You can call the others for help and die tonight—forgotten in a hotel room—or you can walk away and live.”

“I want to walk away,” she said immediately, her voice wobbling and lip quivering. “I want to walk away, please let me walk away..!”

Krueger returned the hammer to the resting position and lowered the gun. He stood aside and gestured the door with a head tilt. “Go,” he said.

Tessa bolted past him, stifling sobs as she wiped her cheeks and ran down the hall, leaving the cart behind.

“Gute nacht,” he called after her. Then he left the room himself, making a mental note to dispose of Mackie’s Hardballer in the morning.

``````

Khai was awakened at 2:50am by the vibration of her business phone on her night table. She reached out for it and held it up, squinting at first to see the screen and read the number on it. She sat up against her headboard when she recognized the area code, fumbling for her glasses before finding them behind the clock radio. She answered the call and held it up to her ear. “It’s Khai,” she said, filtering the sleepiness out of her response.

“There’s been a development,” Krueger said on the other end. “We weren’t the only ones watching Silvio.”

Khai moved to sit on the side of the bed and took a deep breath to pull herself together. “Give me a minute.”

She stood up and went to her walk-in closet, finding a bathrobe to throw over her satin nightgown before heading over to the bathroom and splashing cold water on her face. Then she headed for the spiral staircase down to the kitchen area, priming her laptop and switching to her headset.

“Alright,” she said. “I’m back,” she said. She turned on her coffee machine and placed her favorite mug under the spout, and then sat down to log into her computer. “Tell me what you’ve got.”

“The Company,” Krueger said. “Ten total on site, three of them close to Silvio.”

Khai cursed under her breath. “The Partners won’t like that.”

“They won’t be reporting back to their associates, I’ve seen to that. The ones closest to Silvio tried to kill me off-site. They failed.”

“But the damage may already be done,” she reasoned. “They could have been following him for years, who knows what they found out about the Partners from that, spoiled little shit..?” She took her glasses off and held them in her right hand while leaned back in her chair and tilted her head back, shutting her eyes tight and pinching the bridge of her nose with her thumb and first finger to compose herself again. “What about Silvio?”

“He’s clean,” Krueger said. “But I may have a lead on the mole in Wells’ organization.”

Khai sighed, opening her eyes again. “First bit of good news I’ve heard all week,” she said. “What did you find?”

“A message trail. I pulled it from his laptop with the tools you supplied.”

“I’m in front of my computer now,” she said, straightening up and putting her glasses back on. “Can you send me the messages?”

“Of course.”

Khai got up to respond to the gurgling of the coffee maker in the corner and reclaim her mug. Savoring its smell and warmth, she held it in both hands and took her first sip, shutting her eyes and letting out a quiet, satisfied sigh before returning to her workstation with her liquid bliss. “I see it,” she said. She read the usernames of the involved parties. “Heimdallr’s Eyes..? Interesting.”

“Is that supposed to mean something?”

“In Norse mythology, Heimdallr is the watchman of the gods,” Khai explained, “supposedly all-seeing. If he’s calling himself the eyes of an all-seeing deity, it’s safe to assume he either has a vast information network at his disposal, or works for somebody who does.” She looked away from the monitor for a moment before looking back and taking another sip. “Can you get me Silvio’s laptop?”

“I can have the cloned device stored on the SSD arranged for pickup by the Partners here,” Krueger said. “If you’d like to see it sooner I can try sending its contents to you.”

“That’s perfect,” Khai said. “Log in to Mr. Wells’ VPN and send it over the intranet, and then arrange for the drive to be picked up.” Khai stood up and walked over to the sliding glass doors overlooking her patio and backyard with her coffee. “In the meantime I’ll relay what you’ve shared with me to the interested parties…”

“Could you include a message for Silvio?”

“What’s that?”

“Treat Victoria right,” Krueger said. “He’ll understand.”

Befuddled, Khai shrugged and said, “I’ll just have to trust you on that.”

“Do trust me on that… I had to get rid of the gun, unfortunately,” he confessed. “Take it out of my check.”

“That’s… hardly a problem, but if you insist I can arrange that…” She sipped from her mug again. “You should try to get some rest, Krueger.”

“I’ll sleep when you do, Miss Khai.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said. “You were nearly killed on a reconnaissance assignment. You must be at least a little shaken up.”

“I’ve been nearly killed on almost every assignment I’ve taken for the last fifteen years. There is very little that can shake me up these days.”

Khai chuckled to herself. “Be that as it may, it’s past three in the morning. I’ll be awake with plenty to do on my end but your part of the job is done. You can relax now.”

“What does somebody like me do to relax, Miss Khai?”

“I’m certain somebody as creative and resourceful as you can figure out a productive way to spend the next two days.”

“I’ll send you a postcard from the gator farm, then.”

“Looking forward to it,” Khai said laughing to herself. “Good night, Krueger. And excellent work.” She ended the call and headed back up the stairs to her bedroom to make her bed and start her day properly.

(Next chapter | Masterlist)

#fiction #original work #original content #original fiction #prose #creative writing #drama #crime fiction

[mittensmorgul]

It has to be done.

It Has To Be Done

This was the excuse Dean gave to Cas. It's also just one more variant on the Absolute Worst Thing it's possible to say on Supernatural.

"I did what I had to do."

"I don't have a choice."

“It has to be done.”

In a show where Free Will is the ultimate ideal, and where giving in to Fate is not only the ultimate failure, but has consistently been framed as a metaphor for depression, for giving up, for despair and even suicide, I'm incredibly disturbed by some things I've read today about Dean's state of mind, his intention to lock himself in the Ma'lak box, and Sam's actions undertaken to stop him from this.

I’m putting this under a cut, because it actively discusses depression and suicide, so please bear that in mind before reading. The TL;DR of what’s beneath the cut is my view of how the narrative has condemned Dean’s current mindset about his only choice being to throw himself into the deepest part of the ocean to suffer eternal torment, locked in a box with the metaphorical representation of his own worst opinions of himself, is being used as a direct metaphor for depression, self-harm, and suicide. So if this is triggering, please read at your own risk.

The show has even consistently put the actors’ own Meta Narrative Terms into the characters' mouths-- 

Sam: You have one card today! But we'll find another tomorrow. But if you quit on us today, there won't be no tomorrow! You tell me, uh, you don't know what else to do. I don't either, Dean. Not yet. But what you're doing now, i-it's -- it's wrong! It's quitting! I mean l-look what just happened. Donatello never quit fighting. So we could help him because he never gave up. I believe in us, Dean. I believe in us. Why don't you believe in us, too?

They essentially had Sam deliver the Always Keep Fighting motto to Dean here. Because like Cas's experiences with the Empty, like Dean's experiences with the Mark of Cain and then the Darkness luring him with the promise of complete annihilation of self and the end of suffering, like Demon!Dean unable to feel either pain OR joy, THIS IS ALL A METAPHOR.

For anyone who feels that Dean is actually CORRECT and RIGHT that this is the only way, to lock himself into eternal torment at the bottom of the ocean with the metaphorical representation of his daddy issues and self-worthlessness, I humbly suggest you might wish to seek professional help. Because that's just... horrifying.

Yeah, I confess, I am a Dean girl. But in the sense that I actually care about him, and want the best for him more than I need for him to be Always Right, you know? Because... he's definitely not right here.

He’s incapable, trapped in his current mental circumstance, of seeing the light. The same way he was incapable of seeing the reality of his situation while he’d been trapped in the eternal loop inside Rocky’s Bar. The view out those blurry windows was only the darkness of the inside of his own mind, you know? From where he’s sitting, there isn’t even metaphorically a door. Trapped inside the Ma’lak box already even in his own nightmares. That’s not a mindset from which one can find the way out on their own.

That’s depression.

I also do not see anything Sam has done in the last two episodes as abusive or in any way infringing on Dean's agency. Because people who are showing all the symptoms of suicidal depression don't actually HAVE agency. And I would've been DISGUSTED with Sam if he'd sat back and just accepted Dean's choices and actions over the last two episodes.

Everything Dean has done in 14.11 and 14.12 (and even trapped inside his own mind in 14.10, where Sam and Cas had to navigate a space that was identical to The Empty, and served the same function metaphorically as Dean having been "locked away" into this tiny box in an endless loop unable to truly find happiness and only surviving disconnected from reality in every way) has functioned as a metaphor for depression, hopelessness and major warning signs that people who are seriously contemplating suicide exhibit. Sam's reactions bear this out, and everything he does follows the playbook of someone who truly cares about Dean literally helping talk Dean down off the ledge.

Sam saw into Dean's head in very literal ways in 14.10. He heard Michael-- the embodiment of the worst thoughts trapped in Dean's own head-- attempting to convince Dean to give up because they were all doomed by his monsters coming to kill them all anyway. And that NEARLY happened, yes! They were tricked into bringing a monster into the bunker, who let in a flood of other monsters to attack the unprepared hunters. In a horrifying turn, Jack burned up a piece of his own soul to save them all, which allowed Sam, Cas, and Dean working together to lock Michael up, albeit in a temporary fashion.

But Dean is absolutely convinced that the only way to stop Michael from escaping again is to lock himself up in a magical box and fling himself to the bottom of the ocean. At this point, my brain refuses to let me go on unless I add the line, "And I would've gotten away with it too, if it weren't for you meddling kids!"

The plan Billie gave Dean isn't some sort of Safety Measure in case of Last Resort. It was portrayed as the easiest way out. It was the whisper of the void stroking Dean's brow and telling him he can lay down his burden and allow himself to quit fighting, to quit trying, to give up on everything he's ever stood for. It's HORRIFYING.

It’s horrifying in the same way Sam nearly giving in to Death in 9.01 was. Horrifying in the same way Dean going all kamikaze for a large part of early s3 was, knowing he was doomed to die he was reckless with his own safety.

Sam immediately started researching on ways to save Dean and defeat Michael, but Dean refused to even engage with that rational course of action. He'd already succumbed to the seduction of annihilation. He flat-out LIED to Sam about why he was leaving-- I mean yes, he did wanna visit Mary, and the side-trip to see Donna was nice, but Donna did call him out on his motives for seeing her. So did Mary, who was suspicious of Dean from the outset the way Donna had been. But it was that stupid awkward hug Dean gave Sam that he CORRECTLY INTERPRETED as a sort of farewell. It was a WARNING SIGN that Dean was hiding something incredibly dark and selfish, and self-destructive.

What Sam did as a result was ENTIRELY UNDERSTANDABLE. He didn't try to confront Dean directly. He treated him like a man on a ledge. He began setting up safety nets, alerting the people with Dean to his fragile state, even urging Cas not to confront Dean directly yet despite telling him-- because they are WORRIED about Dean-- what Dean's plans were.

This is what family who loves you DO when their loved one shows all the signs of severe suicidal depression.

This is what Cas did for Dean in 12.09, where Dean had textually been suffering torment “worse than Hell” in that prison, to the point where he’d dealt his own life away with Billie to help him and Sam escape. Cas took matters into his own hands, killing Billie to spare Dean from his own stupid choice. Because it was a stupid choice.

You don't just... go along with the depressed person or validate their suicidal ideation, you know? What madness is this that I've actually read with my own two eyes that Sam should've just... actually helped Dean effectively and metaphorically commit suicide? On what planet has this ever been something the show has said would be okay?

Everything Sam has done from that point forward-- from tentatively agreeing to stand by Dean at the end of 14.11 right through punching him in the damn face at the end of 14.12-- has been a textbook approach to supporting someone suffering through a major depressive episode.

His acknowledgement and surface level agreement with Dean in 14.11 was literally his foot in the door. If Sam had attempted to defy Dean in that moment, Dean would've packed up his box and left, and his final memory of Sam would be this feeling of betrayal. Sam needed Dean to accept his presence in order for him to have any hope of getting through to Dean.

I know from personal experience that depression lies. The hopelessness isn't real, but there's nothing more unhelpful in that state than the people around you just agreeing with you as if it is. It's a difficult balance to strike, though, between sympathizing with the depressed person and gently beginning to peel back the curtains they've shrouded themselves with, and revealing the hope and light outside. Just ripping it all down is just as horrific and untenable as letting the person suffocate inside their own hopelessness. So Sam takes the seat beside Dean and begins slowly chipping away at the literal tomb he's built for himself.

Sam tries logic, while Dean faces the horror of what he's condemned himself to in his nightmare-- clawing up the wall of the motel room enclosed in chains (the motif on the wallpaper formed a cage of chains around Dean, while Sam was framed in the doorway of light. Dean tore up his hands clawing at the wall in his subconscious drive to escape the fate he’d built for himself, and yet he keeps his back to that lightened doorway which is the obvious route to escape. He can’t even acknowledge it yet because he’s still bound in those wallpaper chains.

Sam tells him it's likely that Dean wouldn't die, that his suffering would never end, and that what he's suggesting isn't an escape from that torment that he's actually hoping to find. And Dean's mind seems to see this as fact already, demonstrated as exactly that in his own nightmare just moments before-- he's alive in that box that's already developed a crack where the water is drip drip dripping in. He knows the box cannot hold, and that he will not die as a result.

He was terrified of "drowning" inside his own mind when Michael took him over before, yet he thinks the rational solution now is to drown himself literally and in reality, for all time. I mean... this is not the thinking of someone who is behaving rationally. He's chained to his fear, and that fear is dictating his actions now. Should his loved ones simply accept that Dean is right and encourage him to self-destruct? Especially when we've been discussing all season how Dean's possession by Michael, his experiences drowning, his metaphorically locking Michael away, and his earlier drive to kill Michael before he could destroy the universe ALL as metaphors for Dean's own self-worth, his Father Issues, his guilt, his suppression of his whole self?

Dean’s been sharing reminiscences of childhood for a while now-- his story about Winchester Surprise with Mary, his confession to Sam that John had often sent him away and his fear ever since that Sam believed Dean had just abandoned him during those times are clearly the sorts of Dark Thoughts that are weighing on him now. Knowing just a little of the inciting factors we’ll see play out in 14.13 are giving me serious hope that Dean will find the catharsis he’s been unable to get regarding some of his long-standing, incredibly complicated feelings about his father. The fact that Dean will go in thinking his Deepest Desire (a phrase he’s used before to describe his temptation to self-annihilation, in 11.13) is to rid himself of Michael, but apparently manifests John alive instead is extremely telling since Michael has been a direct John parallel all season long.

But back to all the other metaphors and parallels that Dean’s possession by Michael has been used for all season long. How does all of that careful construction of mirrors collapse just because Sam punched Dean in the face? Suddenly none of that stuff matters because on a surface level, Sam Did A Mean Thing. That must be ABUSE! TERRIBLE! Because honestly that sounds just as nihilist as buying into Michael's deluded lies, which preyed on Dean's fears to sustain his belief in them.

Yeah, Sam realized he'd reached the end of his rope in letting Dean continue walking down the self-destructive path. Throughout the episode that Ma'lak box just dragged along behind them, always visible in Dean’s rear view mirror, silently reminding us of what would inevitably await Dean if he couldn't find a way off that path. It functioned as the specter of death, the shadow, boxed up so you couldn't see the Ma'lak box itself, but you just know it's right there under that thin surface.

Sam and Cas both tried patience. They both explored other metaphorical alternatives to active suicide. The situation with Tony Alvarez turned out terribly, but it was just one consequence of their previous mistake in letting soulless Donatello read the demon tablet. If they hadn't done that, then Tony would've fully awakened as a prophet instead of being driven to madness by the half-awakening he was doomed with because of the state they left Donatello in. And sure, they couldn't have foreseen that, but in the end the solution wasn't just to kill Donatello, but to find a way to save him.

Dean had been CONVINCED that "letting him go" would be the solution, and he acknowledged that parallel to himself in text.

Castiel: The natural order's been upset. Perhaps Donatello's state has created a prophet who's not only premature... but malformed. Sam: Okay. But if Tony was wired wrong because of Donatello, then the next prophet will be wired wrong, as well, and then the next, and the next and the -- the next and... How do we end this? Dean: You know how.

But from his position, Donatello was unable to save himself, despite his mind even unconsciously trying to do so. Just like Dean alone can't see a way out of his situation, which is why he NEEDS the help and support of his loved ones. Team Free Will, they're just better together.

This is the narrative the show has been building on in one way or another since the start. When they go their separate ways, they doom themselves. When they stick together, they at least have a fighting chance.

And after Cas provided the help to heal Donatello and break the demon tablet's hold over him, performing what they'd all previously believed impossible, Dean couldn't face that his own metaphor for what he wanted to do himself had completely fallen apart. He was already shaky on wanting to go into that box. He'd essentially spent the entire episode goading Sam into talking him out of it.

He doesn't WANT to go through that eternal torment, but he legitimately is unable to see another way out. Like Donatello's muttering what amounts to a cry for help through the next prophet, Dean was doing the same by harping on the "it's the end of the line!" nonsense that Sam repeatedly had to ask him to stop. He was also goading Cas with the "if you were my friend" garbage, challenging him to do something to stop him. Cas turned it around in the most painful way possible, laying out on the table the ONE THING Dean had said he was unable to do-- say goodbye.

Dean’s harping on the whole “last hunt, end of the road” stuff was the equivalent of a depressed person talking about themselves negatively as if there was something “honest” about romanticizing their depression. It’s fatalistic, and does nothing to help recover. It’s wallowing.

In episode, this was directly contrasted with Nick, who insisted his emotional pain had been the result of his wife never getting justice for what happened to her, but when faced with his wife actively holding out her hand and telling him “this is the way to salvation,” he rejected it, because all he wants now is to drown himself in Lucifer’s false salvation. He could’ve gone into the light, and let go, but he refused. Sam and Cas spent the entire episode trying to break through to Dean and bring him a spark of hope, and he’d been refusing and refusing. Nick was never really sorry. He was only playing sorry. Just like Dean until his final confrontation with Sam, where he finally called Dean out with that exact turn of phrase.

Dean wanted to run away, alone, and off himself. Cas was pressing him into dealing with it, demanding Dean acknowledge what he was really asking for. I think if there hadn't been an attack of Moosus Interruptus there, Dean would've cracked right there in the hallway, but of course they had to save Donatello first, making the metaphor complete.

That left the final confrontation to Sam.

Dean: Well, I would call this a win. Kind of nice. We're going out on a high. Sam: 'Going out' being the operative phrase. Dean: Sorry. Sam: 'Sorry.' How sorry are you? Sorry that you fight to keep Donatello alive, but when it comes to you, you just throw in the towel? Or are you sorry that, after all these years, our entire lives, z-after I've looked up to you, after I've learned from you. I-I-I've copied you, I followed you to Hell and back, are you sorry that all of that -- it -- it -- it means nothing now? Dean: Who's saying that? Sam: You are, when you tell me I have to kill you. When you're telling me I have to throw away everything we stand for, throw away faith, throw away family. We're the guys that save the world. We don't just check out of it! Dean: Sam, I have tried everything. Everything! I got one card left to play, and I have to play it. Sam: You have one card today! But we'll find another tomorrow. But if you quit on us today, there won't be no tomorrow! You tell me, uh, you don't know what else to do. I don't either, Dean. Not yet. But what you're doing now, i-it's -- it's wrong! It's quitting! I mean l-look what just happened. Donatello never quit fighting. So we could help him because he never gave up. I believe in us, Dean. I believe in us. Why don't you believe in us, too? Dean: Okay, Sam. Let's go home.

When the show is actively putting Always Keep Fighting language into Sam's mouth, is there really another way to interpret any of this than as a direct depression metaphor? Dean yells that he has tried everything. But... he’s literally tried NOTHING. He hasn’t tried one single other thing. He hasn’t even cracked another book or done a jot of research beyond the one Billie specifically put in his hands. Dean is just as trapped as Donatello was before Cas intervened to heal him. And he’s so trapped that he actually BELIEVES that he’s exhausted all his options. Because he can’t even begin to SEE any other options with his back turned toward the door focusing only on the wall he can’t seem to scratch his way through.

Suggesting that Sam was violating Dean’s agency in this circumstance is akin to suggesting that Sam violated Dean’s agency in forcing the demon cure on him, or akin to suggesting that Dean violated Sam’s agency when he shoved Sam’s soul back inside him. And yet... Sam and Dean both expressed gratitude after the fact, acknowledging that they couldn’t see just how badly they each needed help while in their respective compromised states. And that’s exactly the same framing they’ve given us to interpret Dean’s current mental status.

Sam had reached the end of his rope, and out of frustration and his own sense of failure to appeal to the part of Dean that should want to survive, he broke down himself. It hurt to watch, both for Sam’s sake because of the frustration of desperately trying to save someone intent on destroying themselves, as well as Dean’s sake because OUCH to have to face his self destructive impulse head-on like that... Sam’s punch hug forced that confrontation in ways none of their words had been able to.

It was the equivalent of Dean brushing the board game off the table in 7.21 and yelling at Cas that he wasn’t sorry, but only playing sorry... It was the sort of shock and shakeup Dean needed. He needed to see how badly his current state was affecting the people he loved, and the people he was deludedly trying to protect through what he felt was his own self-sacrifice. He needed to see first-hand just how wrong an assumption it was that they’d be fine if he went through with this effective metaphorical suicide.

and then when Cas returned, Dean confirmed that he'll let them help him, but he's holding that box in reserve.

Dean: Maybe Billie's wrong. Maybe. But I do believe in us. I believe in all of us. And I'll keep believing until I can't. Until there is absolutely no other way. But when that day comes -- if that day comes... Sam, you have to take it for what it is -- the end. And you have to promise me that you'll do then what you can't do now, and that's let me go. And put me in that box. You, too.

“Maybe Billie’s wrong,” is the metaphorical equivalent of “Maybe this depression is lying to me...”

He's still struggling with this big depression metaphor, but he has stepped off the ledge. He's acknowledged that there might be another way, even if he doesn’t really have much hope that he’ll be able to find it. But he’s accepted Sam and Cas’s help to guide him there.

And it's only one small step in the right direction, but it is a step. I'm betting it's a step big enough for at least a few of those books on Billie's shelves to have begun rewriting themselves. Because when has this show ever taught us to accept that giving in to Fate was the Good and Correct choice?

#spn 14.12 #oh DEAN #suicide mention #spn 14.10 #spn 14.11 #spn 14.13 #spn 7.21 #spn 9.01 #spn 11.13 #spn 12.09