one in the basement and the other upstairs


Originally posted by bringmesomepie56

Summary: The reader spends a fall weekend in Austin with Jensen but the weather takes a turn and makes for an awkward situation…

Pairing: Jensen x reader

Word Count: 3,100ish

Warnings: language (but mostly cuteness)

A/N: Written for @thing-you-do-with-that-thing ‘s  Seasons of Love - Colors of Fall Challenge where my prompt was “Storms.” 

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anonymous asked:

Nurseydex prompt where the team forces Dex and Nursey into a closet or supply room or some small space so theyll talk and deal w the UST and finally get together but once the door is closed Dex starts having a panic attack either bc small space (memories of bullying? Claustrophobic?) and bc he's forced to talk FEELINGS w Nursey and its all 2 much and Nursey tries to convince the team to let them out while also comforting Dex thru this and ends with them getting out and start (secretly?) dating

So, I deviated away from the prompt a little. Mostly because I didn’t feel like Bitty, who had been locked in a closet before, would even a LITTLE bit approve of this plan if he had been consulted. Hopefully you like it.

Dex wasn’t freaking out. He wasn’t.  Except, yeah, he totally was freaking out.

“Dude, you spend your summers on a boat, how are you claustrophobic?” The fact that Nursey wasn’t the least bit bothered just made things so much worse.

“Shut the fuck up, I’m not claustrophobic. I just don’t like closed spaces. And it’s different on a boat.”

Dex was going to fucking kill Holster. Maybe Ransom, too, since they did everything together and he probably had a hand in it, too. Once they got out of the basement supply closet, that was. At least Holster turned on the light before he locked them in.

He should have known better, honestly. When he got an urgent text saying that one of the pipes in the closet was leaking everywhere, he knew it sounded off somehow. For one thing, Dex couldn’t remember there being pipes in the supply closet; they were on the other side of the basement entirely. For another thing, it was the middle of the day and the only person who would be at the Haus would be Nursey, who had a midday break on Tuesdays and Thursdays that he used to nap in Chowder’s room.

Or at least, everyone else was supposed to be in class, but it was undoubtedly Holster’s voice that he heard as the door slammed behind a sleepy-faced and half-dressed Nursey.

“Work out your shit, dudes. I’m on a mission to relieve the Haus of any and all sexual tension before I graduate. I’ll be back for you two later.”

It took about two minutes before Nursey gave up his half-assed efforts at trying to open the clearly locked door. It only took Dex one and a half before it started getting harder to take a full breath.

Okay, so maybe he was a little claustrophobic. And maybe he was a lot freaking out. And maybe verging on hyperventilating and a full blown panic attack. He tried to remember the techniques his childhood therapist taught him to calm himself down, but he couldn’t focus.

He was stuck in a cycle of cantbreath-breathingtoofast-needmoreair-cantbreat.

Dex came back to himself with a warm hand on his shoulder and a steady stream of words flowing around him. His back was braced against the door and Nursey was crouched in front of him, looking more serious than Dex had ever seen him.

“There you go, just like that. Breathe with me. You back with me, Will?”

He nodded, but couldn’t bring himself to say anything. He felt his face flush in embarrassment. Dex couldn’t fucking believe he had a panic attack, his first in over two years, in front of Nursey of all people.

Nursey sat back on his haunches, and rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry I was chirping you about being claustrophobic. I didn’t know it was actually a thing. It never, like, come up before.”

The way he moved brought Dex’s attention to the thick bands of ink on Nursey’s bicep, the powerfully corded muscles of his forearm, and the fact that he was incredibly shirtless. Dex barely held down the hysterical feeling laughter that was bubbling up in his chest.

The horrifying and hilarious truth of the matter was that Holster… wasn’t wrong. Or at least, he was half right. Dex was embarrassingly attracted to Nursey. He thought it was hiding it well, but apparently not. Jesus fucking christ, he was minutes out of a panic attack and his first thought was to ogle Nursey.

He had to find a way out. Between the stress of being stuck in a fucking closet (literally, in this case, because fuck knows he’s used to being stuck in the metaphorical closet), and the stress of…. Nursey, he wasn’t sure if he could handle it. And who knew how long Holster would leave them there.

Dex scrubbed a hand over his hair. “It’s whatever, man. Like you said, never came up.”

He tried his best to think about anything except the walls of the closet, and just how tight the space felt. Dex focused on the scratchy feel of his hair on his palms, the hole in the toe of his sock, the place where his leg was flung out and it brushed against Nurse’s soft cotton sleep pants. The place where his jeans felt a little too tight, where his cell phone was pressed into his thigh.

Goddamn it. Of course, his fucking phone. With fumbling fingers, he tried to pull it out of his pocket. The flush reignited under his skin. Stupid fucking panic attacks and stupid fucking anxiety and stupid goddamn Holster. The more he struggled with it, the more difficult it was to shove his hand into his jeans.

Dex felt his heart rate rising, his blood pumping in his ears, and hot tears forming in the corners of his eyes. Nursey seemed to understand what he was trying to do. He slowly pulled Dex’s hands away from his pocket and slipped his own nimble fingers into the denim before quickly pulling out Dex’s phone. He handed it to Dex only long enough to swipe the unlock code, then Nursey took it back and quickly began typing away.

When Dex noticed that his hands were still shaking, a fresh wave of tears tried to push its way out. The anger helped him get the panic under control, just a little. He pressed his palms down on the concrete, hard, trying to visualize pushing all the way through the foundation.

He wasn’t sure how long he stayed sitting that way, how long Nursey spent texting on his phone. He zoned out until he felt a warm hand cover his own. He looked down, amazed at how warm Nursey was and how cold his own was.

“Bitty’s on his way. Think you can make it another five minutes or so?”

Dex nodded. It’s not like they had any other choice, anyway. Nursey nodded back, before he cleared his throat.

“So…” Dex had hoped they could avoid the whole talking part of things, just sit there until Bitty let them back out. Apparently, Nursey actually wanted to talk, though. Dex didn’t have the energy to try to fight him on it.

Dex let his head knock back against the door. “What?”

“I’m not, like… bothering you, right?”

Dex could barely contain his laughter. Generally, the answer to that question was yes, Nursey was bothering Dex. His fake chill demeanor, his stupidly pretty face, the chirps Dex desperately wanted to be flirting but weren’t. It all bothered Dex way more than he wanted it to.

“Probably, but what specifically are you talking about?”

Nursey looked… Was he blushing? Dex lifted his head so he could get a better look at his partner. Yes, definitely blushing.

“The, y’know. The whole sexual tension thing. The flirting.”

Dex couldn’t figure out what Nursey meant. It was the right subject, but Nursey wasn’t telling Dex to back off, because he was making things super awkward, and couldn’t he just see that Nursey wasn’t interested?

Nursey must have read the confusion on Dex’s face, because he followed up with, “I don’t try to, but apparently i don’t try hard enough not to. If it makes you uncomfortable or whatever, I can stop.”

“Wait, what? But I was the one flirting with you.”

They stared at each other, wide-eyed for a second. Dex leaned forward, moving slowly so that Nursey could pull back if he needed to. He pressed their lips together, a barely there kiss. And then another, and another.

A few seconds later, shouting from upstairs broke them apart.

Bitty yanked open the door looking the picture of a southern storm. He quickly looked Nursey and Dex up and down to make sure they were okay, then turned on his heel, and started marching back up the basement steps. Dex was very glad that he wasn’t Holster right now.

He picked himself up from the floor, then held a hand down to Nursey, who threaded their fingers together once he was standing. They both leaned in. Dex was so ready to put the whole mess behind him, and maybe definitely make out for the next two hours. Suddenly, Nursey pulled back.

“But, like… How does working on a boat work when you’re claustrophobic?”

Dex rolled his eyes, but pulled Nursey back in for another kiss.

The Fitting (Part 5)

(Jungkook acts like a horny teenager at work despite agreeing to keep your relationship a secret from everyone. You continue to question whether or not this relationship is a good idea.)

Warning: smut, dirty talk, intercourse, cunnilingus

You laid on your bed, looking over at the empty spot next to you.  Not that long ago, Jungkook was lying naked in that very same spot, looking at you.  He had started to drift off to sleep when you reminded him that people would get suspicious if he didn’t wake up in his own bed.  You felt bad kicking him out, but if this so-called relationship with Jungkook was going to work, the two of you would have to carefully guard your secret.

Your emotions were a bit of a mess, alternating between joy and panic.  Even though you were all alone, you blushed at the memory of what you and Jungkook did tonight.  It was a juvenile reaction, but you just felt so happy to have a boy who liked you and thought you were pretty and wanted your body, that it made you giggle.   But then reality would creep in, reminding you that this was, by its nature, a temporary situation and one that carried huge risks for your career.  The mature woman inside you wanted to chastise you for making such a stupid decision. You knew that taking on Jungkook as a lover was a rash choice and not one that any sensible person would make.

What’s the worst thing that could happen? I guess I could end up humiliated, jobless, unable to get a reference and potentially kicked out of the industry.   When you thought of the possibilities, it made you a little nauseous.  But then you thought of how good Jungkook’s skin felt next to yours and the way his admiration of you made your feel more confident and self-assured.  Fuck it.  I’ll just deal with the future when it happens.

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Drabble #3

Get naked. I’ll be there in fifteen.

The wedge of bread that Peeta had been eating when he read the message was swallowed, half- chewed, down the correct pipe - but only just. The sound of his coughing and spluttering caught his brothers’ attention.

“Jeez Peet, at least try and learn to chew.”

Peeta dragged his watery eyes from his phone and looked over at where Rye was glancing at him from behind his morning paper.

“Sorry,” he croaked. “I just got a message about insurance.”

“Well that’s thrilling.” With a roll of his eyes and a mutter under his breath Rye went straight back to reading.

Peeta looked back down at the message floating on the screen. Get naked.

What the hell? He quickly sent a message back.

Are you serious?

Another ping and there was her response.

Yes. Get naked.

Well. Damn. He had two choices. One was to do exactly what his girlfriend was telling him to do and the other… was to not. So really, he had the one choice.
Quickly stating that he had to go make a call about his insurance and receiving a response of ‘Peet, I really don’t care,’ he practically ran from the kitchen into the basement that was currently acting as his temporary home.

It had been a disaster when three weeks ago he returned home to find his upstairs neighbours pipes had burst into his apartment destroying almost everything, aside from, rather ironically, the bathroom. But he couldn’t spend the month sleeping in his bathtub so he had to accept the fact that he was moving into his family home until the damage had been sorted.

He’d been put into the basement spending his nights on the pull-out bed surrounded by boxes of Christmas decorations and old schoolwork. The saving grace was that it had its own entrance so he could come and go as he pleased without having to interrupt anyone else.

That entrance was about to come in useful again.

Rushing around the room, Peeta haphazardly shoved clothes and paperwork and everything else strewn about the place into the boxes, promising that he’d sort it out later. Simultaneously making the bed (for appearances sake) and tugging off his t-shirt proved tricky but he followed that success by stripping off his pants and boxers while unlocking the basement door.

Now all he needed to do was wait.

The three weeks had been hard. After years of admiring from afar and gaining confidence to awkwardly flirt it had transpired that he and Katniss Everdeen had one prominent thing in common. Years spent mutually pining for each other.

After a slow beginning where Katniss was too shy to state what she wanted and Peeta was trying to be a gentleman it had all come to a head after a party. He took a drunk Katniss home, kissed her and told her he’d see her tomorrow when she yelled out, “please can we have sex already?!”

His eyebrows shot up into his hairline but he politely declined that evening on account of her blood-alcohol ratio but promised her he would see what he could do tomorrow.

The day after the party had been great. As was the day after. And the day after that. And the day after that. Which is why they were currently suffering. Peeta having had to move back into his parents’ house and Katniss, being a caring big sister, had Prim staying with her whilst on break from college. Despite desperately craving each other it seemed that everywhere they went parents or siblings were just hanging around getting in the way.

Apart from today it seemed.

Footsteps came swiftly down the path, so quietly he wouldn’t have heard them if he wasn’t listening out, followed by a gentle knock at the door. “Peeta?”

“It’s open.” He looked around wondering if he should have posed himself for this. Maybe he should be standing with a leg strategically propped up on a box. Or leaning casually against a wall. Except how casual could someone be leaning naked against a wall?

The door pushed open before he could make up his mind and there she was, his beautiful dark-haired girlfriend, said dark hair spilling down her shoulders in waves. He grinned at her, she rarely wore her hair down but she knew how much he liked it.

Katniss grinned back at him and glanced over his body. “Well hello.”


“I didn’t know if you were going to do it.”

Peeta stepped towards her. “Of course I would. I’d do anything you ask.”

“Oh well that’s good to know,” her voice dripping an octave and she stepped towards him. Peeta took the chance to fully register what she was wearing, which wasn’t much. She slipped out of the ballet pumps and the motion drew his attention to her bare feet, eyes following up her legs, drinking in the bare skin until they reached the hem of the coat she was wearing. A coat that reached midway to her naked thighs.

“Did you drive here like that?” His question came out slightly squeaky and he coughed. Must have been the remnants of the bread.

“Uh-huh.” Katniss moved in even closer so that the material of her coat brushed against his chest. She leaned upwards and placed an opened mouth kiss against the bottom of his jaw, sliding down to suck on his pulse point. Peeta swallowed. His hands reached out to her tiny waist, pulling her in closer.

She smelt like Katniss. A scent that was somehow woods and autumn and apples and he wanted to breath it in forever. He tilted his head down to touch his lips to hers and their kiss quickly turned from a welcome into something more heated, their tongues languidly sliding against each other’s.

His breathing was getting deeper, the air flowing into his heaving chest and he pressed Katniss’ chest against his harder. She groaned into his mouth before pulling it away and their eyes fluttered open. Her pupils were fat and und pushing into the silver of her irises. She smiled and glanced down his body, his obvious erection straining upwards.

“Un-wrap me,” she told him, guiding his hands from her waist and placing them on the belt of her coat.


“Un-wrap me.”

It took Peeta a moment to register the words and when he did all he could do was mutter a groan of his own. He tugged at the material and as the belt fell from the loops, Katniss’ coat opened.

His mouth opened and he took in air like a fish. Underneath the pale green coat was inch after inch of naked olive skin and his eyes swept down past her collarbone to her breasts with their pebbled nipples and down further still, past her flat stomach onto the dark curls nestled between her thighs.

“I think I’ve just had a heart attack.”

Katniss giggled and stood on her tiptoes. “Please don’t,” she breathed into his ear. “At least, not until after you’ve fucked me.”

Oh. God. He grabbed her body in closer, his erection pushed against her stomach, pulsing between them. The coat had fallen from her body and they stood, naked and flush against each other in the middle of the basement.

Peeta’s hands roamed everywhere, skimming from her waist up her back, his fingers lightly tracing her neck, her collarbone and sliding down to cup her breasts in his palms, thumbs rubbing over her nipples until she squirmed.

“Peeta,” she whined. “Can we go to the bed?”

He nodded and captured her mouth with his once again; his hands ran over her ribcage, down her waist and then grasped her buttocks hoisting her upwards until her legs wrapped around his hips.

Shuffling to the bed he placed her down as delicately as possible and moved over her, his large body covering her small one. Her hands traced down to his waist, fingers lightly dusting over his flesh, her fingernails softly scraping his skin. He shivered at the touch of her nails against him and then again, when a hand crept to the front and grasped his cock firmly, pumping it slowly.

His head dropped down and he pushed his tongue against a pulsing vein that he found on Katniss’ throat, his own pulse beating hard in her hand. Peeta’s body was warming up and a slick perspiration had begun to form. All he could hear was Katniss’ gasps, the pounding of his own heartbeat and the sound of his brother shouting down the stairs.

Wait. Shit.

“PEETA! I’ve been called you for five damn minutes, what the hell are you do- oh. OH!”

A squeak made its way out of Katniss’ throat and she did the best drop and roll that Peeta had seen anyone do. She rolled out of his embrace, fell to the floor and then rolled under the bed dragging as many of the bed sheets as she could with her.

Peeta quickly turned to face the stairs, one hand holding his crotch and the other casually resting on his hip. Except how casually can you rest your hand on your hip when your naked girlfriend is under your bed and your older brother is staring at you with his mouth open?

“Hey Rye.”

Rye managed to shut his mouth but it quickly turned into a sly grin. “There’s a phone call for you upstairs. It’s the insurers. Said they tried to call your cell but couldn’t get through for some reason.”

“Right. I’ll, er, call them back.”


Peeta shifted on the bed, his knees pressing into the mattress and tried desperately not to make eye contact with his brother who was now wearing a grin that Satan himself would wear. “Do you think maybe you could go? I’d at least like to put some pants on without you gawping.”

Rye put his hand on his chest and made a ‘who me?’ gesture before finally turning to go. “I knew it wasn’t insurers. See you up there Peet. See you later Katniss.”

There was a little cough from under the bed. “See you later Rye.”

Peeta rubbed his hand, the one not over his crotch, over his eyes. “Jesus.” He leant over the side of the bed to help up his naked and now rather dusty girlfriend up from the floor. “I cannot wait until that apartment is fixed.”

We lived in an old house converted into a duplex on a quiet, suburban street. Our house was the only rental on our block. The basement was one apartment, and the ground floor comprised the other apartment in the duplex. We shared a laundry room. Pretty normal arrangement, as far as sleeping-and-shitting places go, but we later found out that the house was only registered as one rental unit. Our landlord had separate leases for the units and separate everything else, but there was only one address, which means that legally, it’s one house. That becomes really important when the cops decide they aren’t particularly fond of what’s happening in it.

Anyway, my girlfriend and I had originally rented the basement unit, but when the upstairs neighbors moved out, we took over their apartment, because windows are just … super great, you guys. Some new neighbors moved in downstairs, and at first, they seemed like perfectly nice people. They were extremely friendly, asking us if we needed anything when they headed to the store, greeting us whenever we passed – normal neighborly things.

But soon things started getting strange. I noticed they had lots of visitors.

My girlfriend and I also noticed police cars driving by our house several times a day, but since we had only just moved upstairs from the basement, which had no windows, we assumed that the police traffic was normal. Maybe our street was a standard route for the police to get to and from their station, or maybe they were patrolling the elementary school two blocks down the street from us. After all, you can never trust a second-grader.

Everything changed one morning when I woke up to go to work.

6 Things I Learned When The Cops Raided My House By Mistake

Just Happened To Be (5)

Summary: Jimin was an asshole, yes. And you were supposed to be nice, meek, and afraid of people like him. But you weren’t; even with a knife at your throat you stayed quiet and unforgiving–and he wasn’t allowed to like it.

Based off this request:

Anonymous said:So how about bad boy Jimin I mean that’s cool I guess cause I mean who need bad boy jimin right pft not me.”

Usual warnings . This is a drug gang fic so naturally there’s gonna be a lotta shit.

Part One /  Part Two / Part Three / Part Four

“Are you sure you’ve got this, hyung?” Jimin whispered, fishing in his bag for the lock-pick kit while Namjoon kept watch in the shadows of the alleyway.

The older man snorted. “Taehyung knows we’re coming regardless of whether I’ve got this or not. Besides, it isn’t me that he wants to kill; make sure you watch out.”

Jimin snapped the zipper closed on his duffle. “He’s the one who needs to watch his ass.”

Namjoon grabbed Jimin’s arm as he started towards the bar, stopping him in his tracks. “Just…just don’t do anything stupid, okay?”

“I already did.” Jimin murmured. “And you’re here doing it with me.”

Before Namjoon could say another word, Jimin ripped himself from his hyung and hightailed it towards the back of the bar. The initial plan was that Namjoon was going to go in through the front entrance and become an instant distraction–that would give Jimin enough time to find you and get you out. Honestly, it was stupid and bound to fail, but, then again, this was a mission that was built upon grasped straws.

Jimin started towards the back entrance–his initial destination–when, as he was passing by the wood cellar doors buried in the grass, he overhead angered mumbles filtering up between the slats. Jimin immediately changed his plan, dropping to the ground so he could press his ear against the wood. As he listened, his eyes examined the lock on the doors to see what tools from his kit would be needed to crack it.

“Yah–make sure she’s still breathing.”

It was Taehyung’s voice.

And it was all Jimin needed to hear.

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where’s the coraline au

so at first i wanted to make it a Zimbits Coraline AU and I knew exactly how I wanted to do that! It would work out! Heck yeck!

And then I realized how much better a Nurseydex Coraline AU would work

And now I have all these ideas. Which are. Under a cut because it got waayyyy longer than expected. (Probably still gonna flesh out that Zimbits version though) (also if there’s a coraline au point me in the direction because Coraline is one of my two absolute favourite movies and I would give my soul for it) (Pacific Rim is the other one and I have the craving for that satisfied. For now.)

Magical cut go!!!

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Vampire’s Sanctuary  - 1x1 mini residential lot for TS2.  Built with the Ultimate Collection in a CC free game. Part of my Small Supernaturals series.

I’m sure most vampires spend their nights out on the town, so home is pretty much just a place to keep their coffin. Though occasionally they might want to entertain a victim guest so a home should be as impressive as possible. This one costs around 61,000 but there’s a lot of expensive stuff squeezed into that small space! The basement has a single coffin in it but there’s plenty of extra room for hobby or skill objects. Or another coffin, should your vampire Sim find a special someone to spend eternity with.

Download at SFS

Bad Girl Ch 9: PTSD

I’m sorry for leaving you all hanging I didn’t mean to wait that long!

“What?” Baekhyun whispers, his eyes wide.

I can’t hold in my uncontrollable cries anymore, “I’ll be a good girl daddy, I’m sorry, please don’t hurt me.”

He drops the knife and releases my hair, his hands hover over my shoulders as if he is suddenly afraid to touch me like I might break. “My baby, my sweet baby,” He cries as he wraps his arms around my head, holding me to his chest. “Daddy is so sorry, don’t cry, I’m so sorry.”

“What the hell is going on down here?” Suho roars when he busts the heavy metal doors open. It only takes him a moment to access the situation in front of him. His younger brothers are all a mess, Baekhyun more than anyone but the younger three seem to be in shock. My eyes lock with his and he seems to join them in their daze for just a second before someone pushing pass him knocks him out of it.

“Did you really take her?” It is Xiumin roaring this time. All this screaming is too much, I can’t stop myself from shaking.

“All of you stop yelling!” Jiyong snaps, still on speaker. “She’s scared, I know this is a lot for everyone but calm down. She is so scared right now, please.”

“Oppa, come get me,” I cry, “Please Oppa, I can’t be here right now, this is just too much.”

“I’m coming my love,” I can hear him moving things around, rushing to my rescue.

“Don’t fucking dare come anywhere near our home,” Baekhyun seethes.

“She asked me to, I’m going to leave her there with people who just tried to kill her!”

“That was before we knew!” Sehun screams as he fights with Baekhyun to get a hold of me.

“Knew what?” Suho tries to catch up on the conversation.

“It’s her Hyung,” Kai cries as he drops to his knees, tears slide down his cheeks, completely contrasting the bright smile on his face. “It’s our baby! She isn’t dead.”

“Is it really her?” Tao joins us in the room.

“Stop asking me that!” I scream earning the attention of everyone in the room. “Why do you keep saying that? I’m not dead, I’m not a copy, I am me, why is that so hard for you all to understand? Why did you do this? Why are you guys so willing to hurt me over and over again? Is my happiness nothing to you?”

“We thought you were dead,” Xiumin tells me. “We saw you getting beat into a bloody pulp, they found your body, there was a funeral, we thought you were dead.”

“We need to get her out of here,” Suho rushes over and picks up the knife Baekhyun had dropped. He pushes the younger two out of the way and quickly and cuts the ropes binding me. The knife is out of his hand the moment the last rope is cut, his hands are on my shoulders pulling me out of the chair and to my feet but my legs aren’t strong enough to hold me up. He catches me and picks me up without a problem. I want to fight him so bad, I don’t want any of them to touch me, I just want to go home. But I’m tired, I’m so tired. My head rests on his shoulder.

“She’s bleeding,” Baekhyun reminds them, rushing to keep up with Suho who is basically running through the dimly lit hall.

“You keep your distance, you are the one that hurt her!” I see Tao stop, he pushes the older boy to the ground.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know it was her, I was just so mad,” Baekhyun is stumbling over his words to the point I almost don’t understand him. His voice fades as Suho continues on taking me out of the basement into the bright hall way upstairs. I close my eyes, the transition being too much for me. The only thing that let me know that we joined the others in the living room is their unison gasps.

“Lay get over here,” Suho commands the minute we step in.

“Is that?” Sweet Lay’s voice wonders.

I swear to God if he-

Suho thankfully cuts both Lay and my thoughts off, “She isn’t a copy, this our baby. I don’t know what the hell is going on and how she is alive but this is her and she is hurt. Fix her.”

“I-I need a first aide kit,” He stammers, his voice coming closer.

“Than stop fucking staring at her and go get it!” Kris snarls.

“Keep your voice down,” Xiumin warns, poison thick in his voice. “This isn’t the time to be angry with each other, we need to focus on this, on her.”

“Is she awake? How did she get hurt?” It’s Kyungsoo this time, his voice deep and warm like morning coffee, I forgot how much I love his voice.

“I think so, Baekhyun cut her, he was in one of his episodes and I think he lost it.” Suho tries his best to explain.

One of his episodes? Is that a normal thing? How long has that been going on? I have so many questions in my head that I want to ask but I know I would receive questions of my own that I’m not sure I can answer.

“That fucking piece of shit,” Kyungsoo seethes but I’m assuming one look from Xiumin keeps him from opening his mouth again.

“Baby,” Chen calls.

“Jooyoung,” I finally respond and open my eyes slightly.


“My name is Jooyoung, not baby, I don’t know what is going on but for the past year I’ve been told you abandoned me so understand that I will not be pretending like everything is fine and none of this just happened.” I sigh and sit up without Suho’s arm around me. For a moment I consider getting up and moving but I choose not to push my luck, no matter what I say if they want to hover over me I don’t really have a choice.

I look at everyone, starting with Kyungsoo who is on my left, we are on the couch, Chen is next to him sitting a good distance away with Luhan. Kris is next, he is standing with his arms cross over his chest, Xiumin is in front of the TV, directly across from me. The next few are standing in a cluster; Tao and Sehun have their arms locked together while Kai is standing in front of them. Baekhyun and Chanyeol are creeping in the hallway for good reason, I don’t think I can have them any closer right now. Suho is the closest, his arm is resting behind me, waiting to wrap me in them again. I finally look at him, actually look at him and I’m taken back.

Without a thought I reach both of my hands to his hair, “Daddy, you hair is pink.”

He seems a bit dumbstruck for a moment but leans into my touch instinctually. A soft chuckle leaves his lips, “It used to be red but it faded.”

I take my hands back, what am I doing? I just told them to drop their pet name for me yet I continue to use theirs.

“Are you going to go back to him?” Chanyeol suddenly asks.

“What?” The room echoes.

“Are you going to go back to Jiyong?”

I shrug, “I don’t know. I want to talk to him, I need to know what is going on.”

“He lied to you,” Kai reminds me.

I narrow my eyes on him, “Like you were an open book Jongin.”

His eyes go wide, “How do you know my real name?”

“I know a lot of things now, Minseok, Yifan, Jongdae, Junmyun, Jongin, Yixing. Good to know half of you lied to me right off the bat. You guys couldn’t even be honest about your names, why should I believe anything you say over Jiyong? He is an open book to me, anything he does in this big bang world, I know about it.”

“Because why would we lie to you about something like this?” Kyungsoo quickly questions.

“I don’t know! Maybe you all realized how much you missed me and thought of some lie to get me back. Even though I would like to believe you wouldn’t destroy the happy life I had to do that, I don’t know. I need some kind of proof.”

“Proof?” Xiumin mumbles. “I can give you proof.” He steps aside and runs his hand along the edge of the TV to turn it on. In seconds the screen lights up revealing a frozen frame of me on the ground. My heart stops.

“The video, you guys have the video? Do you have all of them?” I run my hands through my hair, my face becomes hot. They saw it, they saw all of it. I wanted nothing more than to forget all of that. I cover my face to hide my shame, how have I not ran out of tears from crying so much in one day? My chest feels tight, I try to breath in but it isn’t working, I can’t, I can’t breath.

I close my eyes to try and calm myself but that only makes it worse. Suddenly I’m back in that small cement room again, Taeil is there, the memory of his his mask is burned into my mind, all of them are. I imagine him grinning, excitement bright in his eyes. My clothes are gone leaving me naked in front of him, I know even with five layers on he would still be able to strip me with just a look. He makes me feel so vulnerable and fragile, he could crush me in his hand and blow me away like dust without a problem.

“Hello pumpkin, you look so scared,” He chuckles, lunging for me quickly only to land a few feet away. He’s taunting me, always taunting me. I press up against the wall as he comes closer and closer.

“Did you miss me pumpkin? Huh? I came all the way back just to finish the job, just me. No more Zico, no more savior. I have you all to myself to do all of those horrible things I’ve been aching for since the last time we met.”


“Yes, pumpkin, you have no where to go,” His laugh echoes in my ears.

“He’s going to kill me! Get him away!”

“Baby, calm down,” Kyungsoo and Suho are both wrapped around me, whether they are doing it to restrain me or comfort me I’m not sure but it’s only making me panic more. I fight my way out of their grip into the middle of the living room. Everyone seems closer, like they are trying to close in on me without me noticing. They aren’t going to catch me, I’m not going to let them.

“Everyone just back up!” I command with my arms out at my side making sure they get the message. I scan the room, looking for an exit or at least some place to sort of hide.

“Sorry, I’m sorry baby, I’ll turn it off,” Xiumin quickly turns the TV off.

“I need time, give me time,” I tell them.

“Maybe one of us should take her to our room,” Luhan suggests. “One on one seems a lot easier to handle.”

“I’ll take her,” Lay volunteers, “I need to patch her up.”

“Do you honestly think she is going to let you touch her?” Kris scoffs.

“I want to do it!” The younger three interject.

“No!” Xiumin, of course, is the one to put his foot down. “Luhan will do it.”

“What?” The crowd whines.

“He is the only one who is stable enough to do it, the rest of us can’t handle it.”

“I can take care of her just fine!” Kris roars.

“You can take care of our baby just fine when she is having a tantrum, this isn’t a tantrum, this is a panic attack. Can you handle watching her relieve those things we saw on those tapes in front of you?” Xiumin snaps back, standing chest to chest with the taller man but still manages to be the more terrifying of the two.

“Is that alright with you?” Luhan asks me, everyone else took a step back. “Do you want to come to my room with me? I promise that I won’t lay a finger on you.”

I nod. My hands are shaking against my chest as I follow the older through the familiar hallways. He walks into his room first and lets me be the one to leave the door open or closed. I close it. He stands on the far side of the room and again lets me decide on how we do things. I have free rein of the room and decide to go for the bed. Though I’m a bit hesitant to just crawl under the covers and make myself comfortable Luhan quickly encourages it. Once I’m settled everything just fades away. He has always been able to do this to me, if I had a nightmare, or was nervous about something he would bring me back down to earth.

“Are you feeling more stable?” He is by the windows now, far from me.

“Yes, thank you.”

“Can I come closer?”

I sit up in bed, “You can come sit by me if you want.”

“Is that what you want?” He cocks a brow at me and give me a small smile.

I nod.

Oh so slowly he makes his way toward me, he goes around the other side and lowers himself on to the bed so we are laying next to each other, “Is this okay?”

I chuckle, “We’ve laid together before Luhan, this normal.”

“No this isn’t normal anymore. You have no idea how much this means to me right now. You have no idea how many times I’ve woken up hoping you would be next to me. Lets not talk about that now though, how about something more light?”

“Like what? Everything is a trigger for something that could break the others heart.”

He hums, “When I was younger I wanted to be a fireman.”

I stare at him, he’s looking up at the ceiling his head cradled by a soft pillow. He looks like an angel. I couldn’t imagine such a beautiful savior, “I wanted to be a ballerina.”

“Why weren’t you?”

“Because I wasn’t allowed to take classes as a child.”

“What do you want to be now?”

“I’m not sure, I’m just trying to figure out how I want this day to end before I start thinking that far a head.”

“How do you want this day to end?” He looks over at me.

“I honestly have no idea. Either way, someone will be hurt. Either way I will end up with a heavy heart.”

“I know you are dealing with a lot right now but is there anyway I could hold your hand?” It is such an innocent request that for a moment I think he’s kidding but when our eyes meet there is so much emotion in his I just want to start crying.

“Only for a little while,” I offer my hand to him.

“That is all I’m asking for.”

I just want to say @xiudaddyskitten I see you blowing up my phone all day, whole shit you blew through this shit! And thank you all for the love!

Xoxo Pretty bird

Yoongi loves Hoseok’s basement parties because Hoseok is his friend and they have similar music taste and he knows he can expect good music to be playing the entire night. He loves the basements parties because Namjoon always gets the best weed and Seokjin buys the best beer and he knows if he really wants to get fucked up he can without worry because he’ll always have quality stuff to help him lose his mind. 

He loves the basement parties because Taehyung always dresses his best in his tightest/ shortest clothing that hugs his body in all the right ways and no matter what it is the younger has on it will for sure leave Yoongi with a dry mouth and a half hard dick. He loves that he can just sit and watch his boyfriend look hot as fuck as he drinks or smokes the best stuff while his favorite songs play. 

Yoongi also hates Hoseok’s basement parties. 

He hates them because Hoseok’s parties always include a big dance floor that will have Taehyung pouting and asking Yoongi to dance until the elder turns him down for the hundredth time. He hates how he’ll have to watch Taehyung look sad all for five minutes until Jimin pulls him away to the dance floor to grind together and probably make the guys and girls around them cry because they want to touch but know both Namjoon and Yoongi will fuck them up if they do. 

Tonight is different though. Tonight Taehyung doesn’t take no for an answer. 

“You know i don’t dance, Taehyung.” 

Yoongi keeps his eyes on Taehyung’s exposed stomach rather than the younger’s face because he knows if he looks at his boyfriend’s face the younger will be pouting and everyone on earth knows Min Yoongi cannot say no to a pouting Kim Taehyung. 

“I know, baby but i promise, you’ll like this dancing!” 

Yoongi pretends to look annoyed as Taehyung steals his beer before he pulls the grumpy elder up from his spot on the couch. He’s hoping Taehyung won’t pull him right to the center of the dance floor but of course Taehyung does exactly that. 

“Just follow my lead okay.”

Taehyung has that mischievous look in his eyes that Yoongi loves as he positions himself to stand in front of Yoongi until they are pressed together back to chest. It’s the same look Taehyung had when he smiled right before he gave Yoongi a hand job in the back of their math class as the teacher went on and on about triangles and other bullshit and it sends a shiver down Yoongi’s body in anticipation. 

Taehyung closes his eyes, almost as if he’s feeling the beat that is playing from the song, and Yoongi groans when the younger moves his body in a way that has his ass pushing against Yoongi’s dick slowly. Yoongi feels lost on where he should be holding and Taehyung seems to notice as he giggles and uses his own hands to lead Yoongi’s so they slide down Taehyung’s chest until they stop to rest on the younger’s pretty hips. It’s easy enough to move his hips so they can follow Taehyung. The friction is just so fucking good Yoongi pushes himself closer to his boyfriend trying to get more as they move together. 

“See i told you you would like this dancing!” 

Taehyung tosses his head back so he can turn it enough to suck at Yoongi’s neck and he knows by the end of their dance there’s going to be a dark purple mark he’ll have to hide from his parents for days. Right now though Yoongi doesn’t give a fuck. He’s already half hard on his way to full boner and he has no problem with grinding against his boyfriend until they cum in their pants like the horny teenagers they are. 

“Is this dancing or dry fucking?” 

Yoongi moves one hand from Taehyung’s hip to let his fingers slip under the waistline of Taehyung’s leather pants and the younger thrust against the air in hopes of pushing Yoongi’s hand further against his dick. Yoongi follows his move and pushes his own dick against Taehyung’s ass pulling a hiss from his mouth. 

“Does it matter?”

Yoongi notices Taehyung is panting and they’re both sweating, if it’s from the heat of their teasing or the bodies surrounding them on the dance floor, Yoongi doesn’t know but it makes everything that much better. 

He’s manages to get the button of Taehyung’s pants open and the younger’s zipper pulled down so he can grip Taehyung’s dick and the moan Taehyung lets out at the first up and down movement of Yoongi’s hand makes Yoongi groan himself. There he was in the middle of a crowded basement jacking his boyfriend off as they grind against each other and people around them danced and probably watched them and Yoongi was moments away from just saying fuck it and fucking Taehyung right there when the younger seems to read his mind. 

Taehyung turns around, pulling Yoongi’s hand out of his pants, and giggles as he pulls Yoongi away from the dance floor and out of the basement, no doubt to one of the bed rooms upstairs. Yoongi manages to lock eyes with Hoseok as he walks by and his friend wiggles his eyebrows as Yoongi rolls his eyes. 


Hoseok screams and Taehyung laughs before moving to whisper into Yoongi’s ear.

“Let’s fuck on Hoseok’s bed, hyung.” 

Min Yoongi was in love. 

Stockholm Syndrome//H.S. Part. Four

Originally posted by emilyruddlife

Summary: Oral Sex.

Series Warnings: Violence and Sexual Situations, possibly triggering content. 

Word Count: 902

Word Density: “Down” and “Noel”

Part One./Part Two./Part Three.

“Breaking news! A man by the name of Harry Styles has been reported missing. Family and friends have reported his absence, saying he has been M.I.A for almost three weeks now. His wife, Noel Styles, has been obviously distraught by her husband’s absence. She’s only made two statements since she reported her husband missing, stricken with grief and fear. The distraught wife reports that they got into a physical altercation and he left without a trace. Since then, he has been missing. The police are at a standstill due to the lack of evidence and witnesses.That’s all we have for now, all we can do is pray for his family and hope  that Harry returns home.”


Somehow I’ve gotten used to being down here. I’m still chained up, but it’s not so bad anymore.

Noel’s visits here become more frequent and she’s been giving me a bit more freedom. The other day she unchained me while I was unconscious.

Somehow this secret level of the house was already modeled to be some kind of livable space. It might as well have been another room in the house. It’s cozy down here, but I’m still terrified. She put a table down here so that we can eat together. She usually handcuffs my legs and one of my hands so I can’t leave. I can’t complain though. I know not to push it.

Keep reading

Echoing Souls.  CaptainSwan BigBang 2017

Hey shipmates, here is my contribution to the CaptainSwan BigBang 2017

Summary: Young Professor Swan leads a quiet but hectic life as the newest member of the Anthropology Department at University of Maine at Storybrooke, as well as being head curator for the University’s brand new museum. Killian Jones is a hardened detective who forms one half of the best homicide team in the small city of Storybrooke. When tragedy strikes, Emma and Killian find themselves thrust together, each feeling an inexplicable and frustrating attraction to the other. As the young couple works to find answers to the mystery that will take them on a journey together, they will also explore their undeniable chemistry and connection. Sometimes the universe has plans wherein the past, present, and future converge to assure that destiny is reached in every life.

Rating: Explicit 

Content Warning: minor character death 

First off, special thanks to @ilovemesomekillianjones for supporting me through this adventure and for always having the right words when I have struggled.

Secondly, a huge thanks to @swanemma and @jenswans for their collaboration with artwork. Each chapter that links to their work will be credited and tagged.  

For Chapter one we have the wonderfully talented @swanemma

Will also be posted on FFN and AO3

Also tagging some readers who may be interested. @ultraluckycatnd @katie-dub @its-like-a-story-of-love @lenfaz @cat-sophia @xhookswenchx @mayquita

if there are other out here who want a heads up please let me know. 

Chapter 1: Beware the Dark

Emma Swan rounded the corner of the hall, taking the short flight of stairs down into the converted basement offices. Even the addition of new lighting and carpeting couldn’t disguise that it was still a basement. Someday, maybe she would graduate to an upstairs office with a window, but right now the basement office was the place to be.

Stopping on her way to her office at the end of the hall, she opened the TA’s lounge to see if her personal assistant was anywhere in sight. Seeing the small brunette sitting at a table with a few other graduate students, Emma entered the room and poured herself a cup of the worst coffee that Storybrooke had to offer.

“Belle, did the shipment arrive yet?” Emma tried not to notice how a few of the students jumped up when she entered and started grabbing their books. This University wasn’t a happy one. The departments were fragmented and at war, and the Department Head was a first-class jerk.

“Oh no, not yet, Emma…um…Professor Swan!” Emma smiled at Belle’s lapse in using her name and then calling her professor. It really didn’t matter to her, but ‘The Powers That Be’ had sent out another memo last week reminding all Department Heads that a certain amount of professional decorum needed to be maintained at all times between faculty, staff, the underpaid student workers, and the students themselves.

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[Eric’s] parents went upstairs, and Eric asked if Susan [DeWitt] wanted to listen to music. They went into his bedroom, downstairs in the basement.

It was just about Eric’s last chance to get some before Columbine.

Susan recalled a poster of the blond, one-time MTV host Jenny McCarthy, and other band posters. Ticket stubs from concerts and movies were stapled around the window. Eric had CDs he had made on his computer, and soccer jerseys hanging up.

They listened to soft tunes, although Eric favored more head-banging stuff. Susan didn’t notice anything suspicious. […] She stuck around for about thirty more minutes and at one point, Eric put his arm around her. When she left, he kissed her on the cheek as a way of saying goodbye.

—  Columbine: A True Crime Story by Jeff Kass

From this request: Could you write a song fic on the song waiting for superman by daughtry… the reader is Sam & Deans kid sister and its basically all the times the boys play ‘superman’ (like save her life- like if she gets tortured or severely injured on a hunt)

Here’s the song


When you’re little, everything seems so… big. That’s why the smallest accomplishments make you feel like you’re invincible. But it’s also why the smallest upsets seem like the end of the world.

John had told Dean to take you and Sammy to the park, to burn off some of your excess energy and to give John some time to go talk to some witnesses. Dean watched from a bench as you and Sammy played—he was too old for that kiddie shit.

Sammy was pumping away on the swings, laughing. You were climbing the steps to the slide.

“De!” you called. “Look! I’m as tall as you!”

Dean couldn’t help but smile.

You slid down the metal sheet, laughing, arms up in the air as though you were on a rollercoaster. You waved to Dean as you sat on the end, legs dangling. You started to scoot yourself to the edge, your feet nearing the ground little by little.

And then the other kid came crashing down behind you.

You sprawled out on the ground while the other kid ran off, paying no mind to you.

“Hey!” Dean yelled, running toward you. “Get back here you little jerk!”

Dean would have chased after the kid but he heard you sniffling. He turned and saw you sitting on the ground, tears streaking your face.

“Hey, it’s okay, Y/N,” Dean said, crouching next to you.

You let out a small sob as you looked at your scraped palms and knees. Sam ran over, slightly out of breath.

“What happened?” he asked, even the concerned-elder-brother at this young age.

“Nothing,” Dean said. He could see blood trying to seep through your torn skin and he didn’t need Sammy making a ruckus about it; it would only serve to work you up even more.

Dean reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled five dollar bill. “Here. Go over to the ice cream truck and get you and Y/N something.”

Sam looked as if he wanted to argue, but he took the money and jogged away.

“All right, come on, Y/N.” Dean carefully slid his arms under you and carried you off to the bench he’d previously been on. He sat you down and crouched once more, looking into your eyes.

“I’m going to check you out, okay? I promise it won’t hurt.”

You sniffed, the tears still in your eyes, but you nodded. You trusted Dean with your life.

Dean examined your palms and knees; the skin wasn’t torn too badly. It would heal in a few days. He blew on it, trying to get the excess dirt off. You winced slightly but didn’t cry.

Dean poured a little of the water from the bottle he’d brought onto your wound, which made you whine. “I know,” he said. “Almost done.” He carefully patted your skin with the shirttail of his flannel. Then he pulled a couple Band-Aids from his wallet and stuck them on. “There. Good as new.”

Sammy stepped up at that moment, two popsicles in his hand. “Here, Y/N.”

You smiled as you took the treat, carefully sucking on the tip. You checked out Dean’s handiwork, your tears nearly dry. “Thank you, De.”

Dean smiled. “You’re welcome, Y/N.”

“You were like Superman,” Sam said in awe.

Dean laughed. “I’m no superhero, Sam. But it’s our job to always be there for Y/N, you got that?”

Sam nodded, eyes wide. You smiled and held your popsicle out to Dean, which he gladly took a bite of.


Sam shifted slightly. He was unused to wearing a suit, but John wouldn’t let you go to the school dance by yourself and he needed Dean to help him with the hunt.

Sam looked around. He hadn’t seen you in a while. He walked the perimeter of the gym; you weren’t by the punch table, you weren’t on the dancefloor. He finally spotted you sitting by yourself on the bleachers, head in your hands.

Sam bounded up the steps and carefully sat next to you. “Y/N?”

“Go away, Sam.”

“What’s wrong?”


Sam knew that was a lie. He slowly reached forward and started poking your arm, once, twice, three times, four times, five times…

After about twenty times you looked over at him. “Will you stop?”

“Will you tell me what’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing. It’s… I was stupid.”


You sniffed. “I thought….”


“I thought Josh wanted me to come to the dance so he could ask me out.”


“Turns out, he just asked me here because he wanted all the popular kids to make fun of my thrift-store dress.”

Sam’s blood began to boil. He scanned the floor, finally finding Josh and the rest of the popular crowd in the corner. “Come on, Y/N.”

“Where are we going?”

“Back home. But there’s something I have to do first.” Sam slipped his hand around your elbow and pulled you up. You followed him down the bleachers, wondering what was going on.

Once you reached the floor, Sam gave you a gentle shove. “Go outside. I’ll be there in a minute.”


But Sam had disappeared into the crowd. You climbed back up the bleachers, looking in the direction he’d gone. You spotted him just as he reached Josh. It looked like Sam was saying something to him and Josh laughed him off.

Then Sam punched Josh in the nose.

You quickly got down from the bleachers, meeting Sam on the floor. “What the hell was that?”

“I thought I told you to go outside.”

“You just punched Josh in the nose!”

“I know,” Sam said, looping his hand around your elbow and leading you toward the door. “And now we’re leaving.”

Sam led you out to the car, glancing behind him for security guards.

“Sam,” you said. “You really didn’t have to do that.”

“Of course I did. He hurt you.”

You smiled to yourself, watching as Sam dug in his pocket for the keys. You bounced up on your toes, wrapping your arms around him. “You’re my hero.”



You heard the chorus of voices above you and it was the most wonderful sound you’d ever heard. You watched (through the eye that wasn’t swollen shut) as one of the demons headed upstairs.

“Don’t think you’re getting out of here, just because your loser brothers show up,” the other demon said.

A screech was heard above. The second demon growled and headed upstairs; a second screech was soon heard.

And then you heard two sets of pounding footsteps heading toward you.


Dean and Sam burst in. Dean immediately checked the rest of the basement while Sam stepped over and began to untie you.

“You okay, kiddo?” Dean asked, helping Sam pull you from the chair.

“Never better,” you said, leaning against your brothers.

“Sorry we didn’t get here sooner,” Sam said. “We thought they were keeping you at the other safe-house.”

“It’s okay. I knew my Supermen would come.”


I’m sorry I have been unable to get to the many requests piled in my inbox. I’ve been extremely sad lately & unable to function at the pace I’d like to. Here’s something inspired by real life events. I hope you like it.

“Hi.” I smile nervously, my heart pounding in my chest and for some strange reason my entire body feeling hotter and heavier like it had been simmering on a low flame.

“Y/n! Goodness, I’m so glad to see you honey! Come inside.” My mum embraced me in a hug and welcomed me into the house. She eyed my giant duffel bag suspiciously.

“What’s this?” She inquired, politely.

“Y/n! What a pleasant surprise! I didn’t know you were in town. Is Finn with you? It’s been so long…” Dad’s rambling questions distracted us from the elephant in the room.


And my duffel bag.

I was an unexpected guest at my parents’ home, nonetheless most warmly received. This was the only place I could go to at this point. I didn’t want to burden them with my presence but I had very little money and I could not risk that dwelling at a hotel.

“Oh, I just missed you guys so I thought I’d come over and spend a few days you know…” I uncomfortably played with the fork in my hand, desperately trying to sell my white lies during dinner.

“Well that’s lovely. Did Finn drop you off? Wish we could have met him too, it’s been months since we last saw him…” My mum pointed out the obvious quite unassumingly. I had been evading the “where’s Finn questions” for a couple of hours now but it was a futile struggle.

“No, he didn’t drop me off.” I responded quietly, rather mumbling to myself- not bothering to elaborate on my sentence.

The awkwardness was slowly growing in the dining room when dad cleared his throat to pitch in lightheartedly; “well obviously, he’s a busy man, travelling and all. We’re glad you were able to take time out and visit.” He then called mum out to pass the bean salad she cooked for us and made some banal remarks about the weather. I gorged on my food, stuffing my mouth so I wouldn’t have to make much conversation. I pretended to love the food, keeping my eyes down at my plate, only to prevent them from seeing the redness forming around my lids. I fought the tears. I was trying so hard to forget what I had left behind.

Don’t you dare cry in front of them.” I recited to myself in my head.

In my head. The most fucked up place in the world. It’s got me into this mess in the first place. My head is constantly on self-destruct mode, pelting cynical & macabre thoughts onto my weakening form. I feel so worthless. So hopeless.

And now the love of my life has given up on me.

“If you can’t get your shit together then you might as well just leave.”
His once velvety voice was now acrid to my ears. His past heroic form was now demonic to my deteriorating strength. I needed him now more than ever. But he just cast me away.

Finn gave up on me.

I inhaled deeply to stifle my profuse sobbing. After what seemed like hours sitting on the cold, bathroom floor, I finally stood up and made my way to my bed, alone. I was sleeping alone tonight.

Who was I kidding. I hadn’t slept in days. I hadn’t rested in years. I was brutally insomniac and the thought of falling asleep imbibed me with a ridiculous fear that I may not be able to wake up again. But I always woke up. Tired.

I think it was one of my many “habits” that irked Finn.

“What are you doing here, love?” He’d asked. 

“Nothing. Just couldn’t sleep.” His sudden presence in the basement room startled me. I stood there, marveling at many of his championship belts and other accolades collected there; wondering what it would feel like to be that capable.

“If you’re not going to try, you’ll never fall asleep. Come with me.” He took me by the hand and led me back upstairs to the bedroom.I smiled at how his hair stuck up on all sides yet he looked as much of a heartthrob right now as he did with his hair gelled up.

One arm pulled me close to his chest while the other fixed the covers above us. I was going to begin a meandering conversation to pass the time until I felt drowsy enough to sleep- when he cut me off.

“Hush babe. Close your eyes, okay?” He explained to me like one would to a child.

“It’s not that easy, you know.” I spoke.

“It’s not that difficult either. Seriously, you never sleep on time and then you wake up all groggy in the mornin’…” He chided me while nuzzling his face in the crook of my neck, his breath leaving the skin around my neck slightly warmer. My mind tuned out his lecture series on my lamentable sleeping habits as it focused on the sensation of his dextrous fingers rubbing soothing circles onto my back.

Even his anger had a saccharine quality to it. He was always pleasant in his speech, even when the content of it was barely so. His jaw would clench tightly during an argument yet he could caress my hair gently and tell me the most wonderful things in the midst of all the madness.

Until one day his entire demeanour began exuding a bitterness I could not comprehend. He was no longer kind nor patient with me. He would tell me things I never wanted to hear.

“Are you deaf?!”

I looked up to find his gaze searing holes into my eyes. He was fuming.

“I’m talking to you, y/n.”

He was indeed talking to me. For god knows how long. And I hadn’t paid attention to more than half the details until it became obvious to him that my mind was elsewhere.

I did that quite a lot actually. I would often ignore the fact that we were seated together in an empty room. Instead of acknowledging his presence or striking a polite conversation I would be aimlessly scrolling through my phone or be reading a book. I would do the same on our car and plane rides. Anything to just evade talking. I wasn’t interested in anything beyond the idiosyncrasies of my dark mind.

My mind consumed me to the point where everything outside of it was mostly empty, sometimes hazy, usually insufficient and always meaningless. It got me caught on the wrong side of the fence with Finn because it seemed like I was purposely shunning him away and then refusing to speak about it.

“S'the matter with you, sweetheart?” He would ask me tenderly.

Try as much I did, I could not openly confess my sins to him. I was afraid of admitting my flaws. And so I lied, every day to him.

Until one fine day, the heap of lies I told slowly erected a wall between us. We could no longer communicate, for a drab exchange of pleasantries could burgeon into a fiery altercation in a matter of seconds. I wouldn’t even know how. I still don’t know how our marriage had disintegrated to the point where the man who loved me with every fibre in his being was now telling me he didn’t want me in his life anymore.

“It’s not a divorce. Please don’t make this unnecessarily sentimental nor bigger than what it really is.” He responded unnervingly to my sobbing form. Hands on his hips, he brusquely laid out a series of instructions for me to follow.

He advised me to go live with my parents for some time.

“How long am I going to stay there?” I mustered to inquire through my shaky voice.

Indefinitely. I knew it even when he spoke no words.

Originally posted by theandrophile

Tiptoe (Chicago P.D.)

Title: Tiptoe

Fandom: Chicago P.D.

Rating: T/PG-13

Author’s Note: I’ll refrain from writing a diatribe about how angry I am a scene with Jay talking about his PTSD was cut, and instead offer up this (quick) drabble-ish fic I wrote up that attempts to fill in the obvious gap in the break room scene between Erin and Jay at the end of 4x18. I couldn’t find specifics on where PTSD support groups meet in Chicago so I used the locations of Veteran Service Officers from the Illinois Warrior Assistance Program’s website as a proxy.

“Thank God for the job, though, right? I mean, every day you get to meet somebody who’s problems are bigger than yours.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” he replies with a nod of his head because she’s right. The job keeps him grounded; the job keeps him focused and tethered to the here and now.

Yet the words still feel heavy and wrong as she explains how she’s gone above and beyond to help today’s somebody, as she provides herself with an out to leave him in the breakroom. And his gaze immediately shifts to the floor; his head tilting downward so he doesn’t have to look at the small smile she offers him as she moves to tiptoe past him.

“Erin,” he softly calls out, and he can hear her boots scuff on the linoleum floor as she skids to a stop long before he’s fully turned around to face her. “I—”

“I, uh,” he says pausing to swallow the lump in his throat. Her back is still turned to him; her body nearly halfway out the door. And — despite all their conversations in here, despite the fact that he followed her in her and initiated this — the break room isn’t exactly where he imagined himself telling her about this. Telling her about something he’s spent most of the last eight years trying to tiptoe around.

Yet he spent Monday night’s meeting listening to an artillery field officer named Jon talk about how he tiptoed around things until he tried something stupid and this afternoon listening to Voight tell him to he’ll be out of the unit if he doesn’t stop tiptoeing around what’s going on. So he squares his shoulders, lifts his head, and forces himself to find the words to tell her that, in fact, some days somebody else’s problems don’t seem all that bigger than his.

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Mafia Part IV: Stolen

Rating is M+18 for this reason is why the ‘keep reading’ is set before any reactions take place.

Viewer discretion is advised.  

Mafia Reactions: Part I | Part II | Part III |   

Originally posted by kyungsuhos

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The Hunt - Part 6

Series Summary: Y/N moved to Mystic Falls, Virginia a year ago in the hopes of starting over. She wanted to be something other than a hunter, she had always hated that life and one day, she left it. Of course, Mystic Falls is overrun with supernatural creatures, but most of them seem to be good so she doesn’t have to kill them. None of her new friends know about her past, but now there’s a supernatural creature on a killing spree in and around Mystic Falls. How long will it be before her past catches up with her?

Part Summary: Crowley reveals the information he has on Y/N so they can find her. Lucien takes the next step in his plans for Y/N. The group finds her, but discover that something’s happened to her. Damon and Y/N talk and she makes a confession before they’re interrupted by Lucien.

Pairing/s: Damon x Fem!Reader, Fem!Reader x Mystic Falls Gang, Fem!Reader x The Originals, Fem!Reader x Team Free Will, Klaus x Caroline, Lucien x Fem!Reader, No Others Yet

Characters: Fem!Reader, Damon Salvatore, Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Castiel, Stefan Salvatore, Caroline Forbes, Lucien Castle, Bonnie Bennett, Elena Gilbert, Klaus Mikaelson, Rebekah Mikaelson, Kol Mikaelson, Freya Mikaelson, Marcel Gerard, Crowley, Mary Winchester. Hayley Marshall. Elijah Mikaelson, Enzo. St John, Tyler Lockwood, Matt Donavon, Jeremy Gilbert, Liz Forbes, Vincent Griffith, Alaric Saltzman, Hope Mikaelson, Josie Saltzman, Lizzie Saltzman, and Bobby Singer (Mentioned)

Warning/s: Swearing, Blood, Angst, Death

A/N: Thank you to @abbylizmusic for being my beta!

The Hunt Master List

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Stepping Into Truth

I gulp two fingers of scotch, shoving the plastic bottle back into the backseat of my car, my hair still wet from a shower an hour ago that did something to counter the cigarettes I had this morning. I turned twenty one last week; most people would guess me for thirty. Helps that I don’t need to lie for the booze, doesn’t help the contents of my fridge at home. The drink helps with the cold, and stops my hands from shaking a little.

I hate my job. It’s the only thing I’m good at. I pull the old doctor’s handbag out of the passenger seat of my car, close the door carefully. Wouldn’t do for the door to fall off. Bad image. The client is waiting at the door to the home. Two storey house, basement, brown picket fence. Looks like the rest of a cookie-cutter street except the for sale sign is worn almost to nothing in contrast to sold signs down the street. Windows shuttered, lawn overgrown, and the client’s car is parked half a block away.

Moria Larsen is thin and stern, with eyes like scraped chalkboards and an expression to match But she paid the retainer fee up front and judging by her clothing can afford a bonus as well. Pretty much why I showered, that. From the look on her face, my effort doesn’t make much of an impact.

“You’re late, Mr. Dover.”


“I have been waiting outside for four minutes. You will go inside, do the deed, and that will be that.” She walks past me, giving me a berth. I probably should have shaved as well. Or not slept in my clothing. Moria moves swiftly, the haste perhaps overkill. She doesn’t want to be here, and definitely didn’t want to wait outside. Fair enough, given what happened here. Sometimes all ghosts do is make a wound that never closes.

I walk to the front door, take the key I was given yesterday. It turns in the door, and I push it open. The air smells stale. No lights, but I have a flashlight in my bag and flick it on. I have three others in my bag, some chalk, a few candles. Also a gun I’ve never used. The gun is pretty much for show: I’ve yet to run into a ghost that could be shot. But you never know.

The flashlight is cheap, but the beam is decent. I walk across carpet, scan the living room. The house is mostly furnished; finding a removal company to take everything away is hard after the press has poured over your life with combs meant only for gouging flesh. The gist had been that Moria’s husband left her a week before she had a business trip to attend. She left her son with a sitter. The baby sitter left with his boyfriend for a few hours and got in an accident so never made it back. And her son, at some point, fell down the basement stairs and died. Broken legs, desperate attempts to get out. Windows closed tightly and no one hearing him.

It doesn’t take much to make a ghost. Sometimes the rumour alone can do it. But it doesn’t take much to get rid of them as well: a strong will can do it, and that Moria hadn’t was interesting. I was the third exorcist she’d tried. Also the most expensive; dealing with the dead isn’t fun, and neither is putting them to rest. But the flashlight works, I don’t sense cold spots: not that I would, given my clothing is better suited to the summer and I don’t have much of it.

I shake myself free of the mundane. “Jamel? Jamel Larsen?” I wait. Sometimes they come to their names. Nothing moves, nothing flies toward me. Expensive living room furniture, the kitchen beyond is as sterile as a magazine photo. I head into the basement from the kitchen. One freezer, a pantry, the rest cement floors and unfinished wood walls. My flashlight doesn’t flicker. There are stains on the wooden stairs and the cement floor. The stars aren’t in good condition, the pantry door double-padlocked and the freezer the same. Odd, but I let it go and head back upstairs. The second floor has two bedrooms, bathroom, master bedroom with its own bathroom. I check the spare bedroom and master bedroom first, and then head to the room that belonged to Jamel.

The door opens. The room is plain, like the other bedrooms. White walls, beige carpet, no paintings. The bed covers have rocket ships on them, the only sign the room was used by a child at all.


There is an intake of breath, the closest thing to a cold spot yet. I move to the bed, look under it. The ghost is crowded against the wall, pale eyes and skin glowing faintly as he wheezed for air. He looks too scared to haunt anyone, but fear can be a strange master. He moves back against the wood, eyes wide. I move the flashlight slowly. Eight, the same age as when he died. I saw no pictures. Didn’t want to.

But this Jamel is still eight. Chubby, pale, scared. His legs look whole. I flick the flashlight off and stand.

“You want to talk?”

It is almost five minutes before the ghost crawls out from under the bed. I move back to avoid stepping through the ghost as he stands. He’s wearing a t-shirt that’s almost too small, jeans whose button can’t close and covers his belly. His cheeks flare red with a ghostly blush.

I sit down on the bed. After a bit, he sits beside me, not looking over.

“What happened to the other exorcists?” I ask.

“They tried to hurt me,” he whispers. “I scared them away. In the b-b-bbasement, I scared them.”

“You didn’t try and scare me?”

“I don’t like it. Being down there. It scares me.” I glance over. Jamel hugs himself, lets go quickly, refusing to look at me. “And you feel different,” he adds. “Like I couldn’t scare you.”

“Perhaps not. I had a few drinks earlier. That helps.”

“Moria sent you.”

“She was outside. Briefly. Was that why you were hiding?”

“Partly,” the ghost says. The bed creaks as he shifts position. Most ghosts that can move things tend to use it to harm others. I’m not sure he’s even aware of doing it.

“I am good at exorcising ghosts, but I don’t know what happens after that. No one does. I try not to, if I can avoid it. Knowing what happened here could help, if you can tell me.”

The ghost says nothing, his breath a thin wheezing.

“Your mother took to locking up the freezer and the pantry because she had a fat son. That much I can guess,” I say softly, and the ghost turns his head and nods once. “I don’t know when you fell. Or who caused it.”

“The baby sitter. Austin. Mom told him I wasn’t to – to get more fat. Everything would be better when she got home. Like a command. He – the fridge, I… was hungry, and I hate, and he thought mom would – mom would…”

“Hurt him?”

“Maybe? I don’t –.” Jamel is quiet for a bit, hands tight against his belly. He moves them apart when he realizes I’m looking at him. I just wait. “Austin pushed me. He didn’t mean to. I fell, my legs broke. He said it was because I was so fat, said he’d get help. He called his boyfriend. They were going to – to get a doctor they knew. A vet, maybe? Someone to help, and they never came back.”

“They had a car accident. And have left the city, as far as I know. Austin was in a coma for three days; I don’t know about his boyfriend. They were speeding, the police followed, they crashed. Some people think your mom killed you.”

“She – she – she –.” His voice cracks. The floor shakes a little bit.

“She did, without touching you. Shame is a weapon used against children.”

“She wanted me thin, Handsome, like my name. A p – a proper son.” The ghost stands. Swift, angry, though not at me. He pulls his t-shirt off.

The headline of ‘exorcist involved in ghost porn’ goes through my head. I don’t move; most ghosts can’t remove what they wear, in my experience, and I have no idea what might happen if I interrupt. Jamel has another shirt under it, a spandex affair that makes me wince at how tight it is. That his clothing is tied so deeply to his image says too many things.

“Mom wanted to make sure people don’t know I was this fat,” the ghost whispers unsteadily. “I have spandex pants, too, under my pants –.”

“I don’t need to see that,” I say quickly.

The ghost stares at me, and lets out a sound. “I… I didn’t…” He pulls the shirt back on, faster. His face is red, and the rest of him is pink as well.

“I’ve never been subjected to a ghost stripping before. That’s probably scarier than what I’d see in the basement,” I add dryly.

Jamel stares, then lets out a surprised giggle. “Your face was…. I think I surprised you?”

“Yes. I’d rather not be surprised like that again.” I stand. “I can help you, if you let me.”

He stands as well, not moving. I step through the ghost. Being possessed is painful; possessing a ghost even more so. But it takes a moment, and another, and I’m back onto the bed and shaking from the cold.

Jamel stares at me in confusion.

“Shirt,” I get out from between my teeth.

The ghost lets out a small gasp.

“You couldn’t access what you were; I jogged a few things loose.”

Jamel blinks. His shirt fits perfectly now, with no other shirt under it. His pants do as well, and his breathing is less of a wheeze as the ghost moves slowly about the room.  

“You can alter your appearance better. Move things, if you need to. And you’re no longer tied to this place.”

“What do I do?” he asks in a small voice.

“What you wish, but nothing that will lead to an exorcist being called. That’s our arrangement.”  

He nods. “I could talk to mom. I could explain, if that would – wouldn’t lead to –.” The ghost boy looks away from me. “It would.”

“Probably. Moria has demons enough of her own, I imagine.”

I have no idea if she does, but it helps him a little. He nods. “There is this shop I liked, a candy one….”

And the ghost vanishes a moment later. I let out a breath, take a few more minutes to gather myself, and walk outside. I tell Moria Larsen that it’s done and that she can go inside.

I walk away without waiting for payment, or to find out if she does.

Ferb A: Bates Motel Final Fan Fic

Norman slammed the trunk of the car before looking around the Bates Motel parking lot. It was empty. Nothing but leaves scooting along the empty gravel space. His eyes shifted towards the office where he spent so many hours of the past five years of his life. Going through the mail, typing up the motel newsletter, making coffee every morning and all his manager duties. The many times he stood behind that counter and greeted his guests with a smile as they signed the guest book. How it felt to hand over that room key. He was somebody. This motel made him someone. From student to employee, to manager and to owner. This motel has seen it’s days long before the Bates moved in but, it saw it’s best days these past few years. They made this place into a home. Mother made this place a home and together they built this little paradise. The motel helped them just as much as they helped it.

Norman reached up to place his hand on his chest where his Manager pin use to sit. He would always trace the letters with his finger and feel so proud of himself. He remembered his first day. Norman Bates was so excited he wanted to make such a great impression. He had a sense of real responsibility. He wasn’t sure how many different blazer combos he went through. He had to look the part right? It was representing this motel and his mother. When he didn’t feel the pin there he felt this sort of emptiness fill his chest. His eyes skimmed down the line of room. Each one held it’s own story. Each one had a customer that Norman would never forget. Gunner and his band of stoners, the spooky man in Room 9, the lovely family who had the puppies, Annika Johnson, Alex Romero, Marion… He could go on. They were gone and they wouldn’t think of this place ever again.

The sun was slowly making its way down the sky threatening to disappear at any moment. Norman could hear the soft song of birds as he walked across the driveway. Entering the office he looked around a few times. The smell of coffee and freshly sharpened pencils lingered. It was nice. His hand moved along the front desk and over the guest book that hadn’t been touched in many weeks. He remembered the last person to sign it and she would always have a spot in his brain. Moving his way into the back office he let out a heavy sigh. He remembered when this place was filled with boxes upon boxes of dusty old files and old photos and newspaper articles. Norman had completely gone through all of them and turned those dusty boxes into a few simple little files. That contained the history of this place along with those old photos that new sat in the filing cabinet.

Turning his head he smirked a little when he saw that old picture on the wall. The peep hole behind it had been filled in and now it was just a regular old picture. He dropped his head as visions of what he’s seen on the other side of that wall popped into his mind. He got that chill as he flipped off the light and made his way back to the front office. Reaching out he hit that switch and the Bates Motel light flickered on. The low hum of it’s lights was all he could hear as he stepped out into that still evening air. A deep breath left his lungs as he watched the sign bring life to this place once more. Closing his eyes he could still hear the sounds of his guests. Cars pulling in and out of the drive. Dylan sitting over there in that empty chair enjoying an evening beer. The sounds of children laughing and the TV’s turning on just loud enough he could slightly hear it from his post behind the desk.

“It’s such a nice place you have here.”
“We’ve been driving for hours so glad we found you.”
“You’re really cleaning this place up kid.”
“Our stay was wonderful.”
“I’m going to give you a good review on Yelp!”
“Thank you Norman Bates.”

It all made him smile till he opened his eyes and it was just him. Norman made his way up towards the long set of steps that reached all the way up to that damn old house on the hill. The windows lit up looking alive as he climbed those steps. God how many times did he run up these stairs? If these damn steps could talk. The time him and Dylan had to carry Mother’s mattress all the down to the dumpster. He stopped and looked at the faint stain where Shelby bled out all over the place. That time Dylan slipped on the frost and nearly broke his neck. That time Norman gave Emma a piggyback ride all the way up because she was having a bad day with her breathing. The fights that went on, on these stairs. The hugs that happened. The stories that were told. How many times he sat there on that step and just had his Norman thinking time.

“She can’t do this! She can’t leave me!”
“Norman let her go!”

Climbing that last step as he crossed the porch he reached out and opened that front door. The moment he closed it he was met with complete silence. This house has never been that quiet. There was this twist in his stomach and he had to take a moment to get a grip. Norman looked to his left into the living room. That old fireplace and that couch where he spent many evenings watching TV or reading or doing his homework. Norman stepped further into the room and his hand moved along the back of the couch. Feeling the material against his skin he gave a small smile. The room was dim except for a small light on the side table in the corner. The walls that were filled with photos were now taken down. Removed. Norman looked at that piano sitting in the corner and for a split second he thought he could hear it play.

His heart skipped a beat as he remembered that time Mother forced him to sing Mr. Sandman with her. Their many duets and he couldn’t count how many times he sat there with her as she played. Trying to teach him here and there but he could only manage to get Twinkle Twinkle Little Star just right. She was the piano player in this family. Reaching out he debated hitting a key and decided against it. The last sound that piano would make was the last song Mother ever played. Instead he moved his hand to the left and turned the light off. Norman walked down the short hall into the kitchen.

Dishes use to stack high in the sink and on the table. Piles of old newspaper stacked on one of the chairs. The counter wasn’t cleaned. The stove was a mess with pots and pans littered all over it. The fridge was empty and the floor hadn’t been swept. Norman let this place go and he was ashamed of that. That’s why he took it upon himself this morning to clean every inch of this kitchen. Just how she wanted it. Just how she left it. He could hear the sizzle of the frying pan and the smell of pot roast in the oven. The table was set and decorated with fresh flowers. He could hear that hum as Mother moved along the room. This was her work space. This was her happy place. It made Norman smile before he turned to head down into the basement.

The basement flooded with light with that flip of the switch. Norman’s steps echoed as he climbed down those old wood steps. Looking around the place was pretty dusty but Norman didn’t touch too much down here. Just his work space and new repaired furnace on those chilled evenings and the freezer. Looking over his work station everything was cleaned up. A faint dust rested upon the table’s surface where his taxidermy equipment use to sit. Boxes of old junk filled the shelves and after all these years Norman never touched any of it. Opening the freezer it was now warm as it had been shutoff. None of the freezers worked anymore and there was still that old yellow caution taped strung here and there. That sickening crime scene tape that only made his stomach burn. There was still some of his creations hiding down here. They would be left behind.

Just as Norman was about to leave he stopped seeing a dusty book just under the step. Curious he reached down and pulled it from it’s hiding spot. Blowing the dust off the cover it was that old taxidermy book Mother had gotten him years ago. He wondered where it had gone. He felt his heart swell as he exited the basement and turned the lights off one last time before shutting the door. He walked past the laundry room that was all cleaned out. Passing the kitchen he set the book down on the table before going upstairs. He was met with the memories of all those fights they had. The stomping of steps met his ears and the shouting echoed around the house.

“Norman please!”

“I don’t trust you anymore and that changes everything!”

“Stop it Norman.”

“The game was we were devoted to each other. That no one could ever come between us. We loved each other more than anyone could love another person.”

Norman could hear it all. The crying and the slam of the door. These doors slammed a lot in this house. The stomping of steps and the anger that would fill the upstairs. Norman was met with his bedroom door wide open. Standing in the doorway he skimmed as everything looked to be in place. Bed was made. The desk was cleaned off. The bookcase was empty. He could still hear the pitter-patter of Juno’s paws as she ran through the house. How many times was Norman confined to that bed? After one of his blackouts or being sick or after being stuck in a box for a few days. The room still faintly smelled like books and laundry cleaner. Norman looked at the door connecting the two bedrooms. This door still didn’t shut or lock right ever since he broke it that one day.

Despite the upstairs having so many horrible moments it had it’s good. Norman turned off the light and shut the door. Walking by the bathroom that smelled of bleach he went to Dylan’s old room. It was kinda how Dylan left it except Norman did go in and straighten things up. Few things on the walls. Mainly pictures of cars and hunting photos and girls. Random football and gun magazines on the floor. He left behind a couple shirts and a hat or two. Norman gathered up the left behind trash and tossed it into the bin near the door. It had that Dylan musk mixed with dust lingering in the air. Dylan…

“I’m a man now not her little boy and I wanna be a good man. I trust your judgment if you think this is the right thing to do. You’re my brother, you know? I wanna be there for you. We’re a family and we love each other we’ll work through it.”

“Get her back, Dylan! Get her back!”
“Calm down! You have to!! She’s coming back!”
“She’s not gonna come back! She hates me! She hates me Dylan and it’s all your fault!”

“Please, Norman.. Everything I’ve built with Mom, it’ll, it’ll all be destroyed.”

“You wouldn’t actually hurt anybody though, would you Norman?”

Norman stood in the doorway of Mother’s room. The last room in the house he wanted to be. The light near the window was on and there was this welcoming glow to it. Hands in his pockets he stepped further into the room. This warm air wrapped around him and he could smell her perfume. Norman closed his eyes and got lost for a moment. He could feel her. Her arms wrapped around him so tightly. Pulling him in for a hug as she kissed his cheek. He could feel her warm embrace as she ran her hand through his hair. That smile on her face. A smile that was burned into his mind. That bright beautiful smile of a woman who was finally happy and finally at peace with the craziness around her. A woman who overcome everything life thrown her way. She was a warrior and she was his hero.

“I love you, Norman.”
“I love you too, Mother.”

“You mean more to me than anyone in the world.”

The voices echoed in his head she was still there. Smiling brightly at him as she took his hands and gave them a firm squeeze. There was this bubble building up in his chest. This emotion was building and it was making it’s way into his throat. “Hey..” Her voice was soft and comforting. “You’re a good boy, Norman.” She bit her lip and thought for a second. Norman’s misty eyes were focused on her as she spoke so softly. “You’re everything. Everything to me Norman.” She leaned in and pressed another kiss to his cheek. “There’s a cord between our hearts.” Those memories of that night on the lake came flooding back to him at her words. He couldn’t form any of his own at the moment as tears fought to fall from his baby blue eyes. He suddenly didn’t want to let go. He couldn’t let go. He couldn’t let go of her. That familiar pull and power she had over him all these years was slowly creeping back into him. His hands grasped hers tightly and she gave him a sad smile. “It will be okay. Got it? YOU can do THIS.” Norman softly nodded his head and she pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth as she playfully added. “Now get the hell outta here.”

Norman’s eyes flew open and frantically looked for her. The bed, the closet, near the window, behind him. She wasn’t there. His hands shook as he brought them up to his face. Taking a moment to collect himself. That warm embrace he had felt was gone. The smell of her perfume was no longer in the air. It just a still room that held so many memories that were now put to rest. Forcing himself he crossed the room and turned the light off. He took a second to brush his hand over freshly washed bedspread. The silence in the room was making his ears hurt. Looking over towards the closet where all her dress use to be.. You can do this Norman. With that Norman walked out of the room and shut the door behind him.

Making his way quickly down the stairs he dropped by the kitchen again. Reaching out and collecting the book he had set there. One last look around he gave a firm nod. As he headed for the front door he stopped suddenly. There it was. He could hear that old record player turn on as Bobby Darin faintly filled the house. There it was again. That pull. That desire to stay with her. His hand grasped the door handle and he got his grip again and walked out of that old house on the hill. Locking it up behind him he could still hear that old tune as he climbed down the stairs. The sun was nearly down casting the sky in this pinkish orange. He looked out at that parking lot, the Bates Motel sign lit high above. The For Sale sign stuck just below the No Vacancy sign. He would never see this again.

His heart pounded so hard in his chest as he made his way towards the car. Tossing the book in through the window.

“We came here to start over, I am starting over.”

“We’ve been through a lot and this is our chance to start over.”

Norman Bates looked up at that old house that had been his home as well as his prison for the past years. Piling in this damn car with whatever it could hold and moving to White Pine Bay was an adventure. A town full of weirdos who at first didn’t welcome the Mother and Son but then found them worthy to be apart of their community. Moving here and running this motel was a fight for survival, a fight for acceptance and a fight to succeed. Behind all this fighting was just a family trying to find their place in the world. Trying to start over and along the way only grew strong and bigger. Many had doubted them and they hit a lot of roadblocks. This wasn’t your average family. Just a confused, loving boy and his Mother trying to make a life for themselves. Sure this rundown motel and that old house might have seen it’s share of tears and blood and bodies but also laughter and undying love. This old house. This old motel. Was just a spot on the road but it was a dream. It was her dream.

“We own a motel, Norman Bates!”

A few tears fell from Norman’s eyes but he quickly brushed them away. Suddenly he couldn’t hear that old record player anymore. No longer could he feel the soul that had been dancing her heart away in that old house. For the first time in his life he was alone. Truly alone. Mother was gone. Giving the Bates Motel sign one last smile Norman climbed into his car and pulled out of that drive way, never looking back.

The End..