#slashers as dads

[semiweirdshipper]

Slashers' as fathers with a child/reader. (Comfort drabbles for anyone like me who has daddy issues).

Notes: 100% NON-ROMANTIC. Platonic love only. Non-binary reader. The reader is less than ten years old (you decide the age). Freddy is alive and NOT a pedophile.

I'm a little embarrassed that I made this but I can't deny that it does comfort me and make me feel better. If it makes you happy as well, then I'm glad. Thank you for reading. I hope you have a nice day.

...

Freddy

He was sleeping in his bed when he felt something nudge his arm, the soft callings of your voice quickly rousing him from his slumber. "Daddy? Daddy, please wake up."

Paternal instincts demanding that he instantly wake to check and see if you were okay, Freddy sat up and opened his eyes. Immediately the sight of you standing beside the bed in your pajamas with a sad, frightened look on your face greeted him, and he reached out to gently brush a hand through your messy hair.

"What's the matter, sweetie? Is everything okay?" He asked, gazing around for potential danger.

You whimpered, your little hands anxiously fiddling together as you say sadly, "I... I had a nightmare and I... I got scared."

Relaxing a bit, Freddy sat up all the way in bed and lifted his arms out towards you, "Oh sweetie, come here."

Stepping forward and lifting your arms, you whimper whenever your dad pulled you sideways onto his lap and held you close. He kissed the top of your head and gently patted your back. "Thought I told you not to be having those?" He mumbled.

"I know, but... It was so scary and I-I didn't like it," You whined, burying yourself into the divine safety of his chest, his scent familiar and comforting.

"Shh, shh," Freddy rubbed soothing circles against your back while hugging you securely against him, always prepared to fight all of your demons away- even if your demons were as simple as nightmares. "It's okay, sweetie. You're alright. Daddy's got ya. Everything's gonna be okay."

"Ok..." You whisper, still snuggled against him. He was so comforting and safe. "Daddy? I'm thirsty. Will you get me some juice, please?"

"You want juice?" Freddy tickled your nose causing you to giggle, "Hm?"

"And a story?" You smile at him hopefully.

"And a story? Well, aren't you spoiled," Freddy smiled back and leaned down to nuzzle your forehead, "Sure, sweetie, let's get you some juice."

Grinning at his compliance, you lean forward and give him a big hug. He hugs you back, and it feels so nice and comforting that you feel as if you could go to sleep right then and there.

Freddy holds your hand as he takes you to the kitchen to get you some juice. Then he grabs a book from a shelf and sits down in his arm chair with you sitting in his lap with your blanket and juice in clutch. He reads to you the short story as many times as you want until you've finished your beverage and declared that you were tired again.

"Can I sleep with you, daddy? Please," You ask, fidgeting in the hopes that you wouldn't have to sleep in the dark alone by yourself again tonight.

Freddy doesn't have the heart to tell you "no", so he nods and ruffles your hair, "As long as you promise not to have anymore nightmares. Promise?"

"I promise, daddy," You say happily, crawling into bed with him and immediately going to snuggle into his chest, "I love you."

Freddy kisses your head and tucks you both in with a blanket, one arm wrapping around you to hold you against him. Warm, safe, and comfortable. "Love you too, sweetie. Now get some sleep and, this time, have 'good' dreams."

Bo Sinclair + Uncle Vincent and Lester

"Hey Les, you seen (y/n) around?" Bo asked as he approached Lester's truck.

Lester gave him a look that he came to dread. "Yeah, they're on back with Vincent. Why?"

Relieved by your assured safety, Bo placed his hands on his hips and stared hard at the ground. Guilt chewed on him like a hungry wolf, and shame became a permanent dark cloud hanging all around him. "I-I messed up, Les," He admitted, shaking his head.

Lester raised his eyebrows in suspicion, "What'a ya mean?"

"Yesterday, I... I messed up," Bo huffed, dragging a rough hand through his hair, "An' now they ain't talkin' to me, and I... I just... Uh."

"Oh, so that's why the little critter wanted to spend the night," Lester chuckled and petted his dog's head fondly, "An' here I was hopin' I was the new favorite uncle. Guess I ain't, huh?"

Bo ignored him as he thought about what happened yesterday. He had been angry for reasons unrelated to you, and when you had tried to get his attention he snapped and yelled at you. Even though "what" was all he yelled, he could still tell how much he scared you and hurt your feelings. Now you wouldn't go around him. Gosh, he didn't mean to do it, he just... He was just an idiot.

Lester frowned at him as if noticing his distress, "Well hell, if it's botherin' ya to the pits then why don't ya go talk to them? You are their daddy after all, ain't ya?"

Yes. Yes he was your dad. And no child should ever have to be afraid of their dad.

Making his ultimate decision, Bo adjusted his hat and began stomping away, "Gotta go."

He found you in the house eating snacks with Vincent. When you noticed he was there, you looked at him and then quickly bowed your head like... like you were afraid of him. And it broke Bo's heart. Good grief, what had he done?

Pulsing with regret, guilt and shame, Bo slowly approached you and knelt down beside your chair, "Hey there, little critter bug. What'cha eating?"

You were hesitant, keeping your face averted as you timidly mumble, "Grapes."

"Ooh, yummy, can I have some?" He lifted his hands out, uncertain of where and when he should start explaining himself.

Sadness and uncertainty decorated your face as you lifted out the bowl to him. Vincent seemed to understand what his brother was doing, and he stood up to leave and give you some privacy.

As he ate some grapes, Bo was surprised to hear you quietly ask, "Daddy... Are... Are you still mad at me?"

"Oh..." He straightened his posture, set the bowl aside and reached out to gently grasp your shoulder, "Oh, (y/n), I was never mad at ya, I just... I was just havin' a bad day and I..."

Bo sighed, his hand squeezing your shoulder gently in reassurance, "Look, critter bug, I didn't mean to yell at ya, and I definitely ain't mad at ya. I just... Daddy made a mistake, and I'm so, so sorry, (y/n). I promise... I'll never yell at you again. I promise."

Your eyes glistened as you looked at him as if in debate. Bo's throat was dry as he waited for your reaction, the negativity and guilt nearly driving him insane.

Instead of saying anything, you spread your arms and lift them upwards. Bo sighed quietly in relief and went to scoop you into his arms, his aching chest slowly beginning to calm down. He still felt guilty for how he made you feel, and he wasn't lying when he promised that he would never ever make you feel that way again.

Michael + Aunt Laurie

You were both trick-or-treating and having a good evening on Halloween. Michael alternated between carrying you on his back, on his hip, or simply holding your hand while walking. It warmed his heart to see how happy and excited you were, your candy-bag becoming overloaded with sweet treats.

He decided to stop at Lauries for a quick break and some refreshment. You ran back out while he was still inside. It only felt like a minute before he followed your footsteps and soon came to a scene that made his blood boil and his eyes widen.

You were laying on your back against the sidewalk, small, frightened cries spilling from your lips. In the direction you were staring, Michael caught a glimpse of a group of teenagers quickly running away. They must have done something to you. But what?

"D-daddy," You cried as he quickly walked over to you, and you skittered to get to your feet.

Michael barely got to check you over for damage before you were wrapping your arms around his waist and crying into his belly. "They pushed me and stole my candy," You whined loudly against him, "I-I just wanted to be friends, b-b-but they stole my candy. Ehh, daddy, daddy, what do I do? They stole my candy."

Anger invaded every nerve within Michael's body as he held you close protectively. How dare anyone treat you this way. How could they? You were the nicest, sweetest little angel. What was their problem? Michael's eyes burned with the memory of those teenage scum and the direction they fled.

Hearing your loud sniffles, Michael gently coaxed you back and knelt down. Slipping off his mask, he reached out, cupped your cheek and used his jumpsuit sleeve to wipe away your tears and snot. Then he used sign-language to ask if you were okay.

You nodded and cried in great sadness, "But they stole my candy. Wh-why did they do that, daddy? I-I just wanted to be friends."

Michael quickly explained to you how those teenagers were obviously bullies. This same experience happened to him too when he was your age. Everything was going to be alright. They would get you more candy. Calm down. Everything was going to be alright.

Slowly you began to calm down, your sobs and whines diminishing. Michael pulled you into his arms and hauled you against his hip so that he could take you into the house. You stayed attached to him the whole time, and he refused to let you go. Frustration still burned inside him, and he was overwhelmed with the urge to protect and comfort you/his child.

Laurie was there to save the day, thankfully, offering you all of the candy she hadn't yet given out and putting on a fun movie for you to watch.

You were snuggled up against your dad on the couch, your mood significantly eased as he rubbed your head and back and offered you pieces of candy. For the most part you forgot about the incident, but Michael certainly hadn't.

Let's just say that, by tomorrow, you would have your stolen candy back.

Hannibal

He had taken a leave of absence from work so that he could better take care of you while you were sick. It wasn't anything serious; just a small cold. The nurse from your school had sent you home earlier due to a sore throat and a fever. Hannibal had rushed to get you as quickly as he could.

Once he got you home, he had you take a bath and get dressed into your pajamas. You complained of throat and stomach pain, and you had irritated sinuses. He gave you some medication and told you to lie down while he made you some special soup that would soothe your tummy.

As he was cooking, he heard your tiny footsteps echoing from the hallway, and he turned to see your sleepy figure approaching, "Daddy?"

"Yes, my child, what is it?" He asked, setting his cutting knife aside.

"My tummy hurts so bad," You pouted, your voice beginning to sound scratchy, "And I don't feel good. I wanna be with you."

Hannibal grabbed a kleenex from the counter and knelt down to gently clean your messy nose, "I know. And that is precisely why you should be sleeping."

"But I can't sleep," You whimper, looking at him with sad, tired owl eyes, "I wanna be with you. Please, daddy? Let me stay with you."

Hannibal tilted his head at you, his brows lifting in debate. While he would rather you be getting some decent rest, he knew that you were young and still filled with energy even whilst you were sick. He didn't have much left to do cooking wise either, so he figured that having you stay around wouldn't harm anything.

"Alright then," Hannibal leaned forward and picked you up, swiftly positioning you on his hip and supporting you with one arm so that he could use the other to cook with.

You held onto his neck while resting your head against his shoulder, your eyes mostly shut as you listened to the sound of his heart beat. Safety and warmth enveloped you making you feel much, much better than what you had before. Your dad was always so cozy and comforting.

Hannibal was able to finish cooking dinner with you on his hip the entire time. Once it was time to eat, he set you down on a chair and made you a drink and a bowl of soup. You ate quietly which worried him a little, but he knew it was just because you weren't feeling good.

"Feeling better?" He asked when you were finished.

You smiled and nodded at him, "Mhm, it was real yummy. Thank you, daddy."

"You're welcome, my child," He reached out and gently squeezed your cheek before taking your bowl and cleaning it, "I don't suppose telling you to get back in bed will do any good, will it?"

Your pitiful whimper was enough of an answer. Hannibal chuckled, dried his hands and went to pick you up again, holding you close as he carried you to the living room. "A movie it is then."

"Can Will come over?" You asked, grinning.

Hannibal gave you a look, "I'm beginning to believe that you're not sick at all."

...

All good fathers' should fight their child's nightmares away, not be the reason why they have them.

[bisexual-horror-fan]

This person is so fucking real.

[avocadoraisin]

Mini Michael.

Sequel to This because I clearly only make art that makes sense

[small-sinclair]

Dada

Bo Sinclair x mother fem!reader

@zaras-really-dreamless... you wanted some "Take me Instead" content, yeah? Well, it's not the next two parts, but I hope it quiches a thirst :3 . A dabble based off my Bo x preg!reader au. I promise I'll make a master list for this au and give it a name I swear--

"Can you say 'Bo'?" You asked in your mother voice, a smile on your face. "Come on, Jazzy, say 'Bo'!"

"Shouldn't encorage to hav' 'er say my name, darlin'," Bo said glancing over his shoulder. "Have 'er say 'mama' or somethin' like that." He started working on the car you and Todd came. "When did ya last get 'is thin' an oil change?"

You shrugged as you bounced Jasmine on your hip, smiling at her happily. "Todd always took care of that." You heard an audible sigh and the hood slamming. "Is it that bad, Bo?"

"Well, ain't gonna lie, darlin', but your car," he thumbed behind him and threw his rag, "is done. Never drive ‘at heep o’ shit again."

You lifted a brow before looking at Jasmine. "Well... that sucks, huh, Jazzy? There goes out escape plan," you joked. "Trapped here forever."

Bo shook his head and rolled his eyes. "I'll have Lester bring the trailer down an' scrap it. Make more money than fixin' it." He placed a hand on his hip and fixed his hat. "Sorry, Mama, but it ain't drivin' no more." His eyes flickered down at Jasmine and watched her bright eyes looking back at him. "She seems lost."

"Jasmine’s just looking around, Bo," you answered, smiling. "She was always a wanderer just like my mother." You gave her an Eskimo kiss and smiled at her giggle. To Bo, it melted his heart. "She's just trying to figure the world out."

He takes a deep breath in and motioned you to follow him out. "Le'me close up an' we c'n get home-"

"Hello?" Your head snapped to the front door and saw young man walk in with two of his friends. "Anyone here?"

Bo gave you a look then led the way to the front of the shop. He puts on a fake smile and says, "Yeah, jus' caught me." He sounded cheerful when he said, "Was gonna close up soon."

"Would it trouble you to replace our spark plugs?" The man asked. "Me and my buddies have the slightest on what to do an--" his face was caught off when his green eyes landed on you. He straightens up and nods his head. "Ma'am," he said.

"Gentlemen," you replied. You stood between him and Bo before turning to look at Bo, saying, "I'll head up to the house and start dinner."

"I won't be long, sugar," Bo said, leaning down to kiss your head. "Promise."

They boys by the door parted and let you pass throw.

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

Jasmine played on the floor with little horse stuffies while you cooked dinner. Bo dropped hints of cooking pot roast and green beans with potatoes. Besides, he’s been working hard in the shop the past couple of nights along with making sure you and Jasmine are fitting in well.

Ever since you started living freely with the Sinclair Brothers, you were left with the house keeping and cooking job. Thought it's not the best picture of how you wanted to spend your life, but you had the freedom to move around within the house and around the dead town. Though you were watched with careful eyes, the fear you had with them would fade over time. Yes, the murdering and blood shed scares you, but tried their best to keep that away from you and from Jasmine.

Living with the brothers felt like you were living in a strange home. Lester brought you along to the store for baby shopping, and he always stopped after the trip to get your drink order at Starbucks. Vincent was a natural at rocking Jasmine to sleep when you were busy, and he enjoyed feeding her when you were tired or needed to rest. Bo found himself looking over you and her as time went on, and you would wake up to him some times at night with him looking into the crib, his hand holding Jasmine's fingers. When you saw the high chairs and baby photos, you learned why they made sure to keep Jasmine happy, to keep her away from them, to keep loving on her until their hearts give out.

If you were honest with yourself, you wanted to burn Bo’s high chair.

When you asked Lester why it’s there, he shakes his head. “Bo doesn’t know how to heal,” he answered as he nodded to his brother working in the shop. “This is the only way he can.”

Even if he doesn't show it, you knew Bo was in love with Jasmine. Besides seeing him with her at night, you would catch some glances of him holding her on his hip while he shows her the inside of a car, telling her all about the engine of a '68 Dodge. He would call her little star, sunshine, lady bug, sweetheart-- you kept seeing the shine in his eyes when he was around her. Of course, things weren't always calm and sunshine, but he never yelled at her like Todd did. Never once has he called her dumb or stupid.

Maybe you agreeing to stay in this town was good for the three of you.

Humming to the radio by the stove, you started cooking the potatoes when he came home. You glanced over your shoulder to greet him but your face fell once you saw him limping in with his hand holding his thigh.

“What happened?” You asked as you met him in the hall, taking a towel and the first-aid. After being here for two months, you learned that it's best to keep the first-aid within reach.

“Got stabbed,” Bo hissed, breathing through his teeth. “One of ‘em got brave and headed towards the house, too.” He then looks at Jasmine, who still played with her toys. “He was gunnin’ fer ‘at lil’ one.”

“How do you know?”

He bit the corner of his lips. “Just knew. Didn’t lik’ the way he was lookin’ at ya an’ ‘er.” His drawl was heavier than normal. “Should’ve said nothin’, girl, an’ snuck out in the tunnels.”

“I’m sorry.”

Bo grumbles to himself as he lets you tend to his leg. His eyes linger from you towards Jasmine. For a moment, the anger burning in his irises dimmed when Jasmine showed off her stuffed pink horse to him before playing again. Once her gaze was gone, his anger sparked again.

"Never do 'at again, woman," he warned, as he leaned back in the chair. "Men are dangerous 'round children."

"Are you dangerous?" He didn't mean to ask him, but as soon as those words left, he glared at you. "Sorry."

"I'll let it pass just once," he murmurs, "but don' say 'at shit again."

Bo leans back and closes his eyes, taping his fingers on the arm rest. As he felt the pain start to fade, his eyes linger over Jasmine as she plays with her horse. His relaxed his shoulders against the wood and watched her little horse wiggle in the air as of it was flying, grinning slightly at her movements.

"Dinner's almost ready," you say as you came back with water and two pain killers. "Just cooking the potatoes now."

"Yeah?" He asked, lifting a brow. He takes the pills and gulps down the water. "That's awful kind 'o ya."

As you two started talking about dinner, Jasmine sat and watched the both of you with curious eyes. She uses the couch to help her stand, dropping her horse, and pulled herself up. Once she was standing up, she takes shaky steps forward, her mind competly forgettign the horse under her feet. Tripping, she falls down, looks around, and opens her mouth, crying loudly.

Bo jolted as he heard her started to cry. He watched you scoop up your child and kisses her head as you tried to calm her. Her little hands reached out towards Bo, bright eyes burning through tears as she cried out, "Dada!"

It's like time froze and the world stopped spinning. Bo's eyes grew wide as he looked at you and back at Jasmine. "What... what did she just--"

"Dada!” Her little hands reached for him, tearfully crying out, “Bo!”

Just like that, Bo's heart shattered in two million pieces. Her little hands reached for him still as she wiggling in your grasp. With his hands still bloodied, Bo opened his arms and nodded at you, reassuring that it's okay for you to leave him, but you can't... not while he's covered in someone else's blood.

Though the pain was still there, Bo moved quickly from the den to the kitchen. He scrubbed and washed up as best as he could, took off his work uniform shirt and tossed it aside, and dried off as well as he could. He heard the basement door opening and Vincent entering from downstairs.

Before Bo could fill him in, Jasmine cried out, "Bo! Dada!"

Vincent felt his stomach drop as he looked at you and Jasmine. His lone eye looks back at Bo and pointed, eye wide in shock, signing, 'Did she just say your name? Or am I really dehydrated?'

"Ya heard right," Bo breathed. He limps away from Vincent and headed back into the living room. He held out his hands, motioning that he was reader, and you gave her to Bo.

This was his first time holding her since the day he got you away from Todd. Truly holding her close, not like when he has her on his hip while working on a car.

As soon as you place her in his arms, something clicked in his brain. The way she looked at her with tearful eyes and her hands reached for him to hug, Bo’s world rocked. He heldJasmine so close and protectively as he rocked back and forth, hushing her gently. Feeling her again in his arms felt almost right, but he’s not her dad. He’ll be a good enough father, he knows, but…

“You’re okay, star shine,” he whispered as he felt her calming. “Ya just bummed yer knee. Nothin’ to cry about.” He walked away from you as he paced in the other room with the pool table. He nodded at you to take care of the food while he takes care of Jasmine. “Yer okay. You’ll be alright.”

“Dada,” she whines as her little hands gripped his shirt. “Bo.”

How fast can a heart shatter and build up again? Is there a study out there that could answer Bo’s question?

He rested her head against his heart as he took shaky breaths. He’s not ready. He’ll never be ready. “Shh, star shine,” he whispers. “Rest ‘at lil’ head. I’m here. Bo’ll always be here.”

From the kitchen, Vincent started the potatoes and had you watch from the doorway. Were you in love with him, or did you just see him as a father figure? As much as you tried an answer, you couldn’t make since of it yet. Todd was her dad, but any boy can be a dad. Bo was a man; he was a better father than Todd. You just can’t tell him yet.

So, you watched as Bo swayed back and forth with Jasmine in his arms, murmuring a song only for her to hear. Slowly, he leaned against the pool table. His eyes was filled with so much warmth and carefulness when he looked down at Jasmine. You had to admit he knew what he was doing, and Jasmine fell asleep right away in his arms. He leaned down and rested his forehead against hers. The walls that he built and the lies he believed fell so fast to let her in.

Dada. Bo.

He squeezed his eyes shut as a sigh escaped. He’ll kill a thousand men just to keep Jasmine safe, to keep you happy and well, to keep what lever type of… family? Relationship? What is the best word to say? But he looked down at Jasmine as if she was his own, and a grin formed. Bo will fight off every and any monster that dare comes near his home.

***********

Later that night, you woke to the sound of your bedroom door opening and feet shuffling across the floor. Turning, you found Bo in sleeping pants, shirtless, and holding Jasmine in his arms. Her head rested against his shoulder as he swayed slightly back and forth with his eyes closed. You heard him hum a lullaby low and soft just for her. When his eyes parted, he made eyes contact with you, smiled, and laid her back down ever so slowly and gently.

Bo turned his heels and tucked you back in. “Rest, Mama,” he whispers, pressing a kiss on your temple. “It’ll be a long day tomorrow.” Then Bo turned and left the room, closing the door silently.

What a beautiful mess that’s unraveling right in front of you.

[wh01sstanl3y]

My boys

[eerie-candid]

Pt 2 of Trapper being a parent

[charliedawn]

Hey, I don't see any post saying requests are closed. Please correct me it I'm wrong, and I'll resend this ask when they're open :)

I saw one of your slasher posts about an new patient who was an omega and I've been wondering how a/b/o au slashers would react to a beta new patient who they saw as their own pup?(basically everyone is a father figure to this kid lol) I love platonic fluff and you're one of the few slasher writers who write platonic stuff and I love your writing, please stay hydrated and have a good day! :D

Here you go 😁 And thank you.

Freddy Krueger:

"You and I…we gonna be best buddies."

Freddy is a beta. Meaning: no real dominance or protective instincts.

He’d basically laugh his ass off while you run around and cause havoc or eat popcorn with Pennywise while they watch.

He’d train you in the ways of 'don’t give a toss' and 'get outta my way, bitch'.

Freddy would still protect you if he sees you in real danger, but he’d be the type of cool dad who just wants to chill and walk around in flip flops.

Brahms Heelshire:

Brahms would be a worry heart.

He’d worry 24/7 about you.

Have you eaten ? Have you drank ? Have you slept well ? Are you hurt ? Do you wanna play ?…

He’d cry his eyes out if he sees a scratch on you and whoever would dare cause you harm would end up beaten up.

Brahms is strong—even though he is an omega. He’d be the one to take care of you and make sure you’re perfectly safe.

Arthur Fleck:

Arthur would give you the best advice. He’s a beta—but used to be an omega. He’d have the heart without being overemotional about things.

"Don’t worry, things can look up. You just gotta wait and see."

"Be a doll and smile. Smiling will open up many doors for you."

"Do not listen to Freddy, sweetie. He is a bad influence. Matter-of-fact ? Do not listen to anyone else but me and Michael."

He would be your voice of reason in your darkest moments, but don’t ALWAYS listen to him because he is a patient for a reason…

Penny:

Overpossessive. Overprotective. Overthinking. Overdoing.

Penny would be the embodiment of "over-the-top". Doesn’t have any chill and would bite and scratch if anyone as much as looks at you the wrong way.

He can also read minds…which can be kind of a problem.

Penny *growls at a nurse* : "I DARE you to say what you want to say, coward."

He would also be very playful and play with you all day long. He’s got unending energy and would even put on shows for you.

Michael Myers:

Michael would be the only responsible one, as the Alpha of the slashers.

He’d make sure to never allow you near his knives or any sharp objects. He’d teach you self-defense. He’d also cook for you and teach you all of his skills (non-lethal)

He would also protect you but, would always use a weapon that won’t be too traumatic for your adorable self…like a baseball batt or a something else to just knock out the person who dared attack your person.

But Myers ? Myers would kill for you.

Myers has no parental instinct or remorse.

He kills because he can.

Father Paul Hill:

Father Paul—as a Beta—would protect you with his life. He always wanted to be a father and would immediately take you under his wing.

Comparing to other slashers, you could almost call him a pacifist. He would never start a fight. Never.

He would teach you and give you a proper education. He would also take care of you and give you the affection you need.

And if you get hurt ?

He’d protect you—no matter the cost.

Father Paul *covered in blood and crying* : "No…No no no…Not again. Please. Not again."

Patrick Bateman:

Patrick Bateman would teach you how to kill and get away with murder. He is a Beta himself, but always hated that title because he always saw himself as an Alpha.

He’d explain to you the human anatomy and how to chop off a body in the most efficient and effective way possible.

He would also teach you the ways of society and bureaucracy like no one else could. Patrick is very observant and dangerous. He has no empathy.

Meaning: Make sure he KEEPS liking you.

Patrick *looking at you and wondering if having a kid is worth it and how he’d do it to get rid of you before smiling and locking the thought into a very far away box at the back of his mind*

Vincent Sinclair:

Vincent is an Omega. He would fight tooth and nail to protect you.

He’d also let you braid his hair and you’d draw together or do some fun artsy activities.

He’d show you how to do pottery and play with clay to make animal shapes or even human-like.

But, Vincent is in therapy and is being closely monitored and watched so he wouldn’t show you how to make wax people.

He would also be very affectionate with you and give you a lot of hugs, unlike Bo who would just pat your head and call it a day.

Jack Torrance:

"Let’s get takeout." Jack’s favourite sentence.

Jack would be a very lazy and chill kinda dad for a beta. He would take you to movies or read you a book.

He also loves food so…he’d get you pizza or nachos and you’d just settle on the couch with him and do nothing—just chilling.

He’d be the dad you go to when you don’t wanna do anything and you’re tired. He’d also be the type to live in his pajamas and tell you that it’s too early at 1pm.

You would then just sleep or he’d tell you things about his old life if he’s up for it.

He would protect you if you are in danger, but he would make sure that you don’t get into trouble in the first place cause you can’t do no wrong when you’re chilling all day…

[backscratches]

'Hey, Sweetheart' part 1

The Sinclair brothers x F!child!reader (platonic)

Warnings: Mentions of death, yelling, plans of killing, Slashers, obsession

|next part|

That morning Bo had been woken up by his younger brother, Lester. It had been a call to him about the tourists he saw heading down the road to a campside. One car, couple of people, an easy job.

Bo and Vincent hadn't had tourists in the town in a awhile so the preparations weren't hard. Later that day, at the night exactly. Bo went and blew their tires. He made sure that Lester was ready to escort the couple to the town the next day.

The next day Bo was fixing a car in his garage when a couple walked up to him. They looked like a normal married couple, nothing more to him anyway. But one thing caught his eye. The woman was carrying a baby on her back.

"Hey folks what can I do for yall?" Bo asked trying to be polite. The man told him that they needed couple of tires for their car down the road and that they were in a hurry.

Bo couldn't care less about their plans to see the socker game in the next state or anything else about them. So he directed the woman with her baby up to see the famous Trudy's House Of Wax while he and the husband looked at some tires.

He didn't know what was he hoping to be done with the babe but there was no plans of keeping it either. There had been children passing through the town before but evedently there wasn't any kid wax figures.

After Bo had killed the man with a hit to the head he dragged the body downstairs to the basement of the garage and left to go up to the museum.

Now he knew what he wanted. He wanted Vincent to take care of the problem, that being the baby tourist, so he didn't have to worry about it.

But as he soon found out, Vincent wasn't just as attracted to the idea of getting rid of the little specimen. After he had killed the woman Vincent took the crying baby to his basement.

And that was what Bo had walked in on. Sweaty Vincent holding a crying baby girl in the middle of his work space.

"What the hell are you doing with that thing?" Bo asked loudly bewildered. Vincent only turned for a moment to look at him and then turned immediately back to the now fussing baby in his dry hands.

"Don't ignore me freak what the fuck are you doing with it?" Bo shouted at his twin brother or rather to his back.

"Be Quiet" Vincent whispered in his rough voice. He was observing the baby, holding her Infront of his face but after speaking to Bo he quickly moved the babe to his chest.

Holding the baby in his arms, Vincent began to slowly swing her in hopes of her falling asleep.

"The hell are you planning?" Bo asked angerly but alot quieter now.

The babygirl soon fell into a soft sleep in Vincent's hold.

There was a moment of silence, a moment of Vincent quietly cuddling to the babe, a moment of Bo trying to figure his brother out.

"I want her"

The few words that Vincent could muster with his broken face were enough for to Bo to shutdown.

He didn't want this, he wasn't ready for this and Ambrose sure wasn't a place for this.

Only if he knew how much his brother desperately wanted his own family. But his disformated face had quickly put a brick wall Infront of that dream. That hole he wished so badly to fill, that couldn't be treated even with his lovely good girl dog, Jonesy or a hundred wax figures across the town.

This beautiful baby was the most incredible thing he had ever witness even, his mothers world known wax figures couldn't bare fitness to the feeling this babe brought to him.

And nobody was going to take that away from him. Not even his twin brother.

this is my first fanfic I've ever written so yeah tell me your opinion

I will continue this series for at least a couple of parts

Please like

English isn't my first language tell me of any mistakes

[bella-goths-wife]

Again, no one cares but I’m bored so here’s who I envision when I reread my lost boys daughter au

This is just who envision, but it’s an x reader so lost boys daughter can look like whatever you want :)

Let me know if you see the vision and who you think suits it most

[xxtodl]

My dad said that saws gore was just gore for gore sake and i was like no! You don't get the deep thematic elements and lessons that come from these films! The gore accentuates the themes!

[rzyraffek]

Platonic yandere yautja x child reader if u seen my pride um I recommend it the scene where cub nothing attacks a full grown lion but for this child reader was attacked while with a group of pups and was able to kill a xenomorph with a spear through the head

King i love you but please use punctuation😭

If I understood you correctly, you want dad yautja with kid who managed to kill xenomorph with other yautja pups? I hope I understand that right👽😊

I used y/n for kid cuz its easier to write that way, plus i used they/them!

Yautja dad with human kid (they whooped xenomorph)

First of all "WHERE WERE YOU, WITH WHO, WHY YOU BEEN OUTSIDE FOR SO LONG, I TOLD YOU NOT TO HANG OUT WITH OTHER PUPS SO MUCH, WHY DIDINT YOU TELL ME, I WAS SO WORRIED OMG" typical controlling/overprotective perent questions🥱

Dude litteraly banned them from going outside for good month or two

I mean yeah cool cool you- YOU WHAT??? YOU KILLED WHO? W- WHAT

Dude needs proof

But if he saw y/n with yautja pups acually killing that thing? Hes proud and dead at the same time. Like omg yay my baby killed something yay⭐but at the same time OH MY STARS YOU COULD DIE SO MANY TIMES

Hangs xeno head in middle of livingroom so everyone that walks in sees it😊 he is a proud dad

But it doesnt change the fact that you litteraly can't go outside without him around

He also kinda dislikes y/n friends??? Like "ugh really kid? You are hanging out with those bab troublesome pups? You know you can do better? Just stay with me"

Hes jelous and upset that first hunt kid had was with their friends, not him😭

Everytime you guys hang out with other yautjas he gives y/n's friends a death stare

Of course hes proud that his lil baby menaged to hunt down A FUCKING XENOMORPH, he will purr. The issue is that he cant help but imagine what could happen.

Heres little extra, i never write this type of stuff but im bored atm. Tw toxic behaviour?:

Y/n wanted to show off what they hunted with their friends, but the corpse too heavy to carry, so kid just goes to their home, walks up to their dad and tells him that they have gift for him but its outside. They grab his hand and lead him outside, he didnt expect few young yautjas poking dead xenomorph in his backyard for sure. He yells that they should stay away and he pulls put his weapon. He has so many questions all starting with "why", "how" and "when"???

After making sure that the thing is dead and his child didnt suffer any wounds he turns to other pups and starts scolding them, how dumb they are to bring a human pup on a hunt?? Dont they know how dangerous it is.

He would probably yell at them forever if not y/n stepping in and trying to explain that y/n was acually attacked and pups helped, yautjas wanted only good. He kinda didn't expect that, you? His own kid? Stepping in and protecting other people from him? He should be the one viewed as the one whos right and the one you always go for advice! So yeah he didnt take that well. Of course he tried to keep cool around those young hunters but o my god after they went away? Omg expect a lot of offended and angry dad behaviour, he gives them silent treatment for few days or is just simply passive agressive

After all y/n just wanted to feel like rest of their friends. And ironically enough the only one treating y/n like human is her own dad

[semiweirdshipper]

Slashers as fathers with a child reader.

Notes: 100% NON-ROMANTIC. Platonic love only. Non-binary reader. The reader is less than ten years old (you decide the age). Freddy is alive and NOT a pedophile.

Summary: The slasher fathers feeling guilty after hurting their child's feelings. PART ONE.

Freddy Krueger

It felt like he had been a completely different person when he did it. Work had been stressing him out, parts of the house needed fixing, and he was a single parent. He wasn't getting enough rest. Eventually every little thing began to get to him.

Freddy hadn't been in his right mind when it happened. You loved making pictures for him, and one day you decided to nail some pictures on the wall by yourself. Not only had you nailed the pictures too low, but you had also accidentally made a large hole in the wall.

The incident had caused Freddy to explode. Not only did he yell at you for ruining the wall, but he ended up tearing one of your pictures in half. "I don't need this shit," He had shouted at you, "You think I feel like dealing with that? You ruined my wall, (y/n), and now I gotta fix it. I just- I can't... Ugh."

Freddy had avoided you for the remainder of the night- not because he was mad at you but because he was afraid he 'would' get mad at you again. It was a bad idea. He should have apologized for the way he acted. Because the next day when he woke up and went into his office, he noticed that every picture you had drawn him had been torn from the nails on the wall, shredded up and shoved in the trash.

Horror, heartache and regret immediately consumed his guilty conscience, and he rushed to find you. You were in your room playing with toys. It nearly destroyed him to see the way you flinched and scurried to hide behind a laundry basket.

"(y/n)," Freddy went to kneel in front of you, "Sweetie, what did you do? Why did you tear up daddy's pictures?"

"Because," You whimpered, keeping your teary face hidden, "You said you didn't need them. You... You tore it in half. I... I'm sorry, daddy. Hic... I-I-I'm sorry th-that I-I made a hole in the wall, an-and I'm sorry th-that you h-h-hate my pictures."

The amount of sadness, regret and complete and utter crushing guilt that fell upon Freddy was suffocating. Hearing your broken apology and seeing the way you were shaking caused him to be so disappointed with himself. He couldn't believe what he had done. Why did he do that? He would never do anything to cause you to feel this way, and he 'loved' your pictures.

And yet look what he caused. Not only did he hurt your feelings by being cruel, but he lost all of his near and dear pictures- even the ones you made when you were a toddler. They were all destroyed.

"I-I'll never color again," You swore in a loud whine.

"Oh no, sweetie, no," Freddy attempted to get closer to you, frowning heavily when you flinched at his touch, "Please don't do that. Listen- hey, look at me. I need you to look at me."

And when you did look at him, Freddy felt like punching himself in the face. You looked so scared, so sad and unbearably hurt. Oh gosh, what had he done? Why?

"Oh (y/n)..." Freddy sighed, shaking his head, "I'm so sorry. Yesterday I... I was just in such a bad mood an-and not because of you but because.... Look, (y/n), daddy didn't mean to act the way he did, and I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry that I yelled at you and I'm especially sorry that I did that to your picture. I regret it so much, you have no idea. Please... I'm sorry. I 'love' your pictures (y/n), please don't stop making them."

As Freddy eagerly waited for a brightened response from you, his heart sunk from his chest when you turned your back to him and quietly mumbled, "I wanna play with my toys please."

Excuses and more apologies sat on Freddy's tongue, but he denied saying them for he believed that you simply needed time to forgive him. "Ok sweetie," He got up to leave, "If you need anything, come get daddy, ok?"

"Ok, daddy."

While, over time, you did warm back up to your father, you never did say that you forgave him. And Freddy never got another picture. And he would never, ever stop regretting what he had done.

Michael Myers

Michael was overwhelmed by the frustration work caused. Due to lack of loyal employees, he was forced to work over-time and pull extra shifts. He was sore, tired and angry. It felt like he was the only person at work who ever did anything right.

And that anger built and built until it eventually brought out the worst in him and made him do something that he would regret for the rest of his life.

You loved (sport) and had been outside practicing with some of the neighbors. Michael had been inside attempting to relax when suddenly one of the living room windows shattered. He flinched and rushed to his feet, red clouding his vision when he saw a familiar ball on the floor.

On his way to the door, you ran inside breathless and gasping, "Ah! I'm sorry, daddy, it's my fault. I-I accidentally threw the ball too hard and-"

Michael, with his emotional bridge broken, raised his hand to cut you off. A seething scowl took place upon his face, and he began to lecture you out in sign language. "I don't wanna hear excuses. Why were you playing so close to the house? You should know better. Now look at what I have to fix. All I want is to relax and now I can't because of your stupid (sport). Why do you even play (sport)? You're not even good at it."

Even though his words were literally silent, the crushed look on your face explained that you knew exactly what he had said. Michael ignored your crestfallen face and quiet sobs and demanded that you help him clean up the glass before sending you to your room. Yes, your friends had watched the whole thing.

Michael's seething attitude didn't diminish until the next day after he got some good sleep. He soon realized that he felt bad for how he treated you yesterday and decided that he wanted to apologize. But when he went to your room, he was stricken to see all of your favorite sports gear sitting in a trashcan. (sport) merchandise and even pictures you drew were also in the trashcan.

Overcome with concern, Michael wandered to your bed where you were hiding underneath your blanket. When he tapped on you, you twitched but otherwise kept pretending to be asleep. So he tried again.

You caved and lowered the blanket. Michael didn't like the way you winced at him, your eyes squinted as if you were expecting the worst out of him. He quickly used sign language to ask, "What is going on? Why are you throwing all your (sport) stuff away?"

"I..." Your voice was hesitant and quiet as you gazed away, "I don't like (sport) anymore. I... I-I'm not good at it, an-and you h-hate me playing it, an-and I'm sorry that I broke the window... I'm sorry, daddy. I promise-huh... I-I-I'll never play (sport) again."

What? Michael's eyes nearly popped out, regret, guilt and fear clouding his soul. Oh no. What had he done? You didn't like (sport) anymore? And all because he had overreacted and told you that you weren't any good at it. Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no. It couldn't be like this. You couldn't stop doing what you loved all because he was stupid and having a bad day.

Sitting down on the edge of your bed, Michael quickly explained with sign language, "But you are good at (sport). Don't quit. I was having a bad day, I didn't mean to say that stuff. You don't have to quit. I'm sorry that I said that. Don't quit playing (sport), you love it."

Your lips wobbled and you turned your head away, your voice a broken whisper, "Ca-an I sleep some more before school. Please?"

Your lack of an answer both irritated Michael and broke his heart. He became angry at himself and regretful about what he had done. He wanted to talk to you more about it, but decided not to. Hopefully you would think about his apology and take all of your (sport) stuff out of the trash.

But, unfortunately for Michael, you never did get back into (sport), and he never got to stop feeling guilty about it.

Bo Sinclair + Uncle Vincent and Lester

Bo could admit that, on the surface, he had a very fragile temper. Ever since he had you he had tried his hardest to hide all the ugly parts of himself, especially his anger. Any time he began to lose his temper, he usually stomped off somewhere by himself to maybe punch something and take a moment to breathe.

So far he had done a fairly decent job.

Up until today that was.

It had been a long week. It was summer. Tourists were pouring in at random needing fast work done to their vehicles. The gas station and church needed extra attention. It was hot outside. And, once again, Bo had a very fragile temper.

It happened when he was elbow deep in truck externals. Ever since you could walk you had always been his little helper. Already at your age your dream was to be an engineer, but you still had a lot to learn. And the fact that you had a lot to learn is what caused Bo to snap.

With the impatience of the person waiting on their vehicle to be fixed, Bo also became impatient. You had been trying to help him, bringing him tools he needed.

Whenever you brought him one too many of the wrong tools, he ended up throwing a wrench and his hat to the ground. "What is your fuckin' problem?" He shouted at you, "Are ya stupid? If ya can't bring me what I need then get the fuck outta here."

You had flinched, tears immediately filling your eyes as you carefully backed up. Bo continued to give you a serious, livid glare that scared you, his words ringing in your head and shattering your heart. He watched you run away, his chest pounding with guilt he ignored as he finished his work.

Bo didn't see you for the remainder of the day, but he did check in with Vincent to make sure that you were alright. As night fell, he became more calm and relaxed, and soon he felt absolutely horrible for how he treated you. He sat on his bench rubbing his forehead in distress for almost an hour wishing he could take it all back.

He had shown you one of his worst sides. And it had hurt you. Now what was he supposed to do? He called you 'stupid'.

Unfortunately for Bo, he didn't get a chance to apologize that night for Vincent soon brought him a note explaining that Lester had taken you home with him for the weekend. Gosh darn it. He really wanted to apologize.

But his apology had to wait for- not one week or two weeks- but a whole month. That's how badly you were trying to avoid him. It was more than enough time for Bo to sit and think about his mistakes.

When Lester finally brought you home, Bo was grateful that you didn't appear to be angry or sad. You rushed to him and gave him a big, welcoming hug that soothed his core, "Daddy!"

"Hey, critter bug," Bo chuckled, ruffling your hair, "Missed you. Guess what? Some ol' couple brought in a beat up station wagon. Needs fixin'. Wanna help?"

"No thank ya," You said casually, leaning away from him, "I don't wanna be a engineer anymore."

Bo's world stopped rotating. "What?" He gave you a stabbed look, "But ya love doin' that stuff?"

"Not anymore," Your voice turned into a lightly disappointed mumble.

Bo's mouth went completely dry. He didn't know what to do or say. All of this time apart he thought that you would have gotten over his temper tantrum, but apparently you 'really' got over it. He had been the boulder that crushed your dreams. And it...

It almost made him wanna cry.

Bo swallowed, trying not to seem too beaten down, "But... Who's gonna be my helper?"

You smiled and pointed to the man standing beside the truck, "Uncle Lester will."

"Right..." Bo nodded, his chest aching with guilt, self-hatred, regret and sadness, "Right."

You never helped him with another car again.

Hannibal Lecter

Hannibal liked to believe that he was the ultimate best at keeping his temper under control. He never got mad at you or expressed any negative emotions towards you. If you needed to be taught a lesson, then he would sit with you and have a firm, constructive conversation about how you needed to improve.

Your bond was strong and healthy and it made Hannibal proud. You even took after him by wanting to be a professional cook. And Hannibal was ecstatic to help you carry that dream into reality.

But one day all of his pride, arrogance and content came to an end.

You had woken up before him that morning and had snuck to the kitchen to make him breakfast. However, things went south and you accidentally ended up breaking one of his rarest, most treasured dishes- a dish that was literally one of it's only kind on the whole planet. And it upset him.

"I-I'm sorry, daddy," You had apologized desperately, "I-I just thought since you liked the plate so much you would also like eating off of it. I didn't mean to break it!"

Hannibal, his heart racing and his nerves burning with anger, had said almost too vastly, "And what lead you to believe that I would enjoy such horrible cooking on my most treasured dish? You knew these pieces were not meant to be eaten off of, yet you disrespected me anyway."

"Horrible cooking?" You murmured.

Because Hannibal was hurt, he couldn't resist the urge to make you hurt as well. "Yes. You are an awful cook. Your presence in this kitchen has always been a waste of time."

The way your eyes widened with hurt and how your hands immediately flew to your chest would be a sight that haunted Hannibal for the rest of his life. Slowly your eyes closed and you began to cry, your hands going to cover your face as you ran away, a sobbed "I'm sorry" echoing through the hall.

Instead of feeling satisfied that he hurt your feelings as intended, Hannibal immediately felt remorseful and guilty. Goodness. He knew that you were young and didn't mean to break his plate. He just... He just treasured the dish so much and now it was ruined forever. He let his emotions get to him, and he hurt you in the process. While it was your fault, he didn't blame you. You were innocent and you just wanted to make him happy.

After he cleaned up his broken dish, Hannibal searched for you and found you snuggled up on the couch. He sat in front of you and spoke calmly, "I'm sorry for getting angry at you. It wasn't my intention. You were just trying to make me breakfast and wound up making a mistake. It happens to all of us."

"I'm sorry..." You whimpered, obviously still upset.

"It is alright," Hannibal reached out and gently squeezed your shoulder. "I'll get started on breakfast."

"Can I help?" You asked hopefully.

Hannibal gave you a hesitant grimace, "I think it would be best if you skipped helping me in the kitchen for today."

Instantly your eyes puffed red and turned watery. Hannibal left you alone to exhale your emotions. He knew that you would be upset for a while, but he too was also upset. He just needed some time is all.

But apparently he was wrong yet again.

After that day, you never helped Hannibal in the kitchen again. For weeks after the incident, you didn't even eat the food that he cooked. It was like you banned yourself from the kitchen entirely. He had tried to coax you into helping him, but you always found excuses not to.

Soon Hannibal learned that he had destroyed your passion for cooking by making you believe that you were a terrible chef. And he regretted it so much that it was nearly unbearable. Hannibal couldn't handle mistakes he couldn't fix.

And no matter how hard he tried, he knew that he could never mend your feelings that he severed.

-

In part two I planned to age up the reader and have them secretly doing their passion behind their dad's back. And the slasher will find out and be like "what, I thought you gave up on that! Holy sh*t, I'm so happy". And the reader will be pleasantly surprised.

[fanfictionvibesworld]

You know, I loved your "one shot" (I don't know how to say it) about Alastor x child reader, "Were the story lies", and I looked for your Wattpad account, but I didn't find it so I don't know, maybe you can give us something else to find it, like a screenshot or something like that. I know it may sound strange but I would love to read more about it.

(Sorry if something is not understood, English is not my first language and I am using a translator haha)

( A/n: Of course!! That is ok and truly understand the word probably should've thought about that. I am happy to know that my one shots, request scenarios, or books take interest in people 🥰)



This is my Wattpad account. I just started it 4 months ago actually and am excited to share my creativity and imagination. I would like to say I'm honored that you guys or some people would want to find my account to read my actual books, but I'm not complaining!mI hope everyone has yet another good night/afternoon/morning and can't wait to see what are you guys think of what I come up with next

[msookyspooky]

Stu is definitely the guy to rock the ferris wheel cart with a grin on his face when your stopped at the tippy top and Billy is hanging on for dear life yelling at him and 100% gonna beat his ass as soon as their off the ride.

[bakhtaks-blog]

Happy Friday the 13th and year of the rabbit ~

Have some doodles of Jason with his pet rabbit, Bonnie.

[small-sinclair]

Take Me Instead

Hey, y'all! This is my first time writing for Bo Sinclair based off an AU idea from @ahmnom's dad!Bo. It'll be a bit angsty, so heads up.

Bo x Fem!y/n (about to give birth)

Tw: reader and baby almost die, Bo self destructing, mention of blood, religion mentions, sad stuff, very sad bo, not professionally prof read

Here’s a link topart 2. Enjoy!

Bo stared blankly at the hospital wall, holding one of the twin's in his arm, as Lester held the other, hushing the baby gently as they waited for someone, anyone, to tell them what was going on. The last person they talked to was a nurse, who had Bo sign papers to okay the emergency surgery for his wife.

Bo knew he was going to be in a long night when Y/N's water broke a week too early. Lester was an early baby, but only by a day or two.

He left Jasmine, his oldest daughter, with Vincent back at the house when he drove like a bat fresh out of hell. While the closest hospital was 30 minutes away, he did not obey a single speed limit sign or stop sign, and he could make it in 15 like this. His truck kicked up dust as y/n yelled at him to slow down, but he only snapped back.

"'M not slowin' till we get there!" He was trying not to have a shaky voice.

Y/n's face went from anger to wrinkling her nose to hold back a painful scream. "Just-just don't get us killed!"

"Yer' buckled, ain't ya--?"

"Bo!" Her voice was stricken with fear as she held up her hand.

"Fuck," he sighed as he looked down to see her holding a bloody hand. He looked forward at the road and gunned. To his surprise, flashing blue and red lights shined in the mirror, but he didn't slow down. He kept going until he was in the parking lot, swinging towards the front door. "Fuckin' hang on!"

Hurriedly, he nearly slides over the hood of the truck as two police officers followed out of the car. He flung open the door, finding y/n's eyes glazed and half awake. The passenger seat floor had a puddle of blood forming at her ankles, making Bo shiver and blood run cold. He takes a deep breath as he carried his wife bridal style out of the car. He felt the uncomfortable warmth of blood from her bright purple sundress, that he bought her days ago, soaking through the fabric like a sponge. The officer, on his left, felt his soul leave his body while the other covered her mouth as Bo went into the ER, his eyes searching the room wildly.

"Help!" He yells, getting two nurses attention. "My-my wife! She needs help! Please!" His voice was cracking as two nurses rushed over with a doctor following behind with a wheel chair. "She started bleedin' an'-and she hasn't stop--!"

Y/n let out a painful groan, her hand gripping Bo's shirt, as she was lowered into the wheel chair. "The baby! Bo, the baby!" Her hand nearly ripped off Bo's shirt as pain surged to her bottom half.

Bo followed quickly behind as he tried to see her as a nurse held him back. "I love you, y/n!"

"Love you--!" Y/n's voice was cut off by another scream of pain and the door closing shut.

Bo's hands were shaking as he looked at the closed door then back at the nurse and the sound of the officers coming behind him.

"Sir? Did you hear me?" The nurse asked again, her voice snapping him out of a spiral. She looked young with her black hair in brads and wearing a soft green uniform. "We need to wash your hands, okay?"

He swallowed a dry lump and nodded, following her to the a room off to the side.

She turned the water on for him to wash, and he watched his wife's blood run off his hands, making his stomach flip.

The male officer stood next to him. "Sir, I know this is a difficult time--"

"M' wife's is dyin'," Bo snapped, glaring at the man. "You wanna ticket me? Do it. Don't regret speedin'." He didn't mean to glare at him with deadly eyes. He went back to washing his hands, lathering his fingers with soap.

The female officer, she looks older than the male cop with her hair turn a soft grey, and had the man step back. "We'll leave you with a warning, okay?" She looks at Bo's still running truck then back at him. "Do you want me to park it for you, sir? I'll bring the keys."

"Ain't a problem?" Bo asked, his voice shaking as he kept washing his hands. Her blood's not coming off. Why ain't it coming off? He let out a shaky breath. "Thank ya, ma'am, that'll be nice."

The woman nodded then turn to leave, taking her partner with her. Bo kept scrubbing his hands, harder and harder, until fat tears burned his eyes. "They're not comin' off," he murmurs to himself a bit too loud, voice craking and shaking. "Why ain't it comin' off? Just come off, damnit! Get off--"

Wrinkled hands went between his and the water, turning off the sink. He snapped his head up to see an older lady, fear in his eyes, a nurse, who looked to be the same age his grandmother died, standing next to him. Her kind brown eyes looked at his with concern and understanding. "Do you need help, sugar?" Her voice was soothing to hear and oh-so soft to his heart.

He found himself nodding like a child who just fell off a bike. "Please, miss? Her-her blood ain't comin' off."

She looks down at his hands and clicked her tongue. "It's your blood, honey. Here," she turns the water back on, "let me wash them for you and we can sit down, okay? I have some coffee freshly made." She sounded so much like his grandmother that it almost made him cry more; he missed his grandma. "Must've scrubbed a bit too hard. Have to be careful, okay, sugar?"

"Yes, ma'am," he said, choking back tears. "I'll try to be." She washed his hands, dried them, and led him to the waiting area to sit. She leaves for a moment and comes back when the female officer comes back to give him his keys, turning to meet her partner in the squad car. "Here's a cup of water," then the nurse sat a phone next to his lap, "and you can use my phone to call anyone you need to." The nurse straightens herself. "I'll tell you what I hear the moment I know, okay, sugar? Sound like a deal?"

He bites his lower lip and nods. "Yes, ma'am... than you." Once he was alone, he downed his water and started to dial Lester's number. It rang twice before his brother picker up--

"Lester Sinclair speakin'."

"Les, it's-it's Bo."

"Bo? Why-why's yer voice shakin' like 'at?"

"We're at the hospital," Bo tried to control the shaking, but he couldn't. "Y/n's in surgary. She's bleedin' an' the baby--"

"Where ya at?" Bo could hear Lester fumbling with the keys. "Still hav' the twins. We're comin'--"

"Don't."

"Shut up. We're comin'. Ya can't be alone. So," Lester took a breath, "where ya at?"

Minutes later, his brother and twin sons were by his side, hugging Bo when he first saw his family. Family. Goodness, that's a funny word still to the Sinclair's.

They've been sitting for an hour, Bo tapping his leg uncontrollably. His eye never left the closed doors. Even when his son, Memphis, sat on his lap to play with his stuffed puppy, Bo didn't look down. Instead, he held Memphis close and kissed his head every now and then, his heartbeat racing. If Bo didn't quite smoking 15 months ago--

The old nurse came into view and walked towards him with a white clipboard in hand. Bo's heard perks up as he handed Memphis to Lester, who was reading "Lord of the Rings" to other twin, Dallas, and stood up.

"Mr. Sinclair?" She asked as she came closer. "Would you like to come with me?"

"My wife," Bo started, his hands shaking as he held his scarred wrist nervously. "'S she okay?"

"If you would come with me, please." He knew something was wrong with the way she held the clipboard tighter as if she was holding a secret between her and the papers. Her eyes held the same sadness like his grandmother's did when she had to sit him down to tell him his grandfather died.

Bo looked behind his shoulder, Lester nodding to go, then took steps forward to follow her. As they walked through the doors y/n went through, he whispers, "God, don't take her. Please, don't take her. Take me. Please, take me, God. Take me instead." He never stopped repeating the prayer as they came closer to the delivery rooms. "God, take my lungs. Take my breath. Don't take my girl. Don't take her."

She stood in front of the door to a room and turned. "now, the doctor is supposed to do this," she started, "but I just want to warn you, Mrs. Sinclair isn't doing so well." Then she looks into the room then back at him. "Are you ready to see them? Your wife and baby girl?"

Bo's knees became jello as he followed her into the room. He held his chest and covered his mouth as he looked at y/n's closed eyes, oxygen mask over his perfect lips and face. She was hooked up to too many wires and tubes, liquids and blood flowing through a needle to her arms. When his eyes feel to the right, however, he felt his world crumble and break all at once. He tried to hide his gasp as he looked away at the sight of his daughter, a little girl in a little cotton pink hat, hooked up to a breathing machine, her little chest rising and falling slowly.

"No," he whispered, cringing at his own voice. "God, no, no, no!" He felt his legs buckle and his knees hit the ground. He didn't realize that he was hugging the nurse as the doctor stepped in. Bo felt every fear and moment circling him like ravens over the dead. "Please, God, no! Don't-don't take my girls! Don't take 'em!" He sobbed in the fabric.

"Shh, shh, baby," the nurse whispers, burying his head into her neck. He started crying harder as he looked at the doctor, who was next to y/n, taking her temperature. "It'll be 'lright."

Anger snapped and boiled as soon as he saw the doctor touch y/n's arm, lifting it up to examine the tubes sticking out of her skin. He pushed himself off the floor and, within a beat, he pushed the doctor back. "Don't touch 'er like 'at!" He snapped, making the doctor step back farther. "Ain't you suppose to help 'em?" He held y/n's hand tightly, licking his dry lip, fat tears still falling from his blue eyes.

"Mr. Sinclair," the doctor started. "I'm Dr. Henrik. I'm only making sure your wife is getting enough fluids in her."

"The hell's wrong with my daughter?" Bo barked, his eyes wildly looking at his baby. "What's wrong with her?" Rage filled his blood. "What did ya do to 'em?" His words were like venom.

"There was some computations with both of them," Dr. Henrik said, taking the clipboard from the nurse. "We had to do an emergency caesarean section because your baby was wrapped around the umbilical cord. Mrs. Sinclair stopped breathing when your daughter was born--" Bo's eyes harden at the doctor, thoughts of murder ran over his mind like an overflowing sink "--but she pulled through. Y/n lost a lot of blood and has a badly torn abdomen. So, we had to put her under for her to rest."

Bo ran his hands over his pants nervously. "Will-will they live? Be okay?"

Dr. Henrik's eyes fell and he swallowed hard. "We'll see in the next hour, I'm afraid." Bo wanted to strangle him, force him to take back his words. Then the doctor's mood changed. "Nurse Macy will be here to take care of them," the old nurse smiled at him sadly from behind, "and I'll come back in thirty minutes with the labs and an update."

Bo wanted to punch all of Dr. Henrik's pearly white teeth in and bash his head through some glass. But his deadly thoughts left when he heard a small cry to his left, his daughter crying in the little bed. He looked between Nurse Macy, who gave him a reassuring nod, then back at his daughter. He stood over his daughter and lowered his hand to his cheek, cupping it gently, as he hushed her gently, restraining his tears from flowing down. His word was build back again as his daughter rested her head against his touch, a little hand reaching up. His other hand lower, and held out a finger for her to grab. Just like that, his shattered world was rebuilding once more.

He swallowed the rocked forming in his throat as he gave a shaky smile and laugh. "Hey-hey there, sweet pea," he cooed, brushing his hand over her soft, little brown hair. "It-it's okay. Daddy's here. Nothin' will hurt ya." He was too afraid to talk too loud around her. "Promise. No monster will gettcha." Then he closed his eyes as he started crying again, bitterness forming over his mind along with dreadful thoughts of losing his girls.

Watery eyes looked up to the ceiling, and he choked out, "God, don't take her. Don't take my girls? Take-take me instead." Then he looked down as his daughter went back to sleep again. "Take me instead."