#look at him in the photo. he will murder your family if you say anything bad about his art

[christinebloodwrittings]

Die in your arms #1

Alastor x Fem!Reader.

Warning: mentions of implied SA, imprisonment, murder.

July 1913. Manhattan, NYC.

The courtroom, with all those eyes staring, would make anyone tremble with anxiety. The jury of men in gloomy suits, whose faces you did not know and did not bother to remember, the judge with white hair and glasses perched on the tip of his nose, and the lawyer on the side of the people looked at you as if you were the worst scum in the world.

How distasteful.

The D.A’s office had taken the trouble to give you a new outfit to wear to court, with lots of layers and cream-colored ruffles. The last time you wore something so nice was when your parents brought you to a friend of the family’s house, for dinner.

The high neck of the dress was not tight, but given the heavy atmosphere and the nerves, it was as if a rope had been put around your neck.

"Your Honor, my client has not a single criminal record prior to this incident.  Her family in Denver reported her to missing persons five years ago, the police deliberately dropped the case after a week” he paused for a moment, taking a deep breath before watching your lip quiver, “After her father asked to do so" but you knew that already.

Incident, five years of imprisonment, and the attorney who is supposed to be defending you used such a weak word to describe it all.

Also, your father… it should have surprised you, but after everything he said before it all started…it really didn’t.

Before your attorney could actually begin to speak, the defense took his sweet time trying to make you look like a serial killer, a potential risk to the community.

“Miss Desmond, is it true that your commanding officer knows that you are the New York Smiler?” the lawyer asked, the jury having their sole attention on you. “No” the scoffs of the public at the hearing  echoed in the room. “Do you consider yourself guilty of the twenty-two victims, murdered in between the years of 1910 and 1912?” it was only 1912, december, you remembered because there were christmas decorations on some houses.

“Twenty-one, and no, I did what was necessary to stay alive” at what cost, liberation? That one breath of fresh air felt like needles down your throat, and has brought you nothing but problems ever since.

“Twenty-one? There were twenty-two bodies at the scene” he placed a detailed record of the evidence found in the scene in front of the jury for all to read.

“When I left there was one that was still alive, since he was in no position to follow us, I didn’t do anything, I was the one to notify the ambulance about him” his kneecaps were shot with a gun, he would never walk again so it meant no harm at the moment.

Then, he continued to the one charge he could actually condemn you to, “Miss Desmond, did you or did you not fake an ID to enter the army?” your attorney nodded, giving you a pass to say the truth, given his strategy. “I did” he presented a photo of the woman of the original identification, “Who’s ID did you forged?” mercilessly, the memories flooded your mind. 

‘Everything will be alright Y/n, just…’ she took a deep breath before caressing your cheek, ‘Do what they say, and no harm will come to you’ her bloodied hair stuck to her face as she smiled, teeth broken and red. “Martha Woodsman” her name burnt as it left your tongue, “Who is she?” you closed your eyes trying to remember a time when she was the most beautiful woman inside the facilities. Her creole accent and brown skin, along with the greenest eyes you had ever seen, she was idyllic.

“Was” you corrected, “One of the eldest women inside the brothel, I stole her ID and placed a picture of myself” you answered with the truth, your voice trembling and breaking as you did. “Nothing further” that lawyer had some mercy in finishing his questions after that.

"Do you understand, Miss Desmond, that if you lie while under oath, you risk being charged with perjury?" the judge reminded you. The judge had a cold and defiant attitude towards you from the moment he found out that the accused was a woman. He reminded you about perjury with the sole motive of saying ‘you are a woman so don't get emotional and tell the truth’ indirectly. 

"Your Honor, I did plan the escape, down to the smallest detail, with the goal of getting out of that place without anyone getting hurt. The boss shouldn't have been there, I checked the schedule book three times before the escape." You were irritated, but you didn’t let his guts get to you. "If I had planned a murder of that magnitude, I would have admitted it from the start, they were bad men, but that doesn’t excuse ending a life like that, I didn’t plan to harm anyone that night" satisfied, yet adamant, he signaled to your defense to step forward.

In all, it took three sessions in court and at the grand jury, during which you spent the night in the cell of the police station closest to the courthouse. Three sessions that lasted about two weeks, telling the same story over and over again until someone could make up their mind.

"I understand that it's difficult for you, so take your time" Your defense looked at you as a victim, not as just another psychopath, it wasn’t a great help, his look of pity boiled your blood.

"I had been in brothels for a little over five years, in different places, although I didn't know exactly where, they blindfolded us and kept men with us, with guns" The weight and cold metal of a revolver barrel is a sensation that will never leave your skin.

"You and other women" matter of fact-ly directed himself towards you. "Yes" you tried to sound sad, not as nonchalant as you would hope. "How many would you say?" One hallway, five rooms, the red door always had more voices coming out.

"There were six of us in the room, but some time passed and two of them didn't come back. When I left I saw that there were more rooms so I guess more than a dozen" you managed to get 26 girls out, the red room was secured on the inside for some reason, so picking the lock resorted impossible, and when you thought you had cracked it, your boss came back through the main door.

Spotting you, red-handed.

"And those two who didn't come back, do you know what happened to them?" you shook your head, "Not very well, but I heard that the ones that aren't sold to other brothels are usually killed in front of the newer ones to set an example, but it may have been just a rumor".

"There were women of many ages, the youngest must have been about fifteen or fourteen" chained, with hands and legs to the wall. You watched as the youngest and newest ones entered trembling with fear, knowing there was only so much you could do for them.

“People of the jury, she’s no psychopath, she is a little girl who tried to escape her captors, a stray kitten who saw no other way than to scratch her abusers in self defense” ‘Oh call me kitten one more time’ you bit down, trying your very best not to give them even a smidge of anger to use against you.

“Miss Desmond, why did you join the army?” They had not asked themselves why, they had only seen the deception and identity theft. “Objection, relevance?” The defense tried to prevent your attorney from using a sympathy card, but the judge, tired of going over the same case over and over again, allowed it. Like the jury, he was curious as to why on earth a woman would want to enlist in the military.

“Overruled. Miss Desmond, answer the question” your answer left a few men in disbelief.

“I tried to join the police force to bring down the people in the brothel, but not only did they reject me, but also they didn’t believe me, so I thought the army would help me build my body to help others” ‘how noble’ you heard the judge mutter under his breath.

“You didn’t want anyone else to feel like a victim” speculative, that earned a misplaced objection. “No, I wanted to give the victims someone that would fight for them, some hope to survive” an executioner, someone that would cut the heads of the snakes for them.

The judge called both representatives to the chambers after they started arguing, faces far too close, fists tight and white, like two wolves showing their fangs in warning.

“She did forge an ID to enter the army” started the defense, "Forging an ID can be considered a misdemeanor, but my client did not do it for sinister reasons" continued your attorney. "And what do you suggest we do with your client, Mr. Davis?" the old judge sat, his eyes never leaving your over coloured form.

"Remand her to the care of her family, one foot outside will get her 35 to life in prison”  a bunch of files were opened before the eyes of the judge, records of your family mostly. "Does Ms. Desmond have a family, a husband?" no husband, though there were men that tried to buy you for that purpose, you never understood why. 

"A cousin in New Orleans, no husband” you shook your head at the thought of your cousin, you haven't seen him in years and now you were going to drop on his front door in shackles with a criminal record? “I don’t want to be a burden to my cousin”, you didn’t even know how he looked like after so many years.  

“If you get a husband, it will be the same sentence, remanded to his care, one year” tied to a man that will have a sexual appetite, and probably demand that of you, hell no. Your attorney saw the hesitation in your face, “Y/n listen, either is this or a lifetime in the reformatory in Indiana, your choice”.

After what felt like half an hour, the jury had come to a decision. 

“Does the jury have a verdict?” you closed your eyes, a bruising grip on your skirt as the leading man spoke, “We have, your honor”.

“On the charge of first-degree murder, how do you find?” the charge of planned manslaughter, “Not guilty” and how it hurt their pride to find no evidence of a planned murder. “On the charge of forgery, how do you find?” oh, that’s the one you would have to pay a few bucks to get rid of, “Guilty”.

After assuming that you would walk as a free woman, the judge proposed house arrest to the jury, “Gentlemen of the jury, do you agree with the solution?” instead of the fine that forgery would make you pay for the rest of your life and that you would not finish paying even after death, “Yes, your honor” now you were going to be imprisoned, again.

"Y/N Desmond, you are hereby remanded to your family’s care, you will be considered a flight risk, and your title as a soldier will be removed”

“This is an extraordinary measure, given that you freed more people than you killed, but as Mr. Davis says, one foot outside will resort to a lifetime behind bars, do you agree to this?” it’s not like you had any other option, “Yes your honor, thank you”.

The sound of the gavel was the last thing heard in that quiet courtroom. 

You were assigned a nurse for your medical care, among other cares. Given the severity of your wounds and the time it took you to call for help in the army, several of them became infected or went from being a knife scratch to a deep cut.

The stitches made by the commander's assistant were not the best, so some dead pieces of skin had to be surgically removed and sutured. More than one or the other, you looked like the daughter of the mummy and Frankenstein, covered in sutures and bandages.

Not to mention the cut on your cheek from the first time you were forced to please a man, orally. The mobster took an awfully big liberty in permanently scarring your face, which is why he was never allowed back in.

The train and ferry ride was long. At night you couldn't really appreciate the scenery, much less being handcuffed and delivered to your cousin's door without warning.

Finally, the police car that picked you up at the port stopped in front of a two-story brown house. In the darkness of the night, and with it being the new moon phase, there wasn't much you could make out of the image.

A police woman delivered a few punches to the front door, immediately attracting rapid footsteps from the inside. 

“Howard Desmond?” she asked, suddenly Howard was paler than he already was. “Yes, is there a problem, officers?” A tall man, with short, ebony-black, tattered hair, dressed in an old, smelly nightgown, as if he had never washed it, appeared through the door. 

"Your cousin, Y/n Desmond, is under your legal care for one year, the details are written here" he slammed a thick file against his chest, before pushing you inside "We'll be monitoring from time to time, just to make sure the sentence is carried out" he released the iron grip of the shackles and walked out the door.

“Thank you, uhm, good night officers” Howard said goodbye, absolutely sleep deprived and shocked. Though that would be an understatment.

“Y/n, what the hell?” He wobbled a little, but after processing it for a second, Howard ran to hug you. The embrace was something you longed, every fiber of your being wanted to remain in his arms until your flesh dissolved.The sudden pins and needles that his strength against your wounds provoked was everything but comfortable, but to be cared for just one second, you could bear with it.  

“What happened?” cold rushed by your body the second he stepped away, he glanced at the file for a second, “I can’t summarize five years of shit in a couple sentences” that came out shaky, more than you expected.

“How did the jury find you?” you rested your back against the wall, finding some comfort in the cold surface, “Not guilty for first-degree murder, but guilty for forgery, thank god they oversaw the identity theft charge” he was appalled, not understanding a single thing and making movie about you being a mastermind of crime in his head. You rolled your eyes and pointed to the file they gave him, “Like they said, read it, may I have some water?” from the table next to the coats he took a small pair of glasses, his face became paler as he read the reports. “Of course” he sprinted towards the kitchen whilst reading and muttering ‘oh goodness’ as he went.

Meanwhile you took it upon yourself to wander around the living room, specially to the picture frames on top of the fireplace. His graduation, marriage - she was pretty, maybe too pretty-, then Howard in front of a building with a glass and lots of happy people - maybe a grand opening?-.  

His pacing sound made you turn around, the silence as he handed you the glass of water was sepulchral. “Wow, you own a business? Swell” an ice breaker, not a very good one, because he didn’t seem to un-glue his eyes off the pages. 

“Twenty-one?” he breathlessly asked, either in disbelief or pride, you weren’t sure, his tone didn’t match the smile on his face. You nodded, saying something would be redundant, given that your confession was on the report, signed by you. 

“And a nurse will be coming to my house to tend to your rehab?” Multiple injuries that worsened over time, bones that healed poorly, rehabilitation and physical therapy was the only option the doctor gave you to heal completely. You thought it was incredibly invasive, but they promised you a woman nurse to aid you, so in order to heal, you could bear it. 

“It’s already paid for” Howard felt his knees buckle at the sudden information, he hadn’t seen you in years and you show up with this kind of situation, money wasn’t the problem. “You know that’s not what I mean” with that he meant perhaps what kind of people the crime committed could attract.

“Look, I didn’t want this to happen, my parents aren’t an option and I don’t have a husband, please” begging to stay somewhere safe for a year wasn’t on your plans, but for the sake of not being thrown in jail for the rest of your life, you could lower your pride enough.

This time, willingly.

“Did you get them all, or?” The disagreement look you gave him was enough of an answer.

Howard was going to ask about your possible luggage, but noticed that you only had what you were wearing, the cream-colored ruffled dress from the trial. Thinking out-loud he began to make a list of needs, “I’ll have a modiste come tomorrow, also I’ll hire you a tutor so you can learn some basics” he spoke of shoes, undergarments, cooking books, he wrote everything so he wouldn’t forget.

“Sweet lord” he exhaled, gathering some thoughts, “You want…some alcohol, food?” you shook your head, “I’m not very hungry, the train got me a bit dizzy” he left the note with the file and his reading glasses on the table near the door, “Then, rest, we’ll figure stuff out in the morning” he took the empty glass off your hands, after putting it down in the sink he made his way to the stairs.

“Howard th-” he cut you off before you could finish your sentence, “Don’t even mention it, not until you are thoroughly okay” with that he disappeared upstairs, the sound of a door closing the last you heard.

---

Stay tuned.

Taglist open: @littlebluefishtail @maxlynn17

[veveisveryuncool]

Has dark meta knight ever drawn pictures of the Kirby cast before.

I love how he canonically draws really horribly as stated from the star sillies picture.

yeah um. he's touchy about that

soryg😭 this was kinda rushed

[seungfl0wer]

Changbin As Your Boyfriend

Bangchan | Minho | Changbin | Hyunjin | Han | Felix | Seungmin | Jeongin

Contains smut 🩷

Posting this on Changbins birthday🩷 so happy birthday so the very man who got me into stray kids. The loml, the man of everyone’s dreams.

-🩵

•Man is all about you.

•He really just thinks about you a lot.

•The members joke that you’re one of the only people he’ll text back right away.

•Likes to send you gym pictures.

•A lot of gym pictures.

•Just so you’ll compliment him.

•And please do that.

•Do it a lot, because this man just gushes at your praise and kind words.

•The way he just giggles and blushes when you say anything remotely like it.

•Even when you’re together for years he’s still a blushing mess.

•Wants to constantly cuddle.

•You wrapped in his strong arms.

•His favorite thing to do while you’re cuddling is nuzzle his face into your neck.

•Softly leaving kisses as he repeats “Mine, All mine”

•Brings you his clothes to wear constantly because it just melts him.

•He’ll make the comment about “Wow whoever hoodie that is they got taste”

•Loves bringing you to his home with him to hang out with his mom.

•Changbin is so family oriented and to see you and his family together just-

•It makes him wanna cry.

•And the first time you meet his family seeing them love you.

•He’s crying, and he’s crying hard. Holding onto you with a big smile plastered on him.

•Asks you a lot to go to the gym.

•Even if you don’t wanna work out he just likes having your company there.

•Has the Worst photo of you as his Home Screen.

•He finds it so cute and funny.

•He’ll whine when you say you think it’s ugly.

•Because how dare you say that about his partner.

•You guys have such deep conversations.

•He really loves these.

•Just sitting there talking about your future, your dreams, the meaning of life, and how he could make dwaekki could be an actual animal.

•Always texting to make sure you ate.

•He’s always worried you’re not taking care of yourself.

•Has a whole snack box stocked of your faves at all times.

•Also if you ever say anything about something hurting and or feeling sick.

•Mans there so fast to take care of you.

•He’ll be worried until you feel better.

•And if you’re someone who gets periods?

•He’s making sure you have everything.

•Plus make sure to have time to come cuddle you if you need while you’re suffering.

•Has so many files of songs for you too.

•Mans really whipped for you and he wouldn’t have it any other way honestly.

•You both are just each other’s support system. Solving any problems with communication.

•You’re constantly there for each other, in anyway the other needs.

︵‿︵‿୨Smut Below୧‿︵‿︵

•Body worshiping at its finest.

•Kissing every inch of your body, Telling you how stunning you are.

•Lots of praise, So much praise From the both of you.

•”Y/n do you know how good looking you are?” Followed by even more kissing.

•”Binnie my handsome man, aah your lips are so soft”

•His favorite position is definitely one where he’s holding you up.

•Loves showing off his strength of course.

•Plus he loves how you grip on to his arms.

•He has your body memorized, all your sweet spots everything.

•He loves the way you sound- oh god does he ever.

•The way you sound when you are just coming undone around him.

•He wants to save those sounds forever.

•Definitely has a thing for you sucking his fingers.

•Has his hand cupped under your chin, thumb to your lips as you suck on it.

•You ask for anything during he’s giving it you right away.

•”Please Bin- Faster” “Deeper, aah right there”

•He’s giving you anything you want.

•You could ask him to murder someone and he’d probably say yes.

•100% probably records your noises.

•Yeah y’all have phone sex while he’s away

•But nothing compares to the sound of him fucking you into another dimension.

•Although he is very soft for you.

•He fucks you so good, so rough but full of so much love.

•Makes you cum multiple times before he’s cuming.

•God the cuddles after sex though?

•You’re actually just glued together at this point.

•He’s not letting you go for at least 10 minutes.

•And when you finally get up to pee he’s whining.

•Making small grabby hands for you to come back.

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

[rafeandonlyrafe]

never truly gone

words: 2k

alternative universe where rafe was the one to fake his death instead of ward

warnings: funeral, discussions of death and grief, established relationship, murder confession (canon murder), implications of smut (no actual sex)

you are barely tuned in to the words being spoken at the funeral, lost in the haze of grief. dressed in the same outfit you wore for your one year anniversary with rafe. it was his favorite. was. the word hits you like a ton of bricks.

it didn't feel real for the longest time, part of it still doesn't, the feeling in your gut that your boyfriend isn't truly gone, but as you pick your head up and look around, you realize you have to get over the stage of denial.

“are you okay?” your mom whispers, reaching over to squeeze your hand. you rip it immediately out of her grip. of course you're not okay. who could be after their first love, their high school sweetheart, blew up?

“now is the time that we invite anyone who would like to say a few words up to the mic.” the pastor says, looking out into the crowd, members of rafes family having already spoken.

ward turns around to look at you. he invited you to sit in the front row when you first arrived, but you didn't want that kind of attention, your every reaction being scrutinized, if you’re crying too much, or not reacting enough.

“would you like to speak y/n?” 

you look at the crumpled, tear stained piece of paper with some words scribbled on it.

“i-i don't know if i can.” you admit. ward seemed so strong when he spoke, the same pillar of community he seems to be when speaking at town halls or midsummers.

“whatever you say, im sure rafe would appreciate it.”

you nod, take a deep breath, then stand. your mind seems to blur as you walk to the front, the pastor greeting you with a soft hug then leading you to the podium.

you clear your throat before looking down at the paper. 

“i never imagined a life without you. you were the first man i ever loved and i can't… i can't see myself ever having that same love again. we changed each other so much. we went from kids to young adults planning out their life together. i love you so much, rafe. i always will no matter how much time passes.” you vow.

your next words turn robotic, talking about the family he left behind, his accomplishments, things that don't actually matter to you but you know should be said. you recount the five years you were together, knowing someone is no doubt scoffing at how little it is, but it was your whole world.

you manage to hold in your sobs until you sit back down. you spend the rest of the funeral with your head down, unable to look at the pictures hung around the church.

-- 2 months later --

you let out a groan as you turn over in bed, not wanting to wake up, wanting to spend another day rotting under the covers.

“it's almost noon.” your mom says, peaking in to the door.

“yeah.” you say, sniffling as you see the photo on your nightstand when you go to look at your alarm clock. you can't bring yourself to move it, even if it makes you cry every time you see rafes smiling face. “i know.”

“maybe we could go out to dinner. or order some pizza? you need to eat, baby.” you know your mom is just looking out for you, but the thought of food makes you feel sick, eating at this point when your stomach truly needs it.

“yeah, maybe.” you pick your phone up off the nightstand and unplug it. “im gonna take a shower and get dressed.”

“that's good.” your mom says. “i love you, y/n.”

“love you too mama.” you pause for a beat when she doesn't shut your door. “thank you.”

you mom nods before exiting. you open up your phone to the gallery that causes you as much pain as it has joy, flicking through your final photos with rafe before sighing and getting up to shower with him fresh in your mind, determined to not forget a single thing about him.

--

you're about to go to sleep, pass out and hopefully not dream of anything. you went out for dinner like you promised your mom, trying to keep a brave face for her. she didn't even mention anything when you came back from an extended trip to the bathroom with tear stains on your cheeks and red eyes.

you grab your phone, swallowing harshly to stop yourself from crying again as you click on your messages, rafes contact still pinned to the top. 

you click on your messages. the last text was rafe saying he loved you. you never got to text him back, but you know he was aware of how much you loved him.

you scroll back for a bit, smiling at his jokes even with the tears in your eyes.

you lock your phone and place it on your chest, looking up at the glittering stars through your skylight. “i miss you so much, rafe. why'd you have to leave me?”

your phone vibrates. you almost ignore it, not caring who it could be from, you've practically ditched all your friends, hoping they won't hold it against you when you finally feel good enough to hang out again, if that time ever comes.

something in you makes you pause when you go to plug your phone in, makes you hesitate and open up the text.

baby, im so sorry. please meet me outside, im at your dock.

love, rafe

you frown at the text from the unknown number, considering ignoring the obvious prank as you fling off your covers, body now fueled with rafe, but when you look out the window, there is an unfamiliar boat tied to your dock.

you slip on your shoes, not really thinking of a plan as you head outside, rushing through the yard to find out whoever is playing tricks on you.

the moon barely lights your steps as you stomp down the wooden dock until you're close enough from the boat for them to hear you and far enough from your house to not wake up your mom.

“this isn't fucking funny!” you scream. “whoever is pranking me, you're fucked up!”

a figure steps out of the boat and onto your dock. it takes your eyes a second to adjust, to really take in what you're seeing, to know it's reality.

“n-no.” you take a staggering step back. “im-im seeing things.”

“it's really me, baby.” the word hits you like a bullet as you fall to your knees, not caring that they dig into the wood. “i can explain everything but-but can i touch you? ive missed you so goddamn much.”

“this isn't real. you're- you're dead. im dreaming.”

rafe moves closer, dropping to his knees as well and pulling you into a tight hug. it isn't until he touches you that you know that it's not a dream, hes real and warm against you.

“oh, god.” you begin to sob, clutching onto rafe, clambering closer to him, climbing onto his lap and hugging him so tightly it's like your bodies could become one.

“im so fucking sorry baby. i love you. i love you so much.”

“i love you.” you sob, pulling back to look rafe in the eye. “i-i love you and you can never leave me again.”

you'll demand answers later, but now you're just happy your initial gut instinct was right, your boyfriend is right here, alive and well.

“can i kiss you? you're probably pissed at me but-”

you don't wait for rafe to finishing, surging forward and smashing your lips against his, all the passion and feelings of the past two months without him, but also the past five years of love, put into your bodies as you kiss under the moonlight.

“baby-” rafe gasps after a minute. “i-i need to get back on the boat. just in case i’m seen. come with me.”

“okay.” you're not sure what it means, but you're not going to let rafe out of your sight.

rafe climbs onto the boat before helping you, hand carefully stroking over yours as he leads you into the cabin.

“did you tell anyone that i messaged you?” he asks, sitting down on the bed and pulling you to his side.

“no.” you shake your head. “my mom doesn't even know.”

“that's good.” rafe nods. “i faked my death.”

“i can tell.” you giggle, unable to keep away for much longer as you press your lips against his in a quick peck before curiosity has your tongue loosening. “how? why?”

“my dad planned it for me. the boat was rigged to explode and i went and suited up in scuba gear. the why…” rafe hesitates for a moment, and you can read every emotion on his face.

“just tell me.” you say. “you can't hurt me. you can't make me mad at you, not when i just got you back.”

“i killed sheriff peterkin.” rafe swallows harshly. “it was to protect my dad, but of course nobody would believe me.”

“i believe you.” you tell rafe, tucking your head into his neck. “that must have been so scary, but i know how you'd do anything to protect the people you love.”

“my dad didn't want me to tell you at all. i agreed to wait until after it happened, but it all moved so fast, and when i got to where i was supposed to hide out for a while, i realized i had no way of contacting you. i had to steal a phone and this boat and leave the safehouse.”

“what's the plan now then?” you ask.

“have you come back to the safehouse with me. it's in the caribbean, on a gorgeous island. i will provide everything you need, we won't have to hide there.”

“and what will i tell my family? tell everyone?”

“well, your mom loves me.” rafe smiles, knowing he's right. “i think we can trust her to keep the secret. as for everyone else… maybe you just need some time away from the outer banks after what happened. maybe some cousins in michigan or something?”

“whatever.” you shake your head. “i just need to be with you.”

-- one week later --

“when you said safe house…” you look around the mansion. “this is not what i was picturing.”

“the locals here think im a cousin of the cameron family. allows me to stay here without much suspicion. i do keep a low profile and stay out of touristy areas just in case, but we can do whatever you want here. the ocean is right outside our doorstep.”

“and money? do i need to get a job?” you've never worked before, having grown up wealthy, but you're willing to do anything to keep your life going with rafe, having told your mom who didn't believe you until rafe stepped into the room. she saw the spark in your eyes and recognized it as the same one in hers when she looked at your father, and her time was also cut short when he passed young.

she made you promise to call and to let her visit every couple months, just enough to not be suspicious.

“no.” rafe shakes his head. “my dad funnels me money. cash, so no one gets suspicious.”

“honestly, i could just stay forever in the house and in the backyard.” you laugh, wrapping your arms around rafes shoulders, pressing a kiss to his lips.

“my dad will figure something out eventually, i don't expect you to hide for the rest of your life.”

“okay.” you shrug. now that you're with rafe, you don't care. you're going to be happy no matter what after feeling the pain of losing him.

“there is one more room i want to show you…” rafe picks you up, your legs slotting around his waist like nothing ever happened. 

you laugh as you kiss his neck, knowing exactly where he's taking you.

sfw tags: @winterrrnight @bejeweledreverie @ladyinbl00d @ethanthequeefqueen @drewsephrry

[isuckatwritingsobenice]

Hii, this is my first time requesting and I wanted to know if you could do an Alastor x hard to get fem reader, who is somewhat stronger than him in the beginning, but as Alastor fights more overlords he gets stronger and tries to woo her into a relationship with him and she is just not having it. Maybe he goes as far as killing a member of the Goetia family to prove his strength but in turn makes the reader like panic and cast him away from her. Maybe Alastor wins her back by taking care of someone that’s been bother her than she doesn’t have time to deal with, like a stalker or something. I hope this wasn’t too much, I just really love your writing!

A/N: kiss your brain i love this so much!!! I love writing for Alastor and i’m so excited for the show to come out so this makes me extra excited!! I haven’t written in a little while so I apologize if this was a bit off, still getting into the swing of things! But I hope this was good!

Warnings: Obsessiveness, slight yandere!, murder, power trip, mentions of death, cannibalism, mentions of blood

Navigation!! // Masterlist!!

Hard to get

Meeting you wasn’t something Alastor thought would affect him as much as it did

You were different, but a different that scared him and he hated that

Your power and calmness together sent shivers down his spine, it gave him an adrenaline he had been craving and he didn’t even know it

After his fight with you he had fled, to hide away bask in your energy

He had gone as far as studying you from afar, watching the way you carried yourself and the way you went about your day

He would become stronger than you, to take you down but to also have you as his own; his bride

In his eyes you were a prize to be cherished, someone to love so dearly you wouldn’t need to lift a finger again

He had talked to you during a meeting with other overlords, after everyone was done cowering from his power

You were quiet, stoic and didn’t say much- hell you didn’t even spare him a glance

¨Hello dear!¨Alastor said calmly to you after the meeting.

You didn’t say anything, you just stared at him with a blank face, waiting for him to continue

¨May I help you?¨You asked, and he just grinned

¨Why yes you may! I couldn’t help but take notice to how awfully somber you looked all by your lonesome and felt it was my duty to accompany you.¨He said with a grin, leaning down to get a better look at your features.

¨I was actually doing quite fine before you came along thank you.¨You say, facing away from him and turning your nose up slightly. You clearly couldn’t be bothered to socialize with someone like him. His smile stretched painfully wide and he fought every urge to pull you to him right there.

¨Well I-¨

You cut him off

¨If you wouldn’t mind, the stench of blood is heavily present on you and I’d appreciate it if you cleaned yourself up properly and kindly left me alone. I’d hate to have a repeat of our first meeting.¨You said, side eyeing him.

He was stunned to say the least, and without another word, walked away from you, his dignity in shards at his feet.

You had really pushed him over this edge and a part of him was living for it but the other part really wanted to burn the entire city down.

Weeks went by and he was silent for a while, pondering over your words and what you had said. Clearly your standards were high, higher than him by far. He would have to play better.

He began taking his anger out on other overlords, claiming territory day by day and night by night. His carnage all over the radio, for you to hear. His subliminal message to you, that he was a changed man. Ready to be the man you needed him to be.

¨Please, whatever you want Ill give it to you, just please enough of this!¨ The overlord shrieked as Alastor rummaged through their belongings, his shadows making work of their lower ranked demons.

He stops when he sees a picture of you on their wall, a photo, where you were actually smiling.

Words couldn’t express how his dead heart felt, he was in such a state of shock he didn’t even remember killing the poor overlord. What a shame, and here he thought he could’ve asked some good questions about you.

He keeps the picture for himself, along with a file the overlord had made about you

Clearly you were smarter than you let on, because the file was made up of small things almost anyone could gather about you- poised, confident, but quiet

Alastor had made his way to where you resided, a large estate in a rural area, with a tower attached to the back of the building. It was gorgeous and seemingly had you written all over it.

Stepping onto the front grounds, he took notice to how the grass was withered and dead, but sharp black roses decorated the steps leading up to you’re front door. It was so elegant, so precise. So much so he had fallen in love all over again.

He hadn’t bothered to get flowers, knowing you would probably take them and kill them right in front of him.

Knocking on the door three times he waited quietly, hearing light footsteps make their way to the door.

A smaller, frail woman opened the door, and he smiled politely down at her.

¨Hello sir, I believe her majesty is not available right now. Though she expected your arrival. Would you care to come inside and wait for her with some hot tea?¨ The small woman asked.

Alastor just nodded and stepped inside, taking the interior in as best as he could, hoping to burn the image into his brain. The smaller woman led him through various halls, all elegantly decorated by your hand as she explained, before leading him to your study, a large library with a glass windows all around.

He took a seat, taking the liberty to put a record on, slowly humming to the jazz as he waited for your arrival.

Some time later you stepped in, Góetia prince in toe as you pulled a book from the higher shelves with your magic, handing it to the prince.

¨I believe this was all¨ was all you said. He nodded, the two of you giving Alastor a quick glance before shaking hands. The Goetia prince turned on his heel and left quickly, leaving you to deal with Alastor.

¨You have proven to be a constant thorn in my side.¨You sigh, sitting across from Alastor in your study. He just grins, finally happy to have some of your attention.

¨Well a thorn does belong on a rose, does it not?¨He asked, and you clicked your tongue.

¨Roses get their thorns cut off.¨You reply, still cold and monotone. There’s no expression on your face, and its then he takes in your appearance.

Dressed from head to toe in a long black dress that hugs you quite nicely. Your hair is done back, away from your face, making your features all the more present. You sit cross legged, and don’t say much else, waiting for a response.

¨Well that is also true.¨Alastor finally draws out. You hum, leaning back in your chair.

¨What it is you want from me?¨You ask finally, eyes shutting for a moment.

¨Well I-¨Alastor stops, the door opening to reveal the smaller woman again.

¨Excuse me your majesty, but the prince is back- and quite enraged.¨She said nervously, a loud crash coming from down the hall. You sigh, standing.

¨A moment please.¨You excuse yourself, leaving the study. The small woman stays inside, and Alastor decides to take this time to question her.

¨That prince, is he?¨Alastor asks, and the small woman shakes her head.

¨Goodness no, her majesty would never get with royalty. She’s trying to get away from that life.¨The small woman said. So the prince wasn’t your prince, that was for sure.

¨How long has she been down here?¨Alastor asks, knowing his arrival had been pretty recent.

¨twenty years. Died on March fifth, 1909.¨ The small woman said. ¨She was a child when she died, but thankfully to her power, she can continue to age as much as she wants here. Per her family’s request.¨ The woman said.

¨I hope you two are having fun gossiping.¨You said stepping back into the room, flicking a piece of glass off of your hand. Alastor sits up, now a bit more confident in talking to you.

¨Oh the most fun one could have.¨Alastor draws on, the small woman nodding to him as she steps out. You take your place back across from him, massaging your temples.

¨Lets get on with this shall we.¨You say, ¨I don’t know what you want from me. But let it be known I have felt you watching me, lurking as one would say. If you don’t want a detachment from your head to your torso I would politely suggest you leaving me alone.¨You say, your eyes sharper, but tone still calm. He could see the enragement behind your tone.

¨Why don’t we have dinner? I can explain much more than my dear.¨

¨Do not call me that.¨You say, and he laughs.

¨I will not be so easily swayed, unfortunately for you.¨He says grinning. He stands, tapping his staff on the ground to wake his radio up. ¨I do believe that my visit must be cut short. I have more sinners to erase!¨He grins happily, poofing himself out of the room and elsewhere thanks to his shadow.

You don’t hear from him for quite some time, and its almost comforting. He kept his distance at overlord meetings, even though fewer overlords were alive to be present thanks to him.

You had began getting small gifts, and seeing shadows whenever you turned corners. Almost like a mind game. Though you were sure it was him, you had more important things to tend too than his childish games.

It wasn’t until you had gotten home from the Goetia ball that you were face to face with him again.

In the foyer of your home, black tiles stained red, Alastor stood in the middle of the mess. The Goetia prince beheaded in your home.

¨What have you done?!¨You yelled, panic settling in. Alastor had worked so hard for this. A Goetia prince? Hell royalty was a new kill for him truly.

¨He wont bother you anymore my dear, of course I had hoped the mess would be cleaned by now but the fight he put up was quite time consuming.¨He said with a chuckle.

¨Alastor get out. Now.¨You said, and it was then he had froze. You were surrounded by an aura of black smoke, breathing heavy and eyes going full white. The room had began to get darker, and the doors behind you flung open, wind raging as he fought to keep his feet planted on the ground.

¨Cant we just-¨

¨I said- get, out.¨You said, swapping places with him in a blink of an eye, having his body pushed through your doorway with the wind, sending him into the forest far away from your home.

It had been ten years since then.

Alastor had felt defeated. He had tried all he could. Gifts, flowers, cleaning up your messes that you refused to admit were yours. Hed taken out such awful suitors who thought they had a chance with you.

It wasn’t until the next overlord meeting, when you didn’t show up, he had gotten worried. He knew he should’ve stayed away. But he just couldn’t. He hadn’t looked you in the eye for so long, but putting his own fear judgment aside, he decided to check up on you. Rosie, a friend he had acquired, had told him one visit wouldn’t hurt.

He found your doors wide open, the area eerily quiet, the dust coating your home entirely out of character for you. A man stood in your foyer, calling your name over and over frustrated.

¨ Please Y/n,talk to me! Anything!¨He said. The man was trying his hardest to get you to show yourself.

¨Excuse me.¨ Alastor said, and the man turned to look at him.

¨Who the fuck are you?¨ The man asked, and Alastor just smiled.

¨ Someone you’re going to wish you never met.¨ he said. The man doesn’t have time to react, his bones breaking on him, as he collapses on the floor with a loud shriek of pain. It draws out for a bit before the man finally dies, a slice to his chest shutting him up as he chokes on his own blood. Alastor hums as his shadows make quick work of cleaning the mess he made. He knew you hated your tiles stained.

¨Alastor?¨ You ask, standing at the top of the staircase. Your hair is down, still in the same dress Alastor had memorized so well. He smiles, his dead heart freezing over at the sight of you.

¨hello dear. Forgive me for my sudden intrusion. You weren’t at todays meeting and I thought to check up on you.¨He said, pulling a handkerchief from his coat pocket and wiping his hands with it. You walked down the steps slowly, taking in the shadows working on the now dead man on your floor.

¨ Did you do this?¨You asked, looking through the open door of your home. Your voice was softer than before. You looked a mess, but almost put together in a way. As if you were only slightly losing your mind.

¨Yes.¨He said, taking your hand and pulling you closer to him. He figured this was his last shot with you. Now that he had you here, he had to take advantage.

¨Mon cheri, I know you casted me away all those years ago. But I have you here now, and I cannot hold this will in my heart any longer without telling you.¨He said, his other hand turning your face to have you look at him. Your eyes were different this time, something he couldn’t read. But still, he kept on. ¨ I believe my love for you is strong in itself. I can protect you, you wont ever have to worry about some deadly sinner like this again. I know you didn’t believe I was capable of making you happy. But I must know now, if I am truly worthy of your love. I will do whatever it takes.¨ He said.

Your eyes were dark, with something he could only describe as pure lust. ¨Alastor please, you always were.¨You say with a smile. He had been so, immature before. But after years it seemed he changed, on the surface that was. Maybe you could give him a chance. Maybe he was worth coming out of the dark for a bit. Especially now, since he was stronger than you.

¨But, you must promise me something.¨ You say to him, and he nods quickly.

¨Of course.¨ He says. You grin at his willingness, and turn away from him, the mess he made now long gone.

¨Do not ever play me for a fool again.¨ You say. He stiffens and nods, hands as gently as possible reaching out for you.

He turns around around to face him, and almost jumps when he hears the doors to your home slam shut.

You don’t bat an eye, instead pulling him in by his tie and with a chuckle, eye his shadows as they snicker in a corner at the sight of the two of you. ¨ Dont worry, I know you wont.¨

Alastor just grinned, finally proud of himself. Not only had he gotten his power, no, he had gotten his hands on you as well.

[specialagentlokitty]

Will Graham x teen!reader - our support animals

Hi I would like a request for Will Graham and teen Reader getting a dog and somehow gets an old boy who was returned 5 times? - Anon💜

Sitting on the steps in front of your school, you glanced down at your watch in order to check the time, wondering if it was worth just going for a walk or not.

You didn’t want to be at school, so you had messaged Will asking if he could come pick you up since you didn’t know who else to call at this point.

Finally you saw his car pulling up outside, and you got up, making your way to the passenger side in order to get in.

“Thanks for getting me…” you mumbled.

“Are you okay?” Will asked.

You gave a small shrug, resting your head on the window as you watched everything just rolling by.

“Not ready to go back?”

“No… I don’t know I just… all those people.. all looking at me.. I don’t know..”

Will glanced at you, turning his attention back to the road.

“They know what happened.” He said.

“I mean who doesn’t at this point? My parents were murdered a nearly a year ago, they weren’t all that great at parents anyways and now im in the care of an FBI agent who isn’t really FBI agent. I missed the rest of the school year last year and news travels fast I guess.”

“You don’t have to be in my care if you don’t want to be. Children’s services already said they can easily find you a home if you want it.”

You whipped your head around to look at him.

“No!”

You frowned a little.

“I just… I don’t.. they’ll all be happy families…”

“You can’t be around that right now, I understand that.”

You nodded your head, looking back to the road, trying to figure out where you guys were going.

“I’m sorry I made you leave work.”

“It’s fine, I wasn’t doing anything interesting anyway, and I don’t think I could have sat there listening to Jack for much longer.”

This made you smile a little bit, and you look at him.

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll find out a minute.”

You turned back to watching the roads go by, and finally Will pulled the car into a parking lot, and you climbed out of the car.

“A rescue?”

“I know you love the dogs, you get sad when they all follow me not you. So, we’re going to get you your own dog, Hannibal believes having a pet may help in your recovery.”

You furrowed your brow and Will opened the door to the rescue, gesturing for you to enter, and you did looking around.

While he went to talk to the people in the reception, you looked around, wondering about to look at posters and photos of the animals they had up for adoption.

You weren’t paying that much attention to anything else that going on, and every so often Will would glance at you to make sure that you were still there.

“(Y/N), please don’t wonder away.”

You turned to look at Will and he held his arm out to you.

You walked over and stood next to him, you turned away from the receptionist, and Will kept a hand on your shoulder.

“Is there anything specific you’re looking for in a pet?” The woman asked.

Will looked down at you and you shook your head.

“Can we just look at them all?”

“If you want to then yes.” He smiled.

He carried on speaking to the woman, and you stretched a little bit, letting out a yawn as you waited.

Finally you were allowed to walk through and have a look at all the dogs.

There was a lot of barking, and in a strange way it put you at ease, living with Will as your caretaker for nearly a year had made you used to the sounds of barking.

“What about this one?” Will asked.

You walked over to him.

“It says her name is Luna, she’s a husky, she’s two years old, is very friendly, gets along with other dogs, was surrendered because the family couldn’t keep up with the upkeep of a husky.”

You looked at Luna, crouching down to see her better, and she paced back and forth, tail wagging happily.

“She’s really cute.”

“Do you want to keep looking?”

You nodded, letting Will help you stand up.

You carried on slowly wondering, stopping to look at all the dogs you past, Will would read you the information about them and you would keep wondering.

Will had taken particular interest in one of the dogs and you kept looking around at all of them until you reached the end kennel.

You carefully read over the information on the board and you sat down on the floor.

“Hey Enzo…”

The old Labrador lazily wagged his tail as he wondered over, laying down in front of the door, resting his head on his paws.

“Will?”

You turned to look at him and he got up, following after you.

“What is it?” He asked.

“I want Enzo.”

Will knelt down next to you, looking at the old dog.

“Yeah? What’s his story?”

“They’re not sure how old he is, but they do know he’s old. He’s been returned five times, apparently nobody wants to keep cause he’s old. That’s not fair…”

“It’s not.”

Will got up, placing a hand on your head to get your attention.

“Let’s go get one of the staff.”

“Can I stay with Enzo?”

Will glanced around, he didn’t seem so sure about the idea of leaving you alone there, but he saw there was only one entrance and exit.

“Alright, I’ll be just a minute.”

Will made his way to get a member of staff so you could meet the old Labrador and you sat on the floor, Enzo resting against your chest as you hugged him.

Will and the worker both smiled at the scene of you just cuddling this old dog who had been returned so many times.

“We’ll adopt him.” Will said.

You turned around to Will, smiling from ear to ear at him.

“I love him, he’s so sweet.”

“Well you have to love him because he’s yours and we’re not bringing him back.”

“Good.” You said.

Will filled out all the paperwork while you sat in the back of his car with Enzo, just happily petting the dogs head.

You were excited to bring Enzo back to meet all of Will’s dogs, and Enzo was pretty happy to go around with them all, wondering and exploring his new home.

You sat on the floor, waiting for him to come back so you could go back to petting him.

Will was sitting on the couch, stroking one of the other dogs.

“Do you think he knows any tricks?” You asked.

“I’m not sure, you’ll have to try. Go get the dog treats.”

You jumped up, running to the kitchen to get the dog treats and you sat on the couch next to Will, handing them to him.

You didn’t know as much about dogs as Will did, so you decided to let him see if Enzo knew any tricks or anything of the sort.

“Enzo come here boy!” You called.

The old slowly wondered over, stretching a little as he approached.

“Here, just hold this in your hand, let him see it.”

You did want Will said.

“Now, just say his name and whatever it is you’re wanting him to do.”

“Enzo sit.”

The old dog sat down, along with a few others.

“Now, give him the treat, scratch his head and tell him he’s a good dog. Positive actions mean he’ll bond to you more.”

“Good boy Enzo.”

You handed the Labrador his treat, and ruffled the fur behind his ears, grinning from ear to ear.

“We’ll get him settled in before we take him outside, and we’ll rest his recall while we’re here too.”

“Recall?”

You turned to look at Will.

“Yes. It’s how well an animal responds when you call their name, call them back to you, especially off leash dogs it’s very important.”

“Oh, if he doesn’t have good recall can we teach him it.”

Will smiled a little.

“Yeah, we can try to.”

“He’s gonna be my dog, you’re not allowed Enzo.”

Will chuckled a little bit at you.

“What if he likes me more?”

“Nope. He’s my dog.”

You sat back on the couch, patting your legs for Enzo, and he lazily climbed up, laying himself next to you with his head resting on your legs.

“Oh (Y/N) come on.”

Will had to stand up to let the dog lay down properly and you grinned from ear to ear at him.

“Do you want dinner yet?” Will asked.

“Uh, not yet. I’m not hungry. Can I help you cook it soon though? I don’t know how to cook.”

“I’ll teach you.”

You smiled, turning your attention back to Enzo and Will wondered away to do his own thing, happy that you were content there with your new family member.

He was hoping Enzo would help you in ways that he couldn’t, and since you refused to take part in any therapy he was hoping Enzo could be that support you needed especially on days when he couldn’t figure out how to help you.

Maybe there wasn’t fully enough room for another dog, but Will didn’t care about that, he could just adjust things a little if he needed too.

He had all his strays, and now you had Enzo, you both had your dogs for support, and you both had each other even if neither of you spoke about how you had fallen into Will’s care.

It didn’t matter, what mattered to Will now was keeping you safe and happy.

“Do you think he likes snow?” You called.

“I don’t know, we’ll find out soon.” He called back.

“Can he stay in my room?”

Will poked his head out for the kitchen.

“He can stay wherever you want him too (Y/N).”

You nodded your head, laying down on the couch to hug your new best friend

[beautifulpaprika]

Rage; Jungkook

Pairing: serialkiller!fem!reader x cleaner!jungkook

Warnings: smut :), mentions of blood, mentions of murder

Summary: Y/N holds a lot of rage for men who betray her. She's killed ex-boyfriends over and over without a second thought. Her friend, Eileen, grows worried for her and resorts to bringing back her first love to get Y/N back to her senses.

Word count: 4.1k

Y/N

I press my fingers into his cold skin. His unmoving eyes look into mine and I smile. 

“Maybe you’ll think twice in hell before you stay out all night,” I tell him, dragging a nail down his stubble, “But at least you won’t be here to torture me anymore.” 

I finally stand and take out my phone, dialing Eillen’s number. My finger drags across his desk in the corner of his living room where a photo of him and I sit. I recall the memory of us going to his grandmother’s birthday and he introduced me to all his dear friends and family. Little did they know he was a sneak and a liar! 

A buzzing in my mind rackets through my head then the sound of glass shattering pulls me out of my anger and the picture frame hits the ground.

“Y/N?” Eilleen calls through the phone. 

“Eileen!” I put on a smile hearing my best friend’s voice. 

“It’s midnight. What-“

”It happened again,” I say, crouching back to my ex’s dead body. There's silence on the other side. “You know what he told me yesterday? ‘Oh, I don’t wanna go out with my friends! I’ll be so worried about you!’,” I scoff. “Well, that was a lie,” I give a small kick to the corpse, “Not a call. Or text. Or-“

”How long are you going to do this?” She asks, her voice a whisper. I think on the question, contemplating the answer and whether I should tell her the truth or what she wants. 

“Eileen, they deserve it! Every single one. Don’t forget I used this power for you too,” I argue, recalling Peter Fent. A disaster they called a man who tortured my best friend relentlessly. Even thinking about his face wants to make me vomit. 

“And you know I regret that! We shouldn’t have-“ 

“Eileen. We’ve been on the receiving end of this hurt so many times, and what happens to them? Nothing!” Tears well up in my eyes when I think of all of my past experiences in the dating world. “So, I’ll do it.”

”Aren’t you tired?” She asks. “Instead of purposely looking for those sour ones, why not find someone who can treat you well? Someone you can settle down with? You don’t have to go around playing vigilante!” 

The truth is I am tired. If he had just told me who he was going with! Or even letting me know he was okay! But he didn’t care about me and that’s clear in the fact he was ignoring me. 

“I’m going to send you an address,” I tell her matter of factly, not letting her respond or say no. “Send your guy and I’ll have his money by tomorrow.” Before she can say anything else, I press the red button, cutting her off of any noise. 

“Rest easy, my love,” I kiss my man on the forehead and wave to him as I leave. 

I wait until I’m outside and walking down the long driveway. The crickets call to me, cheering on as I swipe through the dating app. Left, left, left, right, left, right. The moon shines it’s spotlight on me, the crickets continue to cheer, and I search for my next catch. 

*** 

Jungkook

“I’m glad we get to talk in proper conversation for once,” Eileen slides in the booth across from me. She looks neither happy nor upset to see me. 

“I have to say, seeing you brings both good and bad memories,” I admit. Eileen was Y/N’s best friend. Or is? I don’t keep up too much with too many people from my past. Especially not best friends of my exes.

“I admit that I feel the same way,” she’s about to say more when a waitress walks over asking for our drinks. I take that moment to think of all the questions I have - the first being why I was invited here. 

The waitress walks away, her eyes lingering on me as she walks. 

“I need your help,” Eileen whispers, her face closer to mine from across the table. 

“Why me?”

“I think you’re the only one who can help her. She’s-” we’re interrupted again by the same waitress setting down our cokes. 

“Ready to order?” she asks.

“Just the drinks, thanks,” I say. She looks slightly disappointed and Eileen doesn’t try hiding her rolling eyes. I give her a sheepish smile and she finally walks away. 

“Nothing much has changed with you, huh?” she keeps her eyes on the back of the girl walking away. Memories of girls flirting with me while Y/N was around comes to the forefront of my mind. 

“We won’t focus on that. You said you needed help, so what is it?” I take a long sip of the carbonated drink. 

“You’ve probably already guessed this is about Y/N.” I don’t tell her that I have. “She’s been having,” she pauses, “issues,” her face winces at the word. It intrigues me enough to lean in more. “Her love life is complicated,” she laughs, “And you’re the only person I can think of where she holds no resentment towards.” 

The mention of Y/N’s love life gives me chills. The thought of her with someone else, despite it being so many years, is a punch to the gut. I imagine her eyes near- shut while she’s laughing to some other guy’s joke. I imagine her holding him tight when they’re watching a movie. I imagine the headboard hitting the wall over and over again when he-

“I know it’s weird to ask this of you,” Eileen’s voice brings me out of the infuriating images, “but if you have any interest in seeing her again, or. . . anything,” there’s a desperation to her voice and before she can say anything else - 

“Yes.” 

She’s silent for a moment. 

“You’re willing to meet her?” her jaw hangs over her drink. 

“I wanna see her again. I really do,” I add the most sincerity that I can to my voice, because if Eileen is asking for her then she must not have a partner right now. “She doesn’t have a boyfriend, right?” I double-check.

“No. No not at all. She just went through a really, really,” she gulps, “bad break-up.” That makes me worry a bit. “But she’ll be happy to see you,” her head moves up and down quickly. I start wondering what exactly it is I’m getting myself into. 

***

Y/N

It seems that Eileen has come around. I was going through many boring messages of “You showered without me?”’s and “What’s your favorite season?”’s, when my best friend’s name appeared at the top saying “I think I have the perfect man for you. One I’m certain you won’t boot into oblivion ;)”

It made my day to know Eileen isn’t as upset with me. Not only that, but she’s making my life a lot easier with setups. 

The smell of bread and garlic wafts my face when I open the door to the pizzaria. 

My phone vibrates. A message appearing from an unknown number:

This is Y/N, right? 

I’m your date tonight. <3

I went ahead and got a table for us. Let me know when you’re here. 

Hm. Nice punctuation and he’s early? Eileen should set me up more often. 

I’m here 🙂 In the blue dress.

I look around, waving off the host in the process. I don’t spot anyone making eye contact with me, that is until I look to my right where a man in a black button up and black dress pants is walking towards me. His steps slow when we make eye contact and I almost collapse to the ground. 

This is a joke. Eileen has lost her fucking mind and decided this would be funny. 

“Don’t,” I whisper. I cover my mouth when it comes out too raspy and hold a hand out to stop him. I feel the sting in my eyes and my embarrassment heightens. The smell of Italian food is gone and the fresh air and city noise drowns me. 

“Y/N,” the voice comes behind me. 

“No!” I move through people on the sidewalk looking at us.

“Y/N, stop!” 

But I don’t. 

A grip on my arm pulls me back and my back meets the hard, brick wall. People are no longer looking, most likely thinking Jungkook is not one to be messed with by the ink adorning his arms and his neck. But I already know he isn’t dangerous. 

“What was that?” his breath fans my face. 

“What did Eileen say to you, hm? That you need to fix me?” I push on his chest, but it has little to no effect on him other than making him annoyed. 

“She approached me,” he says, and I scoff, “Let me finish,” his voice is calm. “I am the one who wanted to see you. Me! I wasn’t forced. I wasn’t paid. I wanted to do this.” 

“You’re lying!”

”I’m not.” 

“Why would you want to see me? I’m the one who broke up with you. I left you. Don’t you hold any resentment?” my face starts stinging again and the tears well in my eyes at the thought of him calling me for months after I told him I didn’t want him anymore. After I lied to him.

His mouth opens and I anticipate the words “I do hate you” ready to leave him. 

“Let’s go somewhere more private,” his voice is low. I chuckle. 

”Why? Are you embarrassed?” 

“Y/N. You know I’ve never felt embarrassed about you. Not back then and not now.” I believe him. But I don’t want to. “Please, can we go somewhere?” His hand rests on my cheek so naturally. I imagine myself falling into him and going back to how we were before.

***

”This is it,” I say waving him inside my apartment. 

His head moves up, down, left, and right examining every bit and it gives me time to examine him in return. How his shoulders are broader, his hair a bit messier, and those tattoos that weren’t there before. Even the way he walks is different. He was always handsome, but now he’s ethereal. 

“Your place looks better than mine,” he laughs. Just another thing to add to the list of things that Jungkook does that makes me melt. “We already knew you’d be the better decorator,” it aches to think about the times when we talked about buying our own place or the past at all. 

The two years I had been with Jungkook were my best years. He was so attentive and I never had to worry if he was around. I only had to say something once and he was very considerate of my needs. Not a single complaint came out of his mouth and that was what one day led to my biggest worry. I started to doubt everything that he did for me because I could not uncover the why. 

He was the best boyfriend I’d ever had and yet made me so insecure because I couldn’t understand why he was being so nice. 

“You can have a seat anywhere,” I tell him. He follows me to the kitchen where a small dining table sits by the wall. ”What all has Eileen told you about me?” I ask while pouring the two cups of water. I place one in front of him and sit across the table. 

“She told me you just needed a bit of help. The rest I don’t remember ‘cause I was focused on the fact I would get to see you again,” a smirk appears on his lips. “I am not disappointed. You’re more beautiful than before,” his eyes meet mine causing my chest to constrict. I’ve been searching for this feeling of being wanted, and while my other boyfriends have given me that feeling (may they rest in peace), it only lasted for the first date. With Jungkook, it was constant. 

“You’re more handsome than ever,” his smile reaches his eyes at the compliment. A laugh escapes me.

”What?”

 “I’m just wondering what the catch is,” his head tilts, “Are you married? You’re looking for a place to stay? You have a gambling addiction and you need money? Why would you want to come back to me?” He laughs at my questions, but the image of him being married to someone else pushes me to take a sip of water at the heat boiling inside. 

“Well, the answer is none of the above. I do have a catch, though. I’m not sure how honest you want me to be.” 

“You know I want you to always be honest with me. The most you can,” I think of the liars in the past whose bodies are lying graves now. 

“I’m obsessed with you,” his tone is serious and he isn’t smiling like he was before. “I can’t touch another girl without thinking ‘What if this had been Y/N?’” My heart doesn’t seem to know what to do with this information. “You can probably already guess I’ve been searching for you for a very long time. After a while of trying to call you, I guess you changed your number and I couldn’t contact you anymore.”

I recall changing my number, not wanting to be upset every time I looked at my phone and his number would always pop up. It caused regret for weeks and I couldn’t deal with it anymore. 

“I won’t lie and say I haven’t researched much about you. When Eileen contacted me I had already been in the city,” he moves to get up from his chair and rounds the table to me. A warmth seeps from his hand to my cheek. I relax into the familiarity of his touch. “I’ve been in the city for a long time,” he leans in and I mirror him, wondering if he’s going to kiss me, but he moves to my ear instead. “Who do you think cleans up all of your messes?” 

I jerk backwards in my seat. 

“What did you just say?” I whisper. 

“You never believed me when I said I would do anything for you. I was telling the truth, Y/N. I think I’ve proven myself whenever I cleaned your spilled blood,” his words leave me speechless. My throat is dry and my tongue is heavier sitting in my mouth. The new information leaves me spinning. It’s all too quick for me to process in one day. 

“I need a minute,” I push him aside and make my way past the living room and down the hall into my bedroom. Drowsiness takes me and I lie down on the bed, resting my eyes. 

***

Light bleeds through my eyelids, eyes staring down at me. 

“Y/N? Was I boring you too much?” That deep, familiar voice says. Jungkook has a smirk painted on his face and I’m in disbelief that I took a nap! 

I pick myself up making sure I’m still in my apartment. Jungkook is unpredictable in my eyes now that he’s fessed up to everything. 

“I brought some water in case you were still feeling faint,” he picks up a bottle from the night stand with a few crackers sitting next to it. He still does the same thing that he always has when I feel sick. 

“Jungkook . . .”

“You can’t say this is crazy,” he chuckles. “You’ve killed people before. We’re practically a team already.”

“Yes, but I didn’t think I would personally know who else is involved in these shenanigans,” I feel faint again imagining him drag bodies down stairs and mopping spilled blood. 

“You mean the shenanigans you created?”

“I mean me not letting any man lie, cheat, steal, or cause any form of harm to me again. Not without paying consequences. That includes you,” I say, not sure if it is a threat when I do, but knowing I’ve set my boundary with him. Whether I truly want that boundary is up in the air. 

“And have I ever done any of that to you?” He asks the question with worry on his face rather than trying to find ways to defend himself. I can’t look him in the eye when he asks the question because I don’t have an answer that would prove him wrong. 

“You made me nervous,” I say, my voice quiet. The embarrassment is palpable. “You were always handsome and everyone around us knew it,” I finally look up at him. “I’m not saying I didn’t think I was beautiful enough for you, I mean look at me,” I gesture to myself and he laughs but nods in agreement. “But there was that one night you were talking to your friends. You made all these plans before with them, and then I heard you say ‘I’m gonna have to change everything now that I have Y/N.’ Do you remember that?” 

His eyes narrow as he thinks but it seems to click when he’s about to respond. \

“I didn’t realize how much I was holding you back until then. We were on different paths and you should have-” 

“Stop, stop, stop,” his hands wave in the air. “You never told me this,” he gets up- his arms crossing over his chest. “Why didn’t you mention this? We could have talked about it!” I notice his voice raising so I get up from the bed as well ready to defend myself. 

“You would have said it was a stupid reason! You would have told everyone how ridiculous I was being. It was better that you didn’t know,” I explain. 

“You’re right. It is ridiculous. It kills me that you didn’t think I would want a change, especially if it’s with you,” I try to come up with a response but nothing comes. “You’re killing these guys because of miscommunications and yet here you are doing it with me.” The mention of him knowing about my slaughters makes me faint again. 

“It was years ago, Jungkook. Who knows if I would have done the same thing now?” I wave him off and turn to walk out of the bedroom that feels suffocating now. Before I can step out, the door swings close and my front is pressed to the door, his is pressed to my back. 

“Communicate, Y/N,” his lips lower to my ear, kissing a spot behind it. A shiver races down my spine. 

“I don’t know what else to say,” my voice wavers and I curse myself for showing him my weakness. I feel a heat on my waist when his hand meets my waist. My head leans back when his lips move to my neck. 

“What do you want with me now?” his other hand moves to my ass. “More?” he turns me to face him and I can feel the wetness in between my legs when I’m forced to move. I’ve had sex before since Jungkook, but I haven’t felt like I was going to collapse in anticipation until now. “Or are you going to tell me to stop?” his finger slides down the middle of my chest, tracing the line of my cleavage. 

“S-” I almost tell him to stop, but I can’t. I want him. I need him. Forever. 

“Communicate,” his leg slides between mine, finally giving me some kind of friction. I rest my head back on the door and wrap my hands around his neck when he moves his leg on me. 

“I want you, Jungkook,” I’m breathless now. “Right now and for the rest - ah!” I gasp when his fingers slide the straps of my dress down and his mouth is already on my nipple. “For the rest of my life,” I manage to push out. He moans on my nipple when I pull his hair, the vibrations being another sensation muddying my brain. 

“I’ll show you what you’re getting for the rest of your life,” his knees meet the ground and I make eye contact with him as he lifts my dress. Our eyes break when his head hides under the fabric, and I can’t see anything, but feel when he kisses my thighs. He lifts one of my legs onto his shoulder, kissing the inside of my thighs now. I grow impatient and push his head. His chuckle slides against my thighs and I’m about to scold him when I feel a tongue sliding through my lips. 

“Oh God,” I  whisper. My head hits the door as I moan. His tongue swirls and sucks on me and I thank every shooting star for Jungkook and how amazing he is at making me feel good. I have missed the feeling of non-rushed sex with love and care mixed in. 

He stays under me for another minute as I indulge in the wet muscle until he peaks out of the dress and pulling it down.

When he stands, I rush to take the button off of his jeans and pull them down his legs followed by his boxers. His hand rests on my cheek as I come back up. 

The kiss he plants on me is searing. Our lips mesh perfectly into a rhythm. Both of his hands slide down to my waist then onto my ass. I jump, wrapping my legs around his waist. I hold back on grinding myself into his erection as he sits on the edge of the bed. He pulls away and pushes a hair behind my ear. 

“I want you to do something that we never did,” he whispers into my mouth. A million possibilities run through my head, my pussy aching at all of them. 

“What’s that?” I nudge my nose into his before he pulls away again by lying down. 

“Ride me,” he says. It’s a simple request but it’s one that makes my stomach drop. I’ve never been one to be on top. I always wanted my boyfriends to show me they wanted me by putting the work on. It was selfish on every level, but it helped my own self esteem. But this is Jungkook. I would do anything for him at this point. 

I don’t say anything else, only place myself onto his hard dick. I drag my wetness on him putting my hands on his still clothed chest. I drag my fingers onto the buttons and pluck every single one undone. Once I’m able to take his shirt off I drag my tongue up his chest and onto his neck. He holds my ass and grinds up into me, earning a moan into his ear. 

“Fuck, Y/N,” he sighs. I’ve missed the way he sounded. 

I bring myself back up, breathless. 

“My dress,” I point out the garment still on me, getting up to take it off.

“Don’t,” he demands, grabbing my hand. “Keep it on. You look sexy as hell in it.” The compliment makes my heart soar. 

I hover over him, grabbing his dick. It slides so easily inside of me. 

“Fuck,” he moans, “You feel perfect,” he whispers. I relish the way he still holds my ass and moan out loud when I start to move. He helps by meeting me in the middle as I bounce on him. I can’t help my ego growing when he licks his lips as I move. 

I realize I’m fucked when I look at him. Literally and figuratively. He could do anything and I would never kill him. Is it the bare minimum not to kill your partner? To other people, yes.

The pace moves faster and his hand slides down, sliding a finger through me, then rubbing at my clit and that moves my body to the edge. 

“I- I think I-” 

“Let’s do it together, baby,” his pet name pushes me and I cry out when I climax. He sits up and groans into my mouth when he fills me up. We ride the high for a few more seconds before I come off of him and we lie down, wrapping ourselves into the blanket. 

I wrap an arm around his waist and kiss his cheek.

“Does this mean I won’t have to clean blood anymore?” he asks. I punch him in the chest at the tease as he laughs. 

“Very funny. But as long as you don’t break my heart then I suppose not,” I respond seriously. 

“You won’t have to worry then,” there’s a smug smirk painted on his face as I roll my eyes. 

“Oh!” I quickly rush out of bed. 

“What is it?” 

“I have to pee!” I rush to the bathroom as he laughs. I peek out the bathroom door and tell him, “I’ve missed you.” 

He smiles gently at me, his hands resting behind his head. “I’ve missed you more.” 

[latenightdaydreams]

HIII 💜 I LOVE ur work smm

I was wondering if you were thinking of writing Zombie Apocalypse AU Part 3 for Konig🫣

I understand if ur busy!

HI!!! Thank you!!!!

ZombieApocalypseAU!König x Reader Part 3 (fem)

Part 1, Part 2

@honeybadger-the-goat-queen, @mercyofdiscord, @nicolebarnes, @inosaf

MDNI 🔞 First two part are smut, this one lacks but has violence

Master List ✍🏽

>cw:fem/afab, violence

1.3k word count

🧟

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After only two weeks, the supplies that would have lasted you a month run out. König is a massive man leading him to burn through food. He stands with his hand on his hip looking down at the new cans of food and dry goods before turning to face you.

“We need to make a run.”

“I can—”

“Don’t be an idiot, you’re not leaving my sight.” He grabs a backpack and hands it to you, but doesn’t let go when you reach for it. “If you try to run, I will hurt you.”

“I know.” You say in a meek voice before he finally lets go of the bag.

The dangerous look in his eyes let you know that he means what he’s saying. He picks up his bag before walking out of the small closet with you, exiting the school building. It’s quiet outside. No sounds of humans, zombies, or even animals. Your eyes dart up to König, waiting for instruction and he motions for you to follow him.

The nearest stores have been mostly raided, so he opts for a residential neighborhood. It’s eerie to see what remains of what was once someone’s safe haven, a home. König uses his military skills to get you both into the first home in good shape, the doors and windows still locked.

His hands wrap around your waist as he assists you through the window, carefully placing you on your feet. Inside the smell of decay hits you instantly. As you both step into the living room, it becomes clear why. On the couch are the bodies of a family, clearly a murder-suicide. The image causes you to gag, turning to throw up on the floor behind you. König looks down at you, clearly not phased by what he’s seeing.

“They’re better off.” He says, not in a comforting tone, but implying they were weak.

König walks past you to the kitchen, opening up their cabinets searching for anything still edible. You linger, looking at photos of the family that are lined up on the table. A pit in your stomach forms as you take time to remember your own family you’ve lost.

“Schatz, come here.”

You quickly turn and walk towards König to see a stack of cans of food. There is a pause before you walk forward and help him pack them into your bag. He works effectively while you struggle trying to not think of this family's last moments together.

Before the outbreak started, you would have liked to live like this. A cozy life with a loving family. All of these people with hopes, dreams, feelings; they’re all undead or simply dead now. Yet you, with nothing, get to carry on.

“Who were you? Before…this.”

König stops what he’s doing and looks down at you. For a moment he thinks, finally deciding to just be open. This is the end of it all, and he’d like to be known for who he truly was. There is no point in lying.

“A colonel in a military task force named KorTac.” His eyes meet yours as he leans back against the counter. “I was a brutal killing machine, a cocky one too.” A smile crosses his lips, unable to suppress his fond view of those times. If he could go back, he would in a heartbeat; but with you. “Who were you?”

“I- I was no one.”

König’s smile slowly drops as he hears you say this. He takes the bag and places it aside, sitting down on the kitchen floor and pulling you down to sit with him, His arms cradle your much smaller body as he holds you to him. “Why do you say that?”

“I was a waitress; a college dropout with no plan for my future.” You speak softly, trying to suppress the sadness in your tone.

“Yet you’re one of the few surviving in this new world. You aren’t a nobody. You’re a warrior now.”

He kisses the back of your head as he holds you. While he’s aware you don’t share his feelings, he can’t deny his own. You’re beautiful and calm the storm that rages inside of his mind. The way your body feels against his, how you so easily submit to him. There has never been a woman that just gets him. He’s a man in love; obsessed.

“Were you married?” You ask, resting your head back on his chest.

“Ja, but we divorced way before this happened. No children.” König doesn’t ask about you, the thought of anyone else having your love causes his face to grow hot with jealousy.

“I—”

“I don’t want to know.” He says softly, resting his chin on your shoulder. “You’re mine now and that’s all I need to know.” His lips kiss down your neck before he leans back. “We should keep searching before sun down.”

The next few homes bear very little goods. As the sky begins to turn orange, König calls it a day and begins to walk back home with you. His much larger hand slips into yours, walking casually with you, enjoying the sunset. He carries both bags so you don’t have to stress your body out.

“Did you want kids?” You ask him.

“Nein, but now I think I might.” He says while keeping his eyes focused on your surroundings, occasionally looking down at you.

“Even in this chaos?”

“I don’t think it will last forever. Even so, humans will adapt. We always do.”

“Hey!” A distant male voice catches you both off guard. “Y/n?”

König’s head snaps in the direction of the voice, instantly pulling you behind him. “Who is that?” He growls in a low tone to you.

“I don’t know—”

“You’re mistaken.” König calls out to the man.

“It’s me, Peter.”

König’s eyes darken as he looked behind him down at you, waiting for you to tell him who ‘Peter’ is. “Who?”

“That’s a guy from work.” This could be your way to freedom, the way away from König.

König drops the bags gently onto the ground to not break anything. He walks forward, leaving you behind as he approaches Peter. You quickly rush and grab König’s arm, pulling him back. His gaze lands on you.

“Please, what are you doing?” You ask frantically.

“Guard the bags.” He pulls away from you, walking on.

“Hey, y/n, are you okay?”

“She’s okay. Who are you?” König asks, continuing to approach him.

“I’m a friend. Who the hell are you?” Peter can see the look of fear on your face as he begins to step away from König.

“Her owner. And I don’t like random men speaking to what’s mine.”

“Peter! Please help me!” You cry out in a moment of desperation, only angering König more.

“Back up!” Peter pulls a knife from his belt buckle, ready to defend himself.

König quickly wraps his hand around his neck, slamming him back into the ground. You gasp loudly, covering your mouth so you don’t scream and attract zombies. König say’s something to him that you can understand before slamming Peter into the ground repeatedly. Tears stream from your eyes as you see the pool of blood pouring from the back of his head.

Once Peter is no longer moving König stops, standing and looking down at the lifeless body. He turns to see you on all fours throwing up and sobbing. A huff of air leaves him as he marches back over to you. His fingers grip your hair tightly, pulling you up to your feet as you attempt to crawl away from him.

“Help?” He growls.

“Please! Put me down!”

“Shut up! Shut the fuck up! You’re mine! Act like it!” König grabs the bags and pulls you by your hair, forcing you to stumble over your feet as you try to keep up with his angry speed. “Mine.”

[musings-of-a-college-dork]

Hear me out. HEAR ME OUT.

Some angst…but like fluff idk OKAY.

Say the reader and Eddie are in the upside down and the reader gets separated from everyone and is presumed dead, but had escaped through another way. Ya know all sad etc cause eddie thinks he’s lost his soulmate, but when the fundraiser at the end of the show happens it could be he’s placing posters up of them…then BOOM reader appears and it’s all tooth rotting fluff etc

I Thought I Lost You

Eddie Munson x GN!Reader

Word count: roughly 1.5K

Eddie lost his partner in the Upside Down and his friends convince him to put up a Missing Person flyer.

Warnings: SEASON FOUR SPOILERS, angstyyyy but fluffy at the end, mainly just spoilers, and serious divergence from canonical plotline

Author’s note: So sorry this one took me so long to write but I love a good piece of angst melted to fluff!

The past two days had felt like years. After the world had literally cracked open many citizens of Hawkins had begun evacuating but many stayed. They stayed out of hope. Hope that those they thought were lost may come back.

Eddie was one of those such people. When he had returned along with Dustin to meet up with the rest of the group, Steve was the one who had to gently break the news that Y/N…they had gotten separated and…well...

Presumed dead. Those had been the words people had been saying about them. About everyone who had been lost. Of course, Eddie knew it made sense. Most of the people missing had to be…but Y/N… He had been inconsolable. When Steve had broken the news there had been no reaction. None. None whatsoever. He hadn’t cried or yelled or broken down. He had just gone quiet which for Eddie was scarier than any of the other things combined. He knew they couldn’t go back to find them. He knew that. And so he had simply said nothing and shut himself away in what was left of the trailer without a word to another soul.

Dustin had come by the check on him a couple of times and each time Wayne said he wasn’t eating, sleeping, or speaking - he hadn’t even had any music on. Eddie truly felt like the world was crashing down. He couldn’t explain it but it was so much worse than when his mom had died. He was young then and it was a disease. There wasn’t anything he could do about it. But here. With Y/N. You could have been with them, his mind reminded him for the thousandth time, you could have stayed with them and not let them out of your sight. You could have protected them. But you didn’t. You had to go and play hero with Dustin. And now they’re dead because of you.

On top of all of that, people were still blaming him for the murders that had happened. The police had been by several times and had asked Wayne to speak to Eddie. Wayne had explained the situation and had begged for time. The department surprisingly gave him to his request and he figured it was solely because they had so many other things going on and Eddie truly hadn’t moved since the day of the split.

When Wayne told Eddie the police had been by, he hadn’t said a word. Merely nodded to Wayne and turned his focus back to the polaroids he had of Y/N, the same ones he had been flipping through for days as if looking at their photo would bring them back. And in that moment, Wayne felt fear. Fear because he realized without his soulmate, Eddie was starting to not care what happened to him. “I lost them,” He had told Dustin when the teen had finally coaxed him into speaking at Wayne’s insistence, “I lost Y/N, and now…Dustin, they were my world. What’s the point when my life has already been lost?”

After Dustin had told Steve about Eddie’s complete collapse, Steve had talked to Robin who had somehow managed to convince Eddie to come with her and Steve and Dustin to help out at the high school where everyone had basically created a shelter. Anyone who had lost their homes, or family members, or needed food, supplies, or medical attention was there. It was the bulletin board of Missing Persons Robin mentioned that was ultimately what convinced Eddie to go. Along with his friends, he had managed to create a missing poster for Y/N, convinced that maybe, maybe if he made the poster someone would find them and they'd come back to him. His friends had been silent as they helped him, knowing the chances of them coming back from the Upside Down were…well…

But he had done it anyway and it had gotten him out of bed and that in and of itself was something to be grateful for.

The nerves had boiled up in Eddie’s stomach as they had arrived at the high school. The four of them had taken Steve’s car along with a few boxes of items to donate - sheets, clothes, toys - and the flyer for Y/N. The drive had been silent and so was the walk in. Eddie tried his best to ignore the stares he received as the group passed by, holding his head up high…well as high as he could with the sinking feeling that had taken up permanent residence in his chest.

“Hey,” Robin had whispered when she watched him get caught up in his own mind. “We’re gonna put up the poster for Y/N, drop this stuff, and then we can go-”

“No,” he shook his head, “I…I want to stay. To…help.” She had gone silent after that and Steve and Dustin didn’t protest. As they walked in though, Eddie couldn’t keep his eyes from the missing person’s board. Dustin watched as his focus totally shifted, turning his attention to Robin and Steve.

“You two go on ahead,” Dustin said with a nod. The other two teens hesitated for a moment but Dustin shooed them along as Eddie continued to stare at the board.

“You wanna go put it up?” Dustin said as he looked at the flyer Eddie was clutching in his hand.

“Yeah,” Eddie nodded, his voice barely audible, “But…” Dustin watched as his gaze shifted to the police officers.

“Eddie, man,” Dustin placed a hand on his DM’s shoulder, turning Eddie to face him, “You didn’t do it. You’re just gonna go over there and put up the flyer,” He still seemed unsure leading Dustin to sigh, “Here I’ll come with you. Ok?” Eddie nodded again and took a deep breath before following Dustin’s lead and heading over to the board.

“Uh hi,” Dustin greeted the officer who looked between him and Eddie for a moment but didn’t say anything, “We have a missing person poster to put up.” The officer eyed them both once more and went to say something before clearly thinking better of it.

“When did this person go missing?” The officer asked as he held his hand out for the poster. Eddie hesitated to hand it over but with some urging from Dustin, he did.

“The day of the earthquakes,” Dustin said, not quite sure what else to call them. “They were near one of the sites so…we…yeah.” The officer let out a little hum before turning his focus to the paper. His eyes narrowed as he squinted at the photo before they went wide.

“Something the matter?” Dustin asked, “Have you…do you know anything about-” The officer cut Dustin off with a point as he gestured to one of the medical stations. Dustin and Eddie both turned at the speed of light to find a figure sitting in a chair that the cop had pointed to. They were chatting with the nurse who seemed to be checking their vitals, a soft smile on their face as they seemed to make conversation. They looked worse for wear, still in the clothes they had been wearing when they went to the Upside Down. Bruises and scrapes as well as a ton of dirt littered their skin…but they were there. Dustin could watch all the blood drain out of Eddie’s face. It was like he had seen a ghost. And in Eddie’s mind, his fear was that he had.

“Y/N,” was all he said before he began to take slow steps toward the figure. They didn’t notice him as he approached but the nurse did, looking at him with a confused gaze. Y/N must have caught her glance as they turned to look and…

They had the same dumbfounded look. They took a moment to just stare at him, mouth opening and closing as he approached, step by step. This continued for a moment before they stood up on shaky legs as if they could have been blown away by the wind.

“Eddie?” They asked in a cautious tone, their voice shaking as they spoke.

“Oh my god,” he murmured before they were in his arms, holding them with everything they had in them.

“Eddie I thought-”

“But you were-”

“We lost-”

“Y/N we thought you-”

“I know but I was-”

“Where have you-”

“How is-”

The pair couldn’t form full thoughts and the nurse simply backed away to allow the pair a moment as tears brimmed in both of their eyes.

“Y/N, we thought you were…” Eddie couldn’t finish the thought as he felt Y/N squeeze him even tighter.

“I know,” they nodded as they pulled him in, “But I’m here. I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.”

And Eddie knew they spoke the truth at that moment. He knew whatever came next was going to be a hard battle. The fight to prove his innocence wasn’t going to be easy. But with them by his side, his life and his soulmate restored, for the first time since Chrissy’s death, he thought he may have a fighting chance.

And she's done! Again so sorry this took so long but I hope it's sorta what you were looking for!!!!

[bateman-whore]

Hiiii, I was wondering if you could write a fic where Patrick sees someone get a little too close to reader and murders him? 🔪🩸🫶

You belong with me

(Sorry for the Taylor Swift reference, Im not a swifty but it’s one of the few songs I can stand and I didn’t know what to title this lol, TW: murder, Patrick being Patrick)

Your pov

I sat at my desk, mindlessly typing away at my computer. I wanted nothing more than to get the day over with but the minute passed like hours. As I attempt to finish the paragraph, I hear a knock on my office door.

“Yep” I called out as the door opened, it was Paul.

“Hey y/n, how are you doing?” He asked, taking a seat in front of me.

“Meh, I just want to go home. It’s been a long day,” I laughed with my face in my hands.

“Oh I hear ya,” he says, flashing a grin, his teeth seemed a little too big for his mouth. “Now I was going to ask you if you wanted to go out tonight?” The question was accompanied by another big tooth grin.

“Listen, I would love to but-“ I was cut off.

“Oh come on like you have anything to do after work, pick you up at seven, yeah?” It wasn’t a question. He got up and started for the door.

“Paul I-“

“See ya!” And with that he closed the door behind him.

Before I could process what just happened, there was another knock on the door.

“Yep,” I called out again but instead of Paul, Patrick walked in. He sat down across from me and put his feet up on my desk. “Yes?”

“You and Allen seem to be getting close?” This was more of a statement rather than a question.

“I mean I guess, what does it matter to you?”

“It doesn’t,” he said plainly and got up and left my office.

Patrick’s POV

I don’t know why but it does matter to me. For some reason I can’t live with the thought of Paul being so close to y/n,

“Hey Paul,” I leaned up against his cubicle walls, I took note of them, “nice set up you got there.” I picked up what seemed to be a family photo and examined it.

“Uh thanks I guess,” he took the photo out of my hands and placed it face down on his desk.

“God I can’t remember the last time I sat in a cubicle let alone worked in one,” I let out a laugh.

“What do you want?”

“I was wondering if you could stop by my place-“

“Nu uh uh uh, can’t. I got a date with y/n tonight,” he interrupted.

God he really has a problem with interrupting

“Yeah yeah, I’m sure you do, look it’s about your report, there’s something I need you to change.”

“Why can’t we talk about it right now?” He asked, confused.

“Because how can we discuss work matters without a drink or two?”

“I guess, as long as you make it fast,” he finally gave in.

Later that night, there was a knock on the door. When I opened it, it was Paul.

“Ah Paul come in, come in,” I stepped aside to let him in.

“Thanks for inviting me, but really we have to make it fast. I’m supposed to pick up y/n in 45 minutes,” he walked in taking his coat off, “are you renovating?” He asked taking note of the plastic sheets that cover every part of my living room.

“Sure. Can I get you a drink Paul? You look like an old fashion kind of guy.”

“Uh sure.”

I walked to the kitchen and poured him his drink, but before I went back to the living room, I crushed up a handful of downers and dissolved them in his drink.

“Do you like Huey Lewis and The News?” I asked him.

“There ok i guess,” he replied, taking a drink.

“Their early work was a little too new wave for my tastes, but when Sports came out in '83, I think they really came into their own, commercially and artistically. The whole album has a clear, crisp sound, and a new sheen of consummate professionalism that really gives the songs a big boost. He's been compared to Elvis Costello, but I think Huey has a far more bitter, cynical sense of humor.” I started to ramble as I popped a CD in the player.

“Hey Halberstram.” I could tell Paul’s speech was beginning to slur. The drugs were taking effect.

“Yes Allen?”

“Why are there copies of the style section all over the place, d-do you have a dog? A little chow or something?”

“No, Allen.” I was in the kitchen at this point pulling on a raincoat. My ax was hidden behind the door frame.

“Is that a raincoat?” Allen laughed.

“ Yes it is! In '87, Huey released this, Fore, their most accomplished album. I think their undisputed masterpiece is "Hip to be Square", a song so catchy, most people probably don't listen to the lyrics. But they should, because it's not just about the pleasures of conformity, and the importance of trends, it's also a personal statement about the band itself,” I took the ax and walked up behind Allen. I raised it above my head, “Hey Paul!”

He looked behind him at me as the ax came crashing down into his face. Blood splattered all over my face and body.

“TRY TAKING Y/N ON A DATE NOW, YOU FUCKING STUPID BASTARD! YOU, FUCKING BASTARD!”

I caught my breath and regained my composure. I cleaned up the scene, took a shower, did my skin care, and went to bed.

Part 2??? I’ll probably do a part two. Sorry if it’s not entirely accurate yk, I need to rewatch the movie. If you have a request my inbox is open and as always the gif and divider are not mine.

Mastearlist

[small-sinclair]

Whumptober 12: Starvation

Johnny Slaughter x sick!reader

Tw: thoughts of murder, gore, thoughts of death

“Just a little bit more.” | Cannibalism

He could see you thinning faster than a calf without a mother.

You weren’t the best since the sickness took over, taking over your body like a cancer. Your bones were frail and your face sunken in, showing your cheek bones, and yur skin was growing paler. Johnny still stayed by your bedside, holding your and giving you water. Even though he’s tried, he can’t get you to eat. You’re becoming nothing in front of his eyes and there was nothing he could do.

As day five settled for the night, he found himself toying with his knife, looking at his reflection long and hard, then his eyes drifted towards your photo. He hated how weak you were now, and he hated how you stopped eating just a few days ago. You looked like you were starving, but he knew you didn’t mean it. Whenever he gets sick, he doesn’t eat. But he looked at the photo and only felt the shadows around him wrap at his feet and envisioned hands cover his eyes. He felt it fill his heart and drown his lungs with thrones and swamp water.

When he looked at your photo, he thought of your blood covering his hands, coating his fingers in sweet ambrosia. It was on the tip of his tongue, and he could just taste in between his teeth. Killing you would be a merciful gift for you. You wouldn’t be suffering anymore and starving yourself. You’re growing weaker by the hour; it was only a matter of time before he felt like he had to break out the shovel and start digging in the family cemetery at the end of the forest line.

He would have a good funeral for you, too. All of your favorite things tied up in a neat bow and set on your altar. He would sleep by your grave every night until the soil starts to grow grass and flowers. Johnny could just see it now, and he could see what outfit you’ll be in, too. You’ll look just as beautiful as the day he first started loving you—

Johnny’s eye twitched as he tossed the knife away from his hands and far away from his reach. He held his chest and started breathing heavily, fast and loud. How could he think something like that? How could he let that...that man think that of you? You’ll get better; you promised him! It’s always darkest before the dawn, anyhow.

He had to get away from the glint of the knife. He had to get away from The Bad Man and his thoughts caging him like a wild animal, beaten and starved. The knife beckoned him just to hold it, to feel it in his hands.

“Y/n,” he breathed, standing up from his tattered chair. “Sunflower…darling.” His mind trailed as he thought about your body lying limp

Johnny moved briskly down the hall towards your room and stood in the doorway, looking over your sleeping form. You were breathing heavily and looked worse. He swallowed hard as he came to your side and laid next to you. He wrapped his strong arms around your waist and pulled you close to his chest. He rested his chin on your head and took deep breaths, calming his hunger and need of blood. He loved you more than words could say. He loved you just as much as owls loved their moon and stars.

“Just a little bit more,” he whispers. “Just a little bit more time, sunflower. Sleep an’ rest. Johnny ain’t leavin’. Promise.” Johnny found comfort in your hands and how they gripped his shirt ever so slightly. “The Bad Man won’t getcha. I swear it.”

Just a little bit more, just a little bit longer, and just a little bit of strength, you’ll get better. For now, take comfort that he won’t kill anything for a while. Take comfort that he won’t leave your side until you start eating again.

[whataboutsimple]

Let me just cook here for a moment-

An AU where the main gang aka Lukas, Petra, Olivia and Axel are all highschool students and that one "weird group of friends". One day wandering around the forest they find an old backpack. Inside there is a bunch of random school stuff like: books, notes, lunchbox with a name "Jesse" and an old phone. Curious as always, gang goes to Olivia's home (cause she's the nerd and prob have something to turn this thing on).

After some time they scroll through the phone, looking at photos and social medias. Those looks old. Maybe even before they went to school. Than Ellegaard (Olivia's mom) comes into the room and says they all should head home since it's becomes late.

Well, that was an interesting advanture. Time to get home.

At night, they all recieve some messages from unknown number. Since Axel is the only one who stays up late, he answers a bunch of them. The person texting claims to be "Jesse" and says that they need help. Axel answers for fun for some time thinking it's Olivia who tries to troll him. Jokes on her, no one can troll the Troll Master.

Next day they all hang out in school during lunch. Axel brings up how Olivia tried to troll him, but miserably failed. Lukas and Petra say that they recivied messages too. Olivia meanwhile looks confused because she didn't send anything. Where even would she get a second number for that? They laugh, thinking she still tries to prank them, but Liv looks too serious to be joking.

Okay, so who then texted them? Who would know they even have this backpack? Maybe someone set this all up for some prank video on YouCube? But how didthey got their numbers? Gang decides to meet up in Axel's hous this time and speak a litlle with this person through Axel's phone since he's the one who spoke with them a lot.

Once they get home, they see Magnus and Gabriel are there. While everyone greating them, Petra seems a bit of pissed off and when Gabriel tries to talk to her, she burst into Axel's room. Gang, confused, follows her, while pretty upset Gabriel continues speaking to worried Magnus.

As soon as gang turns Axel's phone on, new message pops up "You should be nicer to your father". Furious, Petra grabs Axel's phone and writes some agressive texts, demanding answers on what the heck is going on.

Jesse says, that if they want answers, they should check out account named "Jason Bennett" on Instapixel. As soon as they do it, they see a profile of young man. He probably six or seven years older then they and last post was made seven years ago. It's says that if anyone has any information where he can be, they shoud contact his family or the police.

Whole gang is shocked. Yeah, no way dead guy writes them, right? He says they should login in his acc using his password. How would he know the password if he wasn't him?

He asks them for help. To find his murderer. It's pointless going to the police since they'll say it's just some kids pulling a prank. Jason claims he himself doesn't remember anything from his last two days of life. He suggests they can either visit his sister Jessica or his girlfriend Stella.

Now it's up to th gang: help the poor guy or say it's all a prank?

-

Okay, I didn't excpect this to be THAT long honestly- it's just silly idea and nothing more, I'm not sure if someone already did this before but if yes, then please tell me so I can tag them or delete the post!

If you want me to continue this, please tell me!

[moodymisty]

Over the past few years that you’ve been with Lorgar, Kor Phaeron has hated every minute of it. Your presence influences Lorga, causing Lorgar to turn away from his influence more and more in turn, a situation that he has been unable to rectify.

But what makes the current situation for Kor Phaeron infinitely worse is learning that you're pregnant.

This is Kor Phaeron’s worst-case scenario, you’ve given Lorgar something that distracts him even more from the important things in life (listening to him and doing what he says). This has to be rectified immediately.

However, he can’t just simply kill you and the child. If the likelihood of you and your child’s death causing Lorgar to break down wasn’t enough for him to reconsider such a course of action, then the possibility of Lorgar discovering that he orchestrated your and his child’s death and his likely murderous response firmly killed the idea.

So clearly what he needs to do is get you taken away from Lorgar, somewhere far away where your influence on Lorgar can wane while he re-strengthens his own.

So he comes up with the plan to confide in the Warmaster about your condition. Pleading how you should be as far away as possible from Lorgar so as not to distract him while he campaigned and to ensure the safety of your child. Acting as the caring father law he is not.

This way Kor Phaeron can get Horus to step in and take you away, firmly cementing himself as not being the villain in this situation and laying the blame all on Horus’s shoulders.

So of course he secretly sends a missive behind Lorgar’s back, sending a few pictures along to illustrate how prevalent your condition has become in the past four months and underlining how it only serves to distract Lorgar as he crusades.

Luckily for him, the Warmaster gets one look at the photo of you, pregnant and glowing and immediately becomes interested. So of course, Horus interferes, acting as the caring brother-in-law as he informs Lorgar that with your condition you should be somewhere safer, overruling Lorgar’s protests to keep you by his side. He is Warmaster after all and he’s only thinking about the good of the crusade and the safety of his sister in law.

So here you are, separated from your husband while pregnant, ostensibly for your safety and that of your child. You should be with Lorgar as you anticipate the birth of your baby, instead, you're placed in the custody of your brother-in-law. Though with how Horus keeps you close, cooing over the bump that develops with each month, and offering to take care of any of your pregnancy needs you begin to feel some doubt at whether his concerns extend wholly to the the familial and military.

…..And I’ve just realized that I somehow ended up repeating the Droit du seigneur plot line, just with Horus taking the spot of the main villain and a different inciting incident

hey we accept revamps of existing plotlines here, and I'm down for anything Horus related. And him being a filthy breeding kink obsessed primarch. Also loving Kor Phaeron being a two timing bitch because of course he would.

And hey, he is the Warmaster, so he would have significant sway in the punishment of Lorgar so... ;3

Horus: -Lorgar's wife added to inventory-

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Outfoxed: Final Part

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.4k

Summary: Derek has had enough and decides now is the time to work bringing you home. The team is working on two cases and stretching their agents thin but they'll do anything to bring you back into Spencer's arms.

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Season Five Masterlist

Author’s Note: I know I'm going to piss some people off with the way I wrote the trial and the gathering of evidence but remember, this is fiction and it's my story. I'm making it easy and convenient. I know this isn't how trials work.

I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them.

x

"This unsub is armed and suffering a major psychological break, and she will not hesitate to kill again. She's white and in her twenties. We believe she came to the US a few years ago. She's likely on foot. She could be Eastern European. She may speak little to no English."

"If you manage to apprehend or corner her, do not underestimate this woman. She will try to fight her way out. The Downeys live less than a mile from the Foresters which means she's somewhere in this area."

"Every media outlet is being informed of the clear and present danger to the public," JJ says.

"Thank you," Rossi concludes the meeting just as Penelope calls. He takes this to the conference room so she can be on speakerphone. "Hey, Garcia."

"Okay, I really might have got something. All of these photos, every one of them, were uploaded to a user website called Photobug. It's an app where people can upload photos and videos, email, and webcam chats. Every one of these families extensively used this site for months, even years."

"All these family photos were printed by Photobug?"

"Yes."

"Isn't it protected?"

"Not from the people who run it. It's a great way for military families to keep in touch and a perfect way to target a family without anybody's knowledge."

"They outsource work to people all over the country. So, I took your profile, hacked into their employee database, and came up with this list of potentials. One of which is a match that screams homicidal bitch. Her name's Miranda Dracar. She was an orphan, born in Sarajevo in 1982. She was adopted by a family in Srebrenica. The address is being sent now."

"Let's go," Rossi says.

Rossi, JJ, and Anne find her apartment easily but luck has it, she's not there. However, pictures of Miranda's victims are posted all over her walls.

"All three families are on here," JJ says.

"Look at this." Anne points out a picture of another military man. "Do you think this is her next victim? His name is Sergeant Eric Young."

"JJ, call your contact."

JJ takes out her phone and calls someone she knows will be able to help in figuring out who this man's family is.

"Hi, this is Jennifer Jareau with the FBI. Sir, I'm gonna need access to every piece of data on US Marine Sergeant Young. It may save his family."

Rossi calls Hotch and Emily to let them know of their progress, and Hotch is more concerned the longer they talk to Karl about the murders.

"I don't think this woman has anything to do with Karl," Hotch says once he gets off the phone.

"I encouraged him. Ohh. I flirted with him," Emily cringes. "I made it personal. Getting intimate with a killer is so different."

"It's what we do."

"Yeah, but there's no fixing how I feel right now, is there?"

"No, but it helped the case. You did what you had to do."

"Agent Hotchner," Karl says from the room knowing he can hear him. "Before you go, there's one final thing I'd like to share with you."

"Let's get this over with," Emily sighs.

Both of them walk back into the room and Karl smirks at them.

"You think you found my admirer? A woman?"

"No, we found the killer," Emily corrects.

"With my help, of course."

"Your admirer is exactly like everyone who contacts you--lost."

"My love, your guy is far from lost."

"Okay, we're done here," Hotch declares.

"So is he." Karl holds up a note he's been keeping secret. "Look at what I have done. It's quite brilliant, you know?"

"We will find whoever sent you that."

"No, Agent Hotchner, I rather think he's already found you."

Hotch can't deny the dread he's feeling from his words. Emily and Hotch's phone rings but only the former grabs her phone to check. They found the unsub. She fought hard to escape but was eventually shot by her own gun. Something snaps in Hotch and he starts going through every file Karl has, anything that will help him get the answers he needs.

"Hotch. Hotch!" Emily urges.

"I can't believe you can't see what he's doing," Karl laughs.

"What is going on?"

"He's torturing him."

"Who?"

"It's great to see you squirm, Agent Hotchner."

Hotch looks at Emily with fear in his eyes. "Foyet."

"He knew you'd come," Karl laughs.

This all comes down to Foyet, and Hotch knows if he is going to get his ass, he's gonna need you to come back. After the incident with Big Sue, Ashley has been left alone. Big Sue hasn't gone after anyone since she was kicked out of her own gang for not being tough enough. One of them tried inducing you but you politely declined.

You and Ashley are in the rec room playing a game of chess. She doesn't know how to play but you've been teaching her.

"I used to know how to play well when I was a kid but got out of it as I grew up. My boyfriend retaught me."

You smile at the memories of you two going against each other.

"He sounds sweet."

"He is. He keeps trying to visit me here. It breaks my heart every time I deny him."

"Why do you?"

"He has this beautiful mind that remembers everything he sees and reads. He can't forget. I don't want him to remember me this way. I can't look in his eyes and see this version of myself. Maybe that makes me selfish."

"No, I get it. I'd hate for my parents to see me like this. They've tried visiting but I told them after the first one I don't want them here. They write every day, though."

"That's nice," you smile.

"Y/N!" You look to your right and see a guard coming for you. "Trial time. We have a spare change of clothes in your cell for you."

"Thank you," you say and get up.

"Give 'em hell," Ashley grins.

"Keep your head up, Ash. Remember what we talked about." She nods. "If I am found innocent and I don't return, just know I'm going to do whatever it takes to get you out of here."

"Go, you have court," she smiles with tears in her eyes.

"I promise, Ashley. I'll get you out of here."

After getting changed into more professional clothing, you're escorted to Arlington General District Court. You're nervous since you've seen the evidence they have on you. It's going to be tough to prove your case but you're going to use everything you've got to persuade the judge. You sit next to your lawyer after the judge has sat down. You look at the jury and quickly read each and every one.

Bored. Scared. Excited. Nervous. If you act right and give them the truth, you believe they will side with you. Most juries are unanimous so it could be a long decision process if not everyone is on your side.

"This is the case of the Commonwealth of Virginia v Y/N. Ms. Y/N, how do you plead?" the judge asks.

"Not guilty, Your Honor."

"Present your case."

The prosecutor stands up since he is allowed to go first. He walks in front of the jury and begins his statement.

"Ladies and gentlemen, do not let looks fool you. What you see as a friendly woman is a stone-cold killer." You fight the urge to roll your eyes. "She murdered seven men in cold blood, and here is the evidence to prove it. On every single victim are her prints and her hair. On every single murder weapon are her prints. I have the results back from the lab here. I have a witness statement made by a man named Frank Livingston that explicitly saw her commit the crimes."

"Is your witness here today?" the judge asks.

The prosecutor becomes clammy and clears his throat nervously.

"No, Your Honor."

"Why not?"

"I was unable to locate Frank to be subpoenaed."

"Objection. That's hearsay, Your Honor," Steve interjects. "How can we accept that statement from the person if that person isn't here?"

"I will allow lab results submitted into evidence but not that witness statement. If your witness isn't able to show up, the statement is voided."

"Yes, Your Honor."

He finishes his opening statement about how you're such a bad person before taking a seat at the desk. Steven stands up and does the talking for you, trying to make it clear to the jury that you're innocent.

"Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury, I'd like to introduce you to Y/N. She is an FBI profiler for the BAU right here in Virginia. She started in the police force before moving up quickly to where she is now. She's aided hundreds of cases and given justice to those who were seeking it." Your lawyer holds up a file that has pieces of paper sticking out of it. "In here, I have letters from victims and their families thanking her for what she's done for them." You had no idea he did that for you. "The crimes she's accused of just isn't who she is. She helps instead of taking what she vowed to protect. The crimes in question occurred at night, the same nights she was safe in bed with her boyfriend. I have credit card statements that have already been submitted into evidence that show she is nowhere near the crimes when they were occurring." Steve goes on to talk about you in such a high tone, presenting everything he has that is in your favor. "Your Honor, if I may."

"Yes."

Steve walks all the evidence that's in your favor (it's not much) over to the judge who accepts it. Once they get the evidence out of the way, they'll go over the witnesses' statements before getting into their closing arguments. Steve doesn't have much in terms of evidence for you but the prosecuting attorney has plenty to put you away for a very long time.

Before he has a chance to end this part of the trial, the double doors into the courtroom are opened, and you look behind you to see your entire team file in. They all give you encouraging smiles until you see Spencer walk in. You briefly make eye contact with him before turning around to face the judge.

"Your Honor, if I may, I have more evidence to present."

"What is it?"

Steve walks over to Derek who hands him a file of more evidence in your favor. He looks through the file before taking out the ME reports that Derek had rushed. There is a TV in the corner of the room that can be used to show evidence, and he points to it.

"I'd like to request the use of the TV as I have video files to show as evidence."

The judge motions to the bailiff to roll the TV over to Steve so he can use it. You had no idea this was even happening. You knew they were working it but you didn't know they collected all this evidence... whatever it may be. You fight the urge to look back at them. You can feel his eyes on you.

"Your Honor and the jury, may I present to you, a video--CCTV footage of Y/N." He plugs the USB into the TV where the video of you walking into the hotel plays. He then shows the video of you in the gas station. It's grainy but it's clearly you." You get tears when you see the video of you and Spencer walking into the lobby holding hands. You miss that. "I have two of the four autopsies that were released for victims Juan Lopez and John Dimateo. The medical examiner put their deaths on the night that Y/N and her team checked into the hotel. They were dead a week before being found by police. She was on a case a few days prior to them being discovered, and I have the proof submitted by her Unit Chief."

The next video he shows is too dark to make anything out, but it's clear there is a man stabbing another man. You can't see any defining features on the man, but it's clear that the person on the video doesn't have your build. The crime scene photos of Chase Williams are also submitted side by side to show that it's the same alley he got stabbed in.

"Victims four and five, Eric Price and Jeffrey Rideback, as per the medical examiner report, have injuries that are too old to be when they say they died. They were dead long before they were ever found, and according to the ME report, two weeks. Two weeks before they were found, Y/N and her boyfriend Spencer Reid were out of town, and I have credit card statements and videos to prove it. Finally, video footage taken by a neighbor's camera pointed right at Y/N's apartment doors."

He plays the video that shows a man leaving your apartment with your hairbrush and two of the murder weapons in hand. You frown when you see the man's legs. It's a weird thing to think about but you've seen those legs before. You always knew that you knew the person who murdered the seven men because who else would hold a strong enough grudge against you than a person who knows you? Still, you can't put a name to it but if you had to guess, it's Frank Livingston. Why else would he lie about seeing you murder a man?

"This video shows a man leaving her apartment with two of the seven murder weapons and with a hairbrush that is used to leave behind her DNA on the victims. Victims she never knew or never had contact with. Ladies and gentlemen, Your Honor, Y/N is framed for murder and doing time for something she didn't do."

Steven does a good job, you have to admit. They just have a lot to speculate as soon as the day is over, and they come to a decision fairly quickly. That can be good or bad, depending on how you look at it. Either they find you so guilty that they didn't want to debate long or they weren't fooled and decided you were innocent. Either way, you're sitting on the edge of your seat when they return.

"We the jury find Y/N on account of murder innocent of all charges."

You don't care what they say afterward. All you care about is that they find you innocent. You're free to go. You don't have to go back to that hellhole of a prison. You hate leaving Ashley behind but you're going to do good by her and get her out of there as soon as you can. You walk over to your team who is cheering for your release, and the first person you run to is Spencer. He pushes aside the last two months of you not wanting to see him and accepts you into his arms, and you cry from how happy you are.

You're finally home.

x

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[writtenontheport]

Lockwood falling in love with the type three ghost of a girl.

That's it.

That's the ask.

The Haunted Boy and His Ghostly Girlfriend

Prologue

(pt. 1) (pt. 2)

Anthony Lockwood x fem reader

Warnings/Tags: Reader is in this for like 2 paragraphs, Romcom 😭, Ik you gave me angst but everything I touch turns romcom I’m so sorry, George gets mad at Lockwood for a bit, Old people clients, mentions of death, Reader is literally a fucking ghost 😭, please tell me if there’s anything I forgot to tag

Notes: I absolutely adored this request omfg. When I saw it, I just KNEW I had to write it omg. This is— this needs to be multipart I’m so sorry. I can’t get it out of my head that he’ll have a little ghostly girlfriend PLEASE ITS SO CUTE IN MY HEAD. Also; very badly edited!! I was exhausted when I first posted this and am still currently combing through it for errors.

Summary: It starts, as all things do here: with a meetcute, the undead, and maybe a bit of tomfoolery. It goes, as it almost never does, with meeting the undead love of his life. What a big day for Anthony Lockwood.

Word Count: 1.5k+

Lockwood is staring into the eyes of the most breathtaking girl he has ever seen, and she isn’t even alive anymore. The girl looks as she probably did when she was alive; a beautiful face with only the most kissable lips he has ever seen in his life, not that he ever could kiss her. He should be calling for Lucy and George— yelling for them to tell them he’s found their ghost, but instead…

“Hi,” He says, clearing his throat, “I’m Anthony. Anthony Lockwood of Lockwood and co. You’re a ghost.”

He winces when your frown deepens, and feels bad immediately for blurting that out. Before he can apologize, he sees you mouthing something and realizes quite late that he does in fact need Lucy and George here to be able to talk to you.

“I can’t really hear you, sorry. I have… my friend can though. Just a second—“

Before we can go forward, we have to go back a little to just before this began. So let’s start with a fact: even with Skull being able to talk with Lucy, Lockwood still had his reservations on type threes. Type ones and type twos were the predictable result of certain situations— murders, death by illness, accidents, and all the “good” things that made the visitors more likely to visit. Type threes? It took the literal manifestation of the actual thing for him to even accept they existed. Suffice to say, Lockwood didn’t think he could ever fully warm up to the idea of a ghost he couldn’t understand.

Then one day, a case comes to him with a rather peculiar situation. The living don’t often find themselves attached to the undead, especially ones with no relation to them. The Thistlebrows prove to be an exception. The case? Their family ghost is lonely now that their granddaughter’s been sent away.

Lucy and George have stepped out for supplies when the old Thistlebrow couple stops by, so he takes them to the sitting room and prepares them tea. From the first word that comes out of them, Lockwood thinks he’s having some sort of hallucinogenic episode.

That’s more of an exaggeration actually as it seemed reasonably normal at first; strong presence, solid apparition visible enough that even in their old age they could see wisps of it lurking. Nothing more than a stubborn spectre, he was sure. Then—

“It’s an old house,” Mrs. Thistlebrow croons, sipping her cup of tea. “We’ve only lived in it for a few years, and we doubt we’ll be able to keep her company for much longer.”

“I’m sorry?” Lockwood asks, genuinely confused. He was sure he must have misheard them, before Mr. Thistlebrow spoke.

“We don’t know where she is, really, nor have we ever fully seen her… but our granddaughter is taken with her. We thought at first she just had an imaginary friend, but then…” He pulls out a polaroid.

There was nothing in the photo worth noting— a pair of shoes on the windowsill of an open window. The flash of the camera didn’t illuminate past the frame, but that was expected for a photo taken so late. He keeps a patient smile on his face, but he nods slowly with his brow furrowed in worry.

“The window was locked when we left the room. It’s too tall for our granddaughter to reach, and nothing was moved before or after this picture was taken— at least not by the living. Our granddaughter had asked her to open it to prove to us she was real, and the ghost left her shoes on the windowsill to hammer it in.” He leaves the photo in front of Lockwood, pulling back into the seat.

Lockwood’s brow scrunches in confusion as the gears turn in his head. Many type twos form apparitions, but poltergeists do not. Incidentally, only poltergeists can interact with heavy objects and the window certainly wouldn’t have been light. It looked to be a thick pane of glass with a metal on wood frame, pushed open farther than a stray breeze could push it.

“How old is your granddaughter?” He asks, his own voice distant to him. The photo makes something in him itch to solve the case.

“Just turned 7,” Mrs. Thistlebrow says with a click of her tongue, bringing a hand up to her wrinkly cheek. “Her parents sent off abroad when they realised she had Talent; didn’t want her having anything to do with the Problem. Heart broken, she was. The ghost was her first best friend.”

The Thistlebrows look genuinely devastated at that, and Lockwood bites back an incredulous frown. Oh the story he has for Lucy and George when they come back, absolutely mental it all is.

“We know this might be a lot to ask, but we’ll pay you as much as you need to keep the ghost company. Our granddaughter was so devastated knowing the poor girl would be lonely without her, and we certainly couldn’t talk to her no matter how much we tried.” Mr. Thistlebrow picks an envelope from his suit pocket, and slides it across the table to Lockwood. It’s a thick thing with obviously quite a bit of cash, and a cheque is peeking out from where the lip has opened.

Now, he could absolutely refuse the case. The agency was stable and the cases they have lined up were far less troublesome than finding and keeping another possible type-three ghost; George would even call him stupid for not refusing it right away, but…

“We’ll do it. You both have nothing to worry about,” He says instead, reassuring as he can be as he pulls on the lapels of his jacket. Mr. and Mrs. Thistlebrow’s faces split into smiles, and Lockwood can’t find it in him to regret his decision.

“—And you took the case?” George says, all but yelling as he leans over the table to stare wide-eyed at Lockwood. Lucy’s frozen in her seat, her pen still on the thinking cloth.

“I authenticated the money, and they offered to meet us at the house as soon as we can if there were any more issues with compensation.” He takes a spoonful of supper, and hums in delight. “You’ve really outdone yourself today, George.”

“That’s not the problem, Lockwood,” George hisses, always so dour. He doesn’t settle down into his seat, even going so far as to cross his arms in disapproval. Still, he mumbles out a quiet ‘thank you’.

“Did they say anything else?” Lucy finally speaks up, her eyes still on the thinking cloth. It’s good she’s at least started doodling again, so Lockwood manages to look back up at both of them (which is very hard when George is glaring at him so severely).

“Their granddaughter’s name is Pepper, thought it might help us if we pretended to be her friends at least. It…” He pauses, tapping his spoon against his supper as he thinks of the right way to say it, “As far as they know, it isn’t aggressive and seems cooperative. They even— actually, wait.”

He pulls out the polaroid from his inner pocket, looking it over (even though he knows nothing would have changed) before sliding it to the center of the table. Lucy and George both lean in to have a look, coming back to stare at him in confusion.

“It was able to unlock and push the window open, then left the girl’s shoes on the windowsill to further prove it existed. Not only that, but both the Thistlebrows have said it is a rather heavy window too high up for their granddaughter to reach.” He takes another bite of his dinner, watching their expressions morph.

“But they said it had an apparition?” George asks first, seeming on the edge of worried and heavily intrigued. “Spectres can’t interact with heavy objects, but poltergeists can’t have apparitions. This ghost can’t exist unless it really was…”

Lucy is deep in deliberation as her eyes flit to somewhere out of the kitchen; the skull, Lockwood realizes quickly. “If this is a type three… and it was cooperative…”

A pregnant pause fills the room, only the ticking of a faraway clock echoing about the walls. George settles into his seat with a sigh, finally picking up his utensils. Lucy, rests her hands in her lap. They all look up and at each other, waiting for a beat, before falling into a quiet supper. They were definitely going to have to see this through now.

So here Lockwood finds himself in front of the house that starts and ends it all; that houses what might just be the strangest thing to happen in his haunted life. He meets you in a flurry of strange things— through a polaroid of an open window, a ghost goose case, and then meeting the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen— before he finds himself asking:

“Would you like to come home with us?”

You nod quickly in surprise, your eyes shining in mirth and other-light. He doesn’t even need Lucy to translate that as anything but a firm ‘yes’.

A/N: Everything I touch… turns to romcoms… I am like King Midas of romcoms PLEASE.

Also! Starting a silly taglist, just somehow reach out if you’d like to be added!!

Taglist 🏷️

@tangledinlove

[unproduciblesmackdown]

furthermore going like okay not Sure of timeline things But. concerning bonus material Atlas's Actual Shirts deal

a) that bonus material is bonus material but this sure seems to fall into the [could be canon] &/or [basically is, but unseen within the main material b/c there's not really a place for it there] realms

b) both acknowledging the Marriage(tm) with a critical deconstructing lens huh. the girls & the gays. fucked up that someone might for example have an ongoing Gayce Moment (presumably aro as well, hardly irrelevantly) where their transactional associations must hinge on math, murder, etc

c) appreciating like okay mordecai would've lost everything but the clothes he was already wearing when he had to impromptu hightail it out of nyc, so that's when atlas must've given him his own clothes; this is Definitely Years Later (edit: definitely Months! Perhaps years! plausibly like a year or two! and apply that throughout the rest of this post)

d) when i) mordecai can surely have afforded to replace all the lended clothes & ii) his fumbling to argue the Practical Reasoning behind currently(!) wearing atlas's clothes still means it's Not for practical reasons. years later. while dodging & glaring at & competitive with & needling at atlas's wife. Oh You Know

e) and what a choice on atlas's part to give mordecai his own clothes. sure, that could've been the quickest way to give him Anything to wear (not now bloodstained, for instance) but buying new clothes would be like some possible Next Day shit, or, i dunno, asking around for Other people's secondhand clothes, both of which account for: this being several years prior to when this conversation could've happened, mordecai was how old when he met atlas? 16-18? 21 while we have it that:

this, after the fray at the lodge (noticing for the first time mordecai still has marks on his face from that here. it's been seventeen years Still noticing brand new things. like wick in volume one looking at a group photo in the café ft. the only characters known to us being mordecai, atlas, & viktor. what are you interested in about that hmm???) wherein, with the band on the stage, mitzi with a ukulele, & the dialogue suggesting as much amidst the context that atlas didn't really start being allied with marigold until after the lodge fray proper slaughter, atlas seems to be in the earliest stages of Meeting His Wife here. with his Ferocious Little Shadow. who i also note is looking Entirely Away even as prior i've simply interpreted this as Keeping An Eye Out &/or general disinterest in Anything going on at the speakeasies. competitive to near-homicidal relationship with atlas's ever-present wife....which, remembering what i was getting at in the first place. if atlas's shirts are noticeable big on mordecai at that point, surely all the more so originally. and he kept them! and kept wearing them! for Emotional Reasons Only Actually. goodness gracious.

f) where's the walking on sunshine mitzi & mordecai shopping montage? which did apparently happen, unless instead mordecai then rushed to get new bespoke shirts himself to avoid others Perceiving him judgmentally and the walking on sunshine montage specifically. she gives him a makeover (from buttonups to buttonups. whaddaya gonna do) she asks him for begrudgingly familial makeup touchups....she shares intimate exclusive secrets with him concerning my firm [they were both in on atlas's death, and so would atlas have to have been too] stance....Girl,

g) "atlas and i discussed that" what???? who???? when & why???? mitzi kicking her legs like so tell me about your Ferocious Little Gay Little Two Steps Ahead Shadow. did atlas volunteer mordecai's Entire Backstory as he knew it? did he provide it upon Request? did mitzi ask "why's ya boy wearing shirts that don't quite fit" and atlas goes "oh yeah that's because they're my shirts. i have noticed this without saying anything. for years" like imagine. what's going on around here

h) i forgot how i planned to work in this image of "i love this shot of & Look for mordecai." disheveled freshly wounded undershirt towel suspenders now as fashion accessories over pants Annoyed Sideeye & it Does help that elsa, real fave tertiary character, is here serving as well with the waist pants & putting her hair up & they're both always serving anyways. You Better Not Be Cunty Mordecai when i get over there to fish the shotgun pellets out of your body, Said No One!!!

anyways recap atlas giving mordecai his own shirts (at all genuine or All about trying to spam the [benefactor] key so mordecai sticks around & shoots people for him?) mordecai accepting and continuing to wear them for years until thwarted by atlas's wife whom he is Competitor with and now in one of those classic duos of "do we hate each other? well maybe, but also no of course not. we also share an understanding we can't have with anyone else. which is a secret about the same guy who neither of us wanted to die but were both involved in his death" mitzi Knowing things about mordecai, oh i know all about you wearing my husband's shirts years later, mordecai is at atlas's funeral nobody else we know but mitzi & asa are there obviously mitzi would have to know about this too like. transcendent. fluorescent. head in hands. happy pride