#my friend's kids keep asking me to draw him so HERE YA GO MICHAEL I HOPE THIS IS OKAY ENOUGH FOR YA

[sunkensubtext]

it’s 4am and i’m officially SICK of the green boy

[agayobsessedwithmurder]

Small town boy

runaway!mike au

inspired by @lilithisamess

The wheelers household, 1987

"Mom! it's Wills birthday! i have to go, dustin and lucas are busy this weekend and he can't be alone!" Mike yelled, standing up from his kitchen table.

"maybe you should have thought about that before joining that demonic cult." Ted argued.

Cult? are you serious dad?

"Mike, I know your bestfriend's and girlfriend's moving away really upset you but you can't keep acting out and expecting no punishment in return. Nancy's boyfriend moved away but shes still attending college, and not failing every class and skipping school." Karen scolded him.

Of course, bring up how nancy is better than me in every fucking way.

"You cannot talk about no punishment in return mom! i know what you did, or more like who you were doing!" Mike yelled catching everyone by surprise, but Ted was oblivious so just took a bite of the rotisserie chicken.

"Michael Wheeler! go to your room. NOW!" Karen screamed and made him flinch a little.

He started walking towards his room but hesitated to hear what they had to say.

"You should just tell him he shouldn't be seeing that boy, i never thought we would get rid of him. I tell ya he was changing mike, making him go through that phase." Ted said, not knowing mike was in hearing distance.

Thunder struck the outside of the house, just as Mike ran up his stairs. Once he got into his room he slammed the door shut and sat on his new queen sized bed in replace of his bunk bed he had whenever will would stay over.

Mike grabbed the binder of Wills drawings and opened up to a random one. He started flipping through the pages, tears falling down from his pale skin onto the artwork.

Shouldn't i be missing El alot more than Will? Shouldn't I still be mad at him for calling El st- no. i can't be mad at him. He's too precious, plus he was being ignored and it was the heat of the momment so i guess he had a reason to lash out.

I can't believe i can't see him on his birthday. hes going to be fifteen! Nancy can see Jonathan whenever she wants, it's not fair.

wait? Nancy seeing jonathan isn't like me seeing will right? because they are dating, me and will are just friends. yeah, friends. i need to stop overthinking my own thoughts.

I need to see him, but mom won't change her mind. Nancy wont drive me there.

wait. that bus stop! it goes to California!

Mike smiled, not bothering to wipe the tears that were stained on his cheeks and ran to his dresser. Mike grabbed a sweater that was always Wills favorite and grabbed some socks and converse shoes.

He put the socks and shoes on and grabbed his bookbag and put the binder in there, and a walkie talkie, and a red and orange colored wrapped present along with a picture on his nightstand.

a picture in two pieces held together by a piece of see through tape. a picture of the party on the Halloween mike told will they would go crazy together.

without really thinking he put the backpack on and opened up his window and felt the rain and cold air hit his face.

He held on tight to his window sill and moved his legs to the point were hes dangling from his window.

Mike jumped down onto the smaller roof and closed his window from there. Then he sat down, ignoring the rain pouring onto his body, and then jumped down onto the sidewalk.

He kind of was surprised it was that easy. He then walked to the garage and tried to open it but it wouldn't budge. "Shit." He cursed but decided he didn't need his bike, he could walk.

He started running down the street until he got to a certain distance. He pulled out the walkie talkie and set it to a certain channel.

"Lucas, dustin? do you copy?"

static.

"Lucas and Dustin do you fucking copy?" Mike screamed as he kept walking.

"Oh my god what is it! im hanging out with max." Lucas said through the walkie talkie.

"Okay, I'm going to be gone for a little bit, tell dustin, and max i guess that im safe. make sure my parents know too, but do NOT tell the cops I'm calling you. I just need to see someone, but i promise im safe so don't let my family freak out too much, or atleast nancy. Okay thank you, bye!" Mike carefully explained and turned off the walkie talkie and put it back in his backpack.

And with that, mike started walking.

Mike finally reached the bus stop just as the bus was getting there.

literal, great timing.

The bus' doors opened and he walked in, the rain dripping onto the bus steps. He said nothing but continue walking and sat down in a seat across from this old, sweet looking woman.

Mike looked down at the bookbag he took off and put in his lap.

I wonder how Will is going to react when im there. Do you think he's going to hate me? who am i even talking to? oh god i hope he doesn't think im fucking crazy. i just, i haven't missed one of his birthdays yet. im not going to let that happen, ever. I know friends grow apart but, but Wills diffrent. Me and him, we are different. On August 27th we will have been friends for ten years. I can't, i can't lose him. I wonder if he was kidding when he said he would run away with me to California, or a warm state. We did promise to do that, anyway. But we promised alot of things. Like that we would never have girlfriends. But I can't talk, i do have a girlfriend. speaking of el, I haven't heard from her in weeks. I should probably talk to her.

His thoughts got cut off by that sweet old woman. She was wearing a green cardigan with mushrooms on the bottom and a long brown skirt and a heart necklace with a rose on it. She had white long hair captured in a low bun and a leather bag that was open that showed a knitted blanket and a book. The bag had a few buttons on it and a knitted heart on it. She had wrinkly skin with light freckles on her face, she wasn't the societys definition of beautiful but she definitely was beautiful to mike.

"Hello pumpkin, may i sit down?" She asked. Of course, he said yes and she took a seat next to him. "So where are you heading?" She asked him.

Mike recalled almost all of the memories he had with Will.

"Home." He smiled. He noticed that was extremely weird without context. "Oh uh, I'm going to see a friend." Mike said. "It's his birthday, or it's going to be in a day anyways." Mike smiled.

"Oh hunny, that's adorable. Tell me about him, and how you got all the way here." She asked, obviously worried about this cold, distressed, underage, alone boy.

Shouldn't I not be speaking to strangers?

"I-im sorry i don't even know you." He said in the nicest way possible so he wouldn't get killed.

"Oh, no. I'm not trying to attack you, or anything darling. I'm just worried, you seem young and there's bad people out there. I don't want you getting hurt." She said, and anyone listening would have known she was sincere.

"oh. well his name is Will, we have been best friends since kindergarten, and I was a total jerk to him this past summer. and I need to make it up to him, I care about him so so much and I can't have him being alone on his birthday. he deserves better than that. I got into a fight with my parents and they talked bad about him and wouldn't let me see him on his birthday, so I walked about one and a half miles to here, just so I can get on this bus. I can't leave him, he's my cleric, after all." Mike spilled out his heart.

"wow, you seem to really miss him." She chuckled. Mike takes some seconds to answer, but then does. "Yeah, i really do."

"just from what I know, be honest with him. you really care about this boy, and I know you said you were a jerk but, just talk to him. I'm sure he cares about you too. and your girlfriend will understand, she cares about you, and your happiness but you can't keep lying about and to her. You know she hates that, and Will, will love his present." She smiled.

"I will, thank you...and how do you know all this, you're really good at advice." He asked.

She laughed and pulled up her sleeve to see her arm that had a tattoo on it. '003'

"holy crap." Mike whispered.

"or because I'm going to visit my wife for fifty years." She chuckled.

Mike was stunned, shocked at the fact people could be married for fifty years.

I think i understand how they could have been together for fifty years, if you truly love someone, you wouldn't hate being in their presence. maybe that's why.... maybe that's why my parents aren't that close anymore. or why it's so awkward when I call El.

And if mike wasn't too busy thinking, he would notice the sign they just passed, he was leaving hawkins.

[project-rosewood-476]

House of Gold

Okay, so this is strictly fluff. This is the fluffiest thing I have ever written for this AU and probably will be the most fluff you all will get for this.

This fic is based on the song House of Gold by Twentyone Pilots. I wanted to explore and explain the relationship between Tabby and her stepdad before everything went to shit. And I feel as though that song suits them.

"Kitty" is a nickname that she had for her stepdad when she was younger because her real dad and stepdad were both named Michael so to avoid confusion but she slowly dropped the nickname when she got older.

Summary: Tabby is six at the time and she is left home alone even though she's not supposed to be due to her mother's A+ parenting choices. When she's bored out of her mind she goes looking around for shit that she's not supposed to. But what happens when she takes a trip down memory lane and remembers all the good times she had before she was left all alone. Will it fill her with despair? or renew her sense of hope?

She asked me, Son when I grow old

Will you buy me a house of gold?

And when your father turns to stone

Will you take care of me?

She asked me, Son when I grow old

Will you buy me a house of gold?

And when your father turns to stone

Will you take care of me?

The lonely six-year-old paced around her small apartment relentlessly. Being left home alone yet again, she was pretty bored. She was looking for something to do. She was tired of TV, books, and she wasn’t hungry, so that she couldn’t eat her boredom away. Not that there was much to eat in the house anyways. She couldn’t go outside alone because she didn’t know where anything was, and the outside world scared her. Usually, the person she would consider her dad would be here by now. He would have taken her to the park, play pretend, play fight, or colored with her. It’s boring playing by yourself. But since he wasn’t here for reasons unbeknownst to her for a year now, she was left with her own devices.

What do you do as a child who’s left home alone and bored out of your mind? You snoop around. Tabby went through the drawers in the kitchen. Maybe she could concoct something to eat if she looked hard enough or find something new to play with. She found nothing interesting. Nothing but silverware, junk mail, and odds and ends of a miscellaneous drawer that didn’t hold her attention for very long.

She walked down the narrow hallway, altogether skipping over her room since she knew everything that she had in her room. She went straight into her mom’s room. She took in her surroundings. She saw a couple of unfinished jigsaw puzzles on the floor. Sometimes her mother and her would try to finish them when her mom had the time. She saw the miniature wolf sculptures and figurines that her mother adores on her dresser. She went through her drawers to see if she found anything interesting or to remind her mom to do laundry if she saw that she didn’t have clothes in there. The good news is that her mom didn’t need to do laundry. The bad news was that she found nothing to hold her interest. She took one of her mom’s green work shirts and just inhaled her scent. It calmed her down and took her mind off of her boredom. She missed her mom a lot. Tabby decided to stay buried in her mom’s scent for a few minutes later before moving on.

Tabby decided to raid her mom’s closet at least help her organize that godawful mess in there. Her mother’s closet was on the same length as most middle school and high school lockers. She began to separate the piles of clothes from clean to dirty based on smell until she came across an old blue folder. Finally, something to cure her boredom. Tabby opened it up to have a look and couldn’t believe what she saw.

“So this is where he’s been hiding the stuff that I make for him while he’s been here,” she realized in thought as a couple of pictures, a few short stories, and a couple of fathers days cards that were still all in pristine condition. Even a couple of years later.

That brought a smile to her face and brought back memories.

A little girl four years of age was sitting on the floor, focusing intently on a drawing that she was making on the coffee table. An older man in his late 20’s plopped down onto the couch lazily as he looked over to what the girl was drawing.

“Whatcha drawing?” he asked as he peered over.

“Remember the house by the candy shop that we always pass on our way to the park?” she asked, still not looking up from her drawing.

“The one that’s always on sale on hill street?”

“If that’s what it’s called, then yes.”

“Yeah, what about it?” he asked, still not getting the picture

“Well, someday when I’m all grown up, I’m going to buy that house, and I’m taking you with me. It will be our house!” she said proudly.

He raised an eyebrow in surprise.

“Really? What about your mother? Aren’t you going to bring her along too?” he asked, struggling to find the words to speak.

Tabby grew quiet and looked down.

“We all know with the lifestyle mommy is living, she won’t live very long. You’ll last longer,” she said quietly.

“Yeah…” he trailed off, a little disturbed at the child’s eeriness. But she wasn’t far off from the truth either. He was aware of the type of life and choices that her mother led and made. Some of them left him scratching his head, and a lot of the time, they made his blood boil. What kind of a mother would do that to her kid. Tabby was a lot more perceptive than what she’s given credit for. He knew that.

“Besides,” said Tabby bringing him out from his angry thoughts,” You’re my best friend. It would be weird to plan my future and not have you in it. It’s only natural that you would be a part of it.”

“You think that I’ll be around that long?” he asked, amused playing along with the girl’s plan.

“You’d said that you would be around forever, right?”

“Of course, kiddo I-I gave you my word,” he was taken aback by the fact that she took his promise so seriously.

“Okay then,” she went back to drawing.

“How do you think that you’ll pay for the house, huh?”

“I’ll get a job when I’m old enough to work, duh,” she said it like it was the most obvious thing ever.

“You’d have to be 15 to work legally.”

She stopped to look at him in horror.

“But that’s so old.”

He couldn’t help but let out a hearty laugh at her concept of old age. It was so fascinating to listen to what the four-year-old thought of the world around her. Sometimes she had solid points and saw the world for what it is at its base. Simplistic and so full of good and hope. Other times her ideas were so bizarre that they showed just how innocent she was.

Tabby looked at him, confused. Had she said something funny?

“Oh, I’d hate to break it to ya, kid, but if you think 15 is old, then it would take even longer to save up money to buy the place.”

She looked at him even more confused.

“How hard can it be?”

He let out another hearty laugh.

“Oh, kiddo, you have no idea.”

I will make you

Queen of everything you see

I'll put you on the map

I'll cure you of disease

Tabby took out one of her short stories that she wrote starring him as the hero and god that she saw him as. She worshipped him. She was rereading her work, a masterpiece at the time; now, she cringed at how godawful it was. However, she remembered beaming with pride when she handed him her finished product that she worked on for a month. It was the first story she ever wrote.

“Kitty, look! Look at what I made for you!” Tabby ran to him as soon as he walked out the door.

“What is it?” he asked as he kneeled to be on her level.

“I made you a story,” she said shyly as she handed it to him.

He was a little shocked at the gift. This was the first thing she’s ever given him. It was one of the nicest things anyone has done for him in a long time.

“Will you read it?” she inquired excitedly.

“Sure, after I take my nap. Then I’m all yours, and we can talk about your story.”

“Awww,” she sounded dejected.

“I’ll tell you what. I’ll put it right beside me so that way it will be the first thing I’ll do when I wake up. Fair enough?”

“Okay,” she sighed. She wasn’t happy with the compromise, but she took what she could get. She went back to play with her stuffed animals to keep herself occupied in the meantime.

However, he did not nap that day like he said he would. He spent his allotted two hours reading her story and just taking it in. She showed a lot of talent and promise with writing. Even with her limited vocabulary, she put so much passion and emotion behind what she was saying and trying to express that it was easy to get what she was saying. What moved him to the point of a few stray tears streaming down his face was how evident she thought so highly of him. She viewed him as a hero and thought he was a good person that he was better. It was so moving when he didn’t even think of himself like that. Knowing that someone out there in the living room loved him enough to see past that and had so much to give left him speechless.

Let's say we up and left this town

And turned our future upside-down.

We'll make pretend that you and me

Lived ever after, happily

Tabby was grinning from ear to ear, sitting on the floor, looking through her old drawings and stories she wrote for him that he still kept in pristine condition. She had a few stray tears from happiness leaking out, but she didn’t care. This was the closest she felt to him in a long while. She took out another picture. It was of her and her dad running through trees on some sort of adventure. There’s a story behind that one.

Tabby was drawing furiously at the kitchen table while her dad made her some spaghetti to eat for dinner. Her dad peered over her shoulder.

“I see that you’re overflowing with creative juices again. What are you drawing this time?”

“You and me we’re going on an adventure, but I can’t decide what the rest of the picture should be,” she said, frustrated.

“What about trees?” he suggested

“Like the woods?” she asked

“Yeah, like we’re going on a hike and camping. That’s an adventure, and we’ll come back when we’re done,” he said as he turned away to finish making dinner.

“Oh, I don’t want to come back,” said Tabby quickly as she went back to drawing.

He almost dropped the hot pot of boiling spaghetti at her statement.

“Why wouldn’t you want to come back?” he asked slowly.

Tabby stayed quiet for a few minutes before slowly turning to face him.

“Is it bad that I don’t want to stay with mommy?” she said in a voice that was barely a whisper.

“I- Uh- W-what makes you say that? Don’t you love mommy?” he didn’t know how to answer that.

She shook her head furiously, sending her long strands of black hair all over the place while moving her little hands in a ‘no’ motion “, No no, no, that’s not it at all! I do love mommy, I do! It’s just- she never listens to me. I tell her that I don’t like it when she brings home strangers, and she still does it anyway. I tell her that I don’t like it when she sleeps all day, but she does it anyway. If you love someone, then you would listen to them. It’s like I’m not here! I am unwanted and unloved, and I don’t belong!” she looked down as her bottom lip quivered like she was going to cry.

Oh boy, he didn’t know what to say or do. He bit off more than what he could chew. He was aware of her mother’s questionable life choices, but he never knew just how badly they affected Tabby. He gathered that they made her sad and lonely and neglected, but he never knew how deep her hurt ran. His burning hatred and anger at her mother quickly turned into heartbreak for the child in front of him.

He went back to plating her spaghetti and set it down in front of the sulking child. He petted her hair in an attempt to comfort her. He continued to do so until he noticed that she was feeling a little better to turn around and eat. Satisfied, he went back to plating his meal.

“You know for what it’s worth; I can promise you that the bad things are only temporary even if they don’t feel like it at times. If anyone can get out of this town when you’re old enough to, I have absolute faith that it would be you.”

“You think so?” she asked excitedly and hopefully.

He ruffled her hair.

“I know so.”

She asked me, Son when I grow old

Will you buy me a house of gold?

And when your father turns to stone

Will you take care of me?

Tabby grew bored and put the pictures and clothes neatly back as best as she could and got up to explore the other rooms in the apartment. She went to the bathroom and opened up the cabinets to see what was in there. Her mother often told her not to look through the bathroom cabinets, but she wasn’t here to say no. Tabby concluded that if it were that bad, she would be given a sign that would tell her no. She found nothing of interest. Just chemicals that she knew better to play with and in the upper cabinet various cold medicines, band-aids, anti-bacterial ointment, nail clippers, the thermometer, her mother’s happy pills as she called them, and bandages. Tabby felt a twang of nostalgia that hurt her stomach when she looked at the bandages, and she knew why.

Tabby was sitting on the couch waiting for her dad to come back and babysit her. Where was he? Her mom said that he would be here in two hours. It’s been more than that. She jumped when she heard the sound of the front door opening and closing. Tabby turned around quickly only to be greeted with the horrific sight of her dad staggering in, out of breath, bruised and bloodied.

“Oh my god, what happened?” asked Tabby, horrified as she ran towards him, tripping over her own feet.

“It’s nothing, honey. I just got into a fight; that’s all” He made his way to the kitchen and sat down in the chair as he grimaced.

“Well, we have to get you cleaned up,” she fretted, struggling to figure out what to do.

“Good Idea. Do you know what to do?” he asked

Tabby slowly shook her head no.

He sighed “, That’s okay. I’ll walk you through it. First, get a cloth and wet it with warm soapy water. That will help clean off the blood and kill the bacteria.

“Got it,” she said as she ran into the bathroom to grab a dishcloth from the pile, put on some warm water and used hand soap, and rubbed it into the cloth to make it soapy. She came out waiting for further instructions.

“Good now, gently pat clean up all of the blood as best as you can, okay?” he sounded tired.

Tabby went slow and tried to be a gentle as she could with a few reminders. Laser focusing on the task at hand. His hands revealed minor cuts and shallow gashes.

“Is that good enough?”

“Yes, now go get the ointment. It should be in the upper cabinet in a blue and white packet in the bathroom.”

“On it,” she ran back to the back to the bathroom as fast as she could and grabbed her stepping stool that she uses to reach the sink to brush her teeth. She stood on her tiptoes on the chair to get the cabinet to open it. She looked for anything with blue and white packaging until she found the tiny ointment packets he was talking about. She grabbed a few and ran back out into the kitchen.

“Okay, now what?”

“Now open the packets and gently smear the ointment on just for extra precaution for infection.”

Tabby struggled to open it with her tiny hands, so she had help opening it. She spread the ointment all over his hands as gently as she could.

“Now what?”

“Now, I need you to go into the junk drawer and get two safety pins.”

“Okay,” she knew where the drawer was in the kitchen. She rummaged through to find what she thought were safety pins since she had no idea what they looked like. She pulled out a paper clip and showed it to him for confirmation.

“No, that’s a paper clip. Try again.”

She rummaged through the drawer again and pulled out a thumbtack.

“No, that’s a thumbtack try again,” he sounded exasperated.

Tabby whimpered and held her head down like a scolded puppy. She didn’t like how he sounded displeased with her. She rummaged deeper in the drawer and finally pulled out a safety pin,

“There we go!” he encouraged.

She pulled out another one and set them both on the table.

“Now go get those bandages in the upper cabinet. They are long and white.”

She nodded and went back into the bathroom once more to grab the bandages and ran back out.

“Good, now wrap them around my hands,” he walked her through the process of doing that, and he put on the safety pins to hold the bandages in place himself.

Tabby grabbed his hands and kissed both of them. He jerked back in surprise and was a little taken aback by her actions. She looked just as confused as he was.

“What are you doing?”

“I was just kissing your boo-boos to make them feel better. That’s what mommy does with me. I thought it would work for you.”

He hugged her tightly and tried to choke back his tears at how sincere and pure she was. It was only then, when she calmed down enough that she realized that he stunk. Specifically of cheap whiskey and liquor. Tabby tried to push away and scrunched up her nose.

“You stink,” she complained bluntly.

He burst out laughing. “I suppose I do. I’ll tell you what, let me take a shower, and we’ll have a movie night, and I’ll let you stay up an hour past your bedtime.”

“Okay!” Tabby said excitedly with a giggle.

“As long as you don’t tell your mom.”

“My lips are sealed” she made a zipper mouth motion.

I will make you

Queen of everything you see

I'll put you on the map

I'll cure you of disease (Ooh)

Tabby closed the bathroom cabinets and went back out to the living room. Right back to where she started. She stared out the window at the busy street down below. It became part of her daily routine to stare out the window and see if her dad was coming back. She didn’t know. It could be any day now. She hasn’t lost hope yet. She continued to stare, being lost in her thoughts.

“And the pirate kingdom of Aiwratha is saved from the mutant octopus by the rebel pirates!” she held her stick that she used as a sword up in the air in victory.

Tabby and her dad were currently at Maplehood park on the wooden play pirate ship in the middle of the playground section of the park. With Tabby as captain of the rebel pirate team and her dad as her first mate. Since no one else wanted to play with Tabby, they have played this multiple times with different storylines. Secretly they both never tired from it.

“We did it! We did it! We did it! We are the heroes!” he cheered as he picked her up and spun her around.

“Of course we are! Why wouldn’t we be? We are a team forever and always! Together nothing will get in our way! There’s nothing we can’t do!” she squirmed to be put down.

He took a minute to look at her eyes that were too big for her face. But they were so full of hope, adventure, optimism and had that bright lightning in her eyes. Ready to take on the world. He chuckled a little as he put her down and let her run free.

Maybe he didn’t do a bad job with her after all.

And since we know that dreams are dead

And life turns plans up on their head

I will plan to be a bum

So I just might become someone

Tabby sighed and rested her head on her thin arms on the window sill gloomily. She perked up when she saw somebody that looked like her dad. Only to sink back down when she realized that it was a false alarm. Here she was all alone. So much for his promise of sticking around forever. So much for a future with him in it. That dream is dead.

She slowly sat up with a confused realization.

What was she thinking?

Sure he wasn’t here now, but that doesn’t mean he won’t be here until later, right? She recently discovered that dreams do die, but maybe just maybe, dreams can come back to life. Perhaps he will come back, and those dreams can soar again. Yes, that’s right! This train of thought filled her with renewed hope, and she was bouncing in her seat in eagerness. Sure she and her mother aren’t in a good place right now, but that would be her responsibility to bring them both out of this dark place. She believed that she was strong enough to do so. All she knew was that she had to fight to survive for herself and her mother alive long enough so when he does come back, they will be a family again, and her dad would be proud to see just how far she’s come. She’ll be a hero once again.

She asked me, Son when I grow old

Will you buy me a house of gold?

And when your father turns to stone

Will you take care of me?

I will make you

Queen of everything you see

I'll put you on the map

I'll cure you of disease

She didn’t have an exact plan to go about this, but she decided it would be best to start small with stuff she could do. First, she could clean up the apartment as best as she could. After all, she can’t have him come back to a dirty apartment. She was leaving the heavy-duty cleaning to her mom, such as chemical cleaning, laundry, and dishes since she didn’t know how to do any of that. However, she could pick up a little and sweep. She knows how to pick up after herself and has seen her mom sweep multiple times, so she has an idea of what she’s doing. She was too small for the real broom, so she would just use her pink kid one. She got to work right away.

She will do everything in her power to help him come home to her.

All for him.

[fluffybunnyartist]

Hey!! Again I can't get enough!! I really appreciate you putting Actually time and effort into our asks! My ask! Can we get a Michael Myers (other SLASHERS) as a meaner more scary yandere?? Like just a more realistic darker version of them with a cute innocent S/O NSFW IF YOU WANT!! AGAIN NO RUSG

Hell ya!! NSFW: Blood, gore, implied sex and noncon.

MICHAEL MYERS

Whatever you did to catch this man's attention you're either one lucky bastard or one unfortunate SOB. Hes extremely possessive and in the first day of him showing you your his you'll be covered in hickies.

You can kick and scream all you want. He has you in his clutches and he needs you. You better learn how to behave. He doesnt like hurting you but will if you dont act nicely.

Friends? Murdered. Family? Pushed away. Any boyfriend/girlfriend? Killed 3 days ago. No one is allowed near you unless you're working or buying groceries. He does know when to let it go.

God forbid anyone flirt or bully you. They're tortured and killed. Only he can do that. Speaking of which his idea of flirting is stealing or murdering people for what he needs for you. That rich family down the street? Murdered and you got some nice shiny jewelry covered in blood.

Now he will wait for consent to fuck you. Hes not a complete monster and you're the only one he loves. But he will grope you, rub up against you and mark you however he pleases. When he kisses you he doesnt expect you to kiss back. Just sit back and take it. Hes still a dom but hes a bit cold. You talked to a cashier for too long and hes left you naked tied to the bed with a vibrator in for an hour.

All in all you're his little doll and hes never loved anyone like you. Just let me play with you Y/N, you'll enjoy it I promise.

JASON VOORHEES

He'd tear anyone to shreds to get to you. You remind him a bit of his mother, so sweet and kind and he wants you. He needs you. So everyone else is slaughter with blood and guts sprayed across the cabin and campgrounds as he carries you to his place.

He ties you up to a bed and a chair during the day so you can sleep at night. Hes very kind, despite slaughtering your friends. He'll treat you like a delicate bird or baby deer. Petting you softly and feeding you from his own plate.

Stay in Pamela's good graces. Mainly be nice to her boy! Dont do drugs and no escaping! If you try he wants hurt you. He'll put you into a timeout. Do it too many times and he'll bend you over his knee and spank you li km e a naughty child. So you're not in much danger.

He's very sweet to you once you get to know him but like Michael he refuses to let anyone come over or near you. He'll chase everyone away. You dont need them, Y/N! All you need is me. He loves to cuddle you. Sweet little pets and even kisses.

Hes more likely to take off the mask if you've earned his trust or promise kisses. Then he'll stay unmasked around you. But only you! He doesnt really make you work but he does appreciate if you clean house a bit.

He always makes sure to have consent before touching you any where other than your hair. He doesnt wanna upset you.

THOMAS HEWITT

Something about you caught his eye. And now here you are at dinner. With your dead friends seated on one side and the large man wearing you best friends face on the other.

Be kind. Dont insult them or itll lead to you being punished. Thomas already made clear that he wants you and he wants you alive so they wouldn't risk killing you but being forced to do hard labor and chopping your friends up for dinner isnt killing you.

He'll spoon feed you the stew made of people. And at dinner you're tied down until further notice. After that you'll be tied to Thomas's bed. He'll feel up on you and touch you no matter how much you squirm. He just cant believe a beautiful creature such as yourself is in his bed. Laying with him!

He likes to cuddle you a lot and he'll grind on you and hump you a ton. Hes never had a sexual outlet before so it's a common occurrence when he just masturbates over your naked body. He loves seeing the look on your face as he cums all over you.

He may actually fuck you without your consent. You're his right? His to take? And he loves you so much. He promises to make you feel good. Just let him in.

BUBBA SAWYER

The fact that you survived one dinner is enough for Bubba to make you his. He'll give you plenty of kisses straight off the bat. He makes sure you're fed and bathed. Usually you're tied up for these.

He doesnt talk so it hard to understand him but he likes to cuddle with you. Sometimes if you cut yourself or get cut he'll lap up the blood and sometimes he likes to bite you.

He can and will kill and eat your friends. If you try to run away or escape you leg or legs may be butchered or mutilated courtesy of Drayton telling Bubba that he needs to so you dont run away again.

Now he'll probably fuck you while you sleep or are so tired you dont know what's going on. He's not so great on consent but that's bc if his upbringing and not out of malice or need to prove your his.

Probably one of the more innocent ones and the only reason he harms you or does freaky shit is bc of his brothers. He likes to make you jewelry out of body parts or steal some from victims.

He'll have Drayton marry you too so you both can have kids together! And he wants lots of kids! He's so happy he found you!

BO SINCLAIR

You're tied up in the chair until you can behave yourself. You get bathroom breaks but only he can take you and hes right inside with you. He'll face the other way he just doesn't want you escaping.

He'll gag you if you keep making noise. He wont glue your lips together bc what if he scars them? You're his perfect little doll. He doesnt want you too injured. So stop struggling in those bindings Y/N. It wont help.

Within the first few days he'll be on top of you grinding and groping. Touching you wherever he can. He loves your body and he wants to make you feel good. Dont you wanna make him feel good too?

Hes aggressive though. He may love you but he wont hesitate to scream or yell at you if hes thinking you're acting like a bitch. Hell come back later being softer and kissing you.

He'll get you to marry him. How can you say no to him? He'll take care of you and your kids! Hes so excited to get his little nuclear family started! After the chair you'll be chained up in his room. Maybe he'll take you for a drive if your good. But hes another one to lock you down fully or cause it so you cant escape.

No he wont cut off your limbs! But maybe if you cant see the exit you wont be able to leave him. Remember even though he loves you he still gets off on your pain a bit.

VINCENT SINCLAIR

More or less Bo thought you'd be good for him and he locked you in the studio where Vincent spends all his time. At first he doesnt know what to do. He leaves you food and water and let's you use the restroom but ues not sure.... but you are really pretty.

Awkward cuddling. Usually when you're asleep he'll nuzzle up to you gently. He doesnt wanna wake you but he wants to be close to you. He'll start drawing you and soon he'll be enamoured with you.

During the day hes polite and kind and offers you things to keep yourself occupied. But at night he let's his fingers and lips wander wherever he wants. Usually you tire yourself out by crying or trying you escape. So you're really conked out by the time he starts to touch you.

He wont mutilate you if you try to escape no. He'll cripple you. He can just carry you where you need to go. He can help you with whatever you want! He can bring you food and water! You can have everything you've ever wanted! But you have to stay here with him.

[heathsbitch]

Treat You Better ➳ PEAKY BLINDERS

vi. MICHAEL

          Her throat burned. Her legs burned. Her eyes burned. Groaning, Ivy sat up and opened her eyes. She cast them around the room she was in. It was the Shelby's living room. 'What am I doing here?'  Then she remembered; the opening of The Garrison, stealing the bottle of rum, almost having sex in an alley way, with Finn. Emotions raged through her head. Finn was one of her closest friends, probably her best friend. But surely he was just that? But best friends don't try and sleep with each other...

She curled into the woolen blankets that lied on top of her. Turning her head, Ivy noticed Finn sleeping next to her small body. His mouth was wide open and short snores were leaving it. He was still in his suit and coat from the previous night but his hat and shoes had been taken off. Ivy was also still in her clothes from the previous night but she had no shoes on either. "Right, time for you two to get up." Tommy said as he burst into the room. Finn jumped from his position on the couch, then immediately sunk realizing the throbbing headache he now had to nurse. "I have a job for you two."

What Tommo had failed to mention about the job he had for the two of them was the fact that it involved standing around for hours in a bright light. Well, it was bright to them anyway. They were waiting outside the sectioned off room in The Garrison. Finn and Ivy had to bring in initiates for the Peaky Blinders. Finn was leaning on a wall whilst Ivy had her head face down on a table and slumped over in her chair. "Fuck," He groaned for what felt like the 50th time in the past ten minutes. "What happened last night?" The girl sat up from the table to look him straight in the eye. "Do you not remember?"

"No," He laughed "Do you? 'Cause I was completely out of it. I didn't do anything stupid, did I?" Her heart dropped slightly. Was it out of relief or sadness that he had forgotten what had happened? She wondered if John remembered what he saw...

Finn took a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it. "Want one?" She shook her head and sat back in her chair. Her head was pounding like drums were having a rave inside of it. A large, bald man walked out of the cove. "Next," Finn called, taking a puff of his cigarette. A strange-looking man in a bowler hat looked around the room, anxiousness practically pouring out of his ears. "Next." Finn repeated, looking directly at the man, he shook his head at the poor guy as he entered the small room. "Play nice, Finley." Ivy told him, opening her eyes. She had closed them to try and get some relief from the light but it wasn't working out too well. Last night, she hadn't got a proper look around the recently restored pub. Gold covered the place, it looked extremely expensive. The bar was lined with various alcohols, each one a different colour and size. 'None of that shit for a couple days, or weeks.' She said to herself, the girl's hangover slapping her repeatedly.

Large and small tables alike lined the room. A red velvet curtain hung at the back of the room. It was probably a cornered off room for some higher-class customers. It wasn't in use now.

"How are you feeling?" Finn asked Ivy. "Like shit." They both laughed then groaned immediately after, the headaches getting increasingly worse when they chuckled. "Same." He agreed. He was staring at a sign at the side of the bar, it had a list of spirits and beer on it.

"Having trouble there?" Ivy joked but he didn't reply. "Wait, you can read, can't you?" He looked at her and sheepishly shook his head. "I can read some things, like separate words. And I can write my own name. But, that's it." He didn't look at the girl when he spoke. He was embarrassed at the fact he couldn't read or write properly. "I could teach you, if you want." She offered. She wasn't near enough qualified to teach him but she could try her best. "Really? You would do that?" He asked, excitement running through him. "Of course, Finn. That's what friends are for." The corners of his mouth turned up when she said the word 'friend'. "You know, I've never had proper friend before. Not before Isaiah anyway." She gave him a sympathetic smile, "Neither have I," He returned the smile. "People have always been scared of me as well, Finn. My dad has a bit of a bad reputation. It might even be worse than the Peaky Blinders." The girl kept her eyes trained on the floor when she spoke.

Finn came over to sit next to her at the table. He lent back in his own chair and took one of her hands in his. Ivy's eyes met his and he smiled.

The Shelbys were finished in half an hour. They came out to see the two teenagers leaning on the table, sleeping, still holding hands. Arthur walked up to the table and slammed his hands against it. They both shot up, startled from the noise. Their hands disconnected immediately and their eyes darted between each other and the Shelby boys. "Come on you two. We've got work to do." Tommy took them to the Shelby's house so they could work the books for the rest of the day.

"Run for the hills! It's Digbeth kid!" Arthur shouted as he burst through the doors. "Get out of town, kid, or I will shoot your fucking head off!" John shouted back, drawing his gun. "I've got a prisoner! Stay back!" Arthur wrapped his arm around Ivy's neck and shook her around playfully. She groaned in pain, her headache still raging through her. "Time's up. You're dead. Go down. John!" He pretended to shoot John but he just stared at something behind them.

Ivy pulled out of Arthur's grip so she could turn around. When she did, the girl saw Polly with a young boy around her age. "Michael?" Ivy whispered. The corner of his lips turned up when he saw her. She gave him a warm smile, she wanted him to feel welcome. Tommy walked in and gave him the same smile Ivy had. Well, it was more of a smirk. Arthur and John both put their guns away, they snickered in the process. "All right then, Polly," Arthur began "Who's this?" The boys snickered again. "Gentlemen. This is your cousin. Polly's son, Michael." Polly held onto Michael's arm, he looked slightly uncomfortable and wore an awkward smile, but Polly smiled proudly next to him. Michael walked away from Polly and towards Arthur, John and Ivy. He shook John's hand firmly and moved onto the girl. Instead of shaking her hand, he brought it up to his lips hesitantly and layed a kiss on the back of it. She could feel her face flush bright red. His cheeks also held a slight red tint as he pulled away. "It's nice to see you again."

"You too." She returned the smile that she had on earlier. "Pleased to meet you." Michael said to Arthur as he shook his hand. "I'm Arthur. You've met me. I used to throw you out of the window so John could catch ya'." The girl gave a worried look to Arthur but he kept looking forward at Michael. "I used to put you in a shoe box and kick you down Watery Lane." Her head snapped towards John, 'What the hell is wrong with them?' Tommo smiled at the Solomons's reaction. "I bet you're glad to be back." He said to Michael. He laughed at their words "I don't remember any of it. All I remember is the day they took me away."

'Well, that got morbid pretty fast.' Polly walked over to her son and placed her hands on his cheeks. He was a little bit taller than her but looked down into his real mother's eyes. She engulfed him in a hug and everybody exchanged looks around the room. Polly pulled away and Tommy stepped in to talk to him. When they walked in, Ivy hadn't taken note of Polly's appearance. She wore the same beautiful red dress from last night. Her hair was messy and her eyes had dark bags underneath them. She might've looked worse than Ivy did. What had happened to her? "Well you're here now, son," Tommo placed his hand on Michael's shoulder, "Welcome to the Shelby family." He shook his shoulder and flashed him a smile. "Later on we'll show you the ropes." Arthur told him. Ivy turned her head to look up at John, a smirk played upon his lips. "Yeah, we'll show you what's what." Polly looked between her nephews, worry plastered on her face. She probably didn't want him to get involved with Peaky business. She was trying to keep Ivy away from that side of her life as best as she could. Ivy could see why she wanted to keep him away, she just wanted to protect them.

"Let's leave him be for now, eh?" Tommo stepped in, even he wanted to keep Michael away from his brothers. "Come on boys, Ivy." She went to follow them out of the room but Polly kept her back. "Ivy, can you stay here, please?" The girl looked at Thomas for permission and he nodded his head. "I would like to speak to you later. Meet me at The Garrison." He told her and she nodded her head, notifying that it was okay. They left the room and Ivy made her way over to Michael and Polly. She sat down at the table so Michael and Ivy followed her actions. "I was just wondering, Michael, if you would like to stay with us for a few days," Polly asked her son "Would that be alright with both of you?" The young girl looked at Michael and he nodded. "That's fine with me." Ivy said to Polly. "I'll have to call ma' mother to see if that's alright."

"Okay," Polly agreed. "There's a phone in The Garrison that you can use. Ivy, you have to meet Tommy there, don't you?" She bobbed her head, agreeing to what Polly was saying. "Would you mind taking Michael down there?"

"No, that's fine." Polly stood up from the table and they followed in suit. "I'm going to get dressed now. It's good to see you again, Michael." Polly hugged him again before walking up off the stairs. Ivy walked over to the coat rack by the door where her coat hung. She grabbed it and put it on. "You ready for the dirty old streets of Birmingham?" He laughed at the girl's light joke, "Yeah."

On their way to The Garrison, Michael was asking her a few questions about her relations to the Shelby family. "So, are you related to Arthur, John and Thomas?" The pair walked down Watery Lane, the light wind brushing through their hair. "No," Ivy laughed "I'm from London. Our family's are..." She paused, stuck for what to say. She couldn't say that they were trying to murder each other or the truth about why she ran away. "Friends," Was the word that she decided on. "Well, they're in business together."

"So are you just visiting or..." He trailed off. "I was supposed to be just visiting but I'm moving in properly with Polly soon." The rest of the walk to The Garrison was filled with small talk, like how old they were and basic information like that. She had found out that Michael was only a few years older than her and the little boy they saw at his old house was his 'brother'.

"Tommo," Ivy called out to him as they rounded the corner of The Garrison. "Michael needs to use the telephone." He looked between the pair, "Alright, but make it quick. Ivy and I have business." Ivy furrowed her eyebrows. Business. Tommy took them through the pub and towards the small office at the back. "Polly said you own this place," Michael said to Tommy. "She said you own lots of different businesses." Ivy shook her head, her dad and Tom were always competing for businesses, that's why he was always complaining about him. "You call her Polly or mum?" Tommo quipped back. "I can't get used to calling her mum yet." Michael confessed. Tommy sighed as they reached the office and closed the door behind him. "Who are you calling?" He asked. "My mother. I mean..."

"I know what you mean," Ivy sat down at the chair by the desk whilst the boys stayed stood up. "What are you gonna tell 'er?" Michael looked at the girl then towards Tommo. "I'm going to tell her where I am."

"And now you're gonna tell 'er you're going home." Ivy's head spun around at Tommo's orders. 'Why did he want him to go back home?' Michael took a seat next to her and told Thomas what Polly had told him, "Polly said that I could stay here for a few days." He took his hat off of his head and held it in his hands. "Do you want to stay?" Ivy asked this time.

"I only just got here." Michael told the girl. "What age are you, Michael?" Tommy began to lightly grill the boy. "Seventeen." Michael looked at Ivy whilst he spoke. "Seventeen," Tommo repeated "Which means it's not up to you, right?"

"I'm eighteen in a few weeks. I make up my own mind." His confidence shocked Ivy, he seemed like an innocent and quiet boy at first. "You smoke?" Tommy asked his cousin. "No." Thomas pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it, taking a few puffs from it. "Drink?" The girl turned to Michael, he looked back at her and shook his head. Maybe he was just as innocent as he first seemed?

"You're going to call your mother. Tell her you're getting the next train home. When you get there, write a letter to Polly saying that when you're eighteen, you'll come back here and-" Michael interrupted him "I just told you, I make up my own mind." Ivy stayed quiet but her eyebrows were raised. Not even she had enough confidence to stand up to a man like Tommy.

Tommo's facial expression did not change one bit. "Do you know what we do? Michael?" He took another puff of his cigarette, he was calm the entire time. "We Shelbys and Solomons?" When he mentioned Ivy's name she gave him a worried look. Michael seemed like a confident man but she didn't want to scare him away. "You're a Solomons?" He turned to ask the girl, she only nodded her head. His facial expression didn't change. 'These two are gonna be the death of me.' Ivy thought to herself. "Yes, I think I know what you do." The two continued to stare at each other. The girl began to feel increasingly more uncomfortable in the scenario she was in. "You've got smart eyes," Tommy paused "But you're young, so you think what we do is alright. It's not alright," The girl agreed with Tommy. She didn't want to be murdering people because of 'business'. Blood still stained her hands; no matter how much water she used to try and cleanse them.

"People get hurt," He looked straight at Ivy when he said those words, she kept her eyes focused on the floor, guilt filled her still. "Now, call your mother. And we'll drive you to the station."

"No," Michael and Thomas's exchange picked up more and more tension the longer it lasted. Ivy shifted in her seat. A long pause lasted between them before Michael spoke up again. "In my village," He begun, "There's this little wishing well. It's made of white bricks, right in the middle of the village green. Everybody says how pretty it is. But I swear to God, if I spend another day in that village, I'm going to blow it up with dynamite. Probably blow my hands off with it, but it will be worth it. Just to see all those pretty white bricks spread over the pretty village green." Michael began to scare Ivy. But it was good fear. In a way, he intrigued her. He had a darkness deep inside of him that looked like he couldn't control. Ivy knew that the same darkness lurked inside her, somewhere, buried deep within the small girl. They were both dangerous.

She dragged herself out of her dark thoughts, she shouldn't be thinking like that. Ivy averted her eyes back to the men. She didn't know if it was her hallucinating, but it looked like Tommy was smirking. Strange. He snubbed out his cigarette, "Yep, you're Polly's son all right. Just as you're Alfie's daughter." Michael and Ivy turned towards each other but turned back to Tommo almost immediately. He lifted his hand up in his defense as if he was saying that he'll explain later.

"Are you going to call Mrs Jo- your mother?" The girl stopped half way through her sentence to re-evaluate her words. "Yeah, but I think I'll stay," He walked over to the phone and called her. Within a few minutes, he was done and ready to leave the room. "Are you coming, Ivy?" She stood up and walked over to Tommy. "Tommo said he needed to talk to me. Can you wait outside for a few minutes please?" He nodded and left the small office. Ivy raised her eyebrow at Tommo, waiting for him to speak. "I'm going to see your father, again, Ivy." She took in a deep breath. She still needed more time to prepare what she was going to say to him. "Next time. I promise." Tommy nodded accepting her proposition. "Alright. You'd better go and see if Michael's alright."

"Bye, Tommo." Ivy left the room to try and find Michael.

vii. THE HORSE AUCTION 

MASTERLIST

[gvnchvcks]

A few days or maybe a week into being hired is when Fiona finds out most of the crew live in the penthouse with Geoff, at which point she immediately demands a sleepover. Nails will be painted, hair will be braided, boys will be talked about, nobody is safe

YES, SO MUCH YES, I LOVE THIS OKAY SO-

Fiona gets this idea because she wants to know more about the crew as a whole and she wants to hang with her newfound family, and what better way to get to know someone than when it's 4 am and you're all tired as hell telling secrets or something?? So she calls Geoff up and is like, "Hey dad can I have a sleepover?" (Yes she actually says that, you cant convince me otherwise) and Geoff is like ?? What? And so she explains her plan to him and he's automatically on board. They have no jobs coming up for at least a month, why not let loose? So she makes a huge group chat for the entire crew to let them know, and also she's like, wait why dont you guys have a group chat already wth

So now everyone is ready and hyped!! She shows up at the penthouse super early that morning to help Jack and Ryan prepare for having 11 people in it for one whole night. (We all know Gav isn't finna help, Geoff is asleep, and Michael and Jeremy are helping as well, but mostly with cleaning up a bit and finding entertainment) By 2 in the afternoon, things look great!! The furniture in the living room has been moved around a bit so there's enough room in the middle, where a bunch of pillows and blankets are likely gonna be placed. There's a Switch and an X-Box by the tv, ready to be played. Board and card games like Twister, Uno, and Monopoly are set to the side, ready to cause trouble. Snacks are spread throughout the room, unopened sodas, beer, candy, and chip bags. It all looks great, and Fiona is so excited!! The first one to arrive is Matt, Switch and two boxes of donuts in hand. Then, the Twins, Trevor and Alfredo. Wearing matching adult sized onesies they picked up along the way! And finally, Lindsay. She's a bit latez but nobody questions it because it's well. It's Lindsay.

Everyone is finally here!! The livingroom and kitchen are full of people chatting and playing games. (Lets say they're playing Animal Crossing bc I'm obsessed lol) and Geoff is even out of bed now too. Everyone went all out on this, and Fiona couldn't be happier. All wearing pajamas and sitting on the floor or laying on the couches and chairs, like the children they all are on the inside. Eating candy, even making a bit of a mess, but they'll just clean it up later. It's around 10 pm when Lindsay calls for everyone's attention from her spot on the floor.

"So, as you all know, I was a bit late today. BUT do you know why that is?"

A few wrong answers later, she digs into a backpack she brought with her and out comes a slew of makeup, brand new, and a ton of face paint and nail polish. Fiona squeals and is like, "You actually brought it, yesss! Who's our first victim?"

Michael and Geoff immediately nope out of there and head to the kitchen, but everyone else seems game. Especially Gavin and Alfredo, who practically jump in front of the two girls, tripping over people along the way. Gavin occasionally wears a bit of makeup or nail polish here or there, so he wants his face painted! His mistake? Asking Lindsay to do it. 30 minutes later, she's done with her masterpiece. Gavin looks in the mirror, expecting to see a mess, but he actually doesn't hate it? A gold drips painted from his forehead that go over his left eye, and a small gold heart under his right eye. He actually looks really cool! Then, he turns around to show the others, and they laugh?? Why are they laughing? He looks pristine! He looks again. Oh. That's not a heart. It's a dick. He let's out one of his signature loud squawks of shock and disappointment, with a "Lindsayyy!!" Thrown in for good measure, and jumps over the others to run to the kitchen sink.

During all of this though, Fiona and Alfredo arent laughing. Fiona is laser focused on making Fredo the hottest person in the room. And she does. She stares at her work, nearly an hour after she started, and is proud. Alfredo is loving it too, making kissy faces at the other crew members, posing and showing off his red nails while Jack takes pictures of him using a Polaroid she bought just for this occasion.

Anyways, that's all done. Nobody else wants to get their faces done, in fear they'll end up like poor ol Gav, so they move on (tho Fredo and Gav do keep their looks, Gav is just missing the "heart") Things calm down again for a bit, and everyone is telling stories. Fiona is in the middle of talking about what her life in France was like before moving to Los Santos, when she realizes she's been subconsciously braiding Matt's hair while he sits in front of her on the floor. She stops and is joking like, "aw dude wtf I've been touching Matt's hair" and then Matt is like, "Yeah but this is actually not a bad look if I'm being honest" and the others agree with him! Michael says it makes him look a bit less like an animal (I swear I love Matt lmao but you know they'd bully him during this, nobody is safe) and then Trevor is like, "you should do Ryan's next!! He has long hair too!!"

Ryan is against it at first but eventually is forced to take Matt's spot on the floor, and by the time Fiona's story is done, so is Ryan's new look, and lemme tell ya. That boy can ROCK a braid. Everyone is like, "Daaaamn, Ry, look at you GO" and "Of course he looks better than Matt, the dude was a model" and this actually makes Ryan kinda happy!! He likes his friends giving him validation, sorry I don't make the rules.

The night continues as normal. More stories are told, and they slowly start to get deeper as it gets later. Stories of their past lives, their first kills and first crimes, and romance too. They talk about their worst and best past relationships, what they're looking for in a partner, things like that.

(This is about to get a bit shippy, so I'm sorry if you dislike any of these ships, they're just the ones I personally like and wanted to write about, with my own headcanons for each character and their sexualities. If anybody is interested in me talking about my personal HC's for that, send in an ask tho cause this is already kinda long lol)

At one point, Trevor actually draws attention to himself. Things are quiet and more chill now. Everyone is being supportive, so this is good as time as any-

"Uh, actually, I kinda wanna tell you guys something since we're on the topic. I'm..bisexual."

Everyone is silent for a second, and he actually starts to get nervous, then Lindsay pipes up with

"Dude, hell yeah, bi gang! Love wins, what's up!"

Everyone smiles and laughs, and Fiona highfives Lindsay. Geoff is the next to speak up, "That's great news, Trevor. When did this realization hit you, bud? I've known you for a while now, I had no idea."

"Oh, it was actually maybe..a few months ago? A year maybe? Yeah. About half a year ago I'd say."

Michael chimes in next,

"Wait, isn't that also when you found Fredo and introduced him to Geoff?"

A few oooooh's ring out and Trevor tries to hide his face by looking down and chuckling.

"Uh, yeah. It is.. Anyways! What about you guys? Jeremy, what's your type?" He looks to the shorter male who's lounging on a beanbag near the tv, trying to divert everyone's attention from himself. Jeremy thinks for a second and takes a sip of his beer.

"Hm. Not sure. I like tough people who have a soft side usually, just like me.."

As he names off a few other things he finds attractive, Jack shoots a knowing look over to Ryan. Ryan's had a thing for Jeremy for a while now, and only she knows about it. When you're the crew mom, your kids tell ya everything.

This continues for a while longer with more almost-confessions, before people eventually start slowly passing out. (After a few games of Uno of course. The Monopoly stayed untouched, and they started a game of Twister but were to drunk to stay still and kept toppling onto each other painfully.)

This is a bit longer than I intended and I left out a LOT I wanted to put in but I don't wanna make these too long aishsijsjs I'm not good at writing lol I'm sorry, but I hope you like this!! I could elaborate on other aspects of anyone is curious, I'll be accepting these asks all day so keep em coming 💚💚💚

[supercasey]

Nomad of Nowhere Modern Twins AU Camping Shenanigans

I did this because I have fucking writer’s block and my new medication for my depression/anxiety is making me feel a bit sucky as I get used to it, so here, have some antics that I may or may not try writing/drawing sometime.

I’m gonna set this camping trip when Hunter and Skout are in high school (both 15) and Melinda is still in elementary school (9).

For context, Benjamin and Annabeth are absolutely nature enthusiasts- I mean, they built their own fucking house for crying out loud!- so camping trips aren’t all that out of place for them, but this time they insist that their oldest kids bring their friends from school along! (Last time they brought some of Melinda’s friends, they accidentally started a fire, and no one wants to relive that shit.)

Skout brings Toth, who’s nervous AF to meet Skout’s parents (she knows they’re pretty damn accepting and in a polyam relationship, but I doubt anyone’s all that excited to meet their significant other’s folks), while Hunter brings the Three Amigos, which of course includes Null, who he only just started dating in secret.

While Ben and Anna are really freaking hyped for the trip, Adrian is a bit less excited, as he fucking loathes outdoor activities of any kind (the family has countless pictures of them all together after a hike, and Adrian always looks close to passing out in them), but he’s excited to meet his kids’ friends!

The whole group road trips to a nice forest that they can camp in, but due to the size of their crew, they split into two vans: Benjamin, Annabeth, Skout, Toth, and Melinda are in one van, with Adrian, Hunter, Null, Santi, and Jethro are in the other.

The road trip is a fucking MESS; Ben and Anna keep arguing over directions (despite Skout offering her phone for GPS, also Ben can’t drive at all but Anna drives like a maniac), so they get lost for several hours.

In the meantime, Adrian’s van is loud AF, since the Three Amigos are a pretty rowdy bunch, and Hunter convinced his dad to let him choose the music, which is just Lemon Demon at top volume for several hours straight. Adrian is in hell and it’s Touch-Tone Telephone on repeat.

Thankfully, once they get to the campsite, things are looking up... except that Don Paragon’s family has their giant ass RV parked directly next to the family’s campsite, and Don brought Red Manuel along because his parents told him to bring a friend from school. Needless to say, none of the teens are happy to see each other outside of school.

Santi and Jethro almost get fucking lost in the woods at some point, but they end up finding a really nice little unpolluted lake to swim in when they do. They run and grab Hunter and Null to go swimming, and it’s fun until Don shows up and bitches about how since his family is wealthier, it’s his and (I guess) Red’s private lake to swim in (it isn’t), and how if they don’t leave he’ll call the cops on them (he wouldn’t).

During this rant, Toth and Skout finally catch up to the boys, and seeing Don Paragon doing his usual BS, Toth simply picks him up and tosses him into the lake, getting his fancy bathrobe and slippers soaked.

Don goes OFF, but gets cut off when Skout, who’s stronger than she looks, picks up Red and tosses him in on top of Don. Everyone laughs (even Red, though he’s smart enough to hide it), before continuing with their swim (though Don still bitches the whole time).

Meantime, the parents aren’t doing much better. Ben and Anna start engaging in a sort of “Parent Contest” with Don Paragon’s folks, trying to insist that they’re cooler parents/have better kids.

Ben vs Don’s Dad is a lot more hostile/direct, while Anna vs Don’s Mom is a lot more passive aggressive and soccer mom-like.

Ben: “Oh, yer son’s got straight A’s? Well mine can fuckin’ backflip ‘n clap at the same damn time! How ya like dat, Michael!?”

Anna: “Aw, Karen, your son is such a sweet boy! :) Remember the time he made Hunter cry, so Skout threw him off a jungle gym? :)) They grow up so fast! :)))”

Meanwhile, Adrian and the Paragon family’s butler shoot the shit over some beers and ignore their companions’ bullshit.

Despite all of the arguing earlier, Don’s folks are convinced that Hunter and Don are best friends for some reason, so they insist on doing a huge family cookout, which everyone else begrudgingly agrees to, if only because Ben is excited about eating free “rich people food” (which Adrian reminds him isn’t all that better than middle class food, but whatever).

In short; El Rey (Adrian’s dog) eats a bunch of raw hotdogs and pukes them up in Anna’s purse, Skout and Toth almost kiss but Hunter accidentally ruins it by playing his guitar right next to them, Melinda keeps sneaking punches at Don when no one’s looking because that bitch made her big bro cry a lot when he was younger, Ben accidentally sets his poncho on fire, and Null, Santi, and Jethro all get food poisoning from Adrian’s under-cooked hamburgers.

At one point, Nomad (Hunter’s cat) runs off after hearing a loud bang from the woods. At this point, it’s really late at night, and Nomad is a black cat, so no one can find him. Hunter goes into hysterics, as Nomad is his closest friend/therapy cat, so after all the parents go to bed, the teens agree to put aside their differences and go to find Nomad.

Don, of course, makes it about himself and insists he’ll find the cat first, and when he does, he expects Hunter (he makes a mean joke about Skout needing to do it for him) to give him a sincere thank you, and then an apology for his family’s horrid behavior towards him! With that, he storms off, Red Manuel hot on his heels but looking a bit... frustrated? How very weird.

Hunter is so freaked out, he just starts running through the woods looking for Nomad, but luckily for him, Melinda can keep up with him. She’s trying to get him to go back to the campsite, as he’s too worked up to be looking for Nomad, and after trying and failing to talk him into listening to her, Melinda simply sits down and fake-sobs, saying she’s scared. Snapped out of it by big brother instincts, Hunter picks her up and takes her back to camp to wait with her until someone finds Nomad.

Seeing as the Three Amigos are as sick as El Rey was earlier (oh dear god, did Anna flip about the puke in her purse), it’s up to Skout, Toth, Don, and Red to find Nomad.

Toth and Skout use the time to talk in privacy, discussing future plans and how this trip has gone. Skout is embarrassed, worried that Toth hated this trip/hates her family, while Toth is convinced she made a bad impression on Skout’s parents. It’s a bit awkward, but they manage to convey their worries to each other and have them reassured away.

During this moment, they end up in a nice little clearing with dandelions sprouting everywhere. Skout laughs, and says something about how although she thinks the Dandy Lion mascot at school is dumb, she’s always loved dandelions. Toth, in response, plucks the largest one and braids it into Skout’s hair.

Skout’s Honor finally gets their fucking kiss, since up until now it’s kept almost happening, but due to public embarrassment/awkwardness, they’ve held back. Now though, away from everyone, they get enough privacy to have their first ever kiss.

Of course, it doesn’t last long before Red Manuel pokes his head through the trees and asks what tf they’re doing. Both girls go scarlet, insisting it was nothing, while Red simply cackles.

Toth goes to punch him in the jaw, but stops mid-swing when Red, in a panic, holds up Nomad to stop her.

Both Toth and Skout are baffled, surprised that Red managed to catch Nomad. Toth, who’s never much liked Red, asks why tf he’s not trying to use Nomad as leverage over them, or better yet, why didn’t he give Nomad to Don so he could use the cat to bully Hunter some more.

For the first time ever, Red seems genuinely upset with Don, and vents to the couple that Don Paragon’s been an asshole to him the entire trip, and only brought him along to make himself look good in front of his parents. He goes on to say that Don ordered him not to talk in front of his folks, and although Red hated the very idea, he agreed because it was better than staying at home with his mom all summer.

Skout grows concerned immediately, and tries to ask about Red’s mom, but he clams up, insisting that Skout just take her brother’s dumb cat (who seems to really like Red) because he doesn’t want to listen to Hunter freak out anymore.

After Hunter is finally reunited with Nomad, he’s absolutely ecstatic, hugging his cat while dancing around with joy. Once Skout tells him that Red Manuel found Nomad, Hunter doesn’t hesitate to run and hug him. Red obviously enjoys the affection, but he tries to play it off nonetheless.

Don eventually finds out that Nomad was found, and freaks tf out about how he was supposed to find him, and that he was supposed to get an apology, dammit!

Toth fucking snaps, telling Don straight up that he’s a piece of shit and should just be happy that Nomad got found, to which Don says pointblank that he wishes Nomad had gotten eaten by a bear, if only so he could see that “R-slur mute’s” face when he found the cat’s remains. Hunter starts crying, horrified by the mental imagery, while Don laughs at him, calling Hunter a pussyboy for crying. Red Manuel, in his rage at his so-called friend’s terrible behavior, punches Don in the dick.

Don is Surprised Pikachu Face(TM), because what tf is Red doing? He’s supposed to be Don’s little yes-man! Tbh, everyone is shocked, and Red finally loses his shit, shouting that Don is an awful fucking friend, and that he resents even knowing him.

((Me? Craving a future Red Manuel Redemption Arc(TM) almost as much as Season 2 of NoN? It’s more likely than you think.))

By now, the parents start waking up, and Don’s dad asks his son what’s going on. Smirking, and with his back turned to his father, Don says that Red is going to be going home with Hunter’s family, as he believes he’s about to strand Red in the wilderness as payback.

Red is freaked out, and makes to beg for Don’s forgiveness, when Skout outright confirms that yes, Red is coming with them, because Red is their friend!

Don is shocked again, but his parents just shrug and tell everyone to go back to bed. Adrian and Ben (the only ones who woke up, because Anna’s a heavy sleeper) are confused, but when Skout tells them that Red needs a ride later, they just shrug and say something like “Eh, what’s one more fucking kid?”

Red is nervous as fuck the next morning, still reeling over what he said to Don, but everyone (even the Three Amigos, who are all still pretty sick) assure him that he did the right thing.

Ben, Anna, and Adrian agree to pack up a bit early that morning, on account of the Paragon family terrorizing them, the Three Amigos getting sick, and almost losing Nomad. However, to make up for the short and crazy trip, they offer to host a slumber party at their house for all the teens, which everyone is on-board with.

Red’s a bit hesitant to agree, and says they can just drop him off near his place and he can leave them be, but Ben, sensing the kid’s anxiety, assures him that he’s welcome to stay with them for the night. After Skout tells him the same thing (with Hunter nodding in agreement), Red agrees, and has an awesome time with everyone!

At the start of the next school year (sophomore year/10th grade), Red Manuel goes back to hanging out with Don Paragon, but he’s noticeably less mean to the twins, and even gets caught helping Hunter pick up his books a few times when Don knocks them out of his hands in the hall.

Sorry, this kinda ended up as more of an “I love Red Manuel, or at least, my characterization of him” rant, but oh well, I hope y’all like my dumb rambling anyways!

[holylulusworld]

How to kill your wife – Part 20 – An eye for an eye

Summary: When his father makes a deal with his business partner Dean must agree to an arranged marriage. Hating the thought with every fiber of his body he plans to get rid of you.

Pairing: MobsterDean x Reader, John Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel Novak, Benny Lafitte, Arthur Ketch, Cole Trenton, Asmodeus, Eldon Styne, OFC Christine (Gabriel’s widow)

Warnings: angst, fluff, comforting, daddy!Dean, pregnant reader, implied characters death, blood, violence, gun shots, funeral, grief, sad reader, torture, knife play (non-sexual)

How to kill your wife Masterlist

 You always hated funerals. The first one you had to attend was your great-grandmothers. Memories of your grandmother’s tears, her sobs and the smell of the flowers surrounding the coffin haunted you for years.

Then you had to bury your mom. That was the day you swore you never want to attend a funeral ever again. You avoided attending your father’s burial. Dean asked you more than once to say goodbye, but you just couldn’t bear the thought showing your father respect, not after all he did to you.

Dean is standing next to you. His arm slung tightly around your waist, hand resting onto your belly he watches his father checking his eulogy for Gabriel. You are covering Dean’s hand with your own, giving him strength only by touching him. Gabriel was an old friend.

Everyone is here to say goodbye. Benny and Castiel are flanking John’s side, prepared to strike if anyone dares to disturb Gabe’s funeral.

Tears slip down your face as you look at Gabriel’s wife and children. John made sure they are safe, just like everyone belonging to his family. You can’t believe you hated John some months ago. That you thought he’s the big bad guy in this sick game your grandmother and father were playing.

Your eyes drift toward Sam who is holding Eileen’s hand. Praying he will be able to move on and find happiness with her you give him a shy smile and Sam smiles back.

Dean leans closer to you, kissing your hair softly and you close your eyes at the gentle gesture.

When John finally starts his funeral oration, everyone looks at the former leader of this family.

“Friends, loved ones and family…” John begins. “It is an honor and privilege to pay tribute today to a very special person. Gabriel was remarkable in so many ways. He lived his life to the full and touched so many people during his time here with us. Gabriel was always reliable, till the end he protected his family, including all of us. I’m glad I was able to meet this magnificent man and I’m proud I was allowed to call him my friend.” John needs to compose himself before he looks at Gabriel’s wife and children.

“Go on boss,“ Benny whispers.

“We are here to say goodbye to one of our best, to one of our friends…to a member of our family. Christine and her children are part of this family too so we will make sure they are not alone during these hard times. I promise Gabe’s death will be avenged soon. No one will ever hurt my family again. Today I say it out loud…we will take an eye for an eye. Rest in peace my friend, Gabriel…you’ll be missed.” John ends his speech.

There’s a moment of silence as the priest says some words, prays for Gabriel’s soul and you all bow your heads to remember your friend for a moment. A sound, a clicking catches Dean’s attention as the priest gets a gun out to aim it at John.

Benny is much faster. Using his full weight, he tackles the smaller priest to get hold of his gun. Gunshots echo through the air and Dean spins you around to push you down, covering you once more with his body.

Castiel and Sam grab Gabriel’s widow and children along with Eileen to hide them behind one of the parked cars.

Benny is back on his feet after he broke the ‘priests’ neck. Storming along with Cole toward Dean he helps you getting up to lead you toward the bullet-proof limousine.

“Get them away from here,” John yells as more men storm toward the cemetery. Asmodeus is chuckling loudly as John simply shrugs his shoulders.

“Didn’t think you are one to disturb a funeral.” John chuckles as the doors of the church burst open and Michael along with Ketch and ten men surround Asmodeus and his men. “But ya know I’m always prepared. Better safe than sorry, Asmo. This is the end of the line my friend.”

“Arthur, what a pleasant surprise to see you alive. How is your love life? Do you miss Matty boy?” Asmodeus chuckles and Ketch narrows his eyes. Years ago, he would’ve attacked the enemy without thinking twice but now, he smiles at Asmodeus.

“I’m fine, thanks for asking, Asmo. I’m glad to tell you we found your beloved lover and I must admit she’s one hell of a woman. Pure aggressive red-head…well, at least she was till I was done with her.” Arthur says coldly. There’s no emotion on his face right now.

“That so? Need to find a better pussy then. Not a great loss. She was old, boring and too clingy either way. Thanks for getting rid of her for me.” Asmodeus chuckles and Ketch starts grinning.

“Did you hear that, Rowena?” Cole asks showing Asmodeus the phone he’s holding. “I bet now she will tell us every dirty detail about your organization.”

----

“Dean, are you okay?” You ask checking your husband. “Did you get shot, hurt…anything?” Your hands are trembling as you touch his cheek softly.

“I’m fine, Baby Girl. You?”

“You were right about the bullet-proof vest and security. I can’t believe these men attack us during a funeral. They have no shame or honor.”

“Hey, we are fine. No one got hurt. I want you, Eileen and Christine to drive back with Cas and Benny.” Dean says softly caressing your jawline with his thumb.

“I don’t want to leave you alone.” You whisper as a single tear slips down your cheek.

“Y/N, I know you want to be all in but…” Dean’s voice cracks as he knows what will come next. “Dad wants to see blood. An eye for an eye…literally…Ketch will have his revenge and he won’t go easy on Asmodeus. Arthur will avenge his first love and it will get ugly. I don’t want you to see any of this.”

“Call me Dean. Please call me when it’s over. I can’t sit home and wait, worried to hell and back.” You beg and he gently slides his fingers through your hair.

“I promise I will call you…soon.”

----

A pit in your stomach you look out of the window as the limousine drives away.

“Dean and the others know what they are doing, Y/N. Ketch will do this, not Dean.” Castiel says softly but your hands won’t stop shaking.

Eileen is nervous too, you can see the fear all over her face, so you take her hand in yours, squeezing it tightly.

“Our men will be back soon, Eileen. Don’t worry.” You say softly and she nods.

“I wasn’t able to tell him, Y/N…” Eileen sniffs. “I’m…pregnant.”

“Oh my god! Eileen! Sammy will be so happy.” You squeal hugging her tightly.

Your eyes drift toward the children sitting in the car and your wonder. “Where is Christine?”

“You see…” Benny coughs. “She asked us to take the kids so she can witness what Ketch will do…”

“She wants to watch?” Gasping you look at Benny.

“I told her to leave it be, to not watch. John guaranteed revenge. He always keeps his word, honey.”

----

“What is this place? Who’s that guy?” Asmodeus gasps fight against the chains holding him. Hanging from the ceiling, toes barely scraping the floor he looks at Eldon lying on an old mattress.

“This is my dungeon, Asmo. Thought you should see what you turned me into. This is Eldon, one of my favorite toys. Say ‘hi’, Eldon. Don’t be impolite.” Arthur chuckles.

“Hi…” Eldon chokes out, throat dry the man tries to warn Asmodeus but he can’t bring another word out.

“Good boy. Let me handle you some water and food.” Ketch says tossing a sandwich and a bottle of water at Eldon. “He’s barely interested in getting cozy with me lately. Always nagging about ‘I’m not into men…I don’t like you touching me…’.”

“You’re sick, Arthur.” Asmodeus grunts. “What happened to the fine, smart and deadly man I formed?”

“Well, Asmo you took away the only person keeping me going. You killed Matt believing it would make me a better killer for you. Sorry, but this is what I became. A torturer, a killer. I do anything to punish people only to feel again.” Arthur snarls as he cuts Asmodeus shirt open. Not caring he cut deep enough to draw blood.

“You will regret this, Arthur!”

“Ready if you are, Asmo. John, Christine you can come in. I got everything prepared for you.” John walks into the room, alone. “I told her to stay outside. It’s enough to hear him scream, Chrissie doesn’t need to see it, tho.” John sighs and Arthur nods.

“Better this way. I will cut him open like no one before. Any special wishes, John?” Ketch is looking at John, waiting for his order. “This is your endgame, Arthur. I want an eye for an eye. You can have the other one. The rest is up to you.” John says knocking his friend onto his shoulder.

The tall patriarch sits down onto a chair. Even while his stomach churns, he needs to witness every little detail…

“We should get some answers out of him first. After that…I’ll have my way with him.” Ketch snickers and Eldon flinches. “Don’t worry, baby boy. Daddy will not touch this bastards ass. I would never put anything into this rotten body.”

“Sick bastard!” Asmodeus spats, spitting into Ketch’s face.

“Is that all you’ve got, Asmo? Did you believe you can provoke me to kill you? I've waited for years for my revenge.”

----

Pacing around the bedroom you look at Eileen sitting on your and Dean’s bed. She’s nervous, just like you. It’s been over an hour and Dean still didn’t call.

Hands shaking and legs wobbling you want to sit down as the door to your room opens. Stepping inside Dean looks at Eileen on your bed.

“Why is Eileen here and not in Sammy’s room? I bet he’s looking for her.” Dean says and you slap his chest. “Never worry me like this again.” You sniff and he gently strokes your cheek.

“John told us to drive home. He’s at Arthurs place to witness everything. Cole and Michael are with him. Thought you need me here to make you feel safe…” Dean whispers as you rest your head against his chest.

“Eileen! I was looking for you. Never scare me like that again.” Sam pants as he ran through the hallway.

“I need to tell you something, Sam. I don’t know if you will be happy or get mad but I’m…pregnant.” Eileen chokes out and Sam rushes toward her to scoop her into his arms.

“If you excuse us now. I need to take care of my fiancée.” Sam sniffs as he walks out of the room with Eileen in his arms.

“She’s pregnant?” Dean asks. “Yeah.”

“Damn, Sammy and I are good. Knocked our girls up at the same time.” Chuckling Dean looks down at you, a cocky grin on his face.

“I was worried, Dean….love you…”

“I love you too, and the little bean.”

----

“You know, John…Mary always loved me more. It was a stupid decision to choose you over me.” Asmodeus pants as Ketch slides his knife over his chest. He already cut half of Matt’s name into his killer's chest as John clears his throat. “Mary was never interested in you. She was frightened, scared to hell and back. Don’t tell me shit about my wife!”

“Your wife? She was mine before you even laid eyes on her. Mary was mine! Her father promised her to me, but Henry had to interfere and make sure his Johnny gets another toy.” Asmodeus spats and John shakes his head.

“My father didn’t do anything. Mary told her father and grandfather about her fear and the way you treated her at your first meeting. Samuel was a hard man, but he was righteous, and he loved his daughter. He willingly agreed to let me marry her. She loved me, not you. Sick piece of shit.” John yells.

Ketch is busy cut the last letter into the man’s chest, but he doesn’t even flinch. Used to the pain he grins at John.

“You know it was a pity. That night I wanted to fuck her, wanted to bring her away but then the fire happened. What a waste of beauty.” Asmodeus snickers and John nods at Ketch.

“I know all you did was to punish me for loving Mary. For taking her away from you, but she was never yours…only mine. You will die knowing she only had one true love, and this was me, John Winchester. I was her first and only man. Ketch…an eye for an eye.” John orders and Ketch gets one of his special tools…

“What’s that for?” Asmo asks and for the first time, John can hear the fear in the man’s voice. “An eye for an eye Asmodeus. Ketch will use this nice tool to…remove your eyes…have fun, Arthur. He’s all yours…”

----

Outside the room, Christine glances at Cole who is gulping hard at the screams coming out of the room now. His blood freeze as the screams stops, but a moment later the same noises leave Asmodeus lips and Cole shudders.

“What is he doing?” Christine asks.

“Boss said an eye for an eye. I think he meant it literally…Chrissie.” Cole says and Christine nods. “Good…her deserves all the pain Arthur can cause.”

----

“Look at you, Asmo. A brand-new style.” Arthur snickers. “OH, right…without eyes, it’s hard to look at anything.”

“He’s unconscious, Arthur…” John says squeezing Ketch’s shoulder. “End it as you want to. He’s all yours now. Maybe we should send a warning to his friends and allies.”

“The same message he sent to us with Gabe?” Ketch asks and John nods.

“Great idea, Ketch. When this is over you will never have to do any of this. I promised you retirement, you’ll get it.”

“I’ll take the position you offered to me. Mick wants to settle down. I think he deserves this. He helped me seducing Michael to help us once again after all.”

“How’d he do this?” John asks.

“Mick said it’s his secret and I didn’t ask.”

John is walking out of the room, glancing at an eyeless Asmodeus once again.

This way to do business has to end now…the good old times are over…

How to kill your wife Tags

@bitchwhytho​​, @lizblinder​​, @xi-i-i-whatsyouremergency​​, @anathewierdo​​​, @crystallstaircase​​​, @staleve​​​, @the-walking-daryl​​, @padfoot-siriusly-approves​​, @just-hurry-up​​, @tftumblin​​, @katjackblacksack​​

Forever Tags

@donnaintx​, @screechingartisancashbailiff​, @fallen-wolf22​, @sister-winchesters99​, @mogaruke​ @the-is13​, @helloitsmeamie203​, @strayrosesbloom​, @thewinchesterco​, @hobby27​, @kittycatlover18, @gh0stgurl​, @marvelfansworld​ , @sandlee44​, @hawaiianohana31​, @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt​, @katpatrova17​, @notyourtypicalrose​ , @heyitscam99​, @onethingthatkeepsmealive, @natura1phenomenon​, @flamencodiva​, @echoesofpassion​, @cocklesbelli​, @voltage-my2dlove​, @fandom-princess-forevermore​, @thenamelesschibi​, @lauravic​, @fandomsrourlives​, @wittysunflower​, @drakelover78​, @lemondropirwin​, @lonewolf471​, @wronglanemendes​, @electraphygelectraphyng , @spnhollis​, @void-imaginations​, @jay-and-dean​, @shatteredabby​ , @juniorhuntersam​​​, @helpmeluci​​​, @neii3n​​, @goodgodimaweirdperson​​, @alltimesamantha​, @chonisberonica​, @supernaturalonice​ @stuckys-whore​​, @shadowkat-83​, @officialmarvelwhore​, ​@certaindeanwinchesterforcastiel, @wecantgiggleitsafandom​​, @meganywinchester​​, @shikshinkwon​​,  @miraclesoflove​, @yolobloggers​,@guardian-tn, @lu-sullivan​​, @maniacproffesor​​, @hollymac79​, @straycuties9​, @destieladdict-221b​​, @kayla-2000​, @ilovefanfic86​, @gracefultrenchcoat494​, @babygirls-fav​, @sadn0va​​, @spnwoman​ @amiquette​, @linki-locks11​

If your name is crossed out Tumblr won’t let me tag you for some reason. Sorry.

Dean/Jensen Forever Tags     

@spnfamily-j2​​, @supernatural-bellawinchester , @butifulsoul125​​, @lyinginthegingerlocks​​, @deans-baby-momma​​, @hawaiianohana31​​, @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester​​​, @20gayneen​​​, @janicho88​​​, @thefaithfulwriter​​​, @dreaminemz​​​, @negans-lucille-tblr​​​ @sadwaywardkid​​​, @akshi8278​​​, @hhiggs​​​, @midnightsilver16830​​​, @mrspeacem1nusone​​​, @ria132love​​​, @caligraphee​​​, @the-witch-in-silence​​​, @multisuperfandom​​, @deansgirl-1968​​, @justanotherwinchester​​, @jadesupernatural​

[percywinchester27]

About a boy (Part-4)

Word count: 2.2K

Warning: Suspense, feels, mention of physical abuse and bullying

Characters: Dean, Cas, Gabriel, Benny, Michael, OCs and… Sam?

Summary: Dean Winchester has a secret. A secret that could really land him in trouble. He never expected to connect with anyone when he walked into the ‘Blue Stone Orphanage for Boys,’ but even then, the walls he has put up are slowly coming down. Now, a series of strange events are threatening to expose him. When everything starts falling apart around him, will he still be able to save the one person that matters the most?

A/N: I have to thank each and everyone of you who’ve taken the time out to read this series, and comment. It truly means the world to me :’)

All my love to @thing-you-do-with-that-thing​ and @deanssweetheart23​ for beta reading this story. You are awesome <3

About a boy masterlist

"How many Sams can there be?" Dean complained as they walked back from school. "I mean seriously?"

Cas smiled sympathetically. "It's not about how many. It's about the shuffling crowd. Stynes- the family that owns the place - are apparently very influential. They have all sorts of crazy contacts and kids just get adopted all the time."

"Really?" Dean tried to keep a poker face. It wouldn't bode well to let Cas see through him about what he really thought of the Stynes.

"Yeah." Cas said, blissfully ignorant of Dean's tone which was grudgingly challenging. "I mean, it's not like you and me stand a chance, but the little kids are taken up all the time."

"Sam's not a little kid."

"True, but the kids still get shuffled a lot. Foster homes, other orphanages. You could see one face today, and then never see it again." Cas narrowed his eyes.

"You sound weirded out by that," Dean noted.

Cas looked at him, brow furrowed. "But it is weird, isn't it? My earlier orphanage was so sleepy. Barely anything happened there. Then there's this place which is so secretive, doesn't let the kids interact across all age groups. I've been here for 7 years, Dean, and I just never get to know everyone."

Dean stayed quiet. This conversation was dangerously inching towards the subject of how and why Dean had ended up at the orphanage in the first place. And Cas was smart.

"Shit." Cas stopped, eyes wide and panicked. "What if… what if Sam was here and they moved him away? Damn it, Dean. What the hell will we do?"

Dean pursed his lips, trying not to smile. Cas's worry and fear was heartwarming. It was still a task to be careful about what he says because his friends kindness tempted Dean sorely. "My sources were pretty solid. He's here. He was here when I came in. Besides, he's 12. Kids that old don't just get adopted."

Dean could feel Cas looking at him curiously as they started walking again. He was tempted to tell Cas the truth, all of it, but he held back. For now, it was only his burden to carry. He didn't want to put Cas in trouble, or worse, endanger his life. He had avoided all of Cas's questions about where he had come from so far, but dodging the queries had proven to be harder and harder day after day. Then there was the guilt. Cas was going out of his way to help him, and Dean had been as secretive as possible. At least he could draw solace from the fact that it was for Cas's own good.

"What about you?" Dean asked, changing the topic. "You've been here so long. You didn't get tossed around?"

Again, Cas looked uncomfortable. "All of us, from the old orphanage, we've just stayed together."

He didn't say it, but Dean understood. It was Michael. Cas and everyone from the 'Angel names orphanage' as he called it in his head, was somehow protected. He didn't know what Michael's deal was, but he was up to something… something that, by default, provided a protection to everyone under his umbrella, including Cas.

All those angel named kids were settled now. They had a reassurance that they were sticking around till the end. Which explained the pride, bullying and the strut like they owned the place. But not Cas. The privilege embarrassed him.  The idea that he was singled out and treated preferentially was both unpleasant and distressing at some level to him. It made him uneasy.

It made Dean like him more.

They walked in companionable silence for the rest of the way home.

******************************

It had been 3 weeks. Dean was frustrated.

How much more searching could he do? Every minute was spent plotting the next move, trying to squeeze in time to slip into the record room. It took so much of his own patience, that Dean wondered when Cas would snap and cut himself loose from the hunt. After all, Sam meant nothing to him.

Even so, Cas's commitment never faltered. He went about searching the records as dedicatedly as possible. Every day.

They had found six Sams in the records so far. Three of them had already turned 18 and left the boys home. One had been transferred and two more were too young. By nightfall, Dean wanted to fling something at the figurative heaven. He all but yelled at Cas to stop praying in the evening. There was no God up there.

Dean was also tired of counting all the brown haired kids. There were way too many. More than half easily. He soon realised it was about as pointless as finding a needle in a haystack.

After lights out, he slipped out of his room once more. Cas and Gabriel were both out like a light, but Benny, who was reading something in torchlight, gave Dean a look as he passed. Dean had a suspicion that Benny knew where he and Cas sneaked off to in the evenings, but he hadn't said a word about it, neither had he given the impression that it so much as even mattered to him. Dean had learned to ignore Benny. Cas was always absolutely pleasant to him, but Benny never spoke more than a word or two. Even Gabe, who went around chilling with almost everyone, maintained a decent stance with Benny. Not like he was scared, but like he respected him.

Dean just couldn't bring himself to feel anything. And tonight, when he walked out, with Benny's eyes following him, he wondered if one day he was going to land in trouble thanks to Benny's lack of response.

He found himself back at the steps, back to grill, eyes closed in the light breeze flowing through the corridor.

"Back again, I see."

Dean did not jump this time, but his lips pulled up in a half smirk.

"So are you."

There was a soft chuckle from the other side.

"How was the Oly… uh… the thing that you had." Dean scratched his head. "Oh yeah… the Olympiad."

"Okay, I guess," the voice said. The kid sounded pleasant. "I mean, I don't think I'm failing or anything." Then he added in a small voice. "I just don't want to think about the result."

Dean snorted quietly. Normal problems.

Then it hit him.

"You're what? 11? 12? Why're you participating in Olympiads?"

"Seemed like a good exercise for the brain." It was no big deal to him from the way he said it.

Smart and pleasant. That was a rare combination for a kid in an orphanage.

"How long you've been here?" Dean asked.

"About half a year, I guess? Ain't the worst place I've been in."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Even with all the detention camp treatment? What with the lock-down and no interaction."

The kid laughed, only slightly bitter. "Well, you haven't been in too many orphanages then."

It was true. What did Dean know about that?

"Have you been to too many?"

The boy sighed. "About five, I think. That's not counting the abusive Children's home." He said it as a matter of fact.

"They hurt you?" Dean's heart seemed to be squeezed.

"Ehhh… mostly I ended up hurting myself."

"How?"

A dry scoff. "Can't deal with people who throw weight around like that. If I saw someone getting hit, I'd go stand up to abusive idiots."

"I'm sorry that happened to you," Dean murmured sincerely. It was unfair.

To his surprise, the boy laughed. "Don't be. It's how I learned to fight. I can throw a mean punch."

Dean couldn't help the appreciation he felt.

"What's your name, kid?"

The voice went silent.

Dean waited for a couple of minutes, but no reply came.

"Hey?" He tried again.

"It's against the rules to be out, ya know?"

"You think I'm gonna rat you out?" Dean asked, incredulous. "Look around, kid, I'm breaking the rules, too, here."

At long last the voice sighed. "It's Will. Short for William."

There was some solace in getting to know the kids name after all. At least he had gotten one answer today, as opposed to all the ones he had been searching for.

"I'm Dean. Dean Winchester."

"You have a last name," Will noted.

That clearly meant Will didn't have one. He had been in orphanages since he was too young to have known his real name. Sure he might have a made up last name in the papers, but it was just that, a formality.

Dean couldn't stop himself from asking the question. "Why are you up tonight? Another test?"

Another scoff. "Not really."

"Care to elaborate?"

Another silence.

"Well, aren't you being one secretive bitch today?" Dean grumbled. Will intrigued him, and that annoyed him.

"You're the one to talk, jerk," Will shot back. "Especially after how mysterious you played last time."

It was true. Kid had a point. He had, in fact, disappeared on the boy the last time.

A heavy exhale sounded from the other side. "It's just, I can't stop thinking about what lies beyond these walls. One of the boys I knew was transferred today and I don't know where he's gone. Sometimes I wonder if… if I even have a future."

"What?"

"I know!" Will said, talking fast now. "Most kids just end up on the police roll call, the only place their picture ends up is in mug shots. It's what Andy says."

"Andy's an idiot!" Dean stated.

Will laughed. "Maybe."

More silence - comforting and companionable. 

Out of the blue the idea came to Dean. "Hey, there's something you can help me with?"

"Oh-kay?" Will sounded wary.

"How old are you?"

"I don't see how that helps you with anything, but I'm 11," he replied.

"That's fantastic!" How had he not thought of this before? "Do you know anyone by the name Sam on your floor?"

"Sam?" There was the usual curiosity in his voice.

"Yeah!" Dean had to keep his voice from getting the better of him. "Sam or Samuel or anyone like that?"

There was no reply, just a loud thrumming. As if the boy was tapping his fingers against his lap or the other hand. "There's one kid called Sammy, I think."

Dean's throat constricted, his heart doubled its beat. Could he be? Could it really be?

"No wait… his name is Sandy," Will corrected. "Don't think I know a Sam… but I can't say for sure that I know everyone."

Dean seemed to deflate. He wanted to punch something… someone... for both- the hope and hopelessness. One of it was going to kill him, he was sure.

"What do you want with this Sam, anyway?" Will asked and Dean wanted to slap his head.

"Fine, don't tell me! But don't go back to being the mysterious shadow," Will added quickly, making Dean smile.

"Let's just say it's a personal research project for me. It's my way out of this place… to my future," Dean said. He didn’t know what Will made out of it, but the kid remained quiet for a while.

“There’s twenty new kids on the floor. Came in about a month ago,” Will said, slowly. “I’ll ask around and let you know.”

Dean wanted to ask why. Why was this kid helping him? He had expected the question from Will- that ‘what was in it from him?’ But no such conditions came. Will offered his help freely… willingly. Just like Cas had. Maybe Dean needed to trust people more, see the good in them often, because there was all the good there, that which he couldn’t have possibly hoped for.

“Thanks, man,” he said quietly.

“No problem,” Will chimed. “I’ll keep this hushed.”

Perhaps he understood what hope of a future meant. 

Dean realised that the more he got to know the people here, the more they surprised him with their kindness. Cas, Will… and unexpectedly even Gabriel and Benny in their zealousness and quiet had all helped him in their own way. Dean was starting to care. He didn't like it.

Will yawned abruptly. 

“Get some sleep,” Dean suggested. His was evading him.

There was some scuffling as Will got to his feet. “Night, Dean. I hope you find your Sam.” His voice was soft, both grave and reassuring at the same time. It startled Dean, and he wondered if Will truly understood how much finding Sam meant to Dean.

“Night,” he said.

The feet shuffled away and Dean squinted into the darkness, pointlessly trying to discern the passing shape, trying to get one look at the boy who had selflessly, unconditionally agreed to help him.

That night when he closed his eyes, for a second… or, at least, a fraction of it, Dean felt the strangest urge to send a thought up to heaven, or whatever higher power there was. He finally understood why Cas prayed, understood the urge to want something better for other people. Maybe Cas’s God will listen to Dean.

******************************

A/N 2: I really really hope y’all like this story!! Please let me know what you think… the feedback is what keeps me going :)

If you wanna be tagged, please send me an ask

About a Boy taglist:

@sdavid09 @deanssweetheart23​ @blacktithe7​ @thing-you-do-with-that-thing​ @cosicas-cuquis​ @chalicia​  @anathewierdo​ @mrswhozeewhatsis​ @protectteamfreewill​ @firefly124-writing​ @spnbaby-67​ @hoboal87​ @rizlow1​ @donnaintx​ @starmission​ @gh0stgurl​ @tftumblin​ @emily-a-c11​ @ericaprice2008​ @jotink78​ @charliebradbury1104​ @ohgodwhybloggg​ @i-dont-get-cold​  @bobbie3939​  @samsexualdeancurious​ @dancing-the-hellfire-rumba​  

[spideycentral]

Fandango: How does it feel to finally have a trailer out there that speaks to the events of Avengers: Endgame?

Jon Watts: Oh my gosh. Oh man. Endgame being out, everyone knowing what happened... and now this trailer is such a relief, such a burden off of my shoulders to carry new secrets around with me.

Fandango: How far after the events of Avengers: Endgame does this film pick up? What is the New York that we're introduced to in this movie? What does Queens look like, post-Endgame?

Jon Watts: We don't say specifically how far after, but the idea is that it's almost immediately after the events of Endgame. So we get to see the neighborhood from the first movie dealing with the implications of all of the crazy fallout of Endgame. And, you know, in classic New York style, everyone is just moving on and getting on with their daily lives. Ya know, half the people that disappeared are now back, so let's move on. [laughs]

Fandango: Let's get to the most important question: Does Far From Home introduce the Multiverse to the MCU?

Jon Watts: Well, I mean, yeah. We had to look at it in terms of the scope of what happened at the end of Endgame. Seeing all the crazy things that they did and all the questions that raises. So we're definitely trying to answer one of the big ones -- alternate timelines. So many possibilities opened up at the end of Endgame, and Peter Parker is one of the few people on the ground dealing with them.

Fandango: Are you able to explain the rules of this multiverse in terms of how it differs from the Spider-Verse that we were introduced to in Into The Spider-Verse?

Jon Watts: I wouldn't dare! I'll let Nick Fury do that.

Fandango: Speaking of Nick Fury, what version of Fury are we seeing in this movie? Is he back running a new organization?

Jon Watts: Well, that was what was very exciting to me because this is a version of Nick Fury I don't think we've ever seen, which is a Nick Fury who is playing catch-up. He disappeared for five years and the world changed dramatically in his absence, and here he is trying to put together a new team.

Fandango: So is that his mission here -- to put together a new team?

Jon Watts: Yes, Spider-Man and Mysterio are being recruited to tackle this threat of the Elementals. That's what Nick Fury does, but now things are crazier than usual.

Fandango: The most memorable line in the trailer belongs to Nick Fury, when he says, "B*tch please, you been to space." What was the origin of that line, and did Samuel L. Jackson improv it?

Jon Watts: No no, we wrote that. I'm so happy it made the trailer. But I mean, how you gonna argue with Nick Fury? [Spider-Man] has been to space. You can't be pulling that card anymore cause Nick Fury will be the first one to call him on it.

Fandango: Who is Mysterio when we first meet him and what is his agenda?

Jon Watts: In the film, it's similar to the trailer, he is introduced as a potential ally to fight off this elemental threat.

Fandango: And these elemental monsters... are they from another Earth, too? The same one Mysterio claims to be from?

Jon Watts: Yes, exactly. Exactly. They're both from the same sort of parallel dimension, yeah.

Fandango: Gotta ask about Miles Morales, who was hinted at in Homecoming. Does this new multiverse mean we get to meet Miles in this film?

Jon Watts: There is no Miles in this film, or at least not yet. But who knows... we edit these films down to the last second, so you never know.

Fandango: We don't get to see Laura Harrier or Michael Keaton's characters in the trailer. Are they in the film?

Jon Watts: Keaton is not in the movie, and Laura is not in the movie.  

Fandango: What about Aunt May? We don't see her in the trailer either... did she survive the snap and age five years or was she snapped?

Jon Watts: She disappeared and came back.

Fandango: In the trailer, Fury says it was the "snap" that caused this rip in the universe. Does your film answer which snap it was? Was it the one that brought the heroes back or the one that killed the villains?

Jon Watts: Yeah, these are all great questions and there are so many answers, but I don't want to give it away.

Fandango: Five years have passed and Peter's friends are all still the same age. Will there be characters who we met inHomecoming who appear in Far From Home having aged those five years?

Jon Watts: Yeah, that's one of the fun things that we get to play with -- the sort of real-world, ground-level implications of something like that. You don't get to see any of the fallout in Endgame, and we get to explore that in our movie. It's really interesting and fun.

Fandango: That was one of the best parts of Homecoming, in terms of it giving us this ground-level version of the MCU. Like what happened to all that debris left over from the Battle of New York in The Avengers. Do you do a lot more of that in Far From Home, but with regards to the world post-Endgame?

Jon Watts: Yeah, exactly. I've always seen Spider-Man as the most relatable superhero for that reason. He is on the ground level of this fantastic universe. So many things happened in Endgame, but you don't see any of the fallout. So I used Peter Parker/Spider-Man as an opportunity to get that ground-level perspective to show you what it would look like if all these crazy things had happened. What would day-to-day life be? If you were snapped away, you'd have to work backwards and retake your midterms.

Fandango: Or what would the lines at the DMV even look like? Renewing your license or updating your passport? Are these things addressed in the film?

Jon Watts: Yeah, that was one of the most fun things -- just talking through what the most mundane implications would be. Like, your birthday on your driver's license or passport would say that you are five years older than you technically are. Those sorts of questions are just so fascinating to me, and I really wanted to get into the minutiae of it and really explore that.

Fandango: What is Happy Hogan's role in this film, and what is his life like, post-Tony Stark?

Jon Watts: Similar to Peter, who lost his mentor in Tony... you know, Happy has been there since the very beginning. I think a big part of this story is trying to find your place in the world if the center of your world is gone. I've always liked Happy as a character, and to use him to explore some of these things was really exciting. To explore a world without Tony, who was the man that created Iron Man.

Fandango: This time around, it seems the theme revolves around Peter's desire to remain a kid while struggling with this responsibility to take over Tony's role in the MCU. How accurate is that?

Jon Watts: Yeah, you know in the last movie, it was like he was ready to step up, but the world was telling him no. Now, the world is asking him to step up, and he's not sure whether he's ready for that level of responsibility. Like, he's still a 16-year-old kid from Queens. It's something I can relate, too. I remember being a kid and you desparately want to be treated as an adult. But then suddenly you're treated as an adult, and suddenly you realize that maybe it was better back when I was being treated as a kid. Once you cross that threshold, there's no going back.

Fandango: Homecoming felt very much inspired by the movies of John Hughes. What would you say are some of Far From Home's influences?

Jon Watts: I thought there were a lot more movies about high school kids going on European vacations. I thought that was totally a genre! So there wasn't the same kind of canon to draw from, which were like '80s and '90s coming-of-age movies, but as a result I think we got a lot more diverse influences across the board. It gave us an excuse to rewatch every James Bond movie.

Fandango: Are the James Bond movies a big influence on Far From Home? Did you screen them for the kids?

Jon Watts: No, we didn't do that this time around. I feel like Tom Holland has already seen every James Bond movie because he loves James Bond. For myself, the crew and the cast, it was all about immersing ourselves in European travel movies. There's so much to draw from there -- a lot more diverse.

Fandango: Early on in the trailer, we see Spider-Man fighting off some criminals. Are those criminals perhaps tied to someone like Kingpin?

Jon Watts: Well, I don't want to say too much, but I will say they're not specifically tied to Kingpin in this movie. But you do get to see what it's like now for Spider-Man to be a very confident and friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. I feel like he's got the neighborhood under control.

Fandango: What were you able to do in this film that you didn't get to do in Homecoming?

Jon Watts: Getting to work with Jake [Gyllenhaal] and Sam Jackson was amazing, but in terms of a pure filmmaking level, I really wanted to turn up the action and make that huge. In the last movie, we kept things a little bit smaller, intentionally, to remind people why they love Spider-Man. And without changing the tone, I wanted to keep that ground-level relatability, but also turn up the level of action to create something really spectacular. I wanted to show people things that they've never seen before at the movies.

Fandango: In terms of what we see in the trailer, is there a ton more we're not seeing?

Jon Watts: You know, for a trailer that has a lot of stuff in it, it's just really scratching the surface.

[irwintry]

What Happens in Paris

Warnings: swearing, alcohol

Author’s Note: STAYs in paris!!!!!!!!!!!! anyway sorry i’m so Bad at writing anything good

also request for part two k bc i have ideas but like, i didnt want this to be so long

Word Count: 5k

part two

“It’s like, ten bucks, mate.”

Luke snorted. “For a fuckin’ scam, yeah.”

“Ya aren’t curious?”

“Y’know me,” he said. “I have a pair of five-hundred-dollar shoes in my closet that I’ve never worn. If I was curious, I’d be sittin’ in there with my head in my hands like an eager kid. Not doin’ it.”

Calum rolled his eyes. “Don’t you wanna know if you and that chic are gonna get back together? Just ten bucks.”

Luke sighed and glanced over at the pink neon “Psychic” sign that illuminated the stairs before them. The night had been rough–– breaking up and binge drinking followed by a muzzy stroll in back neighborhoods he had never visited before. The vibrant letters swirled and eddied around, and before Luke could catch himself, he began walking down the steps.

Calum let out a laugh. “All right, here we fuckin’ go.”

There was an overwhelming musty scent that filled Luke’s nostrils as stepped into the small apartment. He imagined it hardly smelled of anything at all, but his imagination was so strong, and the toxins in his blood were too intense. The couches and chairs were covered in large silk sheets and tapestries, and soft jazz music was playing from an Anker speak on the coffee table.

“Celebrities,” a low female voice said from a kitchen. She stepped out, tea kettle in hand and a smirk on her face. “That’s not a first.”

She was younger than what Luke expected, but a few laugh lines decorated the corners by her eyes. However, she spoke like a middle-aged smoker from Brooklyn. Her hair was in thick, red curls, and he imagined the difficulty of taming it–– he had trouble taming his own curls on the occasion.

“Take a seat,” she said, setting down the kettle on a doily in the center of a table. “You need it.”

Luke was unsure of the woman, but Calum was more eager to have his life spelled out for him. He nearly kicked the chair out from under him as he sat on the wicker beside a big, dusty fern.

“Tea?”

“Yes––

“No,” said Luke, his eyes narrowing in on his friend next to him.

The woman chuckled and began pouring hot water into two teacups. “Earl gray for you,” she said to Calum, and then she looked at Luke. “And rose for you.”

There was a knot forming in the pit of his stomach, and it grew larger as the teacup slid in his direction. The woman, who Luke would later know as Gina, sat across from the two of them and smiled. She spoke with her hands, and he found himself focusing in on the fluidity of the motions.

“I like the energy in this room,” she said. “It’s–– it’s light and positive. But there are some... interruptions. Like the positive is interacting with a negative, and it’s creating this ugly––aaughh––amalgamation.” Her eyes fell to Luke. “You. You haven’t been a good person.”

“What?” he asked, his voice reaching a high register while his friend laughed beside him.

The woman grinned. He didn’t like her grin. “Don’t act so surprised. Y-you have good qualities, eh, y’know? You love people and you always have. But you feel a lot of power. And, look at ya, honey. Money is a big part of that. You live in a constant cycle of excitement and stress, and the people that come and go in your life are greatly affected by you. But ya haven’t been good to them!”

“This is fuckin’ bullshit,” said Luke as he stood. “I don’t need this.”

“And you’re sad!”

“What?”

“But you’re too sad to realize you’re sad,” she continued. “There is a person in your life who is conflictin’ you. I’m sensing that they don’t mean much to you righ’ now, but the more you are around them, the more you will question who you are. Drink your fuckin’ tea.”

Luke huffed and returned to his seat. “What the fuck is happening,” he muttered, but it wasn’t a question. Calum was still stifling a laugh.

“They don’t like you right now,” the woman continued. “It is radiating off of you like fuckin’ UV rays, honey. They will mess with your feelings as you struggle to figure out your own. And–– “

“What is this shit?” Luke asked. “Like, what are you even telling me? Why is this person important to me?”

The woman chuckled darkly. “You’re going to fall in love with them, honey.”

-

“Who the fuck invited you?”

“I the fuck invited me,” you replied, hands folded across your chest as you brushed by the tall blond. “I’m here to see Cal, ya dipshit. I’m getting his house key.”

Luke let out a huff and pushed the front door shut behind him. The night before tour was a night full of traditions, and nearly all of his close friends participated in the so-called rituals. You, however, were not his friend. You were Ashton and Michael’s, and especially Calum’s, but you were not, under any circumstance, Luke’s friend. So, of all nights for you to drop by unexpectedly, it had to be the night of pre-tour traditions.

“Still didn’t fucking invite you,” he called after you, but you had already made your way into the kitchen where the group gathered. “Jesus fuckin’–– “

A loud chorus of “aye”’s and “hey”’s filled the room as you entered. He ambled in after you, his shoulders tight while he watched you go around and hug the people he was closest to. They all loved you, he knew that. And, he hated that.

“Ya didn’t tell me you invited Y/N,” said Ashton. He nudged his friend teasingly before adding in a wink. “When d’ya get the hots for her?”

Luke glared at him. “I’d run onto the 405 naked before I would ever consider even hugging her.”

“Damn, ‘kay then.” Ashton chuckled. He walked back towards the kitchen island where their mates were eating.

The traditions were light. They were simple, relaxing things that the band never had the chance to do, like movie nights and large orders of Uber Eats. Most nights, they went out and experienced life like typical chumps would do. But pre-tour traditions meant R&R, and you were not R&R.

To Luke, it seemed as though the rest of his friends enjoyed your company. His blood boiled at the thought of his night being ruined by you. His friends would tell him to avoid you and not let you spoil his fun, but he simply could avoid the frustration building while you laughed at stupid jokes. He would be laughing to had he actually cared for your company. If he kicked you out, it would ruin the night for his friends. Because of you, Luke really could not win.

And then, you said, “well, I gotta bounce. Am I dropping by your place at around nine tomorrow, Cal?”

To this, Luke nearly beamed.

“Nine on the dot,” responded Calum as he tilted his drink towards you.

“Cool beans.”

Another friend interjected the conversation. “C’mon, you can stay for a bit, can’t you? Maybe Luke will finally be the one to win the tattoo draw. Bet you’d pay to see that.”

Luke could feel perspiration under his arms at the thought of you staying and being touched by a needle.

“Tattoo draw?” you asked, dangling the key to Calum’s house between your fingers.

“Tattoo draw,” Michael affirmed. “Whoever won, well, lost the draw last time picks a tattoo for the next person who’s drawn. They’re small tattoos, but they’re often fuckin’ shit. I have a tattoo of Cal’s response to his dick pick on the back of my thigh.”

“That was so long ago,” someone piped.

You chortled. “No offense, but these pre-tour traditions are kinda–– “

“Oh, they’re lame,” interrupted Michael, “we know. But they’re fucking funny when you’re high out of your mind.”

You glanced over to Luke, who felt as though he was sweating like a pig, then back at the group of friends before you. “I’m in.”

-

Luke had contributed $200 to the pool. Throughout the past few years, the total money in the pot increased as the band’s fame continued moving up. And still, even after all of this time, he had been fortunate to not have his name drawn. The only bonus was the cash prize–– and you were also inked for the rest of your life.

But it wasn’t all that bad. It would be a memory, and Luke was fond of memories.

The anger that followed your presence had begun to fade as the night went on. Thoughts were foggy, words were garbled, and laughter filled the concrete walls and penetrated the thick, cloudy rooms. Plenty of crap foods had been consumed, plus two bottles of whiskey, by the time names were drawn.

You were right, Luke thought. Everything about the traditions were lame, and they were only routine because of their old teenage minds. The hazier he felt, the more he became lost in his own brain.

And then your name was drawn.

He had to keep himself from bursting into screeching laughter. It was easy to read the pure terror written all over your features from your wide eyes to your deep frown. Ashton, who had been last tour’s tattoo winner, nudged you playfully.

“’s all right, babe,” he said. “You don’t have to do it if you don’t wanna. Someone will be glad to do it for ya, I’m sure.”

You stared at the money pool on the coffee table before you. “I get all of that?”

Ashton nodded.

“You promise the tattoo’ll be small?

“Microscopic.”

You sighed. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Luke kept quiet for the next half hour as the group waited for the arrival of the tattoo artist. He watched your face, how it contorted and how it relaxed. He was hyper-focused on every little line and detail of your skin, and it was all because of how your demeanor changed. You appeared vulnerable now, a stark contrast to what Luke had known for nearly a year. You were witty. You were always ready to tear someone down with words when necessary. But now, you were nervous. You weren’t the same.

It bothered him tremendously.

Things only went downhill from there. Ashton, being the cocky bloke he occasionally could be, had a brilliant idea.

“I know how much you love Luke,” he said, an odd smirk toying on his lips as he exchanged glances between the two of you. “I want you to get his name tattooed.”

Luke choked on his glass of whiskey.

You snorted. “Nope. That’s a funny one, Irwin.”

“No money for ya then.”

“I don’t even know how much is in there,” you said. Meanwhile, the artist looked less than pleased to be here, and Luke didn’t blame him.

Calum winced and said, “’bout four thousand, babe. It’s a pretty big one this year.”

You gaped, mouth falling wide as you glared at Luke, who, truth be told, had no say in the situation. As much as he didn’t want his name on your body, it would have been kind of funny otherwise.

“I’ll shoot you a proposition,” said Ashton, his foot landing on the chair beside your thigh so he could lean over you. “Instead of his full name, just get his initials. L-R-H.”

Luke hated this.

“That’s–– “ You looked at Luke again, almost as if you were waiting for his approval. He didn’t speak. ‘That’s not so bad.”

Ashton grinned.

“Where would I get it?”

“Under-boob!” a voice called out from behind Luke.

A few groans washed through the group, and even Luke felt upset with the suggestion. He hated you, but he didn’t hate you that much.

“You shut your fuckin’ face, Stevens,” you responded, and that caused Luke to smile. There was the old you.

Ashton shrugged. “Anywhere you want it.”

And then, after looking Luke dead in the eyes for the thousandth time that night, you smirked. Finally, a rush of confidence flooded over you, and it chilled him to his very core. He didn’t understand why it cut right through his chest, and then you said, “under-boob it is.”

Luke decided he would no longer hold anything back. He hated you through and through.

-

Luke kept his mouth shut when his friends mentioned you. He kept it shut when they called you and talked about inside jokes. He kept it shut when they drunkenly stated they missed you. But when the Paris tour date came around and you were seated at their brunch table, he couldn’t keep himself from saying, “why the fuck are you here?”

And his friends were quick to defend, just like Luke expected. At that moment, it finally hit him that it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t be himself around you. It didn’t matter that he was the only one uncomfortable with your presence. It didn’t matter, because Luke finally realized he had no reason to feel this way. Yet he couldn’t shake the feeling.

Maybe he didn’t hate you. Maybe his blood just boiled because everyone loved you, and he didn’t love you. Maybe he found frustration in every one of your actions because he was the only one who couldn’t enjoy himself when you were there. Maybe he just had to take two seconds to get over himself and let others be happy.

Luke sunk in his seat, eyes glued on the condensation on the side of his mimosa glass while his friends chatted and laughed. He thumbed his napkin, powdered sugar coating his fingers once more. For the first time since knowing you, Luke felt guilty for treating you the way he did.

He didn’t speak for the next hour and a half. And, when he did speak, it was a word or two at a time, gaze cast to the roads once painted in the blood of the French Revolution. He wasn’t much up for going out on the town when night fell–– it was better he preserved his voice for the concert tomorrow anyway. Instead, he remained in his tiny hotel room, sweaty feet kicked up on the thousand-thread duvet while a French dubbed Iron Man 2 played on his television. At one point, he ordered himself room service, and the apple cobbler plus a sparkling bottle of white wine were too big for him to finish alone.

And somehow, as if it were fate, there was a soft knock on his door.

Luke stumbled over, slightly buzzed already as he looked through the dirty peephole to see you. He swung the door open.

“Why’re you here?” he asked, surprisingly without a swear. “Thought you were with the rest.”

You glanced behind him. “I smelled apple cobbler,” you said. A shrug and a smirk later, you made your way past him.

Luke rolled his eyes and shut the door behind him. “Didn’t invite you in.”

You were already sat on the opposite twin bed, hand reaching for the fancy bottle on the nightstand before taking a long swig of the bubbly drink.

“Why’re you here?” he repeated.

“I–– “ You let out a satisfied sigh and set the bottle down. “I got tired. Got in an Uber pool with this gorgeous dude who kept using the words très belle, and then I remembered you were home.”

Luke sat on his bed and quirked an eyebrow at you. “You got tired and came here? What, are you on crack?”

You laughed, and he kind of did, too.

“Y’hate me,” he said. “You’re not here without reason.”

You raised your hands in surrender. “Kay,” you said, “ya got me. I wanna make out with you. Have a lil bang-bang-bang action.”

Luke had to keep himself from chuckling again. “Shut the fuck up.”

You grinned; your eyes were brighter than he had ever seen them around him. The two of you were both a little tipsy, and he chose to blame that for him not being totally upset with you invading his quiet night.

Things fell silent for a moment, and he let himself get lost in the foreign dialogue of Tony Stark and Pepper Potts.

“Why do you hate me?”

Luke’s head snapped over to you. You were relaxed, legs spread on the leg before you with your back against the headboard, and you were still facing the television. The bottle of wine was now in between your thighs.

“I wanted to be your friend so badly,” you said. “When I got your number, I put a little heart next to your name. And then, you never answered me when I tried to text you. You started rolling your eyes at everything I said, even when I was just walkin’ up to greet you. I thought my occasional teasing was just harmless. Is that–– is that why you hate me?”

Luke frowned. He had no idea what to say, especially since he couldn’t tear his eyes away from you, and you couldn’t even look at him.

“I-I guess I just need you to tell me that my efforts are pointless,” you mumbled, hands reaching out to pick up the bottle from between your legs. “I feel stupid even bein’ around ya now.”

“No,” he said, “I don’t hate you. I’m sorry.”

Finally, you looked his way. “Let’s get drunk.”

The night muddled through, and to Luke’s surprise, he hadn’t had simple fun like that in ages. In your beautiful drunken stupor, you spoke your best French, although it came out as slurred gibberish while you danced around to the soundtrack from the movie Mannequin. His stomach ached from laughter, and at one point, he even joined you. He didn’t think twice about his hands lazily resting on your hips while the two of you passed the second bottle of wine around. The phone rang at about one in the morning; it was a lovely call from the front desk about a noise complaint.

Luke giggled around you. Colors and shapes swirled around him a little more than usual, and your touch burned his already-hot skin. By the time endorphins calmed and the night slowed to a stop, deep conversations met pillow talk. He was hesitant to speak on behalf of his feelings, but you were keen on sharing your entire life story and traumas with him. You cried, and he let it be on his shoulder. He chose to talk about himself for once, to get the pressure off of you. Cuddling became tickling, and soon enough, the two of you were shouting lyrics to “Beat Patrol” with uncontrollable laughter once again. When you said goodnight, your arms tossed themselves around his waist as you pecked his flushed cheeks. And then you were gone, and he decided he didn’t like the absence.

He didn’t forget about it the next day. You were quiet, and you kept your distance, so he did the same. But something had changed, that he knew. It pricked at his stomach, and when you hopped aboard a flight the next day after that, he realized he missed you. It was funny how a mere few hours could change a mind.

-

“Do you think Y/N was the one that psychic talked about?”

“What?”

Calum had been silently chewing on a cold slice of pizza when the question hit his brain. Luke, on the other hand, was washing down his midnight meal with a bottle of beer. The tour had been over for about a week, and they had all been sleeping for days straight. Well, all except for Luke, who found himself unable to close his eyes while he tried not to think about that one night with you. It was one fucking night. By this point, nearly all of the events had vanished from his mind, but he couldn’t shake the honest happiness he felt while singing along to cheesy songs from the 1980s. He couldn’t get over your impromptu stand-up comedy show and your terrible John Mulaney impression.

“The psychic, Gina,” said Calum. “You remember that, right?”

“Yeah,” Luke replied, a little wary of where the conversation was headed.

Calum straightened his posture and slapped the pizza back down onto the greasy cardboard box. “D’ya think Y/N is who she was talking about?”

“I–– “ Luke thought for a moment as he racked his brain. He hadn’t mentioned that night with you to anyone, but they all knew his prior distaste for you. Now, he couldn’t help but think of the accuracy of the psychic’s testament. You didn’t like him, he didn’t like you, but now he kind of did like you. “No,” he said, “not a chance. It’s Y/N. Fuckin’ hate her.”

Calum nodded. A frown pulled at his lips. “She’s great, mate. Y’oughta give her a chance.”

Luke had given you a chance, and it worked all too well.

“Maybe you’ll fall in love with her.”

The blond snorted. “I can’t even be in the same room as her, Cal. Don’t see romantic escapades in our future. No–– no drunken late-nights with comedy impressions and Starship dance-offs.”

“’s oddly specific, but okay,” said Calum. He shut the pizza box a moment later and slid it back into the fridge, and meanwhile, Luke felt a pit growing in his stomach. “You’re too stubborn,” his friend continued. “And ugly. Like, too damn ugly for her anyway.”

Luke smirked, tilting his beer in Calum’s direction. “Cheers to that, mate.”

Through the dying laughter, Luke’s smile fell into a frown, and he couldn’t quite grasp the reason why. It was possible that the idea of falling for someone like you didn’t seem so terrible after all.

-

A few dozen people had gathered in the backyard by the time you arrived. Luke spent the first hour of the party cradling a beer, keeping himself out of sight on the porch but in view of the pool. His shirt had already become unbuttoned, and his curls had loosened and stuck flat against his skin due to the humidity in the hot air. And you... you looked marvelous.

Luke had been so focused on trying not to think about you, he ended up thinking about you every hour of every day. He caught himself scrolling through your Instagram page after failing to fall asleep, and he thought about what would have happened had you stayed in his hotel room a little longer. When your face popped into his brain, his heart hurt. He had started to idealize the two of you together–– exactly what he hadn’t wanted.

So, he isolated himself in the kitchen after your arrival, a series of nonconsecutive thoughts whirling through his head while he chipped away at the sticker on his warm beer. The party was outside, and he was in there, wondering how on earth he let himself start falling for the person he never wanted to know.

“I told Calum to queue up some Starship.”

Your voice was confident as you slid the back door closed behind you. Luke focused on your footsteps, but he refused to turn around as you approached him.

“If I can’t jam to some “Beat Patrol”, then honestly, what’s the point of being here?” you continued with a light laugh. You were grinning from ear to ear when you placed yourself in front of Luke, the close proximity causing him to hold in a gasp.

He cracked a smile. “Who invited you?”

“I invited myself,” you replied, “thank you very much.” You tilted your drink in his direction before taking a quick sip and setting it beside Luke’s on the counter. “The question is: why are you in here alone, bud? Lookin’ so glum n’ all.”

Luke’s heartbeat had begun to pick up, and humidity from the outside had seeped its way into the kitchen. He placed his palms on his pants to dry them off.

You frowned–– he had taken too long to answer. “You okay?”

He nearly jumped at the feeling of your hand brushing against his arm, and then he noticed that you had moved slightly closer. “I–– “ Luke coughed. “’m fine.” The weight on his arm never left.

“C-can I ask you something?” you spoke up again after a few moments of silence. You didn’t wait for his answer. “Do you hate me?”

His eyes met yours, despite the pain settling in his chest because of the contact. “You’ve asked me that before,” he said and smirked.

“I know,” you said quickly. “But, do you?”

Luke shook his head. “No. I could–– I could never.”

You nodded.

He nearly leaned in a little. The heavy tension and spike in energy tilted his body and its weight on the balls of his feet, but he held back in fear. All he wanted to do was see how you felt beneath his touch.

“Okay,” you then mumbled. Your voice was hushed, and you refused to look at him again. Somehow, the distance between the two of you shrunk once again.

Luke swallowed. His fingers played with the neck of his half-empty bottle; they spun it around and around while his brain told him what to do and what not to do.

And then, the hand that had been grazing his arm moved up to rest on his chest, and Luke restrained himself from completely losing himself in you. It was as if the music from the world outside had been sucked into a vacuum, and the air around him was dense with heat and sexual tension, but he could only notice your breath ghosting his lips. There was something about the nudging of noses and fluttering of eyelids that pushed him over the edge. So, when your lips finally met in a soft, velvety kiss, he couldn’t hold back the desire that had been building up for months.

While your hands plaited through his hair, Luke’s were firm on your waist. He had pulled you into him, all previous thoughts out the door while your lips slotted against his. It was wet yet warm, and a familiar sensation tightened in his abdomen. His cheeks were hot and pink–– that he knew for sure.

But you pulled away quickly, gasps falling as you sputtered out apologies. “I shouldn’t–– that was–– weird, right?”

Luke wanted to shake his head no, but instead, all he could do was nod.

“We–– we hate ea–– I’m sorry,” you said, grabbing your beer quickly and making a b-line for the sliding glass door.

Underneath Luke’s eyes, the skin burned, but he quickly shook it off. He wasn’t going to cry because you walked out on him. He was, however, disheartened tremendously.

The rest of the night, he spent his time avoiding you. Truth be told, he spent his time avoiding everyone. He loitered around his practice room, used the bathroom for twenty minutes, and locked himself in his room until the crowd outside died down. No one bothered to check up on him, not even you. It was when he had come to terms with his isolation that you knocked on his door and stumbled in. Immediately, he knew you had a few too many drinks.

Neither of you said a word as you ambled over, giggles leaving your lips before you flopped onto his bed beside him. Pillows flew and the duvet slipped to the floor, but Luke didn’t care. In the beginning, he never wanted to picture you in his bed–– it made him sick to think about. But then he purposefully avoided the thought, for he simply knew he’d find himself wanting to picture it more and more. So now, he had to keep his stomach from knotting. He had to keep himself from looking over and spilling out a word-vomit of feelings that he didn’t even want to have.

And then, you started touching his face.

At first, Luke wanted to laugh. You were cute albeit clumsy, yet the silence and evident tension settled in his shoulders, and every graze of your fingers on his flushed skin sent shivers up his spine. Fingers running over cheeks and closed eyelids, your touch so gentle he could barely feel it, but he did. You brushed the ridge of his brows, the curve of his nose, and finally, the dip of his cupid’s bow. He couldn’t breathe as you lightly traced the soft skin of his lips.

His lips felt cold once your fingers left, but they soon skimmed the hollowing of his cheeks back down to where his lips parted in a silent gasp. You pressed one finger against the separation of skin, and he kissed it gently. Then, you placed another finger there, and he continued.

Luke wanted to shoo your hand away. He blinked up at the ceiling while your hand traveled down his Adam’s Apple and onto his collarbones. Your touch was so light, so beautiful–– he was completely enamored at this moment. He had to clench his jaw while your hand traced the hairs on his chest.

The weight in his bed shifted, and suddenly your body was wedged up against his, your nose nudging his chest as you peppered kisses up and down it. Luke’s heart rate decided to make a break for it.

“No, no, no,” he breathed out, reaching over and pushing you away from him. He rose instantly while his hands fumbled to button up his shirt. It would be obvious to anyone as to how utterly flustered he was. “No, you can’t–– you can’t do that to me.”

You grinned. “Why not? Yer so pretty! Like a fuckin’ angel that fell from heaven. You glow.”

“I-I don’t–– no, what?” Luke sputtered, nerves rising to his throat as he finally got a good look at you in your drunken state. He already knew what you were like drunk, but he never saw you like this while sober.

“Ya deserves to be kissed,” you said.

Luke wanted to smile; except he couldn’t have things end up this way. He felt so much, maybe too much, and he wanted it to be good. You had hardly blinked.

“Um,” Luke whispered, “thanks. I–– I should–– I should check on the party.”

“Oh, yeah!” you squeaked. “Go, go, go!”

He nodded, excusing himself quickly and then shutting the door behind him. But he couldn’t walk any farther than that. With a sigh, he pressed his back against the door and looked down to his feet. Every muscle in his body tensed and relaxed while his brain went black. Luke didn’t know what to think. He wasn’t sure he would ever know how to admit how he felt. However, he did know that needed to pay a certain psychic a visit.

part two

[icyharrington]

Gratitude (Michael Langdon X Reader) Part 2

this is some nasty ass shit right here. femdoms, get ya popcorn ready, bc... ohhhh boy😈😈 this takes place a while after gratitude part 1, when michael goes to the hawthorne school!

plot: michael langdon, boy wonder, has newfound confidence and power after going away to the hawthorne school. that doesn’t mean that he’s exempt from discipline, though, and it looks like he’s in need of some.

warnings: sub!michael, fem!reader, pegging, face fucking(w/ a strap on), anal fingering lmao, degradation, dirty talk, spanking

word count: 4k 

“You know, Michael,” you said, your hands traveling up his dress shirt as you slid each button into its hold, “as much as I hate not having you around, it’s partly worth it just to see you in this outfit.”

He chuckled, straightening his neck for you as you tied the thin black ribbon into a neat bow and folded his collar down. “You like it?” he asked hopefully, widening his eyes half-seriously.

“Are you kidding? I love it,” you said, reaching up to adjust his hair so it framed his face the way he liked.

You hadn’t seen Michael since he’d gone away to the Hawthorne school a month ago; you were beyond proud of him for being as skilled as he was, but it had gotten so lonely no longer having your blond-haired boyfriend at an arm’s length from you. Being here with him now, you felt whole. He was your other half, and it killed you to be away from him.

“Though, I have to say, it’d probably look a lot better on the floor,” you said, your voice lowering as you slid your hands across his waist and pulled him close to you. You looked up at him, craning your neck to whisper into his ear: “Have you been a good boy this past month?”

He nodded, cheeks flushing. He’d changed drastically from the shy, sweet boy he’d once been, but certain things about him had remained the same. Even though he was powerful now and confident in his demeanor, he still loved nothing more than to be completely under your control. 

“Good,” you whispered, enjoying the way his breath hitched in response to your close proximity. “Then I’ll have to reward you later.”

There was a flurry of noise from behind his bedroom door, followed by the sound of someone’s knuckles impatiently rapping against it. “Langdon, dude, come on. We’re all going to get dinner now.”

He looked in the direction of the noise, a disinterested look on his face. “Go on,” you said. “I’ll meet you there. I’m not finished getting ready yet.”

“I’d rather stay here with you,” he mumbled, pressing his lips against your jaw. There was more knocking at the door, which you both did not react to.

“I’m gonna be a while. I was driving all day to come see you, I look a mess.” You put your finger up to his mouth, preventing him from offering the obligatory No, you don’t that boyfriends were expected to give. “I already ate dinner. I’m just gonna come down to say hi to your friends.”

He nodded, kissing you softly before turning to the door. “Be right out,” he called.

“His girlfriend is visiting him,” came a second muffled voice. “His dick is probably being sucked as we speak.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, and he cleared his throat. “I can hear you, you know.”

There was a chorus of laughter from the group of boys behind the door, and you rolled your eyes. “Go on, have fun,” you said, pushing him lightly in the direction of the door. He looked over his shoulder at you with a grin, and then he was off. You shook your head, listening to the boisterous voices of his friends, almost feeling like a disapproving mother dropping her son off with his bad-influence friends. This is normal, you thought, albeit sadly, unable to shake the inkling of worry you harbored that he’d forget about you.

Of course he wouldn’t forget about you. He loved you. He owned you, even, just as much as you owned him. You took in a breath and sat down on the side of his bed, rummaging through your makeup bag. It’d been so much easier when it had only been the two of you, but you had to let him experience his life. He needed it. He deserved it, more than anyone else.

But still, you worried.

//

“Dude, is that from your girlfriend? That shit’s fuckin’ humongous,” you heard a faceless warlock say as you walked through the dining hall. From a few other boys came a murmur of agreement, and you wondered what they were talking about as you scanned the tables for Michael.

You heard a cocky-sounding laugh, and a familiar one at that. All at once, you realized what was going on: Michael was sitting with his back to you, but you could tell he was tilting his head to one side in order to show off the reddish-purple welt on his neck while his friends stared in awe. “Oh, this? Well, yeah. I mean, she couldn’t keep her hands off me. You know how needy girls can get.”

You stopped in your tracks. Fucking idiot, you thought, folding your arms in front of you in wait of what else he might say. “Damn. She must have been really going at it,” laughed a dark-haired boy, leaning in to get a better look at the mark.

Michael shrugged nonchalantly, and from the bit of his profile you could see, you could tell there was a smirk on his lips. “I had to tell her, you know, ‘my friends and I wanna get dinner, and we’ll have plenty of time later to-‘“

You decided this was the perfect time to interrupt, approaching behind Michael and placing your hands on his shoulders, demanding the attention of the entire group.

“Are you guys talking about that mark on Michael’s neck? Yeah, it’s pretty crazy. He was really curious about seeing what he’d look like with straight hair, so he borrowed my straightener and accidentally burnt the shit out of himself.” You weren’t even lying, either, which made him all the more pathetic for gloating to his friends.

Michael looked up at you with a close-mouthed grin, and you were satisfied to see the panic behind his pale eyes. “There you are, baby,” he said, his voice cracking nervously. “I was wondering what was taking so long. Guys, this is (y/n).”

One warlock snorted, his eyes traveling back and forth between you and Michael as he regarded your expressions. “So, like, did you actually get that mark from a hair straightener?”

Michael’s shoulders slumped, your hands still perched on them, and you gave him a hard squeeze. You didn’t need to see his face to know that he was burning up. Good, you thought. He should be fucking embarrassed. “What else would it be from?” you said brightly, staring down the warlock who sat next to Michael until he scooted over.

You slid in next to your boyfriend, immediately gripping his thigh beneath the table; your nails sank into his skin through his dress pants, causing him to wince. “Sorry,” you said, leaning an elbows on the table and settling your chin on your palm. “I just couldn’t keep my hands off you, I guess.”

The look he gave you showed you enough; he knew he was fucked. And soon enough, he would be- you could guarantee that.

//

“What the fuck was that about?” you demanded, not bothering to wait for Michael to shut his bedroom door behind him. He looked at you sheepishly, hands in his pockets.

“I’m sorry, (y/n). I just- you know how guys are, right? I just want them to like me.”

“Save it,” you snapped, reaching for your bag which sat on his bed. “Get on your fucking knees. You wanna use your mouth so bad? Then I’ll make sure you do.”

He sank to his knees immediately, pulling off his jacket and discarding it behind him, an eager smirk on his lips as he looked up at you. “Is this supposed to be a punishment? You know how much I love to taste you.”

You laughed humorlessly, taking his chin in your hand and harshly turning it upwards. “Oh, believe me, Michael. You aren’t tasting me tonight.”

Before he could respond, you took your bag into the bathroom, leaving him kneeling on the wood. You hadn’t planned to punish him tonight, but his behavior certainly warranted it. As pissed off as you were at him for having been so completely idiotic, the thought of having him beg and plead excited you, to say the least. You rummaged through your bag in search of the surprise you’d brought for Michael, your underwear dampening in anticipation.

When you found your strap-on, you smiled deviously to yourself. You’d used it on Michael before, but he didn’t know that you’d brought it with you to visit him, and you couldn’t wait to see the look on his face when you presented it before him. Hiking up your skirt and pulling off your underwear, you put it on, running your fingertips along the length. 

You always felt sort of powerful when you wore it, especially when you had Michael on his knees in front of you. You pulled your skirt back down and walked back into Michael’s room, finding him in the same spot you’d left him.

You looked at him and scoffed; he was noticeably hard through his expensive pants, his lips parted and eager. Slowly you made your way over to him, stopping once your crotch was in front of his face. Then you grabbed a fist full of golden curls and yanked his head back to look at you, drawing a soft yelp from his mouth.

“Open your mouth,” you ordered, and immediately he did as he was told. “And keep your hands on your knees. You don’t get to touch me.”

He watched as you pulled up your skirt, hands fidgeting restlessly over his thighs as you revealed the thick length of the strap-on. His eyes widened, but you didn’t allow him to question you- you forced the fake cock into his mouth, making him gag, your fists tightly grasping his hair.  

He let out a strangled choking sound as you forced it to the back of his throat, your grip tight enough to keep him in place. “What do you think your little warlock friends would think if they saw this, huh? Their strong boy wonder choking on his girlfriend’s fake cock.”

He moaned, and you knew he was loving this. You pulled his head back and thrusted your hips forward, finding a steady rhythm to fuck his face. Even though you weren’t being touched, you almost moaned yourself, just by witnessing Michael in this state of submission. “You think they’d still think you were a big man if they saw this? Huh?”

You tugged his hair and he shook his head as best he could, saliva dribbling down his chin and onto the front of his shirt. He’d balled his fists up over his legs, struggling not to reach out and touch you, but you refrained from praising him- he didn’t deserve it. 

“You’re taking my cock so well,” you mumbled, licking your lips at the vulgar noises coming from your boyfriend’s throat. Glancing down, you could see that his eyes were shut as he immersed himself in the degrading act. “Look at me,” you demanded, and his eyes snapped open, darkened with lust.

“You want me to fuck you?” you asked him, slowing down the thrusts to watch him slide his head up and down the length. He nodded, and you pulled the cock out of his mouth, watching him for a moment as he gasped for air. His lips were swollen and red, eyes heavy-lidded, and you reached down to stroke his jaw. He looked beautiful like this, all disheveled and lustful and used. 

“Get up,” you said, and he jumped to his feet, using the back of his sleeve to wipe away the spit on his mouth. “What do you say?” you brushed his hair out of his face before cupping it.

“Thank you,” he said, eyelashes fluttering shyly. You could see by the way his cheeks had flushed that he was thoroughly humiliated, but knowing Michael, it probably had made him rock hard.

“Take your clothes off and get on the bed,” you told him simply, folding your arms in front of you as you waited for him to strip. You watched him undress, mouth watering when he pulled down his boxers to expose his hardened length, leaking with precum; as much as you wanted to feel it inside you, or wrap your lips around the flushed tip, you’d have to ignore it- this was a punishment, after all.

He crawled onto the bed and laid on his stomach, his rounded ass on display for you as he looked over his shoulder and shot you a coy grin. You responded with a cold stare, before returning to your bag and retrieving a bottle of lube, which of course was essential for times like this.

You climbed onto the bed after him, parting his legs so you were behind him, the tip of your strap-on poking at his ass. He wiggled a bit, and you placed your palm on his lower back to keep him still. Then you put down the lube next to him and reached forward to spread his ass cheeks, fingernails digging into his soft flesh.

He whined, and you landed a smack on his cheek hard enough to leave a palm-shaped mark. You moved one hand downwards and ran your fingertips lightly over his entrance, causing him to shiver, porcelain skin dotted over with goosebumps. “Do your friends know you like to get fucked in the ass?” you asked him, circling your fingers around his hole teasingly. “That you like having your hole filled up while you get fucked into the mattress?”

He squirmed, and you slapped him again, the sound of your hand connecting with his skin crisp and loud. “Answer me, Michael.”

“N-no, they don’t know,” he whispered, and you brought two fingers to your lips, sucking them noisily.

“And why not? You had no problem lying to them about how desperate I was to suck on your neck,” you said calmly, dipping your wet fingers just barely inside him. He groaned and you stopped, tracing your fingers along his spine with mock-tenderness.

“B-because it’s- it’s embarrassing,” he said, his voice cracking. You pushed your fingers further inside him, reveling in how impossibly tight he was. You hadn’t fucked him like this in a while, so you knew you’d have to prep him with extra care tonight.

“But you love it so much,” you said, now knuckle deep inside him, and he rolled his hips back needily against you. “Even right now. You’re so desperate for me to push my fingers all the way in you, reach that spot that drives you crazy. Isn’t that right?”

He nodded frantically, his curls bouncing as he mumbled something incomprehensible. “So why would you be embarrassed?” you asked, spreading apart your fingers slightly to stretch him as you slid them deeper.

“B-because,” he let out a shaky sob as you completely filled him, parting your fingers further now and pumping them slowly.

“Because you don’t want them to know their manly supreme-to-be is really a needy little boy who wants to be fucked like a bitch?” The words were biting, lingering on the back of your tongue after they came out; you’d feel guilty if you didn’t already know how hard they were making him.

He only groaned, your pace increasing slowly but surely as you fucked him with your fingers. He was so tight, it almost worried you that your fingers would soon be replaced with a reasonably large dick, but you knew he could handle it. He loved the discomfort, the pain, and the way it melted seamlessly into the pleasure. He arched his back, rolling his ass against your hand to try and feel as much of you as possible. “Stay still,” you warned, and he returned his hips to rest against the mattress.

“Tell me how bad you wanna be fucked,” you said, twisting a strand of his hair from the nape of his neck around your free hand. “Beg for it like the bitch you are.”

He moaned at your words, his voice dropping an octave as your fingers thrusted down inside him harshly. You tugged his hair, bringing his head up off the pillow so you could hear his pleading clearly; this was the part that always excited you the most.

“P-please,” he said, raspy and raw. He balled up his fists around his sheets, a dip forming on his lower back as he lifted his ass up towards you. “I n-need it. Please.”

You hummed, scissoring your fingers apart for a third time in order to get him ready for what was to come. “I don’t think you deserve it.”

“Please, I’ll be a good boy, I promise,” he croaked, and you let go of his hair, sending his face plummeting back into the pillows and staining them with his tears.

“I don’t know, Michael,” you said pensively, holding him down while you increased the speed of your rhythm; he was crying now, muscular shoulders shaking, and for a moment you genuinely wondered what his friends would make of a scene like this. “You told me earlier that you were a good boy, but that was a lie.”

“(Y/n),” he begged, and abruptly you pulled your fingers out of him. You reached for the lube, unable to draw this out any longer. You hadn’t had him under you like this in so long.

“You don’t deserve this,” you said, squirting some of the clear substance into your palm and stroking it along your plastic member. You rubbed the rest around his entrance, which you could tell was already sore from the way he winced against your touch. “But I’m going to give it to you, only because you’re so fucking desperate for it.”

He panted as you rubbed the tip of the cock against his entrance, eliciting some sort of garbled noise from the back of his throat. He held up his hips for you, and you eased the member inside of him, going slowly to start out. You held onto his side firmly with one hand, the other traveling between the valleys of muscle and bone on either side of his spine. It took everything inside of you not to start fucking him senseless, but god, he looked fucking irresistible right now, face down and ass up all for you.

Pushing your hips down with moderate force, he let out a strangled scream as you slid deep inside him all at once, the lube having made the penetration far easier. His body twitched when the head of the cock brushed against his innermost spot, his knuckles turning white as they tightened and twisted around the sheets. You placed your other hand on his opposite side, grunting slightly as you pushed inside him, watching his ass clench greedily around the member. 

“H-harder,” he choked out, and you steadied your hips to a halt. You contemplated for a moment before landing your palm against his ass cheek, hard. 

“Quiet, unless I tell you otherwise,” you said, jerking your hips back a few inches and thrusting back inside him. He collapsed against the bed, no longer able to support his hips in the air, his body shaking pitifully. 

“Fuck,” he said, and you slapped him again, his skin hot and soft against your hand. His mind clearly wasn’t fully present at the moment, though, because seconds later, he followed up with another “harder”. 

“What did I just tell you?” you hissed, not expecting a reply; he was too far gone at this point to be obedient. You pulled him back against the cock roughly with each forward thrust, his body practically writhing as you fucked him. You could probably cum from the sight of Michael alone; it aroused you beyond belief to fuck him into a sobbing mess all while he begged for more.

“You take my cock so well,” you murmured for the second time that evening, and it was true; he hadn’t been fucked like this in so long, and yet he took it so graciously despite the discomfort he was likely experiencing. He bucked his ass backwards to meet your thrusts, and you couldn’t find it in you to scold him. 

Your thrusts weren’t too fast, but they were forceful, and with each push of your hips pressing him against the mattress, his whimpers grew louder and louder. Getting a good hold on him with one hand, you reached your other one to hold onto his curls, grunting as you increased your speed.

“P-please,” he breathed, and from the bit of his face you could see, it was apparent that his skin was streaked with dried tears. You smirked, entering him fully before grinding against his ass, making sure he felt every inch. He shivered, feeling the head of your strap-on push against his prostate, and you rocked yourself forward to apply further pressure. 

“Tell me how pathetic you are for lying to your friends,” you said, using his hair to lift him up further so you could hear him speak.

“I’m pathetic, s-so pathetic,” he cried, and you administered another hard, ruthless thrust into him. “God, harder.”

“I’m already fucking you hard, and you want more?” you said mockingly, complying to his requests and pounding into him so aggressively, you almost lost your balance. “You’re a greedy little boy, begging me to be fucked when you know you don’t deserve it.”

“It- it feels so- so- fuck.” You adjusted your position so your thrusts were angled downwards, a sure fire way of hitting the spot that would make him cum. You knew that after the way he’d behaved, he shouldn’t be allowed to, but it would be another level of cruel to leave him like this- you were nowhere near a saint, but some things were too much, even for you. 

“Who do you belong to?” you demanded, releasing his hair and letting him drop face-first into the pillow with a soft thud. He sniffled, turning his head to the side, squirming below you restlessly.

“Y-you, (y/n), I b-belong to- fuck,” he stuttered, and you began to fuck him sloppily, focusing on getting him to his climax, a bead of sweat traveling down your forehead as your heart raced from your vigorous movements. At this point, he was probably in some degree of pain as you pushed inside his tight hole, but you knew he craved it. His body was near limp below you, worn out from being used, and he could hardly manage to let out more than a few soft, shaky moans.

Your chest pressed against his back, which was glistening from the sweat coating every inch of his skin. You didn’t care; you loved it, loved how weak you made him. Jutting yourself down further, you felt him contract and shake; you bounced your hips slightly, keeping the cock in the same spot, knowing that this would cause him to unravel, melt into a puddle beneath you. 

He gasped, and that was it- you wished you could see his face as he came, witness his heavy-lidded blue eyes flutter shut as his perfect lips parted in ecstasy. But this was enough. Listening to his little sighs, too fatigued for anything stronger. 

He tensed, and then he shook almost violently, and then he was almost motionless, save for his heaving back. You kissed his shoulder, pulling the strap-on out of him slowly, so as not to hurt him. Gently you rolled him onto his back, running your fingers over his cheeks and wiping away the tears. He looked up at you with a dazed expression, opening his mouth as if he wanted to speak, but no words came out.

“I love you, Michael,” you told him truthfully, stroking his moist, disheveled hair. “But don’t pull that stupid shit again.” 

He tilted his head upwards, just barely enough to show you that he was nodding in agreement, tongue darting out to wet his dry lips. You pulled yourself off the bed, removing the strap-on from under your skirt as you began to undress and change into your pajamas. You considered lying down next to him and making yourself cum, but you were exhausted from the session and knew Michael repay you later on anyways.

Pulling on your sweatpants, you heard Michael roll onto his side. “(Y/n)?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.” 

It was genuine, whole-hearted. 

You smiled.

[fangirl--writes]

Safe-  PreSpray Jeremiah x Reader

Summary: Reader is a bartender at the Saint Street Club, when un-expected events force the entertainment to cancel, they are asked to fill in. Unaware of the attention they’ll draw from and the comfort they’ll bring to one, Jeremiah Valeska.  

**Song Fic “I'm a Mess, Issues”- Bebe Rexha & Julia Michaels Mashup By Madilyn Bailey

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=432Rk2nhYEE

Y/N- Your name

Words: 2’441

This is a work of fiction based on the FOX series Gotham by Bruno Heller

Notes: Hopefully I can get another fanfic up by Christmas or a few days after. That S5 trailer makes me so excited for the new season.

Feedback is super important to me and I’d love to hear from you guys!

Enjoy!

*************************************

It was a busy night. The streets were crowded with people tonight as you jostled around behind the bar of the small club.

You half listened to the chatter as you wiped down your station the city was rattled as the crew that’d broken out of Arkham a few weeks ago took over the music festival down town; images you’d seen flickering on T.V. flashed before your eyes, quickly you shook them away hearing you name being called from the back wall.

“Y/n-

Kid, C’mere!”

Your co-worker nudged your shoulder gently as he prepared a drink, you hastily threw down your cleaning rag and weaved haphazardly through the growing crowd of patrons meeting your frazzled and frantic manager, a brick wall of a man who towered over you and most of your co-workers; a frozen smile was plastered on his face as he ushered you over, his large hand brushed your back as he quickly lead you back stage.

Normally he was well mannered and cool, dressed to the nines; a hardy laugh rolling through the bar was the usual as he watched over the staff, rolling with the punches of the packed Friday night crowds, but tonight your burly boss was like gelatin; a sight you personally had never seen.

The smile dropped from his face when the two of you were a ways from the other crew.

A thin layer of sheen glistened on his forehead under the dim lights, anxiously drumming his hands on the clipboard clamped in his sweaty palms.

You tried to remain calm as you greeted him.

“What’s up San?”

“I need you to perform tonight-“Your eyes went wide breathe hitching in your throat as he blurted out his next sentence.

“The headliner didn’t show and she’s on in 15. S-something happened today at the music festival and her and the other performers refuse to come into work.

Your mind flashed back to earlier in the night, a group of wait staff were huddled around in gossip over the day’s events, a “Legion of Horribles” took over the annual music festival downtown and held the crowd hostage until the captain of the GCPD had a standoff with the leader of the little ragtag group, resulting in his untimely demise.

You vaguely remember them mentioning the name Jerome Valeska, a man who had died and taken Gotham more times then you could count, doubting he’d be dead for long you simply rolled your eyes at their little circle; Gotham changes hands every day, a small shootout and death rarely made the papers anymore.

“Please, Y/N, you know I wouldn’t ask if we weren’t desperate…” his voice was low in a hushed whisper

“I.. just-I don’t know.”  You ran a quivering hand through your hair, playing for a small group of friends, no problem.  At a family gathering, easy peasy, but never have you played in a public venue.  You’d toyed with the idea of playing the music festival and you were suddenly glad you chickened out this year.

“Al’s  got the bar, just one performance. “

He was practically on his knees begging-

“We need something to keep these people from making their own entertainment,” He gestured to the waiting crowds beyond the curtain-

The last time guests made their own amusement you spent the night cleaning up broken bottles and various body fluids.

“Just until we can get the band here?”

You let out an exasperated sigh ringing your hands together as you watched the filing tables from backstage; the stools at the bar were packed, your co- workers rushing back and forth to keep glasses sliding as the waitress’  darted between tables with drinks.  

You glanced over at the piano on stage, only one song came to mind. It wasn’t something one would normally play at a bar like this. Your little corner club wasn’t as grandeur as the illustrious Sirens, but it was a place where alcohol flowed and worries were forgotten, so it would have to do.

“What ya’ say kid?” You could hear the faint tremble in your managers’ voice as he pulled your attention from the forgotten instrument on stage.

Hesitantly you held in a breath and nodded quickly a pair of large arms wrapping around your form to lift you into a spinning hug.

“You are the best Y/N!” Your manager exclaimed quickly setting you back down as he recomposed himself.

“Can you be ready in 10?”  With a quick nod you mentally cursed yourself for agreeing to this as he pushed you toward the dressing rooms.

“Thanks Kid!”

You felt your heart skyrocket, pounding in your ears haphazardly as the door of dressing space slammed shut.  Your back met the door as you dug your nails into the chipping wood.

This is crazy Y/N

You’re crazy

You’d rather clean the men’s bathroom on a Saturday then publicly perform. What if you freeze?

Imagining all the frozen eyes analyzing your every move, every breath, every possible mistake made your stomach knot.

You could still back out-

Fake a cough, the flu, anything to get you, out of this disaster plan.

You steadied yourself, pulling a spare dress off the rack in the corner quickly changing out of your uniform and over to the vanity; you’re shaking hands fighting against you as you hastily applied a layer of mascara and a cover of blush.

A swift knock caused you to jump, the mascara tumbling to the table in a quiet clatter.

“Y/N? –

Show time Kiddo!”

San’s burly voice reached through the door, the hairs on your arms rose as you hugged yourself staring down your reflection in the grubby mirror, your palms going to clutch the hem of your sparkled attire.

You can do this

Just one song and you’re done.

Taking in a breath you turned, legs like gelatin as you made your way out of the small room.

“It’s all set for ya’” He placed a reassuring hand one your lace covered shoulder; your eyes catching a glimpse of the filled tables and crowded bar from behind the curtain. Your eyes lingered at the bar, flickering through the faces going un- noticed by all except one with a pair of striking green eyes and a bout’ of red hair. Quickly you threw your eyes toward the stage embarrassed-

Your gaze lingered on the piano that had been moved toward the center; muttering a few choice curses at your boss and his overzealous approach to capture the crowds.  With a quiet exhale you un-clenched your fist and slipped out from the side.

The hot stage lights blared on your form as you took your seat at the bench, moving a stray hair from your eyes you gently tested the tune.  Hesitantly your eyes flicked back to your manager who gave an encouraging nod, hoping maybe this was just a joke… a very cruel joke.

No one paid mind to you on the stage. You casted weary gaze toward the ceiling letting out an anxious breath before pressing down on the smooth keys.

Just one song.

The soft medley flowed through the room, slowly overtaking the chatter at the bar as the hall filled with your voice.

“Everything's been so messed up here lately Pretty sure ya’ don't wanna be my baby”

“Oh, he don't love me, he don't love me He don't love me, he don't love me But that's okay- 'Cause I love me, yeah, I love me Yeah, I love me Yeah, I love myself anyway

Heeey”

You looked up briefly meeting a few dozen curious eyes, your heart skipped as you continued.  

“Everything's gonna be alright Everything's gonna be okay It's gonna be a good, good, life That's what my therapist say Everything's gonna be alright Everything's gonna be just fine It's gonna be a good, good life”

This wasn’t the typical sound of the bar; the mood seemed to shift as the more eyes you pulled on stage. The rowdy atmosphere melted into a quiet buzz and the club seemed to still under your playing.  

The tense tight knot in your stomach began to unravel, your palms relaxed under the faint pink lights as you nodded along with your sound.

I'm a mess, I'm a loser I'm a hater, I'm a user I'm a mess for your love, it ain't new I'm obsessed, I'm embarrassed I don't trust no one around us I'm a mess for your love, it ain't new

I got issues- And one of them is how bad I need ya’ ”

You looked up again the sea of bodies melting together  as a pair of eyes captured your attention momentarily at the bar, a pair of green eyes lingered behind a pair of thick frames.  

The same eyes that’d you’d met peeking backstage. They were bright, brilliant and completely captivated by your performance.

You do shit on purpose You get mad and you break things Feel bad, try to fix things

This afternoon’s events reeled fresh in his mind, cycling endlessly like a broken tape; the images of Jerome flashed before Jeremiah’s eyes, the grip on the cold glass in his hands tightened as he squeezed the frigid drink.

Constant laughter poisoned his ears, as he forced down another shot of burning liquid trying to quell the incessant voices that plagued his thoughts.  

As he waved for another the stream of images froze, paused by a soft voice that reached to him from the stage; slowly it rose up, drowning the damned laugh that was seared in his memory.

His gaze flickered to toward the sound.

The young gentlemen watched you intently, the glass waiting for him forgotten. He froze as the grimy interior of the space around him seemingly faded away, the lowly muttering around him blocked out by your silky tones and melodies.

Something about you- your presence, your sound, intrigued him, somehow able to draw him out from the dark pressing thoughts of today’s events and managing to momentarily untangle him from the webs of fear and anguish Jerome had ensnared him in long ago. He felt something with you, something he couldn’t name.

But you're perfect Poorly wired circuit And got hands like an ocean Push you out, pull you back in

No, you don't                                                                                                          you don’t judge me

Cause if you did, baby, I would judge you too No, you don't-

He tensed as your voice commanded complete control of the room. You were truly breathtaking in your element under the lights.  A sweet smile gracing your lips between versus, not a care in the world now as you played pouring your heart into every note.

You don’t judge me 'Cause you see it from the same point of view

'Cause I got issues But you got 'em too So give 'em all to me And I'll give mine to you

The crowded scene around you had vanished, the faces dissolved away you were enveloped in your own little world at the piano.  The tension in your body has disappeared under the stage lights. Your hands electric as you pressed the keys, voice building up to the heavens, but your eyes couldn’t help wonder back to the bar.

Bask in the glory of all our problems 'Cause we got the kind of love It takes to solve 'em

Cause’ I'm a mess for your love, it ain't new-

Jeremiah felt your eyes cross his path once more; you’d noticed him from your perch on the stage.

The normally cool masked engineer felt himself blush under your quick glance, a flush of heat rushed to his cheeks as a nervous gasp passed his lips. He felt his lips turn up in the corners as he watched you. His years of solid schooling and isolation had left him mal-nourished in ways of affection and the heart. Could it be-?

I’ve got issues                                                                                                         you got 'em too

I’ve got issues                                                                                                    you got 'em too

No… Perhaps it was your air of innocence that quelled Jeremiah’s troubled mind. A quality rather rare in the foul plagued city, he didn’t understand it.   Or perhaps-

Cause I got issues-

You got 'em too                                                                                                      I'm a mess for your love, it ain't new-

Bask in the glory                                                                                                      of all our problems

I'm a mess for your love, it ain't new-

'Cause I got issues

You drew a quick breath as you finished the last strokes, eyes closed in ecstasy you savored the last of the lyrics

And one of them is how bad I need you”              

A wave of applause erupted pulling your mind back into the darkened space; the various voices of your co-workers mingled together cheering you on from the floor. You sat on the bench for a moment, hand raise cover your mouth as you bit back tears completely stunned and in awe at the past few minutes.

You caught the eye of your burly supervisor who motioned for you to stand as he slipped out from behind the velvety curtains.

Gently you pulled yourself up, stepping away from the piano as he stepped up beside you-

“Ladies and Gentlemen, our very own Siren of Saint Street: Y/N L/N!”

You shot raised brow and a sideways glance at his enthusiastic appeal to the audience as you dipped your head mouthing a series of thank yous gazing out into the crowd before the two of you backing into the wing of the stage.

Jeremiah savored the last sliver of your voice as it hung in the air, drinking in your form as you stood, noting the faint shake of your hands, bowing, accepting the roar of applause.  The way you nibbled your bottom lip as you overlooked the crowd.

It was entirely pure, a welcome distraction to the day’s events.

His eyes lingered on the empty platform where you had stood the dull chatter at the bar resumed Jeremiah’s eyes flickered toward the end of the counter as he overheard mention of your performance.

“She was amazing, did you know? - One of the waitress leaned over the counter

The bartender shook his head as he collected empty glasses “No- Well, I mean I knew Y/N could sing, but I’d never heard her until now I don’t think anyone had.”

Y/N

The name rolled in Jeremiah’s mind as he pictured your face-

Exquisite.

He downed the last bit of amber liquid, shuttering at the bitter taste as he stood collecting himself.

With a quick motion he placed a bill on the counter, preparing himself for the tasks at hand.

Outside the air was cold and brisk; a storm was brewing in the clouds above as Jeremiah slipped into a waiting car. As he pulled away glancing into the rear view mirror he knew why he couldn’t look away, why he was in awe, how you pushed away every dark could for those few measly minutes…

Safe-

He felt safe with you.

And now he wanted nothing more than to feel that way again.

This would not be the last time he visited Saint Street.

[qualitylu]

In Trouble Pt. 2

Summary: Calum is a cop who continues to run into a trouble maker named Clover. Will she continue her rebellious streak or fall under Calum’s control?

Word count: 1,399

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: none right now

Taglist: @crownedbyluke @modelukes @cakestan @perfectlycake @lukesback @calumsbabylon @obsidiancosmos @vaporlewk @polarizehood @luke2k18 @tothemoonmikey @irwinofficial @candidcalum @thesoundsyoumake

The party was in full swing by the time Lola, and I arrived. I walked through the front door, passing drunk idiot kids that thought beer pong was the best game in the world and that doing body shots off the girl you thought was hot would get you laid. I made my way into the kitchen, greeted by my friend Michael as I started to pour my favorite drink, pineapple flavored vodka mixed with orange Gatorade.

“Heard you got lucky last night,” Michael joked, catching me slightly off guard.

“What are you talking about?” I questioned while turning towards him.

“I heard you went over to Austin’s house? Was that not what happened?”

“No? I went out with Lola, and spray painted some, and then the cops got called.”

“Holy shit, are you good? Did you get booked?”

“Luckily, no, the cop let me off the hook.”

“Well, I’m glad Clove,” he brought me into a side hug, my face going into his shoulder as I wrapped my left arm around his back, lightly scratching him through his shirt, knowing he would like it in his drunken state. Once I pulled away, I made it my mission to find Austin. He was not about to make me look like some random girl that would sleep with him.

“Clover, babe!” My temperature boiled when I heard him yell my name. I turned around immediately, downing the rest of my drink before stomping over to him. Before I knew what I was doing, my hand connected with the side of his face. His fingers wrapped around wrist before he dragged me into the nearest hallway.

“What the fuck was that about?”

“You sat there and told people that I slept with you last night.” I nearly yelled but kept my voice down so we wouldn’t draw unwanted attention.

“So? We’ve done it before so what’s the difference of the day or time?” He shrugged while stepping closer, my back being pressed further into the wall.

“Because we didn’t do anything last night,” I was starting to get frustrated as he continued to step closer. My hands pressed against his chest as I tried to push him away before speaking, “get the fuck away from me.”

“But why baby? We can do something tonight if you really want it.”

“I’d rather jab my eyes out than look at your small dick again.”

“Are you fucking serious? You’re such a slut,” he shouted before stepping away. I bolted, but he continued to follow me, yelling obscene things at me as I tried to dial the officer’s number.

“Officer Hood here.”

“H-hey it’s me, Clover.” I kept pushing Austin away from grabbing me as I waited for him to answer.

“Clover?”

I sighed before speaking, “Burke, Clover Burke. Can you come pick me up?”

“Where are you at?” His voice grew hard at the mention of picking me up.

“202 North Broadway. Can you please hurry, this guy keeps yelling at me.”

“I’ll be there in a minute, time me.” He hung up shortly after, and it wasn’t long until I heard the sirens approaching, Austin fled soon after he heard the noise along with multiple other people. I waited patiently on the front steps that lead up to the porch as I saw his car approach, the red and blue lights coating the house around me. I noticed Michael’s facial expression, one of confusion, as I approached Officer Hood. He acted quickly while turning me around and pressing me against the car hood, my arms around my back as he handcuffed me.

“Just selling the act, Burke,” he whispered as he placed me in the back of the car.

“Oi, what on earth are you doing?” I heard Michael stepping closer to the car.

“Sir, please, go back inside.” Officer Hood tried to calm him down and force in back into the house, but Michael didn't have it.

“No, why the fuck is she getting arrested? This isn’t even her party!”

“Michael, stop,” I sighed from inside the car.

“Why Clove? I don’t want him to take you to jail.”

“Michael, he’s not, now will you please go back inside, I will explain in the morning.” Michael huffed and slowly made his way back into the house, turning on the lights after shutting the door.

“Clove?” Officer Hood smirked, causing me to roll my eyes.

“It’s a nickname; I’m sure you have one as well.” He shut the door before walking over to the driver side and climbing in, typing on his computer a minute before speaking.

“Cal,” his eyes met mine briefly while my eyebrows furrowed.

“Cal?”

“That’s my nickname; it’s short for Calum.”

“Aw, that’s pretty cute,” I sarcastically said.

“Yeah whatever,” he huffed before driving off towards the end of the road. “Do you want to sit up here?”

“What?” I asked confused.

“Do you, Clover Burke, want to sit up here?”

I rolled my eyes at him using my full name before answering, “sure; I would love to sit up there with you, Calum Hood.” I watched as his lips grew into a smirk, causing mine to turn upwards in the corners as well.

He stopped at the end of the street and walked around to open the door for me. Once I was out, he let my wrists out of the handcuffs and opened the door for me to step inside.

“You can just take me home,” the alcohol was wearing off and being replaced with a headache.

Calum nodded his head while he gripped his steering wheel harder, his knuckles turning white.

“What's wrong?” I asked, leaning my head back against the headrest, letting a sigh escape past my lips.

“Nothing, don’t worry about it.”

“Calum, c’mon talk to me about it. You just picked me up from a party at one in the morning. The least you could do is talk to me about your problem.”

“Well, if you must know, my ex just messaged me before I came to get you.”

“Oh, how long have you been single then?”

“Uh, maybe about a month,” he paused to pull into my driveway and shut off the car. “I don’t really understand why I’m so hung up on her, but I am.”

“Well, why did you all break up?”

“She cheated.” He stared blankly at my garage door.

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s whatever,” his fingers ran through his hair.

“Well, do you want to come in? You seem frustrated, and I don’t want you driving while you’re upset. You can take a nap in my guest room and then leave when you want.”

"You're okay with that?"

I nodded my head before rolling my eyes and getting out of the car, followed shortly behind him. He followed me into my house and into my guest bedroom, which was previously my brothers. I opened the drawers in the dresser and pulled out a pair of sweatpants and t-shirt. When I turned around his uniform shirt was already being unbuttoned as well as his shoes untied.

"Have I ever told you how hot you looked in your uniform?" The alcohol was talking for me at that point, even though it was vanishing, I was a lightweight, so any alcohol in my system had me spilling all my secrets.

"No, I don't think you have." His smirk grew as he grabbed the clothes out my hand, leaving me standing there, struck with what I said.

"Well, you are. I'll go now," I blushed as I started to walk out the door to the hallway.

"Where are you going?" His fingers wrapped around my upper arm before I could pass him.

"To my own bed? Why?"

"Why don't you stay with me in here? Ya know, since I'm so hot," he winked while I rolled my eyes and making him let go of my arm.

"Yeah, just let me go change."

I walked back in after changing into my pajamas to see Calum already underneath the blankets beginning to doze off. I smiled lightly before crawling in next to him and watching as his nose scrunched up at the sudden movement of the bed. I turned to face away from him, sleep forcing itself over me, but before I was fully asleep I felt Calum's arm wrap around my waist and bring me closer.

"Goodnight, little artist."

[bellsybuilds]

[Supernatural] No one will know the violence it took (M, Michael/Adam, 3.8k)

No one will know the violence it took (Can also be read on AO3)

Michael / Adam Milligan (M)

With thanks to Hillywood for actually freeing our boy from the Cage, I don’t mind writing for this fandom once more. So long as I don’t have to address actual canon because have no idea what’s going on.

Part 5 of Somewhere to Begin

(“I'm sorry. I'm sorry you are who you are and you got mixed up in all of this. I'm sorry you decided to forgive me and I fell for it. I'm staying away. What else do you want me to say?”)

Adam bites the inside of his lower lip and blinks his vision clear of that borrowed memory. He shakes off the remembered lash between his shoulders of the cold wind on that dark night, the empty street spilling before them. Michael hovering, angry and shaken, uncharacteristically at a loss.

Sometimes Adam wonders if Castiel really did him a favour downloading all of that to his brain.

(”What else do you want me to say?”)

How does Michael transition from a psychopathic mass murderer to a man who even considers that he’s at fault? Who pleads with Adam to forgive him? How does Adam even inspire the thought in Michael’s head that he doesn’t want to torture Adam and play with the already fraying threads of his mind?

“It starts with you, Adam,” Castiel unhelpfully reminds him just when Adam thinks the angel has finally given up the cause. “The war turns when you get him on our side--”

They’re three boxes through unloading their supply run in late winter, running up and down the stairs from Sam and the trailer back to their food pantry.

Spring is just around the corner. Adam can taste it in the thaw of the morning, that minuscule difference in degrees that settles on his skin like mist instead of frost. It couldn’t come soon enough. Being cooped up underground is driving him stir crazy with the seasons dragging longer in an beleaguered stream of overcast days.

Adam just has to wonder aloud when this might all end and he can eat some real food again. At least if they had some fresh ingredients, he could cook them a real meal. And somehow the angel contorted that question into the Bigger Picture.

Doesn’t Castiel understand rhetoric?

“Well maybe I can’t, okay? And maybe I don’t want to."

Adam whirls, shoving the box of canned vegetables on the central table of their bunker. A pile of jars pickling sun-dried tomatoes and fruit jostle at the corner. Kevin would be disappointed if they toppled; Adam glares at them until he's certain they won't.

"He’s a psycho.  He messes with people--he kills them and he  enjoys it, speaking from experience.” He throws his hands up in dismissal. “And I don’t want another fucking cent of that guy. I just wanted a normal life helping people, but failing that: a quiet  after where I could be with my mom. Since I don’t get that either maybe the least I can ask is people stop trying to shove that fucking maniac down my throat again. And when I say people, I really mean you -- it’s just you, Castiel. I will turn up to your shitty war and keep the kitchens stocked, I’ll oil the gun barrels and do your research, I’ll keep Kevin safe. But stop trying to make Michael and me happen. It’s not gonna happen.”

Castiel stalls at the top of the stairs, arms full of canned beans. His face pulls in contrition, “Adam--”

Adam throws up a hand up signalling the conversation over, mouth terse as he storms off, boots stomping on his ascent of the tiled stair. He’ll feel bad about putting that look on the angel’s face and making Castiel put the rest of their food away by himself, but for now he’s done.

///

One day, the war will end, humans and all other species will have peace, and the archangel Michael will stop invading Adam’s dreams like it’s his regular pit stop. But--dragging his hands down his face in exhaustion, Adam laments--it is not this day.

“Your vessels are no more than marionettes in a storefront: stars and dust collecting memory as you drag yourselves towards death. The oldest of us understand what you really are… we can rearrange your atoms, however we like.”

Michael stands in the open living-slash-dining space of Adam’s motel room with all the grandeur of a self-important, ageless being unaccustomed to sharing the spotlight. Adam doesn’t have the heart or the care to tell him this isn’t the Globe Theatre. Michael’s hand turns on the air, twisting some unseen dial to a design in his mind’s eye. His dark eyes gently thin on his spectator.

“I could unmake you. And make you again. Over and over. Until I was done with you.”

Doesn’t Michael get tired of this?

Slouched against the headboard of his bed and tucked beneath the sheets, Adam draws his knees up with a slow, heavy sigh. “You’ve done that already--down below. Or is ‘the oldest of us’ also the first to forget?”

It’s ten-past-ten, he would really like to get some proper shut-eye. He hasn’t had a decent night’s sleep since he tried to make reparations with the First Nations tribe they pissed off when Adam’s brothers trespassed on a hunt three weeks ago. So many elders and families to apologise to. Things Dean just did not care about.

Michael’s expression loses its bright, faraway glaze, focusing on his former vessel. His mouth curls in a smile. “It didn’t all hurt, if you remember.”

Where is Michael going with this?

Adam blinks back at him, careful not to flinch. He must present only a portrait of tired exasperation.

“Never said I didn’t,” he concedes, and turns his back, burrowing down into his thin cocoon for the evening. It still rails against his instincts to show even a figment of the angel his back -- his subconscious doesn’t know that Michael isn’t really here and bears no real threat against him.

The creak of floorboards make him tense. He shuts his eyes and bites his tongue when the mattress dips with weight.

Michael is not really here. He can’t hurt him.

“Maybe I’ve been trying the wrong approach,” the angel's timbre softens, warm and low. "Too much stick. Not enough carrot.”

Adam refuses to react to the presence radiating heat at his back through the sheets. His fingers clutch a little tighter to the duvet tugged tight around his shoulders.

Michael is not here.

“Good night, Michael,” he mutters tightly in dismissal.

Warm breath stirs the hair above his ear, and years of conditioning tell Adam to remain as still and quiet as death, to wait--wait, hold his breath and pray, wait--

He’s not real. He’s not real.

“I’m coming for you, little Adam,” Michael promises him in a soundless breath. “I’m going to find you. And I’ll make you so glad I did.”

///

“I’m really glad you’re not seeing that vampire anymore,” Kevin tells him when they’re packing the small barrels of rock salt and mountain ash into the back of Sam’s truck.

Adam narrows a look at his not-quite-maybe-friend, and glances around to see who may be in hearing distance. Thankfully, his brothers have disappeared back into the bunker and Castiel….

Adam has stopped caring about Castiel.

“Kevin. Dude.”

He doesn’t clarify that he was never ‘seeing’ Michael; his dignity isn’t that fragile, and he knows what Kevin means: I’m glad you’ve stopped sneaking away and risking your life to barter with that guy.

Adam doesn’t clarify that since they ran out of sage to ward the places they sleep, Michael has been invading his dreams instead. Well, Adam is the only one who ran out. More was supposed to arrive in the latest stock run but Sam’s supplier didn’t come through. Adam just has to hold out for a few more days. In the meantime, Sam needs it more than him.

Adam may also have failed to disclose this recent development.

It’s just as well. He was getting light-headed from all the blood loss of his face-to-face time with Michael. Not to mention the other reactions the angel inspired from his body the last time they met.

He shoves the memory away, like a dirty sweater kicked to the back of his mental closet.

Adam and Kevin agreed never to speak of it. At least, Adam negotiated for Kevin to hold his tongue in exchange for getting to speak with his mother. Far be it for Adam Milligan to keep a guy from his mom. If Adam had his way, they’d all be home with their moms by now.

Kevin, unfortunately, forgets the exchange was for his silence because his face falls into a soft pout and he keeps talking. “He’s dangerous, you know. He could really hurt you. And you’re my friend. And what if he hurt me?”

Adam sighs under his breath, slamming the tray closed once the barrels are secured. “He’s not gonna hurt you, Kevin. He has to protect you.”

For now, Adam echoes. Who knows about tomorrow? Kevin doesn’t need to lie awake at night from nightmares about the fickle oaths of angels. Kid hears enough about the Order of Dickheads On High from Dean’s daily sermons.

He stills as a thought occurs to him. He considers Kevin with a narrowed eye. “You been having dreams about him?”

Kevin blinks with a small frown of confusion. “No. Why?”

Hmm. “Just checking. They’re known to do that sometimes.”

Kevin peers closer at him, dark eyes frustratingly earnest. “Are you?”

“Nope,” Adam lies and resigns himself as Kevin crowds close, suspicious and worried, their shoulders brushing in their hurry back to the shelter of the bunker. The convoy is locked and loaded for Sam and Dean to go do their hero stuff. Good riddance.

Or, God willing. Adam really has to get the intent straight in his head. Sam and Dean have to survive this. He wants them to fight and come back safe because--

--If they don’t, that’s one less buffer between Adam and this war.

No! Because he just doesn’t want them to die. He doesn’t want anyone else to die.

“I don’t like leaving you with him,” Kevin says.

“You won’t have to. We’re done.”

“I don’t trust him.”

“And you shouldn’t.” Why does Kevin think Adam still needs convincing? “All angels are the same.”

Kevin’s expression turns troubled. He looks so young when his face twists like that, seeking an olive branch of congruity in this crazy world that’s yawned open beneath his feet. “But… Castiel isn’t like that.”

Adam doesn’t like the angel, but he has to concede the distinction. “All angels who haven’t been kicked out or clipped their own wings, are exactly the same.”

///

Castiel finds Adam a few days later in one of the rare circumstances he’s allowed topside without an escort. Well, it’s a nice illusion. The appearance of Castiel affirms that he is never truly alone.

It’s a nice place, this vantage from the bunker aboveground on the lake. The sun has broken through the clouds of Winter grey, beaming over the calm water and basking Adam in a warmth he tries to draw down into his bones. He slumps on an overgrown tree stump by the shore, breathing deep and listening to the breeze coo through the pines and the water lap at the brambles.

Castiel lowers himself, folding his legs by Adam’s stump and Adam watches the angel’s trenchcoat smear with moss. The effort is noted. Castiel doesn’t often sit.

“I’m sorry if I’ve put undue pressure on you,” Castiel says, careful and halting. He glances up, briefly meeting Adam’s eye and unlike every other dysfunctional fuck in their party, at least Castiel’s contrition comes before the crime. The angel licks his lips, searching the vantage of the lake and the tall pines of the shore on the other side. A piercing cry makes them both look up. A falcon soars by, wings spread wide and high above the treetops.

“Not long ago, I would have asserted you had to do this because it was the only way. But oblivion… brings a certain perspective. I’ve been betrayed, beaten and killed more than most. I think you and your family are uniquely qualified to empathise.”

Adam snorts a laugh under his breath. He flicks a wreath of twigs he braided against his thigh. “You giving me permission not to do the thing I already said I wasn’t going to do?”

Castiel sighs. “I’m sorry, Adam. I was wrong. Before, I didn’t know. We’re all desperate to protect what we care about.”

Dean. It goes unsaid, but the fact he and Castiel are now a thing has changed a lot.

“I used to believe the ends justified the means,” Castiel continues, the soft breeze ruffling his fringe as he gazes out to the lake. “I believe it was sung into our being on creation. And I was ready to be the means, to sacrifice anybody and anything for those ends. But the ends are the same for all of us. Death is coming for all of us. Your brothers and I… we’re trying to help what happens after. And there will still be sacrifices to make, but… it also matters how we get there. I tried the other way. I was fooling myself thinking I had any real control over the outcome. But I can control this: so, if I’ve caused you any more harm in asking you to do this--I’m sorry.” Castiel’s voice lowers, apologetic and gentle. “You don’t have to turn him. Maybe we’ll find another way. Maybe we won’t. But that’s not on you alone.”

Adam stares out at the lake and he can’t quite tell when his vision began to burn and blur .

A wet laugh chokes out of him and he swipes his cheek when some of those tears escape. He thought he didn’t need any of those apologies, but maybe that was just because he believed they would never come. He feels like his chest has been wrenched open and something black and poisonous has loosened its hold on him.

Castiel really is the exception.

“My brother does not deserve you,” Adam finally says, voice thick, resolutely glaring at the lake. “He’s way too primitive.”

A hand closes around his elbow and Adam looks down. Castiel smiles in understanding, squeezing his arm. Adam swallows thickly and nods back, remembering a time before he knew about monsters and Winchesters, and he might have thrown his arms around someone for sharing something so sincere, but Minnesota was a long time ago.

Everything is different. Even him.

///

“Fuck me well enough to remember; I won’t need a sex tape.”

The words reach Adam murky and incomprehensible as he rises from the weight of sleep. Strange noises prickle his ears, familiar but estranged in this context of waking alone in his motel bed, a line of drool smearing against his cheek on the pillow. He raises his head to peer blearily at the white paint peeling from the bathroom door, then the dark curtains still drawn over the windows, not a hint of sunlight breaking through.

What time is it? What’s going on?

“Relax, baby. Open up for… that’s it. Breathe with me.”

Wait a fucking minute.

Reality hits him like a shard of ice between his shoulderblades. He whirls in bed, sitting up sharply.

Slumped in the bedside armchair, Michael holds Adam’s most jealously guarded possession above his face as the video plays on that phone: telltale whimpers and grunts fill the room. Adam feels his face flush with panic and embarrassment, all coherent thought flees his mind.

Fuck, fuck--

“What the fuck are you doing?” is all he can screech.

Michael doesn’t even glance his way to acknowledge he’s been caught, he doesn’t blanch or flinch at the knowledge he’s watching a sex tape of the two of them. A tape that somehow involves neither of the two people currently in this room He’s probably watched the birth of galaxies and orgies of entire dynasties; this probably doesn’t even blip on his radar.

Adam’s mind spirals to a terrifying possibility: Michael will want to know where this video came from, how this video even exists. He’ll force Adam to talk, and soon enough he will realise that there’s another future Adam is aware of. If he’s discovered the phone, what else had he discovered in its storage?

Adam’s stomach drops. If Michael grows aware of the reality Castiel is trying to forge, will he nullify it entirely?

(“That’s not on you alone.”)

A grunt of amusement draws Adam from his mental spiral.

“The way you move, Adam,” the angel shakes his head, posture lazy, shoulders dropped low in his chair. Michael raises an eyebrow, swiping at the phone screen and Adam’s ears burn hearing his counterpart cry out. “I’ve watched this five times and I still can’t believe it.”

That smirk turns on him and Adam flushes all over again, this time definitely in embarrassment--and anger at himself.

He should have known. He should have done something--been more careful about what memories Michael could access through the door and down the hatch of his dreams. Maybe if Adam hadn’t watched the video multiple times himself, it wouldn’t have preserved itself in his memory for crystal clear recollection.

Shame winds hot through his gut. He did this to himself.

The sheets twist as he kneels forward on the bed. He thrusts his hand out. “Give that to me.”

The video abruptly falls silent and Michael pulls a face at it. “Why haven’t you watched to the end? Are you that scared of me coming inside you?”

Adam didn’t think it was possible to blush any harder. He falters at the force of the full-body flush of horror, hot and dizzying. He feels sick. He’s sure his face is beet red, his head is ringing and his heart feels like it will ratchet its own chambers apart. He stumbles off the bed all the same, towards the archangel, reaching for his phone.

“Why would I add to my nightmares?”

Michael frowns gently and keeps him at bay with a raised hand, holding the phone away. The simple touch against Adam’s shirt is enough to make him flinch back. And from the way Michael pauses, studying him, it does not go unnoticed.

“Nightmares?” Michael’s frown turns quizzical. “You looked like you were enjoying yourself.”

“That’s not us!”

“I know that’s not us.”

Michael stands, flooding into his space, almost chest-to-chest. Adam stumbles back, feeling the blood that had rushed to his face abruptly drain elsewhere, heart thumping, hands tingling, priming for a fight.

Michael cants his head, a familiar and dangerous little smile curving his mouth. “But it could be, if you tell me where you are. You’ve thought about it.” Michael studies him closely, eyes glittering in the dim of the bedside lamp. “Haven’t you?”

Adam stares back in shock. Michael seriously isn’t going to ask him where he got that video?

This is all very disorienting.

Misinterpreting his stunned silence, Michael presses on. “Remember? With the power I have, I could unmake you… you remember what it feels like when it hurts.” Michael searches his eyes carefully. “Imagine… remember. We can tip it the other way.”

Adam swallows nervously. That knowledge, that muscle memory is the undercurrent of every conversation, every look, every touch that Michael has brushed against him since he stalked across the parking lot of that bar with Adam in his sights.

Their most recent encounter only confirmed it, falling against each other with the delirium of blood loss and a brief inversion of power. Michael’s mouth on his skin, sinking between his thighs.

In the dim of Adam’s dream, Michael’s smile gentles, coy. “If I made you feel good. Rearranging your atoms, I could wreck you from the inside without ever laying a finger on you. Give you so much pleasure, leave you hoarse and slavering, it would break your mind.”

Adam huffs a rueful laugh under his breath and shakes his head.

There it is. Always warping back to control and damage. It doesn’t matter how it happens, so long as Michael gets to enjoy creative and fun ways to unmake him.

Adam’s voice cracks, trembling. “Do you remember... when you weren’t so into breaking people? And... you actually protected me? Down there?”

In the Cage.

That video had disturbed Adam for weeks. At first, he thought it was the obvious revulsion of seeing himself wrapped up in his enemy. He felt sickened and betrayed by his other self, and the unwanted arousal it inspired. But he was most repulsed when he realised beneath it all was a wretched sadness--mourning for what could have been.

Because the way Michael held and sheltered him in that video made him recall when they first landed in the Cage. Their relationship had never been like that, but--

“I looked for you,” Michael reminds him, voice a thick slurry through clenched teeth; one of those involuntary truths. Huh. Adam didn’t even consider if that would still work in dreams. “I took you back and I fought for you, remember?”

“You gave up,” Adam mutters, throat tightening.

Michael has inflicted a lot of hurt on Adam and his family, but this fact aches the most: Michael wasn’t kind before, but the Cage turned him downright cruel.

Adam trembles, fists clenched at his sides. He glowers, unsure what to make of the way Michael studies him, expression softening. “I blame you  and your brother. But he’s not the one who won’t leave me the fuck alone now. I fucking hate you. Yeah, you could play me like a puppet; that’s all you’re good for now. But you couldn’t make me feel a genuine thing I enjoyed if it killed you.”

He steps in close enough that he feels the typical heat Michael radiates, the sheer power and energy of his angelic form straining to contain itself in the month’s vessel of choice. One breath too deep would press them together, Adam would feel that heat through the thin layer of his shirt. He doesn’t push his luck, though he very much wants to shove both hands against the angel’s chest and watch him stumble. He wants Michael off-balance, staggering back--

--On his knees, nuzzling his smile into Adam’s palm, rumbling pleasure at Adam’s praise (“you did so well”)--

Adam kicks that memory down the hatch and slams the door shut.

“You’re pathetic, General. I can’t even pity you. Get out,” he growls.

Michael raises an eyebrow. “You’re not fun when you’re sad.”

Adam’s fist flies, but Michael is gone before it connects--and Adam jolts awake mid-swing, tangled in his motel bed sheets.

The sky is paling to a grey sunrise behind his curtains. He is alone.

He thumps the mattress with a snarl and takes a deep breath.

Not fun when you’re sad,  Adam’s mouth twists into a bitter scowl of frustration. Asshole.

[insertsmxt]

Part 1: Want You Back (5sos3 Series)

You

“I don’t know what you expect me to do!” Luke yelled as he stared you down. You guys had been fighting since you got home from Ashton’s.

“I don’t know, maybe stop letting people fill your head with bullshit?” you snapped back. “We’ve been seeing each other for over a year and yet you refuse to make anything official.”

He sighed, spinning around and heading into the kitchen area. Luke grabbed a glass from one of the cabinets and filled it with water from the sink. “I’m not ready. I’ve told you that a million times.”

“You’re not ready or your management isn’t ready to have their lead singer off the market?” you posed the question.

“They don’t control me,” he ground out, clutching his glass tightly.

“Apparently the do. Ashton tells me what they say to you at the meetings. ‘Young, single lead singers are more appealing than ones tied down by silly girls’,” you quoted.

“Ashton can fuck off. We’re fine how we are.”

“No, we aren’t. We have to sneak around and lie when we get spotted together. I hate it. I want to be out with you and not give two shits about who sees us.”

“You just want the fame,” he chided.

“Fuck you. You really think I’m that shallow?” you asked and he shrugged. “I don’t care about the fame. Yes, I want everyone to know you’re mine, but I would think you’d want the same when it comes to me. I want you.”

“You have me.”

“Please, I don’t even have half of you. Management has more of a claim on you than anyone else,” you laughed.

“Then why don’t you go find someone that can give you what you want, huh?” he shouted, slamming the half-empty glass on the countertop.

You fell silent, your eyes dropping to the floor. Your fingers anxiously played with your new shirt, tracing over the roses painted on it. Honestly, the thought of leaving Luke had crossed your mind a few times, but he always knew how to draw you back in. You were scared of going back to the life you had before meeting him; a life with no adventure, no warmth, no fun.

But could you keep moving forward with a man that wouldn’t fully commit to you? Could you continue watching him live his life outside the four walls of his house as though you didn’t exist? Could you let him go off on tour, be surrounded by girls from all over the world, knowing he could technically do anything he wanted since he wasn’t officially your boyfriend?

So many thoughts drifted through your head as he stood there staring at you, his heavy gaze boring into you.

Was he worth it?

“I don’t want to be with anyone else,” you told him truthfully, raising your eyes to meet his. A glimmer of relief glinted in his blue orbs. “But...I also don’t want to be with someone who can’t commit to me. In the end, this would never work.”

Things were quiet for a few minutes after that. Luke refused to look at you, his arms crossed over his broad chest. It hurt you to say those words. The weight of them had been sitting on your chest for a while now, and part of you was elated to finally have them out in the open. The only sound in the house was Petunia’s heavy breathing.

“So that’s it then?” he questioned after another silent minute.

“Let's face it, Luke, you won’t ever change. Not even for me,” you exhaled.

“Get out,” he whispered, barely loud enough for you to make out.

“What?”

“I SAID GET OUT!” he screamed. “If you’re so done with me and whatever the hell this is,” he gestured between us, “then leave.”

You stared at him, wide-eyed, feeling the sting of tears burning in your eyes. Luke rarely raised his voice in a menacing manner, and if he did, you knew he meant every word of what he said.

He really wanted you to leave. So, with tears slipping down your freckled face, that’s exactly what you did. The last thing you heard as you closed the front door, suitcases in tow, was the sound of shattering glass hitting the floor.

**************************************************************************************

When you left for LA to start over at the beginning of the previous year, you never thought you would have to move back home again. You figured Los Angeles was where your dreams would come true, where you could finish your college classes and then find a great job.

Meeting Luke had just been a bonus—a fLuke.

You stared out the window in your dad’s tiny living room as watched it pouring down rain. Your mind drifted away after a few minutes, taking you back to the day you met him.

It had been one of the hottest days in Southern California history and everyone was flooding the beaches. You had been sitting in the wet sand with the waves lapping at your feet since sunrise taking in the beautiful ocean view. It was your sixth day in the new city and, since classes hadn’t started yet, you decided to spend most of your free time at the beach.

People started showing up around ten that morning. Little kids squealed as they ran from their parents, hot guys started up a volleyball game, pretty girls in skimpy bikinis baked in the sun. And there you were in ripped up shorts and an old Kurt Cobain shirt, alone.

You were lost in thought, thinking about Ed Sheeran’s new album, when you heard people setting up behind you. Curious about who was making camp so close to you, you turned to check them out.

And you went into full-on panic mode.

Not even ten feet behind you were the three of the four guys who made up 5 Seconds of Summer and a few of their friends. Calum, Ashton, and Michael were shirtless with swim trunks on as they laid out towels and chairs under a huge red umbrella.

You had recently gotten into their music, thanks to a friend of yours playing it nonstop until you admitted you liked them, and now you were so close you could practically see the sweat on Calum’s tan skin.

“Hey, Red!” you heard someone shout. Your eyes were still glued to the three shirtless boys in front of you. “Red!”

Suddenly someone was squatting next to you, waving their hand in your face. You blinked a few times to shake yourself out of the dirty thoughts racing through your mind about the 5sos boys. Turning your head, your eyes fell on the missing member of the band, Luke Hemmings.

A sudden wave of heat burned through you, but you knew it had nothing to do with the weather, and everything to do with the singer perched beside you. His blond curls fell onto his forehead, his skin glistened with sweat, the muscles of his arms flexed as he leaned onto them to relieve some pressure in his legs. But his eyes, those bright cerulean orbs, were what drew you in and made your breath catch.

“Hey,” he greeted once he knew you was paying attention to him. His accent made your heart flutter.

“H-hi,” you reply, nervous. You tucked a few loose strands of your red hair behind your ear. His beauty was intimidating, breathtaking.

“We were wondering if you could take a picture of us?” Luke asked. You gaped at him.

You chuckled. The nerves were starting to die down, but the butterflies Luke was causing, though, were just starting to amp up. “Isn’t it supposed to be me asking you guys for a picture?”

“The roles have reversed it seems,” he joked, standing.

You pushed yourself off the sandy beach and followed him to the group. Everyone introduced themselves and you tried to keep your calm-ish resolve.

“Love your Cobain shirt,” Ashton complimented you. Blush rose to your cheeks. The guys laughed and then belted out the beginning of End Up Here. You shifted your weight back and forth, feeling awkward that you were getting so much attention from such big personalities.

“You’ll fit in great with us, Red,” Michael told you. In that moment, you thought he just meant you would fit in with them for the rest of the day.

You had no idea the impact that one instance in time would have on your life.

The front door opening drew you out of your memories. Your dad walked into the house humming a Black Sabbath song and taking off his work bibs so he didn’t track oil all over. Where his bibs didn’t cover, his skin was stained black from hours working on semi trucks.

“Hey, angel,” he smiled at me as he walked into the kitchen.

“Hi.”

He pulled out leftovers from dinner the day before and stuck them in the microwave. “What’ve you been up to today?”

“Homework,” you answered, keeping your responses short. Talking wasn’t something you really did a lot of these days. Your eyes drifted back outside to the breezy spring day. Today marked two months since moving home. Winter turned to spring and everything was thawing out, except your frozen heart.

“Did ya get it all done?”

“Mm,” you muttered.

“Good. Can’t slack now when you’re so close to being done,” he lectured lightly. “Only two more months until my baby girl is a college graduate.”

“Dad, stop,” you groan, knowing he’s about to get emotional.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice thick. “You just make me feel so old.”

That made you laugh a little. “You are old,” you teased.

“I know.” He grabbed his plate from the microwave and came to sit across from you on the couch. When he set the plate on the coffee table instead of digging in, you knew he had more to say. “I know these last couple of months haven’t been the greatest and moving back home sucks ass. I’m proud of you for finishing your program online and helping me out around here. You’ve turned out pretty good, if I do say so myself.”

“Thanks.”

“And I know your mom would be proud of you, too,” he added.

Your head dropped. Tears stung in the corner of your eyes, but you refused to let them out. You had been crying far too much lately and you were sick of it. Still, the words your father spoke were like a tidal wave of emotion crashing into you. It had been almost nine years without her and missing her came and went in waves.

“I know,” you whispered.

“You’re going to do amazing things, angel. I can feel it. And you don’t need a boy around dragging you down while you’re trying to fly,” he finished, then dug into his food.

His little lecture didn’t do much for you right then, but in the weeks to come, it would be the only thing that kept you moving along.

**************************************************************************************

Luke Hemmings

He couldn’t remember what day of the week it was, or the last time he showered. He didn’t know how many days in a row he’d been wearing the same sweatpants around the house, or what the last solid thing he ate was.

Everything in his head was a blur— a jumble of useless, unnecessary shit.

Everything, that is, except for you.

Luke couldn’t play back the chords to the band’s newest song for the album, but he sure as hell could play back every memory the two of you had shared during the fourteen months you’d been with him. He could remember what your wore the day you guys met, your dad’s birthday, the way your eyes shined when you watched the sunset with him on the back porch that final night before everything was blown apart. He could remember the feel of your skin against his, the way you would moan his name as he touched you, the location of every freckle on your back.

Remembering was as easy as breathing when it came to you. The memories of you were full of life and color, while the rest of them had faded to gray.

A loud bark came from the front of the house. Luke sighed and flipped the channel on the television for the fifth time in an hour. He didn’t even bother getting up anymore to answer the door. All the guys had a key made after two weeks on Luke refusing to come to the door following the break-up.

He made a bet with himself as to whom the person showing up today would be. If he guessed right, he earned another beer—not that losing was going to stop him from drinking more. Winning just made it more satisfying. It was usually Ashton stopping in to drop off food for the day. Calum came by two or three times a week to try and cheer him up with jokes or some comedy show he found funny, but it never worked. And Michael only came by when Luke needed restocking on beer.

Other than that, his socializing didn’t extended to anyone but his mom and dad, sometimes his brothers.

The only time he left the house was to put in a few mandatory hours at the studio. The third album was coming along slowly, but Luke was just happy for the minor distraction it allowed him some days.

“Hey, mate,” Ashton said as he walked in and plopped next to him on the couch. He looked tired and pensive. A bag of food was dropped on the coffee table.

“Hey,” Luke replied, smiling to himself. He’d won his bet.

Standing, Luke grabbed the bag and headed into the adjoining kitchen. He threw the food in the fridge and grabbed another beer.

“See you’re still rockin’ the liquid diet,”Ashton muttered, his eyes now focused on the tv.

“Fuck off.”

“We need to talk,” Ashton spoke up after a few minutes. Luke sighed and ran a hand over his face, scratching at the stubble on his jawline.

“Didn’t know I was dating you.”

“Ha ha,” Ashton fake chuckled. “But seriously, I just met with management and they’re not too happy with our progress with the album. We’re behind and the tour is coming up quick. They want us in post-production by the end of the year and a song out by the end of next February, which means we need to start writing and recording.”

“So…”

“So you need to get off your ass and start really pitching in. I know you’ve had a shitty time since [Y/n] left, but it’s been six months, mate. We need you,” the drummer pleaded.

“It’s not been that long,” Luke mumbled.

“Yes, it has. How much have you drank today, seriously? It’s been six months.”

Luke stared at the bottle of Corona pinched between his fingers and wondered how so much time had slipped away. You would have graduated in May and here it was in the middle of July. Six months without you.

It hit him like a train.

Six months since he had heard you laugh, watched you dance in the shower, touched your soft skin, woke up beside you. Sometimes when he woke up in his big bed, he found his arms stretching out to your side of the bed, reaching for someone that wasn’t there. He couldn’t bring himself to delete the pictures of you on his phone or wear the shirt you always stole from him.

His chest ached. Every inch of him missed you.

He would give anything, do anything, to see you again.

“You said we need to write songs? I’ve got one in mind,” Luke told his friend, setting his beer aside and going to get his guitar.

It was time for him to sober up and get to work if he wanted you back.

*************************************************************************************

You

The blue dress clung to your curves and made you feel beautiful, but it was a shade that took you back to a certain guy you tried not to think about often. It had been a present from your father, though, after you landed an amazing job. He wanted you to look nice for your first big work party, even if he wasn’t too excited about your job moving you back out to LA. You explained that it was your dream position, one you were beyond lucky to receive, and you missed the city.

You miss him, too, your conscious reminded you.

A sigh escaped you as you stared in the mirror. You were all done-up; hair curled, makeup applied, heels on...Tonight was supposed to be your first time around the important company executives and there you were letting him bring you down.

It had been eigh months. It was time to move on.

A chime rang through your apartment. You walked out of your bathroom and picked your phone off the kitchen table.

Issac: Your ride is here, Ms.

Ignoring the trail of thoughts you were on a minute ago, you grabbed your purse and headed downstairs. *** There were so many people here, it made you nervous. You knew Spotify was a massive company, but this was insane. Where do you even begin? Who do you talk to first? Where was the food?

“[Y/n]!” someone called out your name. You spun around and saw your co-worker, Oliver, waving you over. A smile formed as you took him in. He was very attractive and always tried to flirt with you. Usually you shot him down, but tonight you were feeling very flirtatious.

Eight months without sex will do that to you, you laughed to yourself.

“Hey, you look gorgeous,” Oliver complimented you.

“Thanks,” you said, flashing him a seductive smile. “You look pretty good yourself.”

He smirked, catching on that you were finally reciprocating his feelings. “Have any plans after this thing ends?”

“No.”

“Good.” He took a step closer to you, leaning over until he could whisper in your ear, “‘Cause that dress does look good on you, but it would look better on my bedroom floor.”

You flushed red and let out a giggle, “Oh yeah?”

He kissed your neck and it felt nice.

Something’s wrong, your brain said.

And that’s when you saw him, dressed in black pants with bright red stripes down the sides and a loose white button-up. His hair had grown out almost to his shoulders and was pushed back away from his face. Stubble on his jaw made him look older and more mature.

You could only see him from the side, but it was enough to make you weak in the knees. Oliver was forgotten and all you saw was him.

“Luke,” you whispered, pulling away from Oliver.

His blue eyes snapped to you as if he heard you say his name. Everyone else in the room disappeared. You hated the fact that he still had such an effect over you, but you also loved it.

“Who the hell is Luke?” Oliver snapped, drawing your attention back to him. He seemed pissed that you said another guy’s name when he was trying to get you hot and bothered.

You were about to reply when you felt someone standing behind you. Heat radiated off of him and it made the hair on the back of your neck stand up. You didn’t even have to turn to know it was him.

“That would be me,” his warm voice filtered into your ears and made you melt. It had been so long since you heard it. You didn’t even realize how much you missed it until he spoke.

You stepped to the side and glanced between the two men. Their eyes were locked in a battle for dominance. You knew Luke would win, he always did. It was turning you on.

“Hemmings, right? 5 Seconds of Summer?” Oliver broke the silence.

“Right.” His eyes flicked over to you and he flashed you his signature smirk.

Oliver turned his attention to you. “How do you know him?”

“Uh—.”

“I’m her boyfriend, mate,” Luke interrupted.

“What?!” Oliver and you spit out at the same time.

“You heard me,” he said, winking at you. You rolled your eyes. “And I don’t like the way you’re looking at my girl.”

“Didn't know she was taken. She certainly doesn’t act like it.”

“You calling her a whore?” Luke ground out.

Oliver shrugged, a shit-eating grin on his face. “She was totally coming on to me before you showed up.”

Luke’s fists clenched tight at his sides and you knew he was about to react badly. So you stepped in.

“Let’s just go, yeah?”

His eyes fell on you, his fist unclenching. You prayed he would agree.

“Whatever,” he said, grabbing your hand and pulling you away from Oliver. *** Somehow you ended up in the passenger seat of Luke’s car, speeding down the 405. He hadn’t said a word since the showdown with your co-worker. Both his hands were tightly gripping the steering wheel as he drove.

You knew where he was taking you and it made you anxious. So you watched the dark landscape outside your window distract you for the moment.

The next thing you knew, he was parking the car in front of a place you once called home. He didn’t waste any time getting out of the car and over to your side. It took you a second to work up the courage to get out of the car. You had imagined something like this happening when you first moved home and the pain was still fresh. But this was real.

He lead you into the house, a firm grip on your wrist. Annoyance rolled off of him in waves. You kept your mouth shut. Talking would only make matters worse right now. 

He had the door open and you pushed inside in no time at all. It was dimly lit, but you didn’t have to worry about wandering in the semi-dark because he had you slammed against the front door, bodies pressed flush together before you could even spot Petunia. 

Luke’s hot breath fanned across your face, “Did you like making me watch you flirt with some other guy, huh?”

You stayed quiet, your eyes trained on where his shirt was unbuttoned. The pendant you bought him for his birthday last year still hung around his neck. Suddenly, his hand was at the top of your throat, fingers pinching your chin and dragging you head up so you looked at him.

“I asked you a question, princess,” he ground out. The blue in his eyes darkened. “Did you like it?”

“Y-yeah.”

The corner of his mouth turned up in a smirk, his hand sliding down lower on my throat. “Bad girl, princess.”

He squeezed his fingers and crashed his lips to yours. Instantly, you kissed back, letting your lips fall in sync with his. Your fingers wound into his curls and gently tugged. A moan escaped him and he grabbed your legs, lifting you off the ground.

Luke carried you to the living room, sitting on the couch with you straddling him, your lips never leaving his. You ground down into him, drawing a soft moan from both of you. His hands dug into your hips, bunching up the skirt of you dress, and moved you faster over his growing length.

“Fuck,” he mumbled against your lips. You hummed in response.

You dragged your hands down his shoulders and across his chest until you found the buttons of his shirt. With the first few already undone, you started where he had left off. Soon, you were pushing it off his shoulders and running your hands all over him. Running his hands up your back, he pulled you closer to him while he felt for the zipper of your dress. He found it and pulled it down.

You sat back and helped him slip the top of it off your shoulders, exposing your bare chest.

“No bra? Naughty girl,” he groaned. You smirked as he attached his lips to your right nipple. A gasp passed your lips and you rocked your hips into him harder.

“Luke,” you whined.

“What do you want me to do, princess?”

“Anything,” you pleaded.

He pinched your other nipple, making you cry out. “Be more specific.”

“Want your mouth. On me. Please,” you begged.

He didn’t hesitate. He pushed you onto the couch and ripped off your dress and panties all in one go. Luke laid himself between your spread legs and nipped his way up your inner thigh. It was frustrating the hell out of you, but you knew if you complained, he would move even slower, tease you longer.

You were two seconds from grabbing the back of his head and pushing him into your aching center when he licked a strip up the middle of your folds. You moaned in delight as he dove in, holding nothing back. He dragged his tongue from your hole up to your throbbing clit, flicking it and gently biting down. The stubble on his face scratched across your inner thighs.

You hissed and lifted your hips, needing more. His large hands slid up your things and onto your hips before pushing them down into the couch, preventing you from wiggling around. You wanted him to paint your skin black and blue with his touch. 

“More,” you told him. He knew exactly what you meant and gave you what you wanted, taking one of his hands off you and sliding a finger into you. You moaned and he pumped in and out of your dripping hole while sucking on your clit. A second finger soon joined in, another whimper coming from you as he stretched you out. His other hand slid over just above your bladder, pressing you harder into the couch. 

“Luke,” you gasped loudly. The added pressure of his hand up top helped him press his thrusting fingers into your g-spot.

He moved faster, pumping in and out, hitting it over and over until he had you crying out. His teeth scraped against your clit as spasms wracked your body, your toes curled, and you stopped breathing for a few seconds.

You were still coming down from your high when he sat up on his knees. His fingers still slow danced inside of you, his thumb rubbing softly against your clit. You whimpered at the overstimulation, but didn’t want him to stop.

“So good for me, princess,” he praised, bending over and pecking your lips. Drawing back just slightly, his breath ghosting across your flushed face, he said, “Think you can do that again while I fuck you?”

“Fuck yeah.”

Luke got up from the couch and slowly started stripping out of his pants. His eyes were locked with yours as you laid there watching him. He pushed them down his legs and kicked them off.

“Been hard for you since I saw you across the room in that dress,” he told you, palming himself through his boxers.

You licked your lips. Your eyes were glued to the movement of his hand. “Oh yeah?”

“Mhmm, look so good in blue, baby.” He reached his hand inside and stroked himself. His eyes closed, head tilted back, tongue swiping along his swollen lips. You bit your bottom lip hard. “Drove me nuts watching that other guy eye-fuck you. Wanted to knock him on his ass. No one fucks you but me.”

“Luke, please.”

He chuckled at your neediness, but gave in. His boxers were quickly lost, revealing his beautiful dick. Honestly, you had missed it just as much as you had missed him.

He crawled on top of you, connecting your lips in a heated kiss. Moving down to your neck, he sucked and nipped, littering your soft skin with hickeys. You could feel his hard length against your leg and you raised your hips, desperate for some friction.

“Greedy, princess,” he tsked and bit down where you neck and shoulder met. You dug your fingernails into the skin of his shoulder blades and lifted your hips again.

“Stop stalling and fuck me, Hemmings,” you groaned, frustrated.

“Anything for my girl,” he smiled. Hearing him say that made your heart flutter. He never use to say stuff like that.

He lined himself up and pushed himself inside of you. His eyes squeezed shut and you both moaned together. The feeling of him buried in you made your head spin and your body crave more.

“Move.”

Immediately, he pulled almost all the way out and slammed back into you. He did it again and again, picking the pace up with each thrust in.

“So tight. Feel so good around my cock,” he said into you ear, nipping your earlobe. “Did you miss me fucking you like this, princess? Hmm, did you miss my big cock being inside your tight little pussy?”

“M’yes. God, yes!”

“Take me so well, baby. So fucking well.”

“Faster.”

He sped up his movements, grabbing you under the ass and rutting into you. The sound of skin slapping skin filled the air. You ran your hands from him shoulders, down his back, digging your nails into him. He hissed at the pain, but it only made him fuck you harder.

“So close, babe,” you told him.

“Me too,” he replied and swooped down, pressing his mouth to yours. Your tongues moved in sync with your bodies. Pulling away, he whispered, “Cum for me, princess.”

He drove into your favorite spot, ripping a low moan from you and sending you tumbling over the edge again. Your legs shook, your walls clenched, as his name fell from your lips over and over again. A few more fast pumps and he was finding his high, too, spilling into you and moaning your name.

Luke collapsed next to you on his oversized couch. You were both panting hard, covered in sweat and your mixed cum, but nevertheless you felt amazing.

He wrapped his arm around you and rolled you onto his chest. You smiled and played with the hair there.

“I missed you,” he said into your hair.

“I missed you, too,” you said truthfully.

“I’m never letting you leave again,” he sighed.

***************************************************************************************

Hooray for Part 1!

Part 2: Valentine ft. Calum Hood is up next. 

Keep it sexy, folks.

-K