#the one who probably dies on their way to call the police

[moonfromearth]

- You can't take these kinds of things lightly. Believe me. I've seen it all before.

Day 10 - The Detective "Thinks they know best, and the main cast hates them for this. They’re always poking around, checking things out. Typically they’re a blessing to The Final Girl, helping best the killer, or a curse, in which you’re happy to see them die."

from @windbrook's Slashed Challenge.

[thewittyphantom]

I love the comments on this video about how card game-focused Yu-Gi-Oh’s worldbuilding became over time.

“Ironically, despite Kaiba's attempt to redefine Kaiba Corp as a game company instead of arms manufacturing, he turned Duel Monsters into the world's weapon.”

“Can we take a moment to appreciate how customer friendly Kaiba's products are though? In the finale of GX Jaden dueled Yugi, who was wielding a duel disk that was roughly 10 years behind his own model and they were still compatible”

“This video doesn't even mention the time in GX where Kaiba fired trading cards into space that were designed by children so they could be bombarded by space rays and gain superpowers. The more you follow this series the more you realize that it's also the story where a supervillain successfully reshapes the world in his image, died beloved, successful, unrepentant, and accomplished all his goals,  except for the only one that really mattered: beating someone in a card game.”

“Kaiba didn't just change an entire city's way of doing things, or even the entire world for that matter. He literally changed how villains try to conquer the world. He's so influential that villains are still playing his game.”

“Something else that is both hilarious and terrifying in 5Ds: the cops play Duel Monsters to catch lawbreakers. In fact, the rules of Duel Monsters are so immutable to the law and order of Neo Domino City that the bikes called Duel Runners are able to remotely hacked by the police to force a duel, and losing that duel shuts down your bike. The rules of Duel Monsters sit above the police in terms of hierarchy, since if they could hack Duel Runners to force a duel, they could probably just shut down your bike remotely. I like to imagine Kaiba is sitting on his capitalist throne saying "If a criminal can beat you in a duel, then what authority do you have to catch them", and just forces the police to adapt to his survival-of-the-duelist world that he made.“

“Without card games, people like dartz would be invincible“

[petew21-blog]

Sexy revenge

I died serving my country as a mercenary all my life since I was left the school. Some might say that I did it only for money and they would be right. I did. It pass good. But I was freaking good at my job. I was a pro. And that's why they always called me back. Why I asked for more and more money and the government always provided. Cause they knew I would succeed.

But once, I wasn't the one picking my team. I always do background checks on them. But this one time I was assigned soldiers I knew but wasn't comfortable working with. Especially this one guy who would kill himself just cause his captain said so. The most loyal one I knew. I knew he despised me for the mercenary job. He did it for country, I did it for money. A loyal dog he was, I called him Rex just to mess with him. He clearly didn't like it. And to be honest, I really don't remember his name.

We were on a mission, the goal was clear. Secure the target, eliminate and get enough evidence and leave immediately.

It went smoothly. But as we found the guy, bombs around. Our squad was separated and I was left with Rex alone. We decided to find the evidence and leave. We were ambushed by a group of our enemies. Thanks to me, we managed to eliminate them all, including the target. But our team was still under fire from the roof. We sneaked up there. Rex was covering me and I eliminated the guy and saved my squad. And suddenly a shot went through my chest. I turned around painfully, just to see Rex holding our enemies weapon after firing.

"Nothing perosnal, orders are orders. You were a pain in the ass of our government. Always wanting more money, making your own rules. They know you're good, but so am I. This way, I'll get medals for saving our guys up here. While you will die here. That's where money gets you." and then he shot me in the head

And that's the last thing I remember. My body was transported back to the States. I somehow felt my prevence around it. The more time passed the more I could see the world around me. I become a ghost. I knew exactly why I didn't pass on. My unfinished bussiness was the one who shot me in the head. But how was I suppose to finish the bussiness now since I was a ghost.

Time went by. My body rotted in the ground. I was just roaming the world without no goal. But one day, I saw a ceremonial in the TV on the street. Rex was recieving a medal just as he said. "That fucker". The anger fuelled me. Revenge is the thing that let's me move on.

"I have to get to him somehow. But he is now protected. Hidden in the army. And I am still a ghost that only now knows how to make lights flicker and slightly move objects. Unless I scare him to death I won't get my revenge. I have to get a body."

The first person I tried on was a homeless person on the street. He was high on fentanyl. That made it easier for me cause he didn't fight. But staying in a body that's this high is really hard. I left his body and tried on some kid in a park and succeeded. Ok, next level. A teenager.

My luck was really great today. I picked one who was a pickpocket and was followed by a police officer. So much running after being dead and the possession made it hard for me to run from him. And I got caught. Whiel we were writing on the red light. Me, still in the teens body, I now focused myself on the police officer on the passengers seat. He was asleep, probably from his night shift, maybe that will make it easier for me.

I concentrated and then my soul just moved a bit to the front. Being accepted in the adult body. He did put up a fight even though He was sleep, but I won.

I opened my eyes. My 'colleague' was looking at me and just laughed. "Bad dreams?"

"What?" my deep voice left my throat. What a manly body I picked.

"You were sharing man. You dreamed of some chick atleast?"

"Haha, yeah that's right" I chuckled and then pretended to sleep again to not let him question me again.

I left the teen thief with my colleague and went to the lockers to change and end my shift

Taking off the uniform I found out that the police officer, Adrian Jackson, I now possesed, had bunch of tatoos, hairy chest, muscular body and satisfactory dick. Mine was better. But this one is young. Might be nice to enjoy the young fertility again

I went to the mirror to get a good look at myself

"Ooooooh, look at those GUNS!" I flexed to see what I was now working with.

"This body is really nice. If I get my revenge I could stay being you, Adrian."

Tapping into Adrians mind I found out what his adress was. And what any man, not only gay ones, would do in this situations? That's right. I went to explore my new body in the shower. Feeling the hot water running down was erotic itself. I missed having feelings.

As I was drying off my hairy dick that just shot cum on the shower wall, I knew there was something missing

I found the clothes in his closet that were slightly resembling the ones I used to wear. What was now reflecting at me in the mirror was a young, hot reflection of an adult man, very similar to me as when I was starting my mercenary career.

I took a very revealing photo for later. Don't worry, I have to give this body a nice ride. And FUCK how I wanna ride someone. Whoever it is. Man, woman, anyone.

My plans are about to proceed. I have a body I need to take revenge on Rex. Another step? Leaving Adrian's job as a cop. Becoming a mercenary again. Getting a haircut and get as close to REX as possible.

Surely he will be tempted to take down another mercenary that is just like me before.

Revenge is so sexy if you ask me

Story request from inbox: You can make a story about an old mercenary possessing a handsome young cop, and turning him into a new mercenary.

[dalliancekay]

Aziraphale does NOT need to suffer MORE

Can't believe I have to say this. TW: grief, mourning, death (sorry) I have, since falling into the fandom 6 months ago to escape real life, seen many takes on how Aziraphale needs to (or at least should) suffer in S3 to match Crowley's suffering. As the counterpart to the moment Crowley thinks he lost Aziraphale as he's looking for him desperately in the burning bookshop....

...after this he drinks, we suppose, to dull his pain, waiting for the Armageddon. Or, for the way Crowley suffers at the bandstand argument, the 'I Forgive You' moments, which many people find utterly devastating and incredibly heartless from Aziraphale. Not to mention when he doesn't react in the 'right way' to Crowley's confession in the Final 15. And then on top of that, 'abandons' Crowley. For Heaven. Oh and also for, and I quote: "The smug and entitled way Aziraphale went around in S2 assuming Crowley would love and follow him everywhere." And so for all this pain that Crowley endured for him, Aziraphale should suffer in S3 (to I assume) even out the scores. Or... to deserve Crowley. Some people also want to see him lose it, show his emotions, to cry or beg or otherwise show how much he misses Crowley and how very sorry he is for what he has (so thoughtlessly) done.

Now for the TW grief content I motioned above. You can skip to the next sentence in bold.

I was on holiday late September last year, visiting my mum, stepfather and my two younger brothers. We went to a cousin's wedding. It was great. The day after, as I was hanging out reading a book, my mum got a call. The kind of call every mother fears. My youngest brother (he was 27) died in an accident. We needed to speak to police and the coroner. She cried and cried. She's still crying. She asks questions. She gets no answers. I...did not cry. I talked to the police. I googled a funeral home. I bought my brother his last set of clothes. He lived in a hoodie and torn black jeans. Mum wanted a suit. I texted a lot of people. I bought snacks for the many friends who came to the funeral and wanted to speak to us after. My grief feels like a vice. I am not sad. I do not appear sad. Contrary to what people expect. But I am ANGRY. I am furious. But nobody can see this. I am not fine and I wish no one would ever* ask how I was again. TW/Personal content over. WE ALL SUFFER DIFFERENTLY Since I was small (because I am weird like that) I genuinely wondered if, finding myself in danger, I could scream like people in films do. I don't think I could. I cope with hard situations, fear and stress and anxiety by shutting down, sometimes by retreating as well, and by furiously (but quietly) trying to find a way out. And I think Aziraphale does the same. And that's why I love him so much. And why I feel I get him and understand that people sometimes can't tell how much he's actually feeling. I also express love the way Aziraphale does - by organising things for people, inviting them places, making plans. When Crowley said you call me for three things (and it's basically any old reason) I felt SO SEEN. This is what I would do with a friend who I know is feeling unmoored, sad, stuck (Crowley's 'What's the point of it all' at the beginning of S2). I'd text them with any old thing. I'd never actually say I love you, but I would try to get them to talk, meet me, go somewhere. Aziraphale does not express emotions the same way as Crowley.

But his emotions are valid nonetheless. He is worried for Crowley from around 3 minutes into their acquaintanceship. And he NEVER stops worrying from then on.

And are we quite sure he has never lost Crowley?

How many times did Aziraphale's heart freeze in horror when he realised Hell has taken Crowley and he had no idea if he'll ever come back and what is happening to him?

How did Aziraphale spend the night after vanquishing the demons and starting a war? He had no idea where Crowley was. What happened to him. He was probably sick with worry that Hell just took him away. We didn't see him drink and cry, but surely, the worry must have been overwhelming. The wait for what will happen now.

ALL his worries over the Arrangement. Was he worried for himself? Do we really think that?

Crowley thought he lost Aziraphale in S1, yes, we saw that. And what happened to the angel then?

He got blown into atoms which I bet wasn't pleasant and when he arrives in Heaven he limps. Why is he hurt? And why is he quickly pretending he isn't? Why is he always hiding how he feels? Also, he immediately deserts, wants no part in the Holy War and quickly finds an extremely unconventional way to get back. It's not a grand gesture, he doesn't deliberate, doesn't worry that he will Fall (although surely that must have been what he thought will happen if he survives this), there's no pomp around it, he thinks it and then does it. No hesitation.

Is this coming from an angel who just can't leave Heaven behind and longs to be a part of it? Who loves to follow rules? And let's not forget in those moments Aziraphale thought Crowley was most likely gone. That he probably left for Alpha Centauri. Last he heard from him he was told he was talking to an old friend and had no time for him. Why we NEVER talk about how that might have felt for Aziraphale? About his sadness?

Things are not as simple as Aziraphale has been supressing his emotions and lying to himself about how he feels and he should get over it and become free. That's not how this works. First of all, he was suppressing his emotions OUT OF LOVE. His main goal was always to keep Crowley safe. They simply couldn't run away or hoodwink Heaven and Hell. They had nowhere to go. They had no hope and yet they kept loving each other. That's courage. I know we all grew up with Romeo and Juliet and Heathcliff and Cathy and we FORGOT that those were CAUTIONARY tales. And this is not what Aziraphale wants for them. He would never allow himself to go so fast he would hurt Crowley. He feels guilty enough for agreeing to the Arrangement and for meeting Crowley at all when he knows they can be discovered and punished at any point. And Crowley knows it and RESPECTS it. He does not tolerate Aziraphale's decision to not go on a date and to hell with circumstances. He understands Aziraphale's reasoning and he respects Aziraphale's decision. Don't forget, they have NO POWER. They can't change Heaven and Hell. They can't stop believing in God and work on their religious trauma. Their Heaven and Hell are real places with real power and they both BELONG to them. Aziraphale's trauma and his personality are deeply intertwined and he'd probably never be the kind of person who is open in showing their grief or stress like Crowley does. He will learn to be more open, I'm sure. With his love especially, we see him reaching for and touching his demon in S2. Openly being with him, looking at him without guarding himself. They got a little bit of freedom for themselves despite ALL odds. So. Just because Aziraphale is not crying and screaming and I dunno, tearing his hair out or whatever some people would have him do, does not mean he isn't overflowing with pain, fear, uncertainty, doubts, worries, and so much anxiety that if he let it all out, half of the solar system would turn to ashes.

Aziraphale does not need to suffer in S3 to level out Crowley's suffering. They are, unfortunately, equal in their pain as they are in love. If there is one thing Crowley would never abide, it'd be this take from the fandom. * One more note on grief: (obviously from my personal experience) As initiated by @anthony-crowleys-left-nut in a comment

It's not that I mind to know people care and worry etc, not at all. But asking how I am can only end up in me lying (fine, thank you) and both of us knowing it's not really true and feeling awkward or not lying (I feel like shit, mostly cos I can't sleep and think the world is a stupid, unfair place) and both of us feeling awkward anyway. Does that make sense? I wish I could tell friends/colleagues to ask what I've been up to or something similar instead. What I've been reading (um, AO3, but I'll make something up), watching, do I want to go see some spring flowers bloom (I do). I think...this would probably work not just for someone who is grieving but also for someone who you know is dealing with depression for example or a serious illness etc. Edit 2. It's now almost (in 15 days) a year since my brother died. The random attacks of pain and grief have lessened and I have started to do more of the things I enjoyed before... and I am able to answer how are you questions without feeling like they are trying to mock me (the questions, not the people). So I suppose things do get ... lighter? More diffused? I'm not sure. Because it's still exactly as unfair that my brother has not lived this past year as it will be however many years I will be here without him I expect.

[kiyomitakada]

i know its a classic. possibly cliche already. but i do wonder about Tumblr In The Death Note Universe probably more than i should

2 notes

💅 toxicbff Follow

if i see one more post attributing kira's powers to ~supernatural powers~ instead of the obvious fact that the cia is doing a coup I'm going to start giving You the heart attacks

💅 toxicbff

of course i saw the news how does that not prove my point further

the idea that all the police around the world could be mobilized by one single person is ridiculous (just look at this list of how many civilian militia there are globally)

heart attack victims don't seize the way "lind l tailor" did

i don't know how to tell you that You Can't Kill People Just By Knowing Their Name And Face because this is Real Life and not the newest grimdark marvel villain

people need to stop being scared of the ~bogeyman in the closet~ and wake up to the fact that usamerica is trying to take over the goddamned world

💅 toxicbff

im going to kill you all and nuke this website

#sayonara you weeaboo shits

2,925 notes

👾 lets-go-geeks Follow

DO TRUMP NEXT

🕵🏾‍♀️ penny-penelope Follow

LIKES TO CHARGE REBLOGS TO CAST

16,375 notes

❤️‍🔥 lovesickened Follow

i know its stupid but im so fucking scared for my brother i heard that seven people died this week at the prison he's in and iinjust dont kenow what to do ihate him for ehat he did to mom but i never wanted him to die

#vent tw #delete later

0 notes

🏎 fastandyurious Follow

if i get a single more comment about why i don't tag "genderbend" on my kiratective fics i'm going to blow up the entire building. we don't know EITHER of their genders. why don't YOU tag your mediocre yaoi genderbend instead

🔆 sparkling-world Follow

…OP, you realize the news reports all consistently use "he," right?

🏎 fastandyurious

of course i do???? just because you see something on the news doesn't mean you have to believe it?????? they don't have any information on kira yet but i'm supposed to believe the fbi knows their gender already??????? also kira is literally a fucking girl's name my classmate in elementary school was called kira

🔆 sparkling-world

Kira comes from the Japanese romanization for "killer," it isn't gendered whatsoever.

Also, evidence shows the majority of serial killers are male, so I'd argue that the statistics favor the fujoshis here.

🏎 fastandyurious

well evidence shows that female serial killers are just more fun to write about and I'd argue that you're ignoring my fucking POINT which is that we DON'T KNOW KIRA'S GENDER and if people don't want to read lesbian kiratective they can FUCK OFF MY BLOG

🥚 i-offer-eggman Follow

I offer you an Eggman in these trying times.

🔮 I-stands-for-le-gay Follow

@lashitpostcalligrapher yo can i get "the statistics favor the fujoshis" on my tombstone

#fandom: kira rpf #ship: kiral #never heard it called kiratective before… #also uh. prayer circle for op's classmate lmaoooo

2,107 notes

💃🏻 modelingmadness Follow

BOYCOTT EIGHTEEN MAGAZINE

THEY ALLOW KIRA-SUPPORTING MODELS AND ARE COMPLICIT IN THIS MASSACRE

SOURCES HERE AND HERE (TRIGGER WARNING: KIRA DISCUSSION)

PUSH BACK AGAINST HEART ATTACKS

🧚🏽‍♂️ harubaru Follow

golly gee ^_^ suddenly i feel like taking to the high seas in a way that the eighteen company cant get profit from. oh no ! who left this link here

🐦‍⬛ kuro--misa Follow

thanks for the link but jesus fucking christ man what happened to free speech. misa-misa's parents were killed by a burglar who kira punished. did you all expect her to just sit there, look pretty, and say nothing about it?

you people only like models when they're nice pictures for you to consume. you only like them two-dimensional and smiling and hot. the second a woman actually speaks her mind she's thrown to the wolves

💃🏻 modelingmadness

DID YOU NOT SEE MY BANNER YOU PIECE OF SHIT

#BLOCKED

140 notes

🐦‍⬛ kuro--misa Follow

lol. lmao even

#they blocked me but whatever #official eighteen site just said misamisa wont be in the next issue #(eighteen sucks but i kind of want to use it more out of spite now) #so much for apologism huh? #god. i feel sick. #hasn't she been through enough.

1 note

🥷🏻 kira-imagines Follow

Imagine you're going home after a long day. Suddenly there's a sound. "Huh? Whose there" you ask, dropping your keys on the floor. Then you feel it. A knife pressing in your neck.

"Don't move kitten" Kira purrs behind you. "You're all mine now…"

#kiraxreader #kiraxoc #kira #kira rpf #kira investigation #kira fucker #kira fudger #kira lover #kira haters dont touch #kira haters please touch #kira supporters please touch #l

5,733 notes

asahi-the-student-deactivated201

Hello, everyone! My little sister told me about this microblogging platform (I admit, I'm a Twitter refugee) and that many of you are discussing the Kira investigation on here. I'm really interested in hearing what your thoughts are!

💋 sunny-sayu Follow

let the record show he lasted like. a day

#i think it was the imagines that did him in #bro is so sensitive :p

15 notes

kiyomitakada

the world could be beautiful

[ @deathnotetober day 14: trigger ]

[atlabeth]

northern attitude

geyser (where hurricane is introduced)

pairing: luke castellan x daughter of poseidon!reader

summary: you and luke meet for the first time. (or luke saves you from a monster, you argue with each other the whole time, and he realizes that he doesn't want to survive alone anymore.)

a/n: by popular demand, hurricane is back for a sequel! and potentially more. lol. enjoy some insight into her (justice for weird little girls) and try not to think about the fact that she dies 6 years later! title comes from new england king noah kahan for these new england icons

wc: 4.6k

warning(s): some inner luke angst, monster encounter and short fight (luke gets a bit injured), they argue but in the fun way. they're just lil nine year olds

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Luke muttered. 

He didn’t get an answer back. He was, after all, talking to a fish. 

Maybe it didn’t like that he was a criminal. Luke had snuck his way into the New England Aquarium—he wasn’t going to cough up twenty-five bucks to look at marine life—in desperate need of a reprieve from the city, and he fought the urge to check his back every second. If there was one thing he’d learned from being on his own, it was that kids traveling alone always attracted attention. The last thing he needed was attention. 

Talking to a fish probably wasn’t good for that, but Luke wasn’t exactly in the best headstate. 

Because honestly, he didn’t really know what he was doing in Massachusetts. He tried staying in Connecticut after running away, but it still felt too close to home. He could still hear his mom yelling, could still see her glowing eyes. So he bought the cheapest bus ticket he could find to Boston, hoping a state in between would help. 

That was the second thing he’d learned while traveling on the road: everything was way too expensive. And for a kid with no job living off the allowance he’d saved up and some extra money he took out of his mom’s wallet, that wasn’t great. If Luke couldn’t get something dirt cheap, he stole it. His father may not have answered any of his prayers in the past few years, but at least he had naturally quick fingers. 

Luke sighed as he turned away from the fish, who was clearly not interested in striking up a conversation. He weaved his way through the crowd as he tried to think of where to go next—it wasn’t the smartest decision, but he was tempted to get a little whale plush from the gift stop—when he heard the middle of a conversation. 

“You made a mistake coming here, dearie.” 

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as Luke froze in place. He couldn’t even murmur an apology to the people who bumped into him because the gears in his head were turning rapidly. 

“Let go of me—” a voice protested in response. 

“Quieting down would do you some good. Did your mother not teach you manners?”

He was still trying to see who it was when he finally found it. A middle-aged woman moved through the crowd with a girl around Luke’s age, her hand wrapped tightly around the girl’s arm. Her nails were more like claws, and she had a strange gait that she tried to cover up. That was when he knew. 

See, Luke had gotten used to distinguishing creeps from freaks with all his time on the road. Cutting a monster down would turn them into dust—normal humans would call the police. And if there was anything more dangerous for a runaway juvenile than monsters, it was the police. 

But if a monster had ignored every single person in this building to get to you, it meant he’d somehow stumbled his way into the path of another half-blood. And Luke wasn’t going to let another half-blood die right in front of him. 

So he took a deep breath, hoped the five second plan he made up in his head would work, and moved in.

“May, where have you been?” Luke tried to put on his best brother voice, and made himself as imposing as a nine year old could be. He didn’t focus at all on the monster, instead communicating to trust him as much as he could with his eyes. “Mom’s been worried sick!”

Both you and the woman turned to look at him, and Luke immediately knew he made the right choice from the blatant fear in your expression. 

“Sorry,” you said, letting your shoulders fall and your gaze drop to the ground. Luke tried not to let his relief show over you playing along. “I really wanted to look at the sea turtle—” 

“You should’ve said something instead of just wandering off,” he insisted. “We can all go look at it together—once Mom is done lecturing you, at least.” Luke took your hand and you let him pull you over to his side, positioning himself in front of you ever so slightly as he looked up at the woman. “Thanks for keeping an eye on her. I appreciate it.” 

“You should be more careful,” she said eerily. It felt as if she was staring right into his soul. “You never know the kind of things that are out there.” 

“I know,” he said, shaking his head. “Sisters, am I right?” 

As soon as they were out of hearing distance, he lowered his voice and tightened his grip on your hand. “Come on. Try and look casual.” 

“You know what she is,” you whispered.

“Yes,” he said, then he shook his head. “I— not exactly. But I know she’s a monster.”

“I knew it,” you muttered with vindication. Luke felt your eyes on him. “So you’re like me?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“One of your parents is—” You stopped, as if you still weren’t sure. 

Luke knew the feeling all too well—desperately trying to tell someone what he was only to be met with that look adults loved to give. You’re clearly talking nonsense, but I feel bad for you so I’ll humor you. And all the normal kids he’d tried to tell the truth to thought he was just playing a game. 

“A god,” he finished quietly. “Yeah.”

You started to look back, but Luke stopped you. 

“Don’t.” Their chances of getting attacked in a place so full of people was lower, but Luke had dealt with some particularly bold monsters. One able to disguise themself as a human would have an advantage—Luke learned people hated listening to kids, especially ones they could pass off as delusional. “You don’t want her to catch on.” 

“Who are you?” you asked. 

“My name’s Luke,” he said. “What about you?” 

You said your name, then you glanced at him. “You know a lot about all of this. More than me.” 

“Are you a runaway too?”

You nodded, and a part of his heart broke. You had no right to be out here, not when you were so young. 

And he says so, too. “You shouldn’t be out here on your own. It’s dangerous.” 

You frowned. “You’re out here on your own too.” 

“I’ve been on my own for a few months,” he said. “I know what to expect. How long have you been out?” 

You shrugged. “A week.” 

Luke let out a ragged sigh. “You’ve got bad luck if monsters are already coming after you.” 

“They already have,” you murmured, and you looked back at him. “How old are you if you’ve been doing this for months?” 

Luke frowned. “Nine. How old are you?” 

“I’m also nine,” you shot back. “So you can’t say anything to me.” 

He opened his mouth to retort—Luke hadn’t been a child in years, not since Hermes left him alone with a cursed mother and a burning rage inside of him that he couldn’t let go of, no matter how hard he tried. But if you chose to run away from home too, then you were in the same boat. Kids like you two didn’t get to be kids. 

“Fair,” he conceded. “But it’ll be a lot easier to give her the slip if we work together.”

“…I can deal with that.” You cleared your throat. “Thank you for saving me, though. I… I just froze.” 

“It happens more than you’d think,” Luke muttered. “We have to throw her off our trail, though. She’s not gonna be happy.” 

“She’s probably ecstatic,” you said, shaking your head. “She’s got two kids to eat instead of one.” 

“Aren’t you an optimist?” he remarked. 

You chuckled. “Sorry. It hasn’t been a great day.” 

“It’s fine.” Luke didn’t know the last great—god, even good—day he’d had, even before he ran away. Honestly, this conversation with you had been the highlight of this month. “But we can’t just leave. She has our scent, so she’ll be on us as soon as we’re on our own. It’ll be even easier out in the open. We’ve gotta set security on her trail to get her off ours.” 

You nodded as you turned another corner. “We should get to the gift shop. It’ll be less populated, but still enough to hide us.” 

Luke nodded. “Smart. And security’ll have an easy path there in case of shoplifters.” 

“So tell a sob story, get security, set them on her,” you said, looking at him. 

“Then get the hell out of here,” he agreed. 

“Think we can get a souvenir for the occasion?” you asked. “We’ve probably earned it with all this dodging.” 

Luke thought about that whale plushie again. “Maybe.” 

“The stairs are that way.” You gestured with your head, and Luke turned—he’d been going the completely wrong direction.

“Thanks,” he said. “You know this place?” 

“I’m from Boston,” you nodded. “And I’ve been here a lot with my mom.”

Luke figured he should have guessed by the accent. He didn’t know how long he was going to stay, but it would be useful to have someone with him who knew the city.

“You’re still pretty close to home,” he noted. 

You shrugged. “I’ve been doing all the things I’ve wanted to do now that I’m officially on my own. I know I’m gonna have to leave eventually, but…” you sighed and shook your head. “I guess I’m scared. Brave enough to run away but too scared to make it official.” 

Luke understood that more than you could know. It took him feeling like he was going to burst out of his skin before he got the strength to leave Connecticut. 

“You don’t wanna leave your mom,” he guessed. 

You nodded. “I love her more than anything, but I’ve already put her in too much danger. I’m leaving until I can figure out how to keep her safe.” 

You’re a kid, Luke wanted to say. It should be the other way around. But he’d already been hypocritical enough for today, and you’d probably say the same. 

“That’s sweet,” he said. “Stupid, but sweet.” 

“We’re both nine-year-old runaways,” you said. “You don’t get to tell me what’s stupid.” 

He chuckled and shook his head, letting the matter drop as you finally got to the gift shop. Luke had been stressed about how to strike a balance between cautious enough to keep your backs covered but confident enough to not be questioned, but it turned out talking with you was all he needed. 

On the way to the front, Luke caught sight of a whale plushie. His fingers itched to grab it, but he kept his eyes on the better prize of not dying and came to a stop at the cash register. 

“Hi,” Luke said, getting the attention of the employee at the front, hoping he sounded adequately fearful. “There’s a woman out there that tried to get my friend to go with her. Tall, middle-aged, dressed in grandmother-y clothes with glasses. She grabbed her arm and threatened her.” 

“You kids aren’t joking around, are you?” the cashier asked. 

“No,” you said, and Luke was shocked by how close to tears you sounded. “It was really scary— my parents were in the bathroom and I was waiting for them, and she just looked so nice, but—” somehow, a tear actually fell from your eye as you let out a sob— “but she tried to take me away.” 

The woman shook her head as she went back and grabbed a walkie talkie from below the register. The moment she turned away, you glanced at Luke and nodded, and he just stared in awe. She relayed Luke’s description then said a couple other things, then she crouched down to be on their level to look you straight-on. “Where are your parents?” 

“They’re in the bathroom on the second floor,” you provided. “We came here because we didn’t know where else to go.” 

She sighed, falling for every part of it. You were much better at garnering sympathy than Luke was. “I’m sorry, sweetie. I called our security— they’ll be here in a second to get a statement from you.” 

You nodded, sniffling a bit as your lip quivered. “Thank you. I�� I just want my mom.” 

The employee put her hand to her heart, and when you went for a hug, she reciprocated. “Don’t cry. You’re gonna be safe, okay? I’ll wait with you until security gets here. One of our guards is already out there looking for her.”

“Okay,” you agreed. Luke caught your eye from behind her back, and you dropped your act in a second to smile knowingly at him. He just shook his head with a slight smile of his own—you were good at this. 

Eventually, two security guards arrived—Luke doubted they would be good for handling a shoplifter, much less a mythological monster—but they took yours and Luke’s statements, and were about to leave before you spoke up. 

“Our parents are definitely looking for us,” you said, already back on the verge of tears. “Can— can you take us to them? When they went to the bathroom, we were by the coral reef.” 

“‘Course.” One of them nodded and looked at his partner. “I’ll get them back to their parents—you look for the suspect.” 

After a short discussion, the three of you set out, you still holding Luke’s hand as he leaned closer to you. 

“On my signal,” he murmured. “We’re gonna blend into the crowd and get out of here.”

You nodded. You were so close to the exit, but you allowed the guard to take you up the stairs, and thankfully the crowd around the middle of the giant ocean tank was huge. Luke counted off quietly, and when he got to three, you split off, blending into a group of kids on a school field trip to get back to the stairs. 

You started moving at a much quicker pace, the exit within your sights, but just as they were about to make it, Luke spotted their monster. And now, she was definitely a monster—Luke couldn’t remember the name, but she’d shed her disguise, looking like some kind of bird-human hybrid thing. It didn’t really matter in his opinion, because she really looked like she wanted to kill the two of you. 

Luke cursed and grabbed your arm, immediately pulling you flat up against the wall with him. “She’s here.” 

“We told security about her,” you protested. “How hard could it be to find her?” 

“A bit harder when they’re gonna be seeing something different.” Luke glanced at you. “You said you’ve already dealt with monsters before.” 

You nodded. 

“Do you remember feeling like you were the only one who actually saw what was happening? Like you saw the monster for what it was while it was trying to kill you, and everyone was still freaking out, but not as much as they should have been?” 

You nodded again. 

“Well, that’s a thing. Normal people can’t see what monsters really look like—only we can.” Luke peeked his head around the corner again. “And if she’s shed her disguise, it means she wants to go in for the kill. And it means we’re completely on our own.” 

“We’re not on our own,” you said. “We’ve got each other.” 

Luke found himself smiling. It had been a while since that was true. It had been a while since he’d smiled. 

“Yeah,” he agreed. “And it’s harder to kill two half-bloods than one.” 

He poked his head out again and immediately withdrew it, cursing under his breath as he stared up at the ceiling. “I never should have come to this city.”  

“Excuse me?” You stepped away from the wall as your brows furrowed. “Boston is the greatest city in the world.” 

“If you’re gonna be wrong, be wrong quietly,” Luke urged, gesturing with his head for you to get back. “And you are wrong, by the way.” 

“I’m not wrong.” You crossed your arms, refusing to budge. “Did you know that we have the first public park? And the first public school! And we have the T! Where are you even from?” 

“We can talk about this later,” he insisted. “We’re trying to hide. Have you ever hidden before?” 

“We don’t need to hide when you’ve insulted my Commonwealth’s honor,” you said. “Especially when you’re in our aquarium. Where are you from to be talking so badly about the Bay State?” 

“Connecticut,” he finally said, hoping that would get you to finally quiet down, but that only ramped you up further. “Place called Westport.”

“Connecticut?” you marveled, throwing your hands up. “You’re from some podunk town in Connecticut and you’re insulting Boston?” 

“Okay, Westport is not a podunk town—” Luke started, but he didn’t get the chance to finish defending his hometown before he caught sight of their monster—and she’d caught sight of them. 

Luke cursed even harder under his breath with words no nine year old should have known, then he grabbed your hand and pulled you along into a jog, interrupting your immediate protests. 

“She’s got us pinned,” he said, trying to keep his voice low enough to not be detected while making sure you could hear him. “Together, our scent is too strong. We’re not gonna be able to lose her—we’ve gotta kill her.”

“Could the fish help with her knowing where we are?” you asked as you started running with him. “Because they’ll be happy to help us. They don’t like her either.”

Luke did a double take. “What?”

“I can hear what they’re saying,” you said, as if it were completely normal. “It’s a little overwhelming with so many in one place, honestly.”

If they weren’t on the run from a monster, Luke would have worried a bit more about the fact that you were crazy. But he wasn’t awarded those kinds of luxuries these days. 

“We’ll—” Luke let out a sigh, because what did you mean that you could hear what fish were saying (especially because they clearly weren’t conversation prone)— “we’ll get out of here, and get the upper hand, and we’ll kill her. Okay?”

“Okay,” you nodded. “But Boston is still the greatest city in the world.” 

He huffed, taking his eyes off the path forward for a moment just to look at you. “Are you seriously still on this?” 

“Of course. We also have the greatest baseball team in the country.” You gestured with your free hand. “Do you see how many people here have Red Sox hats on?” 

Luke laughed out of pure shock. Was this the kind of stuff he’d been missing out on while traveling alone? 

“Listen,” he said. “If we get out of this alive, you can tell me all the Red Sox facts you want. But we actually have to work together through all this. Deal?” 

“Deal,” you said immediately. “You’re way more focused than I am.” 

Luke let out a loose breath and shook his head. “Well, I’ve had to be. Do you have a weapon?” 

“I took a kitchen knife before I left,” you said, “just to be safe. It’s worked pretty well.” 

“Do you know how to use it?” 

“I’m really good at chopping vegetables,” you said. “And I killed a monster with it the other day.” 

“Glowing reviews,” Luke chuckled. “I’m pretty good with my sword, so we should be okay.” 

“You’ve got a sword? How?” 

“...My dad left it for me before he left,” Luke said. “I guess he wanted to do one good thing for me in his life.” 

“I’m sorry,” you said. Luke offered a tight smile. 

“Doesn’t matter much anymore,” he said. “Soon as we get outside, we get to the street and get to some empty alley. We hide on either side, wait for her to find us, then take her down. Okay?” 

You nodded resolutely. “Let’s do it.”

The beginning of the plan wasn’t too difficult. Your faces would probably be plastered all over the place once the staff realized you were missing, but that was a problem for another day. You knew the area well so you took charge—and you took the time to spout random facts about the city on your way, of course, like a nine-year-old tour guide—and soon enough they were indeed in an empty alleyway. 

You and Luke stood on each side, weapons in your grasp now that you weren’t surrounded by a whole aquarium of people, and he watched as you stared straight ahead, trying to keep your breathing steady. Besides the whole hearing fish thing, you seemed pretty well-adjusted for where you were. 

But then again—you’d only been at this for a week, and the way you talked about your mom, your home life was the complete opposite of his. 

Luke shook his head. It didn’t matter what your life was like—you both ended up in the same place. 

His thoughts were mercifully ended when Luke heard sharp nails scratching against the brick of the alleyway. He grimaced, his grip tightening on his sword, and he looked over at you. Your eyes were slightly wide, but you nodded when he did. You were ready. 

“You two are clever,” the monster sang, her voice just as grating as her nails against the wall, “but I never miss a meal. And those measly workers just wouldn’t sate my appetite.” 

Her steps got closer and closer, and Luke held his breath. Right before she would be able to see you both, he yelled, “Now!” 

You were out first, immediately lashing at her with your knife. She took the cut against her shoulder and slashed at you in turn, but you dodged out of the way, giving Luke a chance to come in with his sword. But his angle was off, and she deflected the blow then sunk her claws into his arm. Luke cried out, landing a kick on her chest as he ripped himself out of her grasp, but her focus was already back on you. 

You stabbed at her with your knife and actually landed it in her chest, but it wasn’t Celestial bronze—all it did was make her angrier. She screeched and tackled you to the ground, knife still sticking out of her, claws poised to rip your throat out. You grit your teeth as you wrestled her arms away from you, but your strength was fading fast. 

Luke’s eyes widened and he grabbed his sword from the ground. He wouldn’t make it in time, but you could. 

He called out your name and threw his sword, and you didn’t even have to look to snatch it out of the air. Storms raged in your eyes as you stabbed the monster through the side.

“You shouldn’t have come here, dearie,” you spat. 

The monster’s scream dissolved with the wind as she exploded into dust, dousing you in yellow powder. The sword fell out of your grip as you coughed, and you just laid on the ground, drained.  

“Gross,” you grumbled. 

Luke wiped his hand across his forehead as he fought to catch his breath, ignoring the blood seeping down his arm. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah,” you said between coughs. “I’m great.” 

Luke went over and offered his hand, and he pulled you up after you took it. “I’m so sorry. I guess I’m a little rusty.” 

“Neither of us are dead, are we? I’d say it went pretty well.” You grimaced as you wiped the powder off your face, groaning again. “This is gonna take forever to get off.” 

Luke chuckled as he took his backpack off and took out a towel, which you accepted gratefully. A demigod always had to be prepared. “You say you’ve only been on your own for a week?”

You nodded as you started cleaning your face and arms off. “Not my first monster, though.”

“It never is,” he murmured. Luke tipped his head back towards the sun and closed his eyes, letting out one final, long breath as the buzz from battle started to fade. And along with that, his adrenaline—the wound on his arm began to sting, and he sighed. He really didn’t feel like dealing with that. 

“You’re hurt,” you said, and Luke opened his eyes. 

“I’ll be fine,” he said. “They’re surface level.” 

You frowned. “Are you sure?” 

“I’ve stitched myself up a few times, and this doesn’t need them,” he said, his lip curling at the memory. He was not a very good doctor. “I have some first aid stuff in my bag—once we get out of here, I’ll fix it up.” 

“You said we,” you said. 

Luke blinked. “I did?” 

You nodded. “When we get out of here.” 

He blinked again. He didn’t even notice—didn’t even really think about where you would go after the monster was dead. It was kinda sad, but Luke was pretty sure he’d smiled and talked more in this one hour with you than the past few months on his own. He’d already started thinking of you and him as a collective. 

“What d’you think, then?” he asked. “You wanna stick together?” 

You frowned. “You’re willing to kick it with a girl you just met?”

He shrugged. “You fight well, obviously. And you’re way better at making people feel bad for you than I am. That’s useful when you’ve got nothing.”

“We’re kids on our own,” you said. “It’s not that hard to get pity points.”

“I’ve been told I’m… abrasive,” Luke said. “Besides, I like you already. You were arguing for your baseball team while running for your life. It’s annoying, but impressive.”

“People also say that about me,” you said sagely. Luke smiled and held out his hand more. 

“So? You wanna join forces?”

You stared at it for a while. “Even if I spend the next couple of hours telling you all about the Red Sox?”

Luke chuckled. “I did say you could if we got out of this alive. And I feel pretty alive.” 

It took you another second, but you nodded intently and shook his hand. “Then you’ve got yourself a deal, Luke.” 

“Glad to hear it,” he said, his smile widening. 

You handed him the towel and he went to put it back in his bag when he saw the… souvenir he’d taken before you left the gift shop. He grabbed the whale plushie that had been on his mind all day and held it out to you. “Here.”

You frowned. “When did you even have the time to get this? You definitely didn’t pay for it.”

“Idle hands are the devil’s playthings,” he said. “They won’t miss it. It’s a much better use marking the start of our friendship. Besides,” Luke shrugged, “you did say you wanted a souvenir.” 

You smiled as you took it. “Looks like we’re a trio, then.”

“Welcome to the team,” he said with a grin. “It’s a small one, but I think we’ll make it work.”

“Me too,” you nodded. “And it’ll be nice not being alone.”

Luke thought back to all the nights spent sleeping under bridges, commandeering benches, purposefully choosing overnight buses so he would have somewhere to rest. Constantly watching his back because he had no one else, wondering if each night he camped in the woods would be his last. 

He looked at you, a girl who ran away from home because she didn’t want to hurt her mom. Your clothes were covered in yellow monster dust, sweat dripped down your forehead, and Luke had nearly gotten you killed—but you were still smiling. And he found himself smiling too. 

“Yeah,” Luke murmured. “It will be.” 

[theoceanandthestars]

Bobby's Goddaughter

Summary: Bobby’s Goddaughter decides to move to LA and makes a visit to the 118.

A/N: so this was supposed to be short and sweet but apparently I got way too carried away. Apologies for any mistakes! Hope you enjoy :)

Word Count: 1.7k

As you stepped of the plane in LA you let out a breath you didn’t realise you had been holding. Which you then realised was probably the most cliché thing you could have done in that moment, causing a smile to land on your face for the first time in months.

The anxiety of uprooting your entire life to move closer to your godfather, who you hadn’t spoken too in what you were beginning to realise was getting close to years, let alone told that you wanted to live closer to him, was starting to hit you harder by the minute. It wasn’t that you hadn’t wanted to speak to your godfather but since he had moved to the 118 your contact with him became sporadic, especially living in another state.  Your parents had both passed away shortly before Bobby had moved and although he was the closest thing you had to a dad, a name you had often attributed to him, after he moved it was easier to distance yourself from the man you suddenly became petrified of losing. Which with hindsight, and the help of a great therapist, you realised was your way of attempting to minimise any connection so you couldn’t get hurt, only to cause yourself pain by isolating yourself.  But if you knew one thing about Bobby it was that he would understand, he would forgive you and he had proven time and time again that he was always there for you.

The move to LA, and to your godfather, had been prompted by a series of events. Firstly, you had quit your job, deciding that law wasn’t your calling, and instead retrained as a firefighter. Then your boyfriend had cheated on you, leading to a prompt breakup. Which was followed by the nail in the coffin, or what you liked to refer to as the final straw in a fuckin mountain of straws, you lost your sobriety after being called out to a fire and a bag of white powder was thrown in your face, which you later found out to be opioids. Your addiction had started after your parents died and Bobby moved to LA, not that he knew that, or that you had any desire to ever let him know. Despite not seeing him in a long time you knew your godfather and he would only blame himself and you were not about to burden him with any more guilt than he already carried.  

So, when you saw that the 118, which you knew was Bobby’s firehouse, had a position open you instantly requested a transfer from your current house, figuring that a fresh start could only do you good and it was about time you stopped being scared to care for people.

­­­­­­­_________________________________________________________

As Bobby and Athena kissed the four firefighters stood slack jawed, unable to remove their eyes from their captain. Once the kiss had broken apart, the room remind silent for a minute until a whistle from the other side of the room caused the firefighter’s gazes to land on you. Bobby froze momentarily at the sound of your voice recognising it immediately before a small smile slipped onto his face as he walked towards you.

‘Didn’t know you had it in you old man’, you stated after letting out a whistle at the sight of your godfather kissing a police officer.

‘Are you sassing me right now?’ he asked as he made his way over to you. You feigned confusion as you quickly darted your eyes around the room.

‘Am I?’ you asked innocently, before the faced slipped and your face morphed into the biggest smile you had smiled in months. As soon as Bobby was near you his arms were wrapped tightly around you and you sunk into the hug, you head nuzzling into his shoulder as he placed his hand on the back of your head while he placed a kiss to the top of it.

‘I’m so sorry’ you whispered into him, ‘I’ve missed you so much’.

Matching your volume, acutely aware that his team and girlfriend were watching, Bobby whispered back to you, ‘I missed you too sweetheart, and you have nothing to apologise for.’

‘But, I…’, you began to stammer as you moved your head from his chest while remaining in his embrace, so you could see his face, which looked just the same as it did the last time you had seen him except he looked happier, so much happier. Before you could finish what you were about to say, that you hadn’t contacted him in years, Bobby continued.

‘y/n, I would never hold that against you, I should be apologising to you, I haven’t contacted you either, but none of that matters right now because you’re here.’ He paused slightly before chuckling, his eyebrow quirking upwards, ‘why are you here?’, this immediately made you start to laugh too.

‘Not that I’m not happy to see you’, he quickly added. Seeing you laugh made Bobby’s laughter intensify and the smile on his face grew wider, not only had he not seen you in years but he hadn’t seen you smile like that for almost twice as long.

The laughter emanating from you both was, however, interrupted by a sudden cough. Turning towards the group of firefighters who were now averting their gazes despite the sound having come from them, Bobby put his arm around your shoulder and walked you towards the police officer first.

‘Athena’ he began addressing the woman with a soft smile, a smile which the woman returned, ‘and everyone, this is y/n’ he paused, ‘my goddaughter, we haven’t seen each other in years’. The faces of the team where a picture, as they were stunned into silence, a silence they evidently kept trying to break as their eyebrows furrowed and

‘It’s lovely to meet you’, you began, ‘and just so you know I’m the one who didn’t reach out to Bobby, and I haven’t seen him in so long if he hasn’t mentioned me or anything…’, but once again before you could continue your nervous ramblings to the woman who you had taken an immediate liking to, she interrupted you.

‘Oh, Bobby’s told me all about you’, she started causing you to swallow, ‘and it is a pleasure to meet you y/n’ she smiled, instantly calming you and allowing you to release a breath you didn’t know you were holding. The next emotion to take hold of you was confusion as you turned towards your godfather.

‘You have?’ you questioned softly, turning to look to him while his arm remained around your shoulders.

‘Of course I did. y/n, you’re my family’, those words caused your eyes to well up. Part of you, the small child who had grown up around Bobby new he would say something like this, but the adult who you had become, plagued by doubt and a self-worth that was, although rising, not at its highest, well that adult didn’t even comprehend the possibility of this. The image of Bobby talking about you to Athena only made the tears fall faster.

‘Sorry’, you mumbled into Bobby, who upon seeing your tears had pulled you back into him, ‘I didn’t think I’d get this weepy, oh and’ to turned to the firefighters, ‘it’s really lovely to meet you all’, you smiled to the group who all smiled back and came over to greet you, giving you time to stop the tears from falling.

‘So y/n, what brings you to L.A?, here to visit Bobby?’, asked who you had just learned was Eddie.

‘Its funny you should say that’ you began laughing slightly but beginning to internally panic, ‘actually I just moved here, today actually.’

“Really?’ asked Buck enthusiastically, ‘My sister just moved here too, I bet you two would get along. I can give you her number if you want?’

You were taken aback by the kindness the firefighters were showing you right now. ‘That would be wonderful actually, thank you Buck’, you smiled at him.

‘No problem’, he responded, ‘so what is it that you do?’ he asked.

‘y/n is a lawyer’ Bobby began, but the face you made caused him to stop., ‘Or not?’ he questioned.

‘yeah’, you began slightly awkwardly, ‘I was a lawyer, but it wasn’t right for me, I always felt like it was too late, you know, like the damage had already been done. So I re-trained’ you paused mentally preparing to say the next part, ‘as a firefighter, not that long ago actually.’

‘you did?’ Bobby asked, smiling and you could tell in an instant that he was proud of you.

‘There’s more actually’, you continued, ‘I was working back home as a firefighter for a while when I saw that a spot opened up here and well, I uprooted my life. You should get the paperwork for my transfer on Monday but I asked the fire chief to keep my name of the paperwork until tomorrow so I could tell you in person.’

‘You’re going to be working with me?’ asked Bobby, his eyes tearing up slightly, ‘and you’re living in LA?’

‘I am’ you softly confirmed, nodding your head as you watched his reaction.

‘Hang on, how did you manage to get the fire chief to keep your name of the paperwork?’ asked Hen, ‘they’re not the easiest people to deal with at the best of times.’

‘Let’s just say the fire chief owed me a favour after shall we say’, you paused moving your hands slightly as you searched for an appropriate phrase, ‘an incident occurred, and he was more than happy to do me a favour if I promised not to sue the department’ you concluded your story. Laughter came from the entire group of firefighters and Athena.

‘I bet there’s a story there’, added Chim, obviously angling to hear it.

‘Oh there is’, you nodded, pausing momentarily, ‘you wanna hear it?’ you smirked at the group of firefighters, Hen and Buck quickly guiding you to the couches with Chim and Eddie following quickly behind as you laughed at them. This was going to be the best decision you had made in a long time.

Part 2 Now Up!!!!!!

(taking requests :) )

[doctorbitchcrxft]

The Usual Suspects | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader (Eventual ? )

Warnings: creepy police officer (not that that differs from real life), canon violence, canon gore

Word Count: 3242

A/N: Ooh damn, this one was interesting to write. I tried the best I could to make this as coherent as possible. Y’all enjoy! Also, this'll be another creature-double-feature Saturday to make up for the short chapter! Love you, my darlings!

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“I don’t wanna have to keep asking this, kid. Who are you?” the man who’d been interrogating you asked. He was a member of the Baltimore police department: Peter Sheridan. He’d been a complete dick to you thus far after arresting you in the boys’ motel room with Sam. 

“I told you, Ann Wilson,” you replied. 

He chuckled humorlessly. “Listen, dollface—” he leaned across the table creepily, and you fought the urge to recoil under his predatory gaze, “—I’m done playing with you. You were found with Sam and Dean Winchester; one of which was supposed to be dead. They’ve got some pretty serious charges stacked up against them, and you, by proxy. Credit card fraud, breaking and entering, and this one… puzzled me. Grave desecration.

"But still, these are a long way from murder. Then, we get a fax from St. Louis. Where Dean’s suspected of torturing and murdering a young woman.” He got up from his chair and began pacing. “However, no one could prove anything, of course, because supposedly he died there. So now we know Karen Giles wasn't the first person he murdered. And what about Sam? He was pre-law before dropping out after the death of his girlfriend. He’s twenty three years old, no job, no home address. His mother died when he was a baby; his father's whereabouts are unknown. And then there's you.”

“Can you cut the monologuing, man? It’s really starting to get on my nerves,” you replied. You had been sitting back in your chair with your arms and legs crossed confidently the whole time he spoke despite the anxiety you had given your situation.

He slammed his hands down on the table; you didn’t even flinch. “Who the hell are you? And how are you connected to the Winchester brothers?”

You sucked in air through your teeth and relaxed back in your chair. “Seems you got nothin’ on me. You can’t really hold me if you can’t even pin down who I am.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. I do have you on one thing— over a dozen possible matches when we ran your prints.”

You tsked, cutting your eyes at him challengingly. “Possible. You can’t hold me on possible.”

“But I can hold you for forty-eight hours under suspicion of accomplice to murder,” he responded. “So you might as well start talking.”

You scoffed, sitting back in your chair.

“Sweetheart—” you nearly punched him when he called you that name, “—Dean’s life is over. Sam’s probably is, too. Yours doesn’t have to be. If you tell me who you are— maybe a bit about your place in all this— maybe I can get you a deal with the DA. We can look into your history, check your record; see how well you clean up. How does that sound?”

You considered for a moment before talking, repeating the story you and the brothers had discussed before your arrests in case you got caught. You had one of these stories for every case you’d ever worked on with them. “Sam and Dean’s dad knew Tony Giles. They were old friends; in the service together and everything. So we showed up as soon as we heard about his passing.”

Obviously, none of that was true. You and the brothers had found a story about a man’s throat that had been slit in the papers and headed up to investigate. 

You continued your story. “Woulda been kinda hard for Dean to kill Tony, considering we weren't in town at the time. Anyway, that’s when we went to see Karen. She was… she wasn’t doin’ well. We just wanted to be there for her.”

Karen was Anthony Giles’s wife, and you’d gone to see her to get information. She said he’d told her there was a woman standing at the foot of their bed the night before he passed away, and she'd been bleeding from the neck.

“And that was it. End of story,” you said.

“No, it’s not,” Sheridan pressed. “We have an eyewitness who said they saw two men and a woman fitting your description breaking into Giles’s office.”

“Karen just wanted us to get some old photos, okay? Police weren’t letting her in. I know it was wrong to break in, but she gave us the key,” you lied flawlessly.

In actuality, that was where you’d found a stack of papers littered with “danashulps” written over and over again on the tray of the man’s printer. The poor guy’s throat had been slit so deep, part of his spinal cord had been severed. Your working theory was that a Dana Shulps had died with her throat slit, and now she was back to wreak havoc. However, you found no evidence of any person by that name. So, you were back to square one. 

“Dean went back to Karen’s place to check on her and bring her those pictures and stuff,” you explained.

“Hm, and why didn’t you or Sam go with him?” Sheridan responded.

“We just went back to the motel,” you shrugged. “How’d you know we were there, by the way?”

“Why would I tell you?” he snapped.

“Whoa, pump the hate brakes, Biff,” you remarked, “I was just asking a question.”

“Don’t get cute with me, dollface. Now, you were with both brothers the whole time you were in Baltimore. Why separate now? Because Dean left you. To go murder Karen.”

You tried to seem unfazed, but your jaw clenched in anger. “He didn’t kill anyone.”

He slammed his fists on the table. “I heard the 9-1-1 call! Karen was terrified. She said someone was in the house.”

“Well, whoever it was, it wasn’t Dean,” you said. You stared him down. “Let me ask you something, babe. Do you have a murder weapon? Do you have a motive?” 

He seemed to have no response.

“That’s what I thought. Come back to me when you have something interesting to say.”

He angrily stormed out of the room, and your lips twisted up into a satisfied smirk.

***

You sat alone in your room, repeating “Dana Shulps” to yourself on a loop. You suddenly got an idea. ‘Maybe it’s not a name.’ You reached across the table and pulled a pen and paper pad toward you. You wrote several combinations of anagrams as to what it could possibly be. The only plausible thing you came up with was “ASHLAND SUP.” ‘But what would the S-U-P be? Ashland… a city? A town? …A street?’

***

You listened carefully to the commotion going on beyond the wall of your room. There was no two-way mirror, and from what you could tell, no camera nearby. You listened as footsteps hurriedly crossed in front of your room heading to the left and then growing quieter. You gathered your courage and took that opportunity to make your escape. Quickly, you opened the window and climbed out onto the outside of the building. Looking down below, it was almost a four-story drop. However, you knew you could make your way to the fire escape a few window sills over if you were careful enough. 

You clung to the wall, nervously, careful not to look down or move too quickly when the wind picked up. Thankfully, you made it to the fire escape safely and headed down as fast as you could. You weren’t sure if Sam or Dean had escaped, but you decided to try the trick they taught you to find each other: searching for Jim Rockford in the guest list of the first motel that appeared in the yellowpages. Thankfully, when you did, you found a Jim Rockford. You quickly made your way over to said motel and broke into the room. Sam had his gun drawn on you when you opened it.

“(Y/N)! Don’t scare me like that!” he huffed, putting the gun down.

You grinned and ran over to him. He scooped you up in a hug.

“I’m so glad to see you,” you told him. “What are we gonna do about Dean?”

He sighed. “I don't know, honestly. He’ll figure something out. For now, let’s focus on this ghost, huh?”

“I’m guessing you figured out it was an anagram, too, right?” you asked.

“Duh,” he grinned. 

“How’d Dean give you the cue to escape?” You sat down at the table across from him. 

“Got our lawyer to give me a note. Called me Hilts on it,” he smirked back.

You laughed. “The Great Escape? Nice.”

“I gotta say, man, I’m worried,” Sam told you. 

“Why?” 

“I’m guessing they read you the charges,” he replied. 

You nodded.

The brunet sighed and ran a hand down his face. “This is bad, (Y/N/N)."

“Yeah, I know.” You stared down at the table in front of you and bit the inside of your cheek nervously. 

Sam huffed and tried to remain cheerful, changing the subject. “So, what are we thinkin’? Ashland’s a street, but what’s S-U-P?”

You shook your head. “I’m not sure. Initials, maybe?”

“Sounds like a good enough place to start to me,” Sam grinned.

The two of you began pouring through online resources to see if anyone had died ugly on Ashland Street.

“Dude, how’d you get all these files, by the way?” you asked Sam, referencing the many manila folders and photos laid neatly on the table between yours and Sam’s laptops. 

Suddenly, a knock was heard on the door. You looked through the peephole to see a frightened woman in her mid-forties, and you opened it to her. 

“Wait, (Y/N)—” Sam stood upon seeing her, and you put two and two together that she was probably a cop at Sam's end of the case. The woman shrugged and entered the room. She showed Sam her wrists which were lined with a ring of bruises. She explained to you that she had seen the same ghost Karen described seeing and that she saw “DANASHULPS” appear on the mirror in the bathroom at the same time the lesions appeared around her wrists. 

“These showed up after you saw it?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, I guess,” the woman responded. “You know, I must be losing my mind. You're a fugitive. So is she.” She gestured to you. “I should be arresting you.”

“I’m sorry, who are you?” you questioned pointedly.

“Diana Ballard, Baltimore P.D.,” she said. “And… what was your name?”

You snickered. “You’re not getting that out of me that easily. Hey, do me a favor, look through these for us.”

“Why would I do that?” She suddenly seemed to register what she was looking at. “How'd you get those? Those are from crime scenes, and booking photos.”

Sam chuckled. “You have your job, we have ours. Tell me if you recognize anyone.”

She flipped through the stack and stopped on the photo of a drugged-out-looking blonde woman. She stopped on it and held it up. “This is her. I'm sure of it.”

“Claire Becker,” you nodded. “Twenty-eight; disappeared about nine months ago.”

“But I don't even know her. I mean, why would she come after me?” Diana asked.

“Well, before her death, she was arrested twice. For dealing heroin. You ever work narcotics?” Sam replied.

“Yeah, Pete and I did. Before homicide,” the detective answered.

“You ever bust her?”

“Not that I remember.”

“It says she was last seen entering 2911 Ashland Street. Police searched the place and didn’t find anything. Guess we gotta check it out ourselves,” you added.

“Why would we do that?” Diana asked.

“See if we can find her body,” Sam explained. “We gotta salt and burn her bones. It's the only way to put her spirit to rest.”

Diana rolled her eyes. “Of course it is.”

***

Turns out, poor Claire’s body had been hidden right where the moon shone through the window of 2911 Ashland Street labeled “Ashland Sup.”

Diana noticed the necklace on the corpse and touched it cautiously.

“That mean something to you?” Sam asked.

You could see she was beginning to get angry. “I've seen it before. It's rare. It was custom made over on Carson street.” She pulled out the necklace from her shirt and showed it to you and Sam. “I have one just like it. Pete gave it to me.”

“That son of a bitch,” you murmured. 

“Now it all makes perfect sense,” Sam began.

“I'm sorry?” Diana scoffed.

He nodded, explaining, “Yeah. You see, Claire is not a vengeful spirit, she's a death omen.”

“Claire's not killing anyone,” you chimed in. “She's trying to warn them. You see, sometimes spirits, they don't want vengeance, they want justice. Which is why she led us here in the first place. She wants us to know who her killer is.” You turned to Diana. “Detective, how much do you know about your partner?”

She thought for a moment before breathing out, “Oh my god. About a year ago, some heroin went missing from lockup. Obviously it was a cop. We never found out who did it. But whoever did it would need someone to fence their product.”

Sam huffed. “Someone like a heroin dealer. Somebody like Claire.”

“C’mon, we gotta find him before he kills somebody else,” you said.

*** Claire drove you and Sam on the route to the police station to confront Sheridan. She snapped her phone shut and huffed in annoyance.

“What?” you asked.

“Pete just left the precinct. With Dean,” she replied.

“What?!” you and Sam stiffened in your seats.

“He said the prisoner had to be transferred, and he just took him. Dispatch has been calling but he won't answer the radio,” she said.

“Radio? He took a county vehicle?” Sam questioned. 

She nodded. 

“Well, then they should have a lo-jack, you've just gotta get it turned on,” he noted. 

Somehow, Sam managed to track down the vehicle Sheridan had taken. You arrived just in time to see him aiming a gun at Dean who was kneeling on the ground behind the van.

“Wait! Wait,” Dean pleaded. “Let's, let's talk about this. I mean, you don't want to do something that you're gonna regret later.” His voice became louder as you got closer.

You drew Diana’s gun from her holster and aimed it at Sheridan. “Drop the gun!”

Sheridan turned his gun on you. “You!”

You cocked the gun. “Me,” you smirked.

Sheridan suddenly seemed to notice his partner. “Diana? How'd you find me?”

“I know about Claire,” she said evenly.

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Put the fucking gun down!” you ordered.

“Oh, I don’t think so,” Sheridan scowled. “You're fast. I'm pretty sure I'm faster.”

“Why are you doing this?” Diana interrogated.

“I didn't do anything, Diana,” he said. “It wasn't my fault. Claire was trying to turn me in, I had no choice.”

“And Tony? Karen?” Diana pressed.

“Same thing! Tony scrubbed the money, he got skittish, and then he wanted to come clean. I'm sure he told Karen everything. It was a mess; I had to clean it up. I just panicked.” Sheridan’s sorry attempt at emotionally relaying his story was enough to induce an eye roll from you.

“How many more people are gonna die over this, Pete?” Diana asked dejectedly. 

“There's a way out. This Dean kid's a friggin' gift. We could pin the whole thing on him. Right? No trial, nothing. Just one more dead scumbag,” Sheridan chuckled coldly.

“Hey!” you barked. 

“No one will question it. Diana, please. I still love you,” he told her, faltering slightly as he looked at his partner. Dean rolled out of the way, and you took the opportunity to fire and hit Sheridan in the stomach. 

Diana didn’t even flinch at you shooting Sheridan. “Then why don't you buy me another necklace, you ass?”

You kept the gun trained on Sheridan as you rushed to Dean’s side, crouching in front of his slumped-over form protectively. You tried to get a lock on Sheridan, but he and Diana were fighting too erratically for you to be able to get a clear shot. At some point, Sheridan lost his gun, and Sam went to go for it.

Pete grabbed it before Sam could, shouting, “Don’t do it! Don’t do it.” He rose from the ground and kept the gun trained on Sam as he backed away.

You stared past Sheridan to see Claire having appeared behind him, grinning ear to ear. You tossed Diana her gun as Sheridan turned around, and she shot her former partner in the back. He fell to the ground, much more permanently this time.

You turned your focus to Dean. You got the keys to his handcuffs from Diana and helped him out of them.

“Thanks,” Dean smiled.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” you asked, putting your hands on either side of his face and looking him over.

He grabbed your wrist gently. “Relax, sweetheart, I’m fine.”

You nodded before throwing yourself into his arms. He hesitated in what you assumed was surprise but hugged you back tightly. You let go of him as the morning sun began to hit your eyes. You looked over to Diana who was crouched over the body of her ex-partner.

“You doin' alright?” Sam asked her.

She shook her head. “Not really.” She swallowed, her breath coming out unevenly despite the fact that she tried to hold her composure. “The death omen, Claire— what happens to her now?”

The brunet shrugged. “Should be over. She should be at rest.”

Dean brushed his hands off on his jeans as he stood next to his brother. “So, uh. What now, officer?”

“Pete did confess to me. He screwed up both your cases royally. I'd say that there's a good chance that we could get your cases dismissed,” she replied.

“You’d take care of that for us?” Sam questioned.

“I hope so,” Diana said. “But the St. Louis murder charges? That's another story. I can't help you. Unless—” your and the boys’ heads perked up at her slight change in tone, “I just happened to turn my back, and you walked away. I could just tell them that the suspects escaped.”

Sam’s eyes widened in surprise. “Wait, are you sure?”

Dean pointedly looked at his brother. “Yeah, she's sure, Sam.”

Sam shook his head. “No, it's just, I mean, you could lose your job over something like that.”

“Look, I just want you guys out there doing what you do best. Trust me, I'll sleep better at night.” She turned to go. “Listen, you need to watch your back. They're gonna be looking for all of you right now. Get out of here. I gotta radio this in.”

“Hey, uh, you wouldn't happen to know where my car is, by chance?” Dean asked her.

“It's at the impound yard down on Robertson.” She noticed Dean’s calculating look. “Don't... even think about it.”

“It's okay, it's alright, don't worry,” Sam chuckled. “We'll, uh, we'll just improvise. I mean, we're pretty good at that.”

Diana nodded. “Yeah. I've noticed.”

You and the brothers began to walk down the road. 

“Nice lady,” Sam commented.

“Yeah, for a cop. Did she look familiar to you?” Dean turned to you.

“Yeah, actually. I don’t know where from, though,” you answered.

“Yeah, me neither. Anyway, you guys hungry?”

You nodded, but Sam shook his head.

“For some reason, I could really go for some pea soup,” Dean said.

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

[yjcorefourenjoyer]

Photo evidence part 6

Tim’s life is officially over!

So apparently, the new Robin is not, in fact, fine! He’s dead! Gone! Went BOOM, if you will! And now, without Tim being able to grieve AT ALL for the Robin he had bonded with and probably spent more time with than his actual parents,

Tim had to pick up the pieces of the mess Jason left behind. (He’ll have a breakdown later)

Batman has been going off the rails, beating criminals to near death (they would’ve been dead if he hadn’t called the ambulance), hurting civilians, breaking more laws than ever, pushing everyone away, and letting injuries get worse and worse and worse…

To put it simply, he was killing himself! 

It was like he wasn’t even the same person, especially after Jason’s funeral, and Tim had a front row seat to the destruction.

Some villains thought that Batman being in this state would make it harder to enact their plans and went into hiding. While the others (the more powerful or the idiotic) decided it would be easier! 

Almost all The Cameras either stopped taking photos or would only send pictures about Batman. All of them had horrible content. Just bloody alleyways, or people running away in fear. They were sent in with the hope of Photo evidence doing something about it.

That is what he does, right? Take corrupt people and either blackmail them or report them to the police…

There was no way that he could get the police to arrest Batman, that would do more harm than good. And the only meaningful thing he has against Batman is his identity. Either way, he can’t go after The Batman! Photo evidence doesn’t fight the good guys!

But... Batman isn’t really a good guy now, is he? It’s like Robin took all the good with him when he died. 

And even if he did blackmail Batman, B might just let it happen! He’s already shown that he doesn’t care what happens to himself now that Jason’s gone.

Which is really surprising, considering he has a perfectly good, alive son and friends!! Like, shouldn’t Superman or Nightwing be showing up to try and stop this?

Oh wait that’s right, Nightwing is mad at B for not telling him that Jason died and that he missed the funeral…

Like okay… Tim understands that not being alerted to your brother’s death while you’re in space can make you mad enough that you don’t want to talk with the person who was supposed to tell you that info to the point where you don’t want to be in the same city as them.

And in Superman’s case he stopped B from killing Joker, which probably started this whole “I’m gonna go punch out my anger cuz I can’t kill the guy who murdered my son,” thing.

Superman also probably thinks that he’ll get killed in Gotham for preventing Joker’s death in the first place, whether by Batman or a Metropolis-hating Gothamite who somehow sensed that Superman stopped Joker from dying, and that probably makes him not want to be in Gotham. 

However, that doesn’t mean they shouldn’t be helping!!

Seriously, Tim doesn’t understand why out of every. single. person. who actually KNOWS Batman, HE has to be the only one to actually do something.

Aren’t heroes supposed to help? Why does he, a child, have to be the only one who cares? The only one to step up? The only one willing to try and help?

Doesn’t anyone realize if Batman dies on patrol, Gotham is going to go up in flames!?

Oh come on! This was supposed to be his debut! To show the world that he could protect Gotham! But not in a vigilante way… He was supposed to go after the people outside of Gotham. The bats do the actual fighting, not him!

Ok ok, that’s it. He has to plan! Maybe contact a few people before he (or Batman) does something rash… after all he’s The Photo evidence! Timothy Jackson Drake! He doesn’t put himself in danger, that isn’t how a Drake works! So If he’s gonna have to save Batman on his own he’s gonna make sure that it’s the last option before he does.

But like what could he even do?? He can’t just bring back Batman’s hope and light, he can’t just bring Robin back! (Photo evidence blackmails people not resurrect them!), The only way to do that is to have someone become Robin, But the only options for that role are Jason, Dick, or well..… Tim.

And since Jason is dead and Tim really doesn’t want to be stuck in a life that’s gonna kill him (cuz it would kill him eventually), he’s just gonna have to find a way to get Dick back into the Robin role…

Maybe visit him in Blüdhaven? Maybe he could tell him what’s going on with Batman in Gotham? How is he even gonna get there? He honestly has no idea. But if this is the only way to help Bruce, he’ll do it.

He just really hopes that Dick will agree so he doesn’t have to save Batman alone…

[loveandmurders]

The Sun of Ambrose V (lost Sinclair!daughter reader AU)

Hi everyone, this is the final part of my Sinclair!daughter AU in which the reader is Bo's daughter and she has been taken away and adopted by a new family.

You can find part I here.

Hope you'll enjoy! <3

Warnings: no proof reading, killer!reader, mentions of guilt, violence, murders, blood, some sort of dark angst/comfort

You quite enjoyed your summer break in Ambrose. You loved to sculpt with Vincent, you loved to watch your dad work on a car and to have him show you things, you loved to wander around with Lester. You loved to play with Jonesy as well. Everything felt good. You never slept so well in years, because you were finally feeling safe enough to fully relax.

You hadn’t asked about the tourists anymore because you didn’t have enough strength for more drama for the moment. And whenever people were coming around, the brothers made sure you were busy somewhere else in the town or with Lester. You pretended you didn’t notice anything. You just wanted to be happy. 

And for the moment, your own desire to kill has quieted down. You were still feeling sick from the murder of your mother.

The brothers didn’t notice anything amiss; apart from the fact they still hadn’t heard the sound of your voice, you were once again their ray of sunshine. You were making them so full of joy. The twins were talking, late in the night, about the legacy once again. They hadn’t thought they could resume their plans on this matter. They were so relieved.

However they were a little bit concerned about your adoptive father. They were certain that even if the man wasn’t doing too well for the moment, at some point he would want to get “his daughter” back. The twins had no idea how to cut him out of your life without killing him. Bo would love to murder him - out of jealousy - but he knew that you would know it one day, and he didn’t want to upset you that way. Both your mothers already died after all…

You were having a snack in Bo’s garage while he was taking care of a new car. You were sucking on the chocolate that dripped on your fingers, as you were listening to the music your father put on. You were both enjoying each other's presence even if you weren’t interacting directly. Bo was always a lot more at ease when you were in the same room than him or at least in his line of vision. He was still traumatised; he lost you once, and he promised himself it would never happen again.

You slightly jumped when you felt your phone buzzing next to you. You grabbed it and frowned when you saw it was your adoptive father. Bo noticed the look on your face.

“What’s up, baby?” he asked you as he came closer to you. You put your phone on your lap so you could sign

“He is wondering where I am.” you replied, knowing Bo would understand who was the “he”. You father rolled his eyes and groaned

“Oh so he remembered he's supposed to look after ya?” he ironized and your crossed your arms on your chest “Don’t pout” he hummed and kissed the top of your head

“I’ll have to tell him I’m here. I can’t lie to him about that. Just be nice to him, okay? Things are difficult and… And he won’t be happy about the situation because…” you trailed off

“Because what?”

“Well before mom got sick, she discovered I was chatting with you and Vince and Les, and she was worried about me. She wanted to call the cops on you” you explained. Bo didn’t show any emotion but you read in his eyes that he was quite concerned about such news

“Luckily she got sick then” he commented out loud before realising it “Sorry, love, I didn’t mean it like that” he quickly added as you looked away. Luck had really nothing to do with it, you thought.

“Anyway, I will tell him I’m here. And he’ll probably come get me. I’m just gonna make sure he doesn’t call the police or anyone” you promised as you got up and left the garage

You needed to be alone to write to your adoptive father: “Hey dad, are you feeling better? I didn’t really have anywhere to go so I went back to Ambrose. Everyone is very nice to me and Bo is inviting you over (so please don’t call the police, they really didn’t do anything wrong!). Will you bring me back home?”

The answer was almost instantaneous: “Yes, I will. I won’t call the police because I shouldn’t have asked you to go away in the first place. Love you, I’m sorry for everything”

You were relieved, knowing he wouldn’t be lying to you, not after what happened, not when he had failed his mission of taking care of you.

You came back home and settled at the kitchen table, thinking about what to do next. You didn’t want to leave Ambrose but you wouldn’t be allowed to stay here. You tried to busy yourself on some silly games on your phone but soon enough you grew bored. You were feeling quite upset as well. For the first time in weeks, you wanted to kill someone. You needed to express yourself in another way than sculpting or drawing. You needed to take out your frustration on someone, but there was no one to kill here.

Vincent opened the basement door, in need of some water when he saw you. He quickly saw you weren’t your usual happy self. He put an hand on your shoulder for you to look up at him before signing:

“What’s wrong?”

“My adoptive father will come get me. I think he should be here tonight” you replied

“Do you want to go?” Vincent tilted his head to the head, you quickly shook your head

“No, but I can’t really do anything about it”

You could tell that Vincent wanted to say something but didn’t dare and he simply sadly nodded his head at you.

“How about we make something together? Would it cheer you up?” he offered, which made you smile

“I’d love to”

As you focused on the art you were making with Vincent, you forgot about your adoptive father and you forgot about the time. Your need to kill quietened down, but was still there, waiting for you to be on your own to eat you up alive once again.

You were about to finish a sculpture of Jonesy you intended to offer to Lester, when you heard two vehicles coming into Ambrose. You looked at the window, but didn’t recognise your adoptive father’s car. There were lost “tourists” who were following behind Lester’s truck. Vincent tensed and looked at the clock before asking you:

“When do you think your adoptive father will come here?”

“I’m not sure, soon I guess” you shrugged but you saw the panic rising into Vincent’s eye

“Alright. I let you finish the sculpture without me. We have work to do. Stay here, please.” Vincent replied

“What work?” you frowned

“Promise me you will stay here” Vincent asked, firmly signing each work. You understood he was pretty serious about it

“Of course, I promise you, uncle” you finally replied as you sat back down and watched Vincent leave the room and go back into the basement.

You were about to go back to your sculpture when you heard people violently arguing. The “tourists” didn’t seem to be too happy with Bo. Lester was quick to intervene as well. You watched the scene of a man pushing Lester to the ground, and Bo hitting the said man. Your eyes widened at such a display of violence. You nibbled on your bottom lip. Were your family killers, or was it just bad people disrupting the peace of Ambrose?

You saw that things were getting pretty rough between the three tourists and your father and uncle. You wondered where Vincent was, and almost got into the basement to look for him… Until you saw your adoptive father’s car coming into view. He really couldn’t have arrived at the worst moment. He stopped in front of the garage and tried to put himself between Bo and the man, and to appease the situation. Bo asked him to go away, you guessed, according to his gestures. And your adoptive father refused.

You were too far away to see everything, and even more when they seemed to come more into Bo’s garage. You just knew that at some point someone screamed. Two tourists ran away, Lester ran after them with what seemed like a knife, and Bo was covered in blood. You had to stop yourself from leaving the house. You wanted to help, and you wanted to be the one covered in blood. However, you never broke a promise you made to your family before, so you had to be better, you had to stay inside. You didn’t know where your adoptive father was anymore and you grew worried. How could things go so badly after such happy weeks in Ambrose?

Bo grabbed a rifle and was about to go after the tourists when he received a massive hit on the head from behind and fell on the ground. You saw your adoptive father with some mechanic tool in his hands.

You couldn’t stop yourself this time. You took the gun Bo was hiding under his armchair and ran to the garage. You had to stop them, you had to do something about it. You couldn’t scream or you would have. Your legs brought you in front of the two men with such speed, as the adrenaline was pumping into your veins. Before you knew it, you aimed at them.

Your adoptive father who was ready to hit Bo stopped his movement as he noticed you and he brought his hands in front of him. Bo was still on the ground, pretty disoriented by the hit he received on the head. He looked up and saw you. You had never looked so much like a Sinclair before. He knew you were his daughter then; he wouldn’t even be disappointed if you decided to kill him.

You were perfect.

“What are you doing? Shoot him, shoot him! He killed the guy, and he wants to kill us all. Your mother was right, they are murderers!” you adoptive father yelled as you eyes moved between him and Bo

“I won’t hurt ya, baby” Bo whispered to you “Everythin’s alright” he continued, trying to sooth you. And one thing was certain, you wouldn’t stand to never hear him talking to you like that anymore.

You looked back at your adoptive father, tears in your eyes. You wanted to tell him how sorry you were about what you were going to do, about what you did to his wife, but with the gun in your hands, you couldn’t.

You shooted and closed your eyes. His body loudly fell to the ground and you shivered. You looked down at Bo and helped him to get up.

He quickly hugged you before gently rocking you, so you could calm down. You didn’t cry in his embrace, you felt at peace. You felt like everything was as it always should have been.

“Ya alright?” Bo whispered to you as he cupped your face into his bloody hands. You nodded and sniffed.

Screams resonated from the House of Wax and you moved from Bo. You were ready to help, you were ready to kill some more but Bo grabbed your wrist. He softly took the gun from you and kissed the palm of your hand.

“Don’t worry, baby. Les and Vince are taking care of the two others. Ya can rest now. Ya did amazin’. Ya saved me, ya saved the family” he hummed, pride shining into his eyes. “Told ya everythin’ was gonna be alright,” he added as he brought you back against him once again.

You couldn’t fully relax, not knowing if your uncles were doing alright. You kept your face towards the House of Wax, waiting for them. Soon enough, you saw them pulling two bodies out of the museum and you felt the adrenaline leaving you.

“I need to sit down” you signed to your dad who quickly nodded. He opened Lester’s truck and sat you down at the passenger seat, as it was the most comfy place he could offer for the moment. He didn’t want you to see the body of your adoptive father either.

“Stay here, I’ll be back soon” he murmured. He needed to let his brothers know about what happened. 

Soon enough, they were all around you. You quickly scanned them, to make sure they were unharmed. They didn’t really know what to tell you. They were happy, of course, but they weren’t too sure how you were feeling. You killed the man who raised you for years, after all.

Truth to be told, you used to feel guilty because of the death of his wife that was driving him crazy, but now they were back together. You felt free. You felt ready to kill again, to kill for the family business.

“Bo told us ya did the right thin’” Lester told you and you gave him a soft smile “Feelin’ all good?” he asked and you nodded.

“You don’t have to feel bad for having… killed him, you know. You protected your real father, you protected us. You did what you had to do” Vincent signed to you, even if Bo and Lester weren’t too sure that reminding you you killed him was a good idea. To their surprise, you relaxed into the seat and nodded again.

“I am a Sinclair” you said in a rough voice you hadn’t used in years.

--

Taglist : @murder-hobo - @lacychick ; @magical-sass ; @limehaspassed ; @loveinglymessedup ; @bloodmoon-bites ; @iwantsleepplz ; @kawaistrawberry21 ; @12gaugefalls ; @kriston1210 ; @slushi-chan

[satanlikesmyfics]

Lavender

pt 1

read pt 2 here, pt 3 here

an: sorry if this lacks build up or logic:( not proofread

words: 1415

contains: dealer!ellie x f!y/n, weed/alc mentions, intoxication, fingering, tit sucking, police busted party

dealer!ellie

while you wander around the dimly purple lit room, your mind is starting to blur. you went to this party with some of your friends, although you can't seem to find them anymore. you left to explore the place your at since it's at an abandoned place, and who wouldn't find that interesting? you sit down on a red, ripped sofa with the smell of weed and alcohol surrounding you.

ellie's been walking around bored for the past 30 mins. she's seen everyone leave home with someone or hook up in some creepy room. wondering why it was even a good idea to show up, she just thinks of the wads of cash she earned selling her overpriced weed. no one around really knows how much that shit costs, so it's easy to rip people off. she remembers that she still has a bunch of weed and rolls herself a joint, sitting down on some junky looking old sofa. in the corner of her eye she spots some stunning girl she's never seen around before. your black, tight dress catches her attention and she turns slightly to get a better look.

you notice ellie staring and blush slightly. you've heard a lot and seen her pictures, sometimes romantizising about her even... you've never even met, you're so fucking weird for thinking of her that way. she probably is straight or has atleast has a girlfriend, you think to yourself, making fun of the fact you think of her. ellie leans slightly towards your ear and asks your name. "me??" you give her your rather surprised answer. what the fuck would she want from me?? "yes you, bunny. you manage to stutter your name and look away, surprised by the name she called you so casually. "y/n? I thought I heard your name before." "shouldn't you be looking for your girlfriend or something?" you ask looking back up at her, attempting to figure out her exact status. maybe you'd even have a chance?

"girlfriend?" ellie responds in confusion. your eyes widen in hope. the sudden sirens catch you off guard though, almost everyone looking out the nearest window in unison. "oh fuck" ellie mutters and grabs your wrist. "someone called the damn police" she shouts over the panic and pulls you away from the crowd. you don't fully comprehend what's happening but don't want to do anything else but follow her. stumbling through doorways and rooms a wave of fresh air hits you suddenly and you gain control of your thoughts again. ellie, still having a firm hold of your wrist looks back at you in confirmation that you're still with her. obviously you still are, you'd never leave her, especially when these moments you've been thinking about are coming true.

"where are we ellie?" you utter. you're in some field full lavender. everything looks so blue and the pale moonlight slightly lights everything up. you look up the hill and see the police cars surround the place you just managed to leave. "did we escape them that fast?" you ask without expecting any answer. "come here sweetheart, you can use my jacket" ellie answers and lays her jacket down on the wet grass. you feel a tingle in the gesture and obey. her jacket feels rough on your bare thighs. your eyes wander to ellie, who's just settling down on the grass. while your eyes are on her lips hoping she can't see in the dim light, her eyes glance at your whole body, most of all your thighs. her pussy slightly clenches at the sight of your dress up so high, revealing so much. shit, she thinks, you can't just think of her the second you meet her in person. that's weird and creepy, and she doesn't want to be like that towards you, even though she can barely help it.

she holds the joint up again delicately, which she lights once again since it had died down after the escape. "can I have a hit?" you ask. you don't really care about the drug, more the indirect touching of your mouths and the way her fingers move. she holds it towards you and you inhale deeply, coughing it out again a bit. you feel so dizzy and hazy you practically fall onto her lips. "what the fuck?" ellie asks after pushing you away. "I- I'm sorry.. I didn't mean to do that-" you reply embarrassed. "no no, please y/n, I liked it, I promise" she reassures "I'd gladly like to continue you know.." she pats her lap, signaling you to take a seat.

her lips suddenly crash onto your again, and you melt into the hungry kiss. she kisses you again, and another time, you can't keep count because it just turns into a makeout session. her hand pushes up the back of your neck into your hair and the other rests on your torso. you push your body further against hers and she moans into your mouth. she spreads out her jacket on the field and lays you down, her getting on top. her hand squeezes your thigh firmly. "what are we even doing.." she mutters and kisses your neck passionately. "we don't have to.. it's okay..." you manage to answer. she looks at you and asks if you want to because she thinks your fucking hot. you giggle and kiss her again, continuing the session.

her hand starts to wander up your thigh and you shiver at the touch. she marks your neck giving you harsh kisses and slides up your dress. you'd probably be embarrassed of you weren't intoxicated, but rn, you just want to enjoy what's happening with ellie. it's literally a dream come true and you don't want to fuck that up in the slightest. her hand starts rubbing your pussy through your panties and you let out soft moans, wanting more. your hand moves beneath her loose sweatshirt and gropes her tit. she starts moaning at the feeling of your cold hand. you pull the sweatshirt over your head and teasingly kiss around her nipple. you love teasing her, hearing her frustrated moans through yours. after her hand moves your panties to the side, you lick and suck and bite her titties. it gets increasingly harder the harder and faster the goes, through the mess of moans and pleasure and shaking you feel. your head slips completely out of her shirt and she laughs and kisses you more, slipping her thick and strong fingers inside of you. you let out a loud moan, feeling her massage your walls. the pleasure she's making you feel is getting overwhelming.

you've never had a real partner before, definitely not one as good as she's been. you've had a girlfriend who was pretty decent with her strap, and a guy who could fulfill your kinks. but someone who knew each moment to touch you? ellie could tell which spots exactly made you moan and shake and shiver, without touching you before this encounter.

snapping out of your thoughts, you let out a loud moan, arching your back further. "you feeling good baby?" ellie asks leaning down to your ear. "mhm" you answer and she thrusts her fingers deeper inside of you, making your eyes roll back in fulfillment. you've never been so close, so far on the edge before. you arch your back further feeling her going faster and faster.. mmhhmm..

"y/n?? y/nnnn.." you hear one of your friends shout maybe 100? meter away. both you and ellie freeze. she quickly pulls her out of you and wipes them on her pants without thinking. you sit up and pull your dress back down, noticing how cold it still is outside. "yeah I'm over here, I'm coming" you shout back. ellie gives you a quick kiss before you give her the jacket you've been laying on throughout the whole session. "keep it baby it's cold." she says, urging you to put it on and helps you get through the sleeves. "you go ask your friend simon for my number, she has it. text me. I want to see you again." "yeah, I will." you answer, still flustered. "good girl.. now get back to your friends and get home safely." you smile back and run over to your friend who's shouting at you to get it the van. you sit down and relax, thinking about the.. interesting.. evening you spent with ellie. "god fucking damn.." you mutter under your breath, driving away.

[littlemochabunni]

1-800-TROUBLE

Serial Killer!Suguru Geto x Bimbo!Fem reader

Content: MDNI, WIP, (lowkey... probably highkey..) bimbo reader, blood and homicide mention, fuckboys victims;

smut might include: daddy kink, breeding kink, degrading + praise, c-pies, possibly knife play idk yet.

WC: 644 so far

On your way home from a party you take a few wrong turns, and when you try to call your…. Overprotective boyfriend your phone dies before you get the chance to tell him the cross streets you’re at. With it being late on Halloween night, most of the house porch lights are off your feet continue to carry you down this foreign neighborhood until you hope to see someone could help you. Tear begin to sting your eyes with each street corner you turn, and the nip fall air strips you of any warmth from your cropped puffer jacket Suguru made you wear before you left. You definitely wish you listened when he warned you repeatedly to charge your phone too…

Police sirens are blaring in the far distance from where you originally started which means only one thing… “One of the officers can take me home!” Right…

Trying to follow the sounds to guide you out of the maze of houses you’re lost in. You find a group of men sitting in an open garage, drinking with the tv on in the background. **Although you know Suguru told you not to talk to strangers especially when they’re drunk, what other people were around that could possibly help you?**

“Excuse me? Hi, I’m like super lost…Can I borrow your phone or a charger please?” Every one of their eyes graze over your body before meeting your eyes, and of course the man that looks like the embodiment of a Chad speaks up first, “ooo a sweet bunny girl like you all alone? Need me to come warm you up?” You glance around the garage spotting the space heater near the couch he’s sitting on and a bright smile appears on your face. “It would be nice to get out of the cold while I charge my phone!” You happily skipping inside the garage to sit near the heater and immediately feel so much better now that your off your feet… Little did you know that with this little interaction…. you won’t be back on your feet anytime soon.

All eyes are on you and your like a innocent hare unaware of the foxes preying in the tall grass.

“So you gotta a name sweetheart?” Asked the store-brand version of Derek Shepherd. “Uhh I’m a bunny, duhh?” The men all blink at you before bursting out in a fit of laughter. You don’t understand how that was hilarious, but you’ll take it as a compliment. “Funny and cute… But seriously what’s your real name?”

Hearing that emergency number Suguru always tells you to remember if your lost coming from the braking news announcement about some house party incident. You focus on the tv and ignore ‘Chad’s’ questions, “Hey can you turn the tv up? I think I know that number.” The extra quiet man, who remains you of your friends creepy uncle Lester, turns up the tv and it retells the gruesome murders of the house party that just occurred half an hour ago….

“The next image we show may disturb some viewers…”

Grumbles and tsk scatter among the men around you as they get a glance at the gruesome writings on the wall. You squint your eyes as you notice a simpler stamp Suguru uses when he writes you love letters…. Your stomach drops at the thought of someone using that beautiful stamp for something so… horrifying.

“This message along with a description of the women and the phone number were left at the scene of the crime…” The woman proceeds to describe you from the hair on your head to the holographic boots you’re wearing. The men in the garage are too drunk to realize that you’re exactly what the killers wants, “Please if anyone has any information regarding this women… please call: 1 (800) 876-8253… That’s 1-800-……TROUBLE… Again that number is 1-800-876-8253…”

a/n:Might not be the entire planned posted I wanted but it’s some of it…. it still counts right?🥹

tags: @etherealxmaya @tojisbutterfly @fuyuaika @peachy-dove @hoshigray @bontensbabygirl @tophamhat-kyo @princess-of-fuckup @moonieper @dondake-senpai

[writteninlunarlight-years]

I have an idea if you accept💕

What would the romantic and scary version be like? From the nun! Alastor with reader, where the 7 years that Alastor disappeared in hell, for some reason he was summoned by someone (probably teenagers doing stupid things) and because of that, he was trapped in the radio, of course he took advantage of this to haunt everyone who bought the radio ... Until the Human! reader bought the radio, but what Alastor didn't expect was that he fell in love with her after a while... Just like in the horror film Valak, apart from the romance part, it's obvious! (film: The Conjuring).

Note feel comfortable could be a yandere alastor? If it can't be normal....

Wicked Woman~

(I love this concept, especially if, later on down the line, the reader dies and remembers her life with Al. Please let me know if you would like this as a part two. I followed closely to what you asked but put my spin on it. Hope you all enjoy.)

TW: Dark themes, Murder, Death, Yandere Type Tendencies, Stockholm Syndrome

Alastors POV

Hell was everything I could ask for it to be. After my untimely death by those damn dogs, I vowed to continue my pursuit of power and strength. I entered hell unfathomably powerful, and I will take hell over with this power. I was feared and revered even by the highest class of demons that walked among us. Thousands of poor, unfortunate souls rested in my claws. Even in this prey-like form, I was purely a predator. 

How my name ended up in those damn demon books up top was beyond me; it probably had something to do with the one I sold my soul to for even more power—a damn trick to make me suffer for having power that rivaled those in all of hell. Yet, no one was brave enough to fully summon me or try and control me. I was elusive and would scare anyone who wanted to open ties with me on the mortal plane. However, that was my biggest downfall. In hopes of showing off my immense power and strength, I allowed those up top to know more about me in the end.

Ironically, children sought to summon me more than any damn adult; hell, I even thought cult leaders would call upon me more than this. That fateful day, though, when I was trapped in the radio, was due to some pesky teenage punks looking to harm some poor young girl. I hate people like that, those who prey on the weak, just like my father. 

It was quick work killing those teens off; the world was probably thousands of times better off without them. Yet every time I tried to go back to hell, I was stuck, some weird plan of reality; I was there on earth, but I wasn't. This had to be another twisted game my master was putting me through. It was another joke to show how I was still just below them on the food chain of power.

I knew showing my demon form would be unwise in this place; enough people tried calling on me as it was. While deciding my next plan of action, I heard the sirens coming close to the location of the slaughter. Sighing, I absorbed myself in the radio, hidden from sight and out of mind. Watching the clean-up was entertaining, but scaring the wits out of the police and cleaning crew was far superior. 

Once all was said and done, I learned this cabin was in the middle of the woods, once owned by one of those teens' parents. After the gruesome murders and odd occurrences around the house done by yours truly, they sold it off. This left a gorgeous cabin in the woods empty for me to enjoy. Being so secluded, I could come and go from the radio as I pleased; no need to fear that someone would see me.

This cabin reminded me so much of my home in the bayou with my mother. The woods resembled that of where my father took me hunting, resembled where I ended his life, and countless other horrible humans that got in my way. This place felt like I was living my human life once more with less killing that is.

For a year, I had tried going back to hell countless times. However, I realized till my master needed me, I was trapped here on the mortal plane. Accepting my fate, I decided to give up on hell and take this nice vacation. Who knows, maybe with my time away, I could have new ladders to climb upon my return. Plus, no one would dare to buy a cabin in the middle of the woods after a gruesome murder, where it was deemed haunted. 

I was dead wrong, however, when I heard the noises outside the cabin door. It finally happened on the day that marked the first year of my purgatory on the human plane. Someone had bought the cabin in the woods. I was shocked and almost pleased with this person's brazen stupidity. It's probably another punk kid wanting to do rituals or someone running away from their misdeeds. 

Yet the biggest surprise was the young woman who entered the house with the first set of boxes. She was lovely, kind, and vibrant. She wore a large black hat even though the skies were cloudy gray. Her voice sounded like bells from a chapel, and her smile radiated the sun's light. If my undead heart could beat, it would be beating faster. 

I swore off love at a young age, only courting women when it allowed me closer to targets that I needed to kill. Once in hell, I just killed to kill, no need for love or emotions. Yet this woman lit something within me that was to be feared and hated. 

As the days passed, I watched her unpack her boxes. I learned she was a Wiccan, finding joy in the dark and light of all things. I knew she knew I was there. She could feel me lurking in the shadows and hovering around. No matter how often she saged the house, I stayed, an entity far surpassing her mortal purities and spirituality. However, I would hand it to her; her spiritual prowess was strong.

I tried relentlessly to scare her off; I had a rule about killing women: unless they were evil, I would never lay a hand on them. So, all I had going for me was scare tactics and horror. Convincing her, I would eventually kill her. A few cuts and bruises here or there from a broken floorboard or a throwing knife. She never budged, though, a smile on her face as she said a prayer and went on with her day like I hadn’t just hung knives above her head. 

Months had passed since she joined me in this cabin; she cut firewood early in the morning, would come home, shower, cook food, go out to the town an hour away, and then come home and relax or pray to her deities. She did not care about my existence; the more I became attached to her, the more she didn’t care or fear. She took to calling me Shadowy, a stupid name but chosen purely due to me refusing to show her my proper form. I lurked in the shadows, only allowing that to be seen. Sure beat her first name for me, Radioy; humans suck at naming things.

Sitting at two years trapped in the mortal realm with a woman I was growing fond of wasn’t my ideal step in the process of unlimited power. However, I was more content trapped here in this cabin as long as it was with her and her alone. She would bring men over, enjoy their company, and send them on their way. They never made it far, though, having accidents as they returned to their place. Even when she left the house for the night to see them, I knew exactly who they were. 

By year three, she had stopped dating, growing frustrated with my senseless killings. The police had shown up at our door countless times to question her involvement, only for them to fade from existence as well. She stopped going outside much, only cutting firewood and grocery shopping occasionally. As much as it pained me to see her light diminishing, it also fueled a sick, sadistic part of me. 

I enjoyed watching her more; now that I didn’t have to worry about others popping up, I began showing her my proper form. A slight sense of pride swelled in me as she became pleased to witness my deer-like looks. Though I hated my looks, how she fawned over me, almost forgetting all my misdeeds towards her, was pleasing. I allowed myself to indulge in daily life with her, I stopped trying to scare her or kill her, and we fell into a semblance of domestic life. 

Once year four came around, she was tied to the house after interacting with a hunter in the woods. I would go out and kill her meat and anyone on our land. I would bring her wood and sustenance with my face covered in the blood of those who dared to try me. Eventually, she, too, became okay with this method of mine, and I was thrilled. I had my perfect human right here just for me. 

I taught her how to dance and cook meals my mother once taught me, showing her the joys of good Southern cooking. Though I could not process the cooked meals I showed her, I knew feeding her and making her strong was all that mattered. I gained plenty of sustenance by killing off anyone who came close to her. I gained sustenance by watching her fall more into me and my spell as I fell more into hers.

 Year five came around, and I had her clung to me; she was mine and mine alone. She gave up on her deities and only worshiped me. Fueling the God complex I already had, I swore to make her mine; no other man or demon could take her. She was powerful spiritually, and she would be vital in her death when she joined me. 

I began teaching her how to kill and maim those who entered our woods. I taught her how to murder and never be caught. In the beginning, she was horrible. I had to end a lot of police lives, yet she grew stronger as time went on. Soon, she was as notorious of a serial killer as I once was. The woods covered our tracks, ensuring we were hidden from the eyes of others. Oh, how I wished when I was alive that a spirit would assist me like this in my kills. 

In year six, I knew she was as strong as I was when I fell to hell. I made her so perfect, molding her to my ways. I knew when her time came in death, she would find me; my Doe. She used her spiritual powers to assist me in breaking my binds to my master. Though nothing ever seemed to work, she was persistent. I was proud; I understood why pride would be such a sin. Watching her work her powers and drain herself for me was delicious. 

This year was the year I finally claimed her. I took her and made her mine, not just in thought or word but in mind and body. I would not allow anyone to ruin my hard work. She was perfect, and she deserved me as I did her. We were bonded in a way that transcended soul bonds or mortal relationships. We were unstoppable.

This knowledge alone is why, come year seven, I felt the shift in my presence. I knew it was coming to my departure from her world. My master was calling me back to hell, threatened by the perfect morsel that I had created. My master knew I would be unstoppable if I followed my plan to convince her to die, to join me in the afterlife as one. This alone is what sent me back to hell, the fear I struck in the one I had controlling me.

I knew when it was my time to perish, she would join me here, and we would rule hell side by side. No one would stop that—no contract, no princess, and certainly no king. Though I enjoy the hotel and the people I have met there, I know my power only has room to grow. My doe would make quick work of anyone who dared to take her from me. She was left on earth to grow stronger and stronger to benefit me in her death. To help me rule all of hell. I would be unstoppable and grow immensely in all dimensions and planes of reality.

Oh, and my power will grow; it will grow when my wicked woman joins us in this fiery blaze…

[hyperfixatedoncrimminalminds]

Aaron Hotchner X Derek Morgan X ADHD Autistic teen reader

Summary: Aaron Hotchner and Derek Morgan interrogate a 14 year old daughter of Unsub who has ADHD and is autistic, she was abused by her father her whole life. A bomb gets set off and she protects them

Third person pov...

14 year old Y/N had been in a small interrogation room for the last hour alone, your probably wondering how she knows that because she's been keeping count in her head.

Early on that day the police came looking for her farther but he wasn't there, instead she got taken to the police station and handcuffed (after she accidentally lashed out when they touched her) she's autistic and doesn't like touch- the police didn't listen when she tried to explain to them.

So here she sits, for the last 5 minutes she has been tapping her foot repeatedly on the floor, she has ADHD and couldn't sit still for long, but she was handcuffed to the table so she couldn't stand up and stim.

She then started humming the same tune over and over and over until a man shouts at her to shut up over the com. "Someone's grumpy" she mutters, deciding to go back to tapping her foot repeatedly.

She was beginning to get overwhelmed with everything. "Can I go now please?" She asks into the room but obviously towards the two way mirror.

She got no response. "Please, I don't like it here" she whispers shouting not going to work she realised, suddenly the door is opened two men walk in.

Y/N tenses, with her dad she doesn't like being around men, angling her body away from them she waits until they speak.

Eyebrows slams a files down on the table making her flinch at the loud sound, the Grumpy looking man just stares. "What- Do you know what these are?" He demands, Y/N shakes her head not looking at the man.

She looks down then shuts her eyes. "N-no I don't please" she cries squeezing her eyes shut not wanting to look at the pictures, they where of the victims died in the bombings that happened.

"I don't like it here" she cries pulling on the cuffs trying desperately to yank them off, eyebrows tries to grab her to stop but she kicks out. "No don't touch" she cries almost in hysterics.

Eyebrows holds up his hands and moved out of reach. "Okay I won't touch you, we won't touch you Y/N" he says teying desperately to calm her down.

Grumpy pants- as Y/N dubbed, walked out of the room putting his phone tk his ear, Hotch calls Penelope. "Yello" "Garica, Y/N L/Ns file does it have anything about mental disorders or anything like that?" He asks confused with the girls strong reactions.

After a few seconds Penelope gets back. "It says here that she is Autistic and has ADHD sir" Hotch thinks "that makes sense, thanks Garica" "your welcome Bossman" Hotch then walks back into the room.

Derek is far away from the girl. "Morgan" Derek walks over. "We forgot one thing that all the victims have in common, they are all neurodivergent in some way" he explains to the man.

They then both look over at the girl, she was back to tapping her foot repeatedly

"Y/N, are you autistic?" Asks Hotch, the girl nods her head. "Yes I am, I tried to explain to the idiots in blue but they wouldn't listen" she says it was the most they heard her say.

"Can I have these off now please?" She asks, her voice quiet like she expected to be shouted at. Derek looks ar Hotch the man nods his head. "Sure" he says and unlocks Y/N hands.

The 14 year old instantly jumps up from the desk, absently rubbing her red wrists, she begins pacing back and forth flapping her hands. The men watch her as she stims.

"We just want to talk to you about your father." Says Hotch, Y/N stops stimming and looked up at them with wide, frightened eyes.

She was small in stature, but her piercing gaze held a hint of strength that took the two seasoned agents by surprise. "My father is a monster" she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Hotchner and Morgan exchanged a knowing glance. They had seen this before – the child of an Unsub who had been subjected to unimaginable abuse and trauma.

"Y/N does you father treat you well?" Asks Derek carefully, Y/N looks down she nervously rings her fingers as she thinks.

"He doesn't" she confesses. "He hates that I'm different, he thinks it's wrong and tries to beat the 'retardness' out of me" she confesses crying as she paces back and forth in the little space.

Hotch and Morgan eye each other from the corner of their eyes then look at Y/N.

"We know, hes a monster which is why we need to find him" Morgan replied gently. 'But we need your help to find him. We believe he may be planning to harm more people.'

Y/N hesitated for a moment, chewing on her bottom lip as she thought. Then she reached into her pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. It was a map, with a clearly marked location circled in red.

'That's where he's keeping his bombs" she said, sliding the paper across the table. Hotchner and Morgan looked at each other in shock.

They had been searching for those bombs for weeks, and here it was, handed to them by a scared teenage girl.

They immediately sprang into action, calling for backup and racing to the location. But as they arrived, they realized that Y/N had also been telling the truth about another thing – her father had taught her how to make bombs.

Before they could even process the situation, a loud explosion ripped through the air. Hotchner and Morgan were thrown back by the blast, but they were quickly pulled to safety by Y/N who had shielded them with her own body.

She lay unconscious, her small frame protecting them from the debris, Y/N was rushed to the hospital, and after a few days, she regained consciousness.

Hotchner and Morgan were there, by her bedside, along with a team of doctors and nurses who were amazed by her bravery.

"We couldn't have stopped him without you,' Hotchner said, his voice filled with sincerity, the girl looked up at them and smiled weakly. "Can I be part of your team now?" She asked, her eyes sparkling with hope.

Hotchner and Morgan shared a smile, knowing that Y/N had found a new family in the Behavioral Analysis Unit. Despite the darkness of her past, she had shown courage and strength that they had rarely seen before.

And as they welcomed her into their team, they knew that together, they could take on anything that came their way.

The end!

Hope you liked this one shot sorry for the late update been a busy week but I am now on Christmas break and will update regularly.

As usual sorry for any spelling and grammar mistakes.

Request are open!

Word count: 1204

[vodika-vibes]

You'll Never Know, Dear, How Much I Love You

Summary: Six months after the Republic's fall and the Empire's rise, Bly shows up on your doorstep, battered and bruised but alive.

Pairing: Commander Bly x F!Reader

Word Count: 1772

Warnings: Mentions of Order 66, implications of possible torture

A/N: I was in a Bly mood, so this was born. But I also have a migraine forming, so I personally don't think it's very good.

Click HERE to be added to my taglist!

You should have left Coruscant after the rise of the Empire.

Sure, it’s not like you worked with the Jedi, and your career is safe, but Coruscant doesn’t feel safe anymore. 

You know your parents want you to move back to Corellia. They tell you that you can open a clinic for the pilots and the spacers in the city and that your life won’t really change all that much.

Never mind the fact that CorSec is the most corrupt police force in the galaxy. And without the Green Jedi, who were also slaughtered to the last child by the Empire, there’s no one there to keep CorSec under control.

You lean your head against the cool window of your apartment, hoping that the cool window will soothe the headache forming behind your eyes.

There’s a reason you’ve stayed on Coruscant.

You stayed for Bly.

Of course, you’ve not seen him in months. You haven’t heard from him since the day before the Jedi Purge, you don’t even know if he’s still alive. You hope so.

You bump your forehead lightly against the window, your gaze drifting away from the speeders racing past your apartment building and toward the billboard that’s currently lit up with Wanted posters for several Jedi and several bounty hunters.

Honestly, you’re not sure what to think about the Jedi.

The idea that the Jedi betrayed the Republic is so impossible that it’s almost laughable. But, at the same time, the Clones would have never turned their weapons on the Jedi if they didn’t have proof.

You release a heavy breath and bump your forehead against the glass again. The problem here is that you have two facts that you know are true that are conflicting with each other.

Fact 1, the Jedi would never betray the people of the Republic.

Fact 2, the Clones wouldn’t have killed the Jedi without good cause.

In conclusion, the Clones must have had cause to kill the Jedi.

Problem, the Jedi would never betray the people of the Republic.

A disgusted noise falls from your lips and you bump your head against the glass one more time before you pull away from the window and turn towards the kitchen.

In the grand scheme of things, you suppose it doesn’t matter. The Jedi are dead, knowing why they died won’t bring them back. And it won’t make things go back to the way they used to be.

“Maybe I should move back to Corellia,” You say to your empty apartment.

Your home is so much colder now that Bly isn’t around.

Coruscant is so much colder now that Bly isn’t around.

It’s funny, Bly called you his sunshine, but as soon as he left everything froze over. Did he just not know that he was your sunshine?

Well, maybe funny is the wrong word. Because if you think about it too hard, you break down sobbing and can’t function for several hours.

So you shove all of your worries, fears, and heartbreak to the back of your mind, and head into the kitchen to start thinking about dinner. Is it healthy to avoid the bad things by pretending they don’t exist? No. Not at all. But it’s better than being paralyzed with grief. Maybe.

You’re about to pull open your fridge when the doorbell rings.

For a moment, you think about ignoring it. After all, it’s not like you’re expecting a visitor, so it’s probably not important, right?

And then the bell rings again and your head falls back as you release a heavy sigh. “Just a moment!” You call to the person on the other side of the door.

It doesn’t take long for you to key in the door code to unlock the door, and for you to press the button to open the door.

“Can I help you?” You ask as you turn your attention away from the keypad to the man in the hallway.

Your breath catches in your throat as you realize who you’re seeing. Short-cropped hair, though it looks like he’s been unable to shave it recently based on the fact that you can see his curls, golden tattoos on his cheeks, and very familiar brown eyes.

“Bly?” You whisper, afraid that if you speak too loudly he’ll vanish. You reach out to touch his cheek, though you stop yourself before you can actually touch him.

What if he’s not real? What if he’s just a figment of your imagination?

You don’t think you’ll survive him vanishing on you again.

His hand wraps around yours, and he tugs your hand to his cheek.

He’s very solid, too solid for a figment of your imagination. “Bly, you’re soaked.” You move to the side to let him into your apartment, and as soon as he’s inside you shut and lock the door. “Let me get you some towels—”

You turn, to head towards your linen closet, only for Bly to wrap his hand firmly around your wrist. He tugs you so that you stumble against his chest, and his arms wrap tightly around you.

For a moment, you think he’s shivering from the cold, but as his fingers dig, almost painfully, into your skin you realize that he’s trembling. Fear grips your heart and then you’re moving, your arms twining around his neck to pull his head down so it’s resting against your shoulder.

“Oh, Bly—” You whisper, “I’m here, I’m here.”

His arms tighten around you, and you get the feeling that he’s trying to use you as a shield from something.

“Let me run you a bath,” You whisper to him, as you gently card your fingers through his hair, “And I’ll throw some of your clothes in the dryer and make you some food—”

“Don’t leave.” It’s the first thing that he’s said to you, and your heart breaks when you hear just how raspy his voice is. You doubt it’s from disuse.

“Never.” You promise, “I’m not going anywhere. Let me take care of you, please?”

You think he’s going to ignore you, at first, but then he slowly nods and releases his grip on you. “I missed you, sunshine.” You meet his gaze and you have to swallow your tears at the lost, almost broken, look on his face.

Instead, you favor him with the warmest smile you can muster, “I missed you too.” You press your hand against his cheek and then slide your hand down his arm to take his hand in yours.

Bly knows your apartment as well as you do, he doesn’t need you to lead him around, but you’ll do it anyway. You love him and he needs you.

You don’t release his hand until both of you are in the fresher and you have to let go of him so you’re able to draw a bath for him. You’re in the middle of deciding if you want to add something to the water, to make it smell nice and soothing for Bly when he releases a pained hiss.

Your head snaps to him so quickly that you’re surprised that you don’t hurt yourself. While you are fixing the bath, he is stripping off his clothes, and your heart drops to your stomach when you see him.

Angry-looking bruises cover the majority of his body. Bruises that look like they were applied in such a way to make any kind of movement hurt. You scramble to your feet and lightly touch his arm to turn him so you can get a better look at his bruises.

Hesitantly, you don’t want to hurt him, your fingers brush against a dark bruise on his upper stomach. Your touch is so gentle that he doesn’t recoil away from you, in fact, he actually seems to try to lean into your touch.

“I…I have a bacta additive for the water,” You stammer, unable to take your eyes off the bruises, but swallowing all of the questions you have. “Go ahead and get into the water, I’ll be right back.”

You don’t give him time to answer as you hurry out of the fresher and into the kitchen to where your first aid kit is located. You pull the kit from under the sink, set it on the counter to pop it open, and grab several items from inside it.

When you return to the fresher with all of the items you need, Bly is resting in the water, his head resting on the pillow that you bought for days when you just want to soak in the water.

You kneel next to the tub and drop a bacta tablet into the water, near his feet. It’ll take some time for the tablet to melt, but that’s okay. He looks like he’s about to fall asleep in the water anyway.

Lightly, you brush your fingers through his short curls, and his gaze flickers across your face, “Would you like some painkillers, Bly?” You ask.

“Don’t need ‘em.”

You sigh but nod, having expected that response, “It’ll take some time for the tablet to dissolve, so I have bacta gel if you want—”

His hand comes out of the water and cups your face, his thumb lightly rubs your cheek, and he just stares at you. “I didn’t think I was ever going to see you again,” Bly admits.

You rub your cheek against his hand, “Well, I’m glad you were wrong. I don’t know what I would do if I lost you forever.”

Bly looks confused for a moment, “You’d have been okay,” He finally says.

But you shake your head, “Silly man,” You raise to your knees so you’re able to cup his face with both of your hands, “You always say that I’m your sunshine, the center of your whole life,”

“You are,”

“Why do you think that you’re not just as important to me?” Your smile is soft as you lightly stroke his cheeks, “Do you have no idea how much I love you?”

Bly stares at you for a moment, almost in disbelief, and then he smiles and leans back against the pillow in the tub, “I must have forgotten, I’m sorry Sunshine.”

“Don’t worry about it,” You reply, “We have all the time in the world for me to remind you.” With that said, you lean in and kiss his cheek, only for him to turn his head to catch your lips with his.

You know that everything isn’t alright. You have so many questions, and Bly will tell you everything, even the parts that don’t make him look good. But right here, right now, everything is fine.

@imabeautifulbutterfly

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@continous-mistakes

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@silly-starfish

[romeoandjulietyouwish]

the first night

this is inspired by a post from @heartsforjohnnycake

Three sharp knocks sounded on the door. 

“Pony, get the door!” Darry shouted from the kitchen where he and Two-Bit were putting last touches on the grease in their hair. Mom and Dad were gonna be home soon and they wanted to get to the party so they wouldn’t get a lecture on drunk driving again. 

When the knocks sounded again, Darry shouted again, “Pony, Soda, get the door!”

Soda, Steve, and Dally were in the living room, the TV blaring over their game of cards. Ponyboy and Johnny were back in the bedroom, probably reading or just talking. Those two were strange like that. 

“I got it!” Soda yelled back. A moment later, Darry heard his feet thundering down the hall and two the door. He heard the door open. “Darry?” Soda called back to him. 

Anxiety twisted in Darry’s chest, his brother sounded scared. Exchanging a glance with Two-Bit, Darry ducked out of the kitchen. 

He nearly ran smack into Ponyboy who must have heard the same waver in their brother’s voice. The two of them looked at the door. Soda stepped aside to let them see two police officers standing there with grim looks on their faces. The one in front was holding his hat in his hands. 

Something happened. Something was deeply wrong.

Darry walked up, nudging Soda behind him. Greasers didn’t mix with cops, if anything were to happen, he wanted it directed at him and not his brothers. “What’s the problem, officer?”

The police officer swallowed and then met Darry’s eyes with something like pity. “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, son, but your parents were in an accident.”

They were gone before paramedics could get there.

I’m so sorry for your loss.

Is there anyone we can call for you?

The world turned to numb buzzing.

Soda sidled up to Darry over, shaking his head like he was trying to get rid of flies, “It’s gotta be a mistake. Mom and Dad are supposed to be home in five minutes-”

The police officer looked at Soda sympathetically. From behind them, Darry could hear the other boys gathering. 

“I’m sorry, there’s no mistake. We found their driver’s licenses in the wreck and-”

“No,” Soda said vehemently. “It’s not them.” He turned to Darry with big, pleading eyes, “Tell them they’re wrong, Darry.”

The whispering behind them grew louder.

Should we call someone?

Who would we call? We’re all right here.

Darry blinked. He needed to be strong. His brothers needed him. He blinked again. Darry forced back the tears that started to build in his eyes. He blinked. And then he looked at his little brother.

“Soda, they’re right,” Darry said. He forced his vocal chords to be even, to not betray an ounce of emotion. 

And Soda began to sob, a horrible sound that speared Darry right in the heart. Ponyboy sprinted towards the bathroom and moments later, Darry heard retching. The earth was falling out from under his feet and still the officers were looking at him with pity.

Behind him, Dally said, “I’ll be back.” And then Darry was being pushed out of the way and the officers were being shoved aside as Dally stormed down the front stoop and to his car. 

The officer took a step forward, “Son, there are a few things we need to discuss with you. It will just take a moment.”

Darry felt a hand on the back of his neck and Two-Bit steered him onto the porch, the door shutting behind him. He tried to fight against it, saying, “Two, I gotta- My brothers-”

Two-Bit nodded, “I know. We’ll go right back inside. He looked at the officers, “Anything you need to tell Darry, you can tell me too. What happened?”

The officers exchanged a look. “They were crossing the train tracks and their car was hit. They died on impact.” Darry thought he was going to throw up, but he swallowed instead and forced himself to listen. “Son, we’ll need you or your brothers to identify their bodies, it’s just a formality, but we need to do it.”

“I’ll do it,” Darry said quickly. He couldn’t let his brothers do that, no way in hell. “Does it have to be now?”

“Of course not,” the officer replied. “Tomorrow or the day after.” Darry nodded. “And then there’s the issue of your brothers being under eighteen-”

His heart dropped to his gut, blind panic now filling the numbness. “You’re not taking them away, are you?” Two-Bit’s hand clenched down on his shoulder. 

“No, no,” the officer said reassuringly. “A social worker will be in touch in a few days.”

Darry nodded. He heard Two-Bit say something else to the officers and then shook their hands with a courteous nod. The police left and Two-Bit and Darry were alone on the front porch. There was still that buzzing in Darry’s ears.

He felt Two-Bit steer him to sit down on the steps, an arm slung around his shoulders. 

Two brought their heads together affectionately and held them like that. Darry took a shuddering breath.

When Ponyboy ran to the bathroom, Johnny followed him immediately. By the time Johnny skidded into the small room, Ponyboy was already hunched over the toilet and retching. Johnny sat down beside him. He put one hand on Pony’s back and rubbed soothing circles. 

What could he possibly say? 

His parents were dead. Johnny felt like crying himself, Mr. and Mrs. Curtis were the closest thing he had to loving parents. But right then, Ponyboy needed him so he had to be strong.

As Pony kept throwing up, he was sobbing too. It was a terrible sound, one that sent chills down Johnny’s spine. He’d never heard his best friend like that, never seen Pony in such despair. Normally when Pony was upset, Soda or Darry would step in, but Darry was talking to the officers and Johnny could hear Soda’s own crying in the living room. He was all Pony had. 

So he wrapped his arms around his friend and pressed his head to his back. Johnny thought of sunshine and swimming in the lake and any happy thoughts. He imagined himself wrapping Pony in those warm thoughts.

After a long while, Pony stopped throwing up. He leaned back and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. He looked at Johnny with red eyes and snot under his nose. “Is this really happening?” Pony’s voice was a hair’s breadth away from breaking. 

“Yeah,” Johnny said, starting to cry then. “Yeah, it is.”

And Pony all but collapsed against Johnny. Johnny held him fast, his cheek resting on Pony’s greased hair as tears made their way down his face.

Soda thrived on affection. So it was no surprise that when he was in his deepest despair, he clung to his best friend. 

Steve’s jacket was covered in snot and tears, but he didn’t say anything. They were curled up on the couch. Steve was pressed against the arm of the couch and Soda was practically sitting in his lap. Soda stopped crying a few minutes ago. Steve ran his fingers through his friend’s hair and held him tight. He’d watch the officers’ car leave, but Two-Bit and Darry remained outside. 

Steve had no idea how long they sat there. Every so often, Soda would ask about Pony or Darry and Steve would reassure him that they were okay and they would be coming back soon. He didn’t know if it was true, for all he knew, Darry had run off just like his mom. Something in Steve’s gut told him it wasn’t true. He worried anyway.

Moments later, the front door opened and Dally marched back in, followed by Two-Bit with his arm around Darry. In Dally’s hands were two greasy bags of fast food. The smell of fries and burgers must have drawn the younger boys because Johnny and Pony emerged from the bathroom. Pony still looked pale and he had a white knuckled grip on Johnny’s hand. 

The second Darry walked in, his two brothers bolted to him and hugged him. Darry’s face was screwed up as he fought not to cry. He squeezed his eyes closed as he embraced the boys.

Two-Bit patted Dally on the shoulder and ducked into the kitchen. He emerged a moment later with plates and glasses of water. As he and Dally made up plates of food, all of them glanced away from the brothers. 

They needed a moment of privacy.

Darry pressed his head to his brothers’ hair. He could feel them shaking, could feel their tears. He inhaled deeply. One minute at a time, that was how he was going to take this. Darry was young and he was scared. Pony and Soda were younger, they were more scared.

He pulled back and put a hand on Soda and Pony’s cheeks, “Come on, let’s sit down and eat.”

Pony wrapped his arms around himself and shook his head, “I’m not hungry.”

“Me neither,” Darry agreed, he ran his thumb along Pony’s cheek. “But it’s getting late and we haven’t eaten. Just a few bites, baby.”

Darry nudged the two of them onto the couch. He wasn’t surprised when they curled up against him, practically sitting on top of him. Two-Bit and Johnny sat down on the couch, Dally taking the chair, and Steve on the floor. Soda moved his feet to rest on Steve’s shoulders. Steve didn’t push them off.

Darry didn’t eat at first, he just watched his brothers and waited for each of them to take a few bites. He had to nudge Pony’s elbow a few times, but eventually he choked down a few fries. Only then did Darry start to eat. 

The house was completely silent, despite being filled with seven boys. 

After they all ate, Darry looked at his brothers. They looked right back at him helplessly, unsure of what to do or how to react. Darry gently instructed Ponyboy to go take a shower and Soda to help Johnny with the dishes. Neither of the boys fought him on it, they just nodded and did as they were told.

Once they were out of the room, Darry looked at Steve, Two-Bit, and Dally, “Y’all don’t need to stay. I-I can-”

“We’re staying.” To his surprise, it was Dally who cut him off. 

Two-Bit nodded, “If you think we’re gonna leave right now, you’re stupid.”

That almost pulled a chuckle out of Darry. He just leaned over and squeezed Two-Bit’s hand, hoping it conveyed how much that meant to him. He knew that the other boys were upset, and had seen them shed tears when they thought the brothers weren’t looking. 

That night, the seven of them slept in the living room. The coffee table was shoved aside to make room for a massive pile of blankets and pillows in front of the TV. Darry watched their friends envelope his younger brothers. Two-Bit nudged Soda until he changed into pajamas. Steve complained about Pony’s wet hair dripping on him, but he scrubbed Pony’s head with a towel anyway. 

Dally kicked Darry’s leg none too gently to force him to look up at him. “I know you’re not gonna sleep, but you should lay down.”

Darry nodded and let himself be bullied into lying down beside Soda. Dally was right, he didn’t sleep and he didn’t think many of the other guys did. The only reason he knew Ponyboy drifted off was because a few hours later, he woke up with a blood curdling scream. 

It took a long while to get Ponyboy calmed down, Soda just held him as tight as he could while Darry looked on helplessly. After that no one got much sleep. 

Morning light crested through the sky and crept in through the windows. Darry looked across the living room. His eyes lingered on every face and the places where they were holding each other up. It was a new day. The first day of his life without his parents.