#thanks sherriff

[allheartsarewildcreatures]

Please help me find this Teen Wolf Fanfiction on AO3!!!

Things I remember about it (apparently everything but the name and how it was tagged lol):

The Hale pack lives, I think Talia was the alpha

Claudia Stilinski is also alive and like besties with Talia

Derek knows Stiles is his mate, if not when Claudia is still pregnant with Stiles the soon after she gives birth

There’s a seven year age gap

The title of the chapter are the years it encompasses/the ages of Stiles and Derek

Claudia dies in a car accident

Werewolves come forward and it’s a huge political thing

Peter and Sherriff Stilinski are a background thing after Claudia’s death

Stiles is an omega and Derek is an alpha

If you have any recs of fics where Stiles and Derek find each other early I’d love that too! Thanks in advance for your help!!

[honestsycrets]

HELLO, HELLO! Okay, so this drabble prompt/idea is kinda sorta in the vein of Querido (I only think about Old Western Miguel now I cannot help it pls forgive me head empty only man and hörse), so pls skip if you're not inspired or in the mood for more in this genre!

Still, I offer you this: Sheriff Miguel.

He's someone all the women have their eyes on, and he'd have his eyes on them, too, if he were younger. But he has a baby girl to worry about, a runaway wife to forget, and a town to keep an eye on, especially when a woman from the big city pays the little down a visit.

He meets her when he loses Gabriella in the market's crowd, only to find her tugging on a fine dress belonging to a fine woman.

(P.S. reading your writing has inspired me to get back into writing my own reader insert stuff 💖 really love your work, keep it up!!)

bumblebee | sheriff!miguel x dressmaker!reader

❛ pairing | sheriff-singleparent!miguel o'hara x dressmaker!reader

❛ type | extended drabble, not-explicit, wc: 2600ish

❛ summary | miguel loses his daughter-- and finds a part of himself he thought was long past dead.

❛ tags | self-edited, querido au, f!reader, sheriff!miguel, dressmaker!reader, implied parental abandonment, some mention of thievery, widowed!reader, mostly fluff, some mention of death, spanish not translated.

❛ sy's notes | i intended this to be a drabble but... it's quite a bit longer. anon, i hope you end up writing to your heart's content.

Miguel ain’t the kinda man women really need. He’s the kinda man they think they want. A big man with a big name, sure, but he’s saddled with what their fathers colloquially call baggage. A little three-year-old girl with ambitions of rolling on out of this little town by rolling on out of his fingertips. 

“Oye, Gwen,” he catches the arm of his deputy. She’s out on the town just as he was, making rounds about the grassy plain where the market was booming. With too few stalls, the marketgoers visit full wooden wagons chock-full of goods. This year, there were new boxes of small circular chocolates. Once every year, his quiet little town became a bustling fuck fest with foreigners running a muck of it all. As sheriff, he just had to deal with it. 

“What’s it, sheriff?” she asks. “Something wrong?” 

“You seen my littlin anywhere? Swore she was right here.”

This is his penance for fooling around with the hearts of pretty women: chasing him his own little girl and minding the crowd. His long, slicked-back hair was all kinds of out of place, whirling over his wrinkled forehead. He shoves a strand of grey hair back in place out of his dark eyes and scans his little town. She could’ve slipped into any creaky old building that wasn't locked up or hitched a ride on a wagon she didn’t belong on. Or, alternatively…

“Miguel! Rio saw her by the sweets.” Former Sherriff Morales tells him, standing by his son’s stall of sweet roasted corn. Ordinarily, he’d give it a begrudging visit. Miguel whirls around on his muddy leather boots, throwing him a nod of thanks with Gwen short on his tail. 

“Sounds promisin’,” she says. “Could be searchin’ for Lyla or Peter.” 

“Thank you for the help, Sheriff,” he grumbled, shoving his way past a sea of cream, brown, and black dresses. Gwen could spider her way through the groups of people with her comparatively slender frame. As a consequence of Miguel’s hulking frame, he’s markedly slower in his search.

“Ain’t here either,” Gwen hops back to his side. “You sure she wandered off?” 

"She had to."

The alternative was… well, he didn't want to think about it. Out of his periphery, he caught the glimmer of polished metal. He spots his daughter’s peachy dress, bundled up with a fat white bow complete with a bell. He put the thing on thinking that, ideally, his little girl would jingle up some hell of noise if she got lost. Some good that bell did. 

“You lost mi amor?” 

Lost. The word stands out to him first, all dressed up in a sugar cube of a voice. His Gabriella tugs on a stranger’s long gown, eyes pricked with tears streaming down her cheeks. Of all the people-- she couldn’t just pick on someone she knew? Head to Rio’s hostel, find Deputy Gwen stalking around, or even Hobie’s bum ass strumming a tune on the old stage. No, she’s with a strange woman. 

“Now don’t you cry,” you dab away the stray tears with an embroidered handkerchief. “I’ll find you home.” 

You’re not from here because you’re all done up like a buttercup in spring when the women here only broke out color for church. Corset sucking in the finest assets, a buttercream bustle underneath that buttercup yellow skirt. Hair up in a waterfall of curls and covered by a small slouched hat of flowers. You held a parasol for the evening sun, keeping it off your tanned skin. 

“There,” Miguel set his hands on his hips, catching his head in a shake. Gwen leans over on the ball of her feet and stares straight down the barrel of a path. 

“My my,” she says. “Ain’t she a looker. Why are you-- You look good, Miguel.” 

She’s caught on his frantic fiddling. The way Miguel straightens his tie into his waistcoat and checks the chain that drapes along his side. He checks the time on his cracked pocketwatch and spins it between his fingers. Gwen leans up to flick a stray strand of hair away from his face.

“Think so?” 

“Entirely presentable.” 

"¿De veras?" Miguel clears his throat, “Best be on my way to get her.” Miguel loops his fingers on his fine leather belt and waltzes right on up to your stall of hand-sewn dresses. 

For once in his life, he feels underdressed. A man sets some coins in your hand, plucking up a small communion dress for his daughter. With ruffles, lace, and the occasional ribbon. He’s not sure how much luck you’d have selling more than scraps of ribbon in this little town. You set the coins aside, turning your attention back to his daughter who-- somehow, got a brand new ribbon bundled in her ponytail between his fiddling and the walk over.

“Buenas tardes,” he clears his throat, whipping out his metal badge. “I’m Sherriff O’Hara.” 

“Encantada, Sheriff O’Hara. You’re looking as pretty as a penny this fine afternoon. Can’t be wanting any of my dresses. My name is… well, how can I help you?” 

“Papa,” Gabriella coos as if this whole mess wasn’t on her tiny little shoulders. He wasn't sure if that was good or bad, not yet.

“Yes, mami, Sheriff O’Hara. Do you know old Sheriff O’Hara?” Miguel suppresses his delight as you lift her up onto your hip. Most days, he didn’t notice his own melancholy. Coming home to his little girl soothed all that like a good helping of booze after a bad wound. “She likes you.” 

You sure talk pretty. He clears his throat, pulling on the sloppy tie that feels a whole lot hotter all of a sudden. He shouldn't be acting like this. Has it really been that long since he’s been with a girl? He couldn't go to the saloon and pick any one of those lovesick girls. The town wouldn’t continually elect a loose man. Miguel’s eyes catch the flickering gold of a bumblebee locket on your chest. He traces the curve of its wings, wrapping around a crusted gem.

“‘Course she does, she’s my girl. I lost Gabi up in the crowd flow.” 

“You lost her? You can’t tell me you’re the kinda man that does it all. Where is your wife?”

Where is your wife? The question tormented him. He could do it all. Managing the sloppy, slow thieves and putting down the occasional drunken brawl. At the end of the night, he came home to his empty home and saw his little girl. Miguel’s gaze danced along the puffy clouds in the sky. The fluffy clouds drift the same as usual, the same old slow draw, unknowledgeable about the change in his life. He suppresses the distant melancholy in his voice in surfacing old memories. 

“Ain’t got a wife. She ran off on me with some wolf. Usually, I got a sitter for my girl but, she came down with a fever.”

“A wolf?” you repeat after him, “Why, you mean a gentleman?” 

A gentleman, he scoffs under his breath.

“If you wanna call him that. He was an outlaw.” 

“I’m mighty sorry, Sheriff.”  You looked at the little girl in your arms. Gabriella’s small fingers fiddle with the glimmering gold pendant on your chest. He throws her a look-- behave. She’s not paying attention one bit. You set your parasol down, freeing the necklace and setting it in her tiny fist. “I’m a whole widow myself. Lost my man in the war and never got the chance to have one’a my own.” 

“You don’t say. You on the market?”

“On the market like cattle?” you teased. If he’s not mistaken, that shy smile of yours was all his. Maybe you like him. It's a signal that he could keep going. 

“Coño, no. You’re too fine for that,” the words are buttery smooth, but upon discovering how the words may come off, he realizes he might be sliding into a trap on the back of those words. Your lips are slightly agape, half in shock. “Pretty. You’re too pretty.” 

“Oh, Sheriff, don’t worry your head,” you adjust Gabriella on your hip, swaying in place like it was natural. “I ain’t one to take offense to pretty words. Suppose you want your niña back?” 

There went his chance.

"That'd be best," he slides his hands underneath Gabriella’s tiny arms to pick her up. The pendant she held clattered free from her grip, nestled in the deep grass. You were about to pick it up when a scrawny thing of a man swiped it from the grass. For an instant, Miguel thought it might be Pavi, who loved to be helpful in the most annoying ways. Catching doors even when it's men, dropping his scarf on mud for girls, a charming and shy kid. It isn’t, though, it’s that weasel he seems to be throwing in the pin every damn week, bolting off in a full-on run. 

“Ay, not my locket!” you gasped, plucking your skirts over your boots. 

“Maldito niño--” Miguel stops you, sliding Gabriella back into your arms. Not that she was complaining, tiny hands slapping together in a rendition of applause as Miguel darted after him, his booming steps beating the ground. “Get back here, kid!”  

“Dios, you sure have a busy papa. I'm sure he’ll back in two shakes of a lamb's tail.” You looked between the little girl nestled comfortably in your arms and the parting sea of the crowd. Gwen zooms past, eliciting another round of jovial laughter from Gabriella O’Hara. She does love a good game.

It ain’t that Miguel wants to leave his girl with any old fool that waltzed on into his town. But he knows his community, knows they’d not leave him out to dry, and knows that taking his daughter on a town-wide chase with a skinny little weasel around town is not the move. Especially not if he has a gun, which he did, because of course he did. Now, the man has a jail cell and Miguel has a crook in his neck from where the buffoon fell through the crooked second floor of the post office.

He works the sore muscle the whole way back to your wagon. It’s high time for eating. His stomach was raging after the scent of someone’s pulled pork, the roasted sweetness of corn. If we wanted to be presentable then, he sure wasn’t now. Dust was a second skin on his pants and aged boots. He walks past the platform where Hobie plays a tune with his banda. Most vendors were wrapping right on up for some proper debauchery.

He finds you there, swaying to the beat of the music with Gabriella hanging in your arms. Her tiny hands were around an ear of elote already. Guess she extorted a snack out of you. 

“One gold locket,” Miguel heaves out the words as he digs in his pocket, whirling the golden chain into your small hand. You flip it over once, then twice, examining it for any defects. “Better to keep that tucked away out here. Puts a target on your back right quick.”

“Muchísimas gracias, sheriff. You're a sweetheart,” you reach out, grazing his scratchy cheek with your supple lips. Gabriella is flatly squished between his sweaty chest and yours. She’s fallen asleep flat against your chest. “You don’t know how much this necklace means to me.” 

There are whispers from the women he’s turned down. The viejitas who have been trying to set him up for a full-on year now, those who told him he needed to find a girl as soon as possible to marry. He didn’t want to. Not unless it made sense. 

“Yes, well, you could tell me,” Miguel finally picks his daughter from your arms. She’s out like a light. “If you want.” 

“It was my mami's, once upon a time. She gave it to me on my wedding day," you explain. "It's all I got left of her. I wonder what she'd think of me these days, travelin' town to town like I got secrets."

"You ever think of settlin' down again?" He turns his gaze past Hobie’s banda, to the yellowing sky. The sun is setting out over the horizon, casting warm orange and soft pink into the air. The road is full of wagons. The clip-clop of horses running their way to the next town, some checked in to the hostel.

"A veces," you explain. "If it feels right, I think I will."

"Yeah?" He settles on the bed of your wagon. The dresses were packaged and kept in locked chests, kept away from the bed of the wagon where your blanket was. Most of the foreigners have left, but you. He doesn’t have to guess to know that it was his fault. “You off to Rio’s hostel?” 

“‘fraid I’m out of town,” you smiled at him. “She ain’t got any rooms. Next city over might.” 

“Stay with me,” he says. “The night. Bit too late to get robbed on the road with all them pretty dresses you make. Wouldn’t be right to be sheriff and let a young thing out there without company. Some'a them outlaws take wives that way, y'know.” 

“Oh, Sheriff O’Hara, ain’t no one care about widows on the road,” your hand finds your chest. It’s said with a laugh, as though someone, somewhere, made you feel less than. It wasn’t going to be Miguel.

"Ain't a widow if you're carried off." He reclines, watching the figures of couples dancing to whatever the hell Hobie was playing on his guitar. His eyes track over Hobie’s gloved fingers that prance across the strings, waiting for you to walk back on that stupid comment. You do, snapping out a fan in the waist of your heavy dress to fan yourself.

“You really sure? I don’t mean to be a burden. I’m sure you got better to do than take care of company.” 

“You took care of my girl. Least I could do. Long as you go to church in the morning.” 

“Oh, now he’s askin’ me to church. When’s the wedding, Sherriff?” 

“Miguel. Soon as you want it,” he returns, half a smile pulling at a normally closed-off face. Miguel turns to set his Gabi down on your blanket, throwing you a look for permission. You nod, watching her roll on the wool thing, setting her hands under her cheek until she gets into a position that isn’t as bad as laying on her back. He tucks her hair back over the shell of her ear, exhaling a breath. Somewhere between his ex-wife’s flight from the town and today, she began to look more and more like him. He’s thankful for that. He doesn’t need more memories of her. Only needed to get through each day, and make the next better than the one before.

“She’s tuckered out,” you lean down, just by his face. “All that escapin’ papa work.” 

“Si,” Miguel hums as he massages his sore shoulder. “Tell me about it. I’m getting too old for this.” 

He lifts his head from his daughter’s tiny body, reminded of all the times someone told him to get married. If not the women chasing him around his jail at all hours of the day, then the women at church who, at the moment, were gossiping away. He could hear the prattle already: sheriff likes rich girls. The type to have a golden locket and French silk. The luxury of hopping from town to town like some no-good woman. He’d wager, your husband ain’t had the money to take care of you but for these light luxuries. Traveling town to town wasn't no small feat.

Tch. He’d deal with it tomorrow when he took you to church. Scandalous as that was.

“Fancy a dance?” he offered up his hand. 

You remove your gloves, skin is soft and supple against his, only marred by the pricks of a needle. Your gloved fingers grazed his scarred palm, tracing the long strike that marred his open palm. There’s a thought there, just behind the reach of your playful eyes. He couldn’t quite reach it. 

“I’d love to, Miguel.” 

Something tells him he has time to.

[crowandmousewritingco]

Death Row

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x gn!Lannister!reader

Words: 6.1k

Rating: T (more for violence and angst. Think like a PG13 movie)

Summary: The Red Viper is finally brought to justice, but to you there is more than meets the eye.

Warnings: Murder, implied past rape (not the reader), implied past child murder (both off screen) The Lannisters being the Lannisters, use of poisons, hanging, death. (I might have missed a few)

Author: Mod Mouse

Notes: I wrote this fic for the #almostfoxgloveangstchallenge put on by the wonderful @almostfoxglove. The song I was given with this prompt was Death Row by Chris Stapleton so if you want to listen along to get you in the mood go right ahead! I'm actually super proud of both 1) writing a pretty angsty fic since I'm a solid member of the fluff committee and 2) I usually don't write this long of fic. So I hope you all enjoy this work.

They did it. The Red Viper was finally captured after avoiding different law enforcement across dozens of counties. He could hide in plain sight and only peek out of his burrow when he was ready to strike. There were many reported deaths tied directly to the outlaw, and they were always closely tied to the Sherriff which caused a stir in this section of the country. 

But now the region didn’t need to worry about this mysterious man any longer. He was brought into local custody when he was detained at the scene of the murder of Sheriff Tywin Lannister’s Gregor Clegane aka The Mountain. By the time the Sheriff got there The Mountain was already dead and the Red Viper who, surrounded by a group of the Lannister’s men, was just staring at the corpse of his victim. He didn’t put up any sort of fight when he was arrested, nor did he defend himself during his very short trial. 

You were there despite your dad’s attitude towards you. Considering you were his bastard child he didn’t want you anywhere near the judicial area of town, but that still didn't stop you. Your other siblings were regular attendants so you would be too. 

 You took in the man on trial. The Red Viper was someone to be feared and brought nothing but death in his wake. But when you looked at the golden man on the judgement stand you saw the expression on his face. He was calm and even a bit cocky as he leaned back in his chair with his feet on the table. 

Of course he was sentenced to death by hanging. The evidence against him was undeniable, and soon he would be left to rot in his cell until the day they called up to the gallows. You lingered in the courtroom that day, staring at the door the guards let him through long after he was gone. Something about his expression made you want to visit him. 

That day you came up with a plan. Luckily you had your father’s schedule down to a science. After he left in the morning you knew he wouldn’t be back until supper giving you plenty of time to sneak into the jails. The only problem was the guards. Unfortunately they were all too aware of who you were, so going in the front door wasn’t an option. Behind the prison would be your best bet. 

With your plan in motion, you set out to discover who this man was. You peaked out the backdoor of the house making sure the coast was clear. When you saw no one you quietly ran across the street. Taking the familiar alleys and backways you found yourself at the back of the holding cells. As you thought there were only two guards at the front which meant no one would be inside. The building was top of the line, but you knew the backways into the cells thanks to your years of sneaking behind your father’s back. 

You approached the barred window and gave each of the bars a tug. Just like you thought a couple of them were loose from the recent rain and you were able to pull them just enough to shimmy inside. You really ought to tell your father about this escape route, but you also weren’t too keen on your father. 

The holding cells were as musty as you remember. There were hardly any windows so the air felt heavy and old. Years of prisoners breathing the same air as they awaited a similar end created a sense of weight to the area. All of the cells were empty save for the one the Red Viper was held in which from the clinking of stones being thrown was the last one of the left. 

Slowly you approached being as quiet as you can be. Despite this though a rough accented voice flowed through the quiet hallway. “I told you I had no intention of giving you a statement.” 

“I apologize I’m not the press.” You reply and step out of the shadows. 

The Red Viper leaned against the far wall, hands in his lap picking absently at his nail, the pile of tossed stones at the edge of the bars. What little light trickled into the jail beamed against the prisoner’s bright yellow outfit. But the luster of the outfit was damped by the dust and grime that gathered on the material over the course of time. His face matched his clothes. What was once a well trimmed and care for beard was ragged and well past its shave date. 

When you came into view, he raised his eyebrows confused at your presence. “Well you are not what I was expecting to waltz through those doors.” His dark eyes raked over your body curious about the creature in front of him. 

“It seems I’m not the only one visiting the infamous Red Viper.” You comment. 

He rolled his eyes. “If you are here to spit and drag my name through the mud. I’m not interested.” 

“How can I drag your name through the mud if I don’t know your name,” You quip back. 

The Red Viper smirks. “Smart mouth on this one. I quite like that. Makes you different from the other rats of this town.” 

“Well unfortunately some of those rats are my family so I’m supposed to be offended for them,” You sigh and sit down in front of the bars. 

The prisoner leaned forward taking a better look at you since you were more in the dim light. “I recognize you from the trial. You sat with the other sheriff's children. Since when did Lannister children converse with criminals?” 

“Just now. I guess one of us has to break tradition.” You shrug your shoulders. 

“And I am the one you’re breaking tradition for? Truly an honor.” He gently tips his head to you. 

“Well you are infamous in this area. A lot of people hate you,” You tell him bluntly. 

“They hate me for all the wrong reasons.” 

You look back towards the doors. Still as silent as when you came in. “I don’t hate you.” 

He scanned your face looking for anything that would give you away. “Why?” 

You took a deep breath. “I saw the way you held yourself at the trial.” You turned your head back to him. “There’s more to you than meets the eye.” 

“Clever thing you are,” He muses dark predatory eyes raking up and down your body. “You are correct. I’m not just some senseless killer.” 

You leaned forward bracing your forearm across your knee. “Then tell me.”

He was quiet for a long time and you almost thought he fell asleep, but his voice spoke again. “Come back tomorrow and I will tell you my story. But there will be an equivalent exchange.” 

You mull over his words. “And what are you looking for in exchange?” 

The Red Viper leaned his head back against the dirty bricks and gazed at your form. “Bring me something that is dear to you. It will be enough to match the importance of my story.” 

You were quiet for a moment thinking over his offer. There was something that was near and dear to your heart that you knew that would satisfy the stranger, but was this story really worth the possibility of losing your precious item. A soft sigh escaped your lips and you smirked. “Your story better be damn important.” 

The stranger smirked and nodded his head. “That will be determined by you.” 

Carefully you stood up and brushed off the accumulated dust from your pants. “Fine, expect me around the same time tomorrow.” 

“I’ll be waiting with baited breath for your return.” He replied, that cocky smirk returning to his lips. 

You gave him a small nod before quietly retracing your steps out of the escape route. Just as carefully as you arrived you returned to your house. It was silent as a morgue, and you breathed a sigh of relief. Gods only know what would happen if you had to explain where you’ve been all day to any member of your family. 

You returned to your bedroom and sat down on the familiar furniture. The silence allowed you to ruminate on the day. A stranger walks into your life and you had no idea how this was about to change your life. Thoughts kept rolling over in your head, leaving your appetite less than ideal. Your family wouldn’t miss you for dinner. This was your safe haven. 

Carefully you lit the candle beside you bed and grabbed the book you had been reading opening it up to your saved spot. Though you only made it a few chapters. The weight of that story made your eyes drowsy making the idea of a nap sound like the best idea. You kicked off your shoes and let yourself curl up on your bed. The thoughts in your head drifted but you soon found yourself in a deep sleep. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sun slowly filtered into your room adding a warm glow to everything. The light hit your closed eyes and pulled you from the land of dreams. You grumbled annoyed to be awakened in such a manner, but the events of yesterday trickled back into your mind. That was enough to motivate you to get out of bed.  

Slowly you went over to your water basin and cupped the water in your hands splashing it into your face. The feeling of the cool water woke you up more allowing you to take a breath. You took your wash cloth and gently rubbed the sleep from your face wanting or rather needing yourself to be fully awake today. After you finished your morning routine, you traveled downstairs. 

The remnants of breakfast were on the table and an array of meats and breads were left messily on the counter, but yet no one was around. You sighed. This was the usual. Your father and Jamie always left at the crack of dawn, and Cersei couldn’t be bothered to talk to you. Who knew where your other brother was which gave you too much time to yourself. 

You sighed and gathered what you could for a meal, and luckily they had left enough for you to eat your fill. Staring at the empty chairs in front of you really did solidify what you were about to do. It was obvious that your family didn’t give two shits about you. A “bastard” claimed as a Lannister so their name would be smeared through the horse’s shit they rode in on. Why would it hurt to hear the story from this man.The Mountain had only done harm and it was under your father’s command that he committed such actions. With those thoughts you were resolved. 

Leaving the table how you found it, you hurried back up to your room to find the item the stranger wanted. With some effort you pulled the chest from under your bed and with the sleeve of your shift gently wiped the dust from the lid to reveal the pattern underneath. With familiar ease you traced the name that was etched into the wood. 

You missed your mother. Another victim of this wretched town. You popped the lock open on the trunk and rummaged around until your fingers hit the familiar cool metal. Carefully you pulled the necklace out from underneath the pile of her clothes. The heart shaped locket rested easily against your palm. Tears pricked at your eyes and you gently pressed a kiss to it. 

Emotions stirred in your chest, blurry memories coming to the forefront of your mind. But you didn’t have time for that. The stranger’s story was waiting for you. You took a deep breath before gathering the chain and setting it on your dresser. You made sure the chest made it back under your bed before you got changed for the day. Carefully you slipped the necklace into your pocket giving it a gentle pat.

Without losing another moment you hurried out of the house. Following a similar path as you did yesterday, you sneaked your way back to the holding cells. Everything seemed the same as yesterday and plopped down from the bars, falling harder than you were expecting.

You froze for a few seconds making sure that the guards didn’t hear the sound. When there was no indication of the guards sensing your presence, you tipped-toed your way back to the holding cells. Just like you left him yesterday there the stranger was against the wall with his head against the bricks. 

His head tilted towards the sound and the corners of his mouth tipped upward  when he saw it was you. “Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” 

You rolled your eyes but there was a grin on your face. “You just met me.” You comment as you sit down on the dirty floor once again. 

“And yet you came back all for a little story.” He mused his eyes following your movement. 

“I did.” You answered and reached into your pocket. While holding the chain you held the locket in front of you. The Red Viper sat forward in interest and for the first time since meeting him he got up and sat in front of the bars. With well worn and bruised fingers he caressed the metal with a surprising gentleness for a so-called ruthless killer. 

“Who did this belong to?” He asked, not taking his eyes off of the metal. 

“My mother.” You whispered 

The stranger looked up at you. “I’m sorry.” He whispered understanding the situation and yet no words were exchanged. 

He opened the locket. “To my beautiful child. May the fawn protect you from the wrath of the lions.” You quoted the inscription from memory. Everynight when you were growing up you fell asleep with the memento under your pillow. You didn’t know your mother, but you knew she would always protect you. 

With curiosity etched in his expression, the stranger looked back at you. “I take it the Lannisters aren’t good to you either.” 

You scoffed. “You could say it. My father decided to bed a daughter of a man whom he wanted for his land. So he had me as blackmail and took what he thought was his. My mother was ruined and I’ve never seen her.” You were quiet for a moment. “It only seemed fair that a story about the Lannisters be met with a similar fate.” You let the chain slip from your hands letting it hit the floor with a clink. 

The Red Viper watched where the jewelry hit the ground for a moment. “Yes, unfortunately our stories are not that different.” He said as his fingers brushed the metal of the fallen memento. 

You leaned your weight against your arm. “Tell me what my father did against you.” 

 “I hope you didn’t have plans to go anywhere else. For this is a long story.” He answered, tilting his head. 

“I am here until you finish your tale.” You reply honestly. 

The Red Viper took a deep breath and released it slowly through his nose. “Okay then you shall hear my tale.” 

Flash Back 

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The fires of the town were still smoldering by the time he arrived. Heat blasted his face as he frantically searched the town. Many were screaming and running away from the danger, but he was racing into the flames. “Elia!” He yelled over the crack of the ignited wood. The sweat from the heat kept his hair in place as he whipped his head around to get even a glimpse of his sister. 

“Please where are you?” He whispered to himself as he desperately ran from building to building hoping that they were okay. His chest heaved with each pant and would’ve kept running forever, but a sound as loud as a thundercrack bellowed across the crumbling town. 

He whipped his head around and saw what he had been dreading. The familiar house where his sister and her children resided in past familiarity was all but rubble under the broiling flames. Ignoring any sense of safety, the stranger hurried up the broken sign hoping of the slim chance he could pull them out. 

Smoke filled his mouth and burned his eyes, but a simple pain like this wasn’t going to stop him. His family needed him. Without a care for his own wellbeing, he barges through the charred door. 

“Elia!” He screamed over the fire’s roars as he once again tried to find his sister desperately searching every charred nook and cranny. Until his eyes landed on something, and it wasn’t the smoke that caused his tears this time. With shaking legs, he kneeled in front of a fallen beam. Peeking underneath it was a charged hand. On that hand was the ring he recognized all too well. He was there when that ring slipped on his finger when she married Rhaegar. He was there when he held his first nephew and she was exhausted from giving birth. He was there when she told him of her husband’s divorce, and subsequent cheating. 

A crushing sob escaped out of his parched lips and he desperately clung to what was left of his beloved sister. Oh he wanted to stay with her as she burned away to ash, but the gods were cruel and just like the beam that took his sister, another one crashed beside him pulling him from his grief. 

Without a second thought he pulled the ring off of her charred hand and rushed back to the safety of the dark night. He stumbled along the charred pathway eventually tripping on a loose branch. There was nothing he would do but let himself fall. The stranger let himself weep as his world burned around him. His eyes blurred with the tears that continuously fell for his sister and her children. Embers rained around him leaving burn holes in his once vibrant clothing.

When there were no tears left to cry, he didn’t move. He didn’t have the energy to even think about escaping. Though something did catch his eye, something flashing with the dying flames. With all the energy he could muster, he reached out and grabbed the mysterious object. A five star badge with the infamous silver lion etched in the middle. An emblem only used by one family in the area which he knew all too well. 

Sorrow reversed to rage. A rage as hot as the fires that took his sister. The damned lions were responsible for this. He gripped the badge in his hands, the points pressed into his palm causing a slow stream of blood to flow down his arm. He would get his revenge. He would undo this wrong that was cursed upon his innocent family. He glared at the star. Lannisters aren’t the only ones who pay their debts.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You didn’t realize but tears were streaming down your cheeks until you felt a rough hand caress the droplets from your skin. The touch pulled you out the trace and you looked back at the prisoner. 

“I’m sorry.” You sniffled as another round of tears sprang to life. 

“What are you sorry for? Did you kill me sister?” He joked tilting his head. 

“No but I carry that name therefore I carry a part of that sin.” 

The stranger shook his head. “My strange dove, you have no reason to be responsible for your bastard of a father.” 

You took a deep breath calming yourself. “Weirdly enough you're the first person to say that.” You chuckle sadly as you wipe away the spent tears. 

The Red Viper gazed at you with a glimmer in his dark brown eyes. “You really are fascinating.” 

“You’re the fascinating one. But please this isn’t about me. Continue your tale.” You shook your head hiding the heat in your cheeks. 

The way he stared into your eyes it was evident that he wanted to continue his compliments, but for your sake he continued his tale. The stranger leaned back on his hands and tipped his head back. 

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Through many sleepless nights he rode through all the cities, taking names of anyone who might have been involved. He slaughtered many who even had a chance of being involved in the death of his family. If a man had any chance of involvement with the Lannisters, they were questioned on Tywin and his monster of a sheriff, but when they offered no information they were slain on the spot. The only lead the Red Viper could glean from the loyal rats was a preacher in the next town over who was a pastor for a town the Lannisters owned. So as quickly as the stranger could, he mounted his horse and spurred the creature to gallop as fast as its legs could carry them. 

By the time he arrived at the small town, the church crowd had dispersed and were already gathering for the after-sermon meals. Most of the people didn’t notice the outlaw riding into town, but a few jumped back when he stopped his horse a few feet from the entrance. Quickly he tied a loose knot with the reins and stalked up the stairs. 

The church was nothing like the grand sanctuaries in the other bigger towns. It was large enough to house the town's inhabitants with minimal iconography with a simple altar at the head of the church. There stood the Father clearing up the remnants of the sermon. 

“I had a feeling you would find me sooner rather than later,” The man remarked not turning around to meet the stranger. The Red Viper pulled his gun out, pointing the barrel at the back of the preacher. “Shooting me will do you no good either. You can’t get information out of a corpse.” At this remark the preacher glanced over his shoulder at the outlaw. 

“Then talk, Varys. I know you who burned my sister’s town to the ground,” The Red Viper growled, cocking the gun. 

“My my my you are a volatile creature. It’s a wonder you haven’t been caught soon with the trail of bodies I hear you’ve left in your wake,” Varys turned and tucked his hands under his arms. “You seem tense. A cup of tea will calm the nerves.” He turned and ducked under the doorway leading down to the secluded areas of the chapel, unperturbed by the angry man standing in the aisle.

The Red Viper stared at the empty space where Father Varys was standing and cautiously followed him to the chambers. The priest was already preparing the tea with the two cups set on the table. “I figured you could use some chamomile to soothe that seething soul of yours.” 

The stranger didn’t respond but sat down at the empty spot across from the priest. “I swear to the heavens if you try to poison me.” 

Varys smirked as he sipped from his own mug. “You are the Red Viper. You are the king of poisons. The lowest level thug wouldn’t be dumb enough to test your prowess.”

Staring at his cup for a moment, then took the warm liquid up to his lips for a drink. A few sips weren’t enough for him until he finished the whole mug not caring about the burn down his throat. 

The priest sighed as he set the cup back down on the table. Oberyn stared at the priest.  “Now tell me when I can find the Mountain.” 

“He will be at the King’s Landing Tavern for the next few days. Tywin has a new mission for him.” 

“You know for someone who is loyal to the Lannisters, you spill their secrets like a drunken wench.” 

Varys chuckled. “Claiming I was ever loyal to the Lannisters was your first mistake.” 

“A man must have some loyalties.” 

“My loyalties lie with me and only me.” Father Varys gazed over his cup before taking another sip. 

The Red Viper narrowed his gaze. “What then do you get out of telling a wanted criminal the location of the Lannister’s right hand man?” 

Varys shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. “Let’s say the Mountain has also done some less than savory things to ones I care for as well.” 

The outlaw was silent for a moment. “Thank you,” The stranger answered as he turned away from the doorway. 

“Be careful Viper. The lions will writhe when you succeed,” Varys warned. He dipped his head in acknowledgment as he headed out of the sanctuary. The time was now to prepare for their fateful meeting.

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The King’s Landing Tavern was alive and music poured from the swinging double doors as the Red Viper stood outside. He had been prepared for this moment since he found his family destroyed by this man. Taking a deep breath letting the anger fuel the energy he needed to move his limbs into the establishment. 

Pushing the wooden doors open, he stepped into the saloon and everything stopped. This bar was only for a select few of the Lannister elites and seeing a stranger meant you were in for some trouble. Scanning the seats his eyes landed on the giant of the man taking up two seats at the bar. He was easily bigger than any of the other patrons, and the Red Viper had his target. 

Ignoring the stares from the rest of the group he sidled up to the bar and plopped down in an empty stool beside his target. “A whiskey dry.” The Red Viper ordered the bartender who without a word took an empty glass and poured two fingers worth of whiskey in the glass. 

With the ease of years of bartending, he slid the glass down to him, but a big arm intercepted the glass. “You shouldn’t be here.” 

“And you shouldn’t have messed with my family,” He calmly replied, staring at the shelves of dark liquor. 

“I don’t remember the names of those I’ve slaughtered.” 

The stranger had to keep his anger under control as he felt his blood boil. “I will make you remember this one.” 

The large man scoffed. “Good luck with that.” He whipped out his shotgun as The Red Viper leaped off his chair. The bullet buried itself in the wall behind him. 

The outlaw jumped, rolling as he hit the floor and pulled his own six shooter out. The rest of the bar whipped out their own guns and the stranger waved it at the crowd. “This is between me and the Mountain. If anyone else decides they want to intervene, then I shall send them to an early grave.” He swiveled his feet and turned to point the barrel at his opponent. “My wrath lies with this man.” 

The Mountain cracked his neck and shook out his limbs. “And tell me what are my crimes.” 

“Elia Martell. You were ordered to kill her by Tywin Lannister,” He growled and fired a shot at his enemy. One missed Gregor who dodged out of the way, but the other one grazed his retreating limb. But a single scrape wasn’t enough to even make the Mountain grimace. 

“I kill many people with or without the Sheriff’s command. What makes you think she was any special?” The Mountain sneered and spit at the ground beside the stranger. 

“Tywin Lannister gave the order to murder and raped her and you will confess to every person here who is loyal to the pack of lions!” 

At his words the Mountain cocked his shotgun once more and The Red Viper dodged once more as he leapt onto a nearby table. Using his own momentum he turned and fired two more shots at the giant both embedding themselves into his right bicep. This time a groan emanated throughout the bar as a thick trail of blood streamed down the curves of his arm before dripping onto the floor. 

The Mountain snarled, flashing his teeth at his opponent and went to shoot him again when an empty click. The Red Viper took the opportunity to shoot again burying the remaining two bullets this time in his left leg. Gregor stumbled and landed on his knees. 

“What did you do?!” He screamed unfamiliar with the feeling of his life draining out of him. 

“Besides shooting you five times, I laced the bullets with poison,” He answered as he swaggered forward. Out from the creases of his pants he pulled his faithful dagger. “I wouldn’t try anything.” He tipped the knife under his chin forcing him to meet his gaze. 

“Now confess your crimes.” The stranger growled down at his enemy pressing the tip enough into his skin for a dribble of blood to bubble up. 

The Mountain sneered at his face. “Fine, yes I killed your sister and her children. And you know what? I enjoyed every second.” He spit a wad of spit up at the outlaw, landing on his fine clothing. 

With a yell as loud as a thundercrack, The Red Viper grabbed the Mountain’s damp hair tugging it violently to show the crowd. “Everyone will bear witness to the man who avenges his family against the Lannisters.” He screamed, his voice booming in the closed environment. With surgical precision he sliced the blade across his vein sending waves of crimson blood pouring down his shirt soaking the material with his life force. The multiple gunshot wounds had made his opponent unable to resist. The gurgles slowed as The Red Viper watched as his sister’s murderer’s soul left his body leaving his eyes and finally stilled. 

The bar was silent for several ticks before all hell broke loose. People tore the outlaw away from his body and immediately arrested him, keeping him pinned until the authorities arrived. But he didn’t resist. He had finished what the Lannister’s had started. 

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“So that’s why you were so calm. You completed your quest,” You concluded in a whisper not taking your eyes off of his tear stained cheeks. Unsurely you reached up and cupped his damp cheek with your soft palm. The Red Viper sighed and nuzzled into your touch. The weight of his story now shared between two instead of his own conscience. 

“Elia and her children can rest easy now knowing they have been avenged,” He said as he gazed into your eyes. 

Your heart pulled out his look. Your souls have now mingled when you realized how badly the world had treated both of you, and the pull toward him was greater than any consequences that might come of this reunion. 

Together you kissed with reckless abandon and yet a gentleness that you had never experienced before. The feeling of wanting every inch of this man you had come to care for in a matter of days and yet wanted to take as much time as you could before they called him to hang. 

The unfortunate need to breathe in oxygen pulled you aparted but you stayed close. “What’s your name stranger?” You whispered against his chapped lips. 

“Oberyn.” He replied gently, nudging your cheek with his nose. 

You pulled him in by his dirtied shirt and desperately kissed him again. Lips grazed his stubble cheeks and you whispered your name into the shell of his ear. 

A shutter surged through Oberyn. “My little dove, such a stunning name.” 

Your soft hands gently cup his thick neck, your thumb gently caressing his Adam's apple which bobbed as he swallowed, taking in your touch. Carefully you brought your lips to his once again kissing him with both fierceness and tenderness. You etched every feeling into every inch of your brain, willing yourself to keep him in your thoughts forever. 

You ached to stay by his side wishing you could touch him, caressing him like his damaged soul needed. But noises from outside cause you to whip your head away from Oberyn. 

“Go get to safety,” Oberyn whispered, stealing one last kiss from your lips.

“I’ll come back tomorrow” You promised as you took your time letting him go. With one final glance you hurried out of the cells and escaped before you could get caught. 

That night you couldn’t sleep, the vivid story replayed on an endless cycle in your mind. With each replay your soul burned hotter with hatred for the name that was forced upon you. You were not a Lannister, you were your mother’s child, and this miraculous stranger revealed to you that you could change your own fate. 

With a renewed vigor you quietly gathered your most essential items into a small pouch. You would save Oberyn and take him away from this place, away to a place where the Lannister’s influence hadn’t spoiled. The night passed as you worked away devising a plan. Just as the light filtered in your bed just like it did yesterday before you knew Oberyn’s story and the months and years spent under the glaring eyes of your “family,” you were ready for your plan. 

You tiptoed down the stairs past an empty table and hurried down the familiar path. Though when you passed the town square you noticed a crowd was forming. Peaking around the corner of the alley, what you saw sent your heart plumpting. The familiar gleam of that fabric that you had become quite intimate in knowing was standing on the crudely made structure. There your Oberyn stood atop the gallows staring out at the jeering crowd. 

Without a second thought you rushed to stand in the crowd. You had to get to him. You pushed and shoved trying to get to the structure but just like the world was cruel to Oberyn, the Fates decided to turn that cruelty to you. No one would budge and break. You would have to witness from afar as his neck snapped on the rope of death. 

Bitter tears stung your eyes as the executioner read out his last rights. Oberyn was tense and silent as his eyes scanned the crowd in search of something. Your eyes met his, and his shoulders relaxed. Just like that day at the trial, resolve was etched on his tired face. 

The hanging rope was slung over Oberyn’s neck with a roughness only hatred could bring.  “Does the felon have any last words?” 

Oberyn took a deep breath and without taking his eyes off of yours. “All you may hate me for my actions,” a loud boo emanated from the crowd. He raised his voice to be heard over the yells. “But I will never forget one of you,” He started and raised his palms to the crowd, “I’ve engraved your name on the palms of my hands.” A sob escaped your lips as you read the scabbed markings on his worn hands. There in bloody letters read your name. He would take your name to the grave with you and your heart clenched. 

The crowd jeered louder at him, finding his stunt to be another cruel jab at the Lannister name, but for you it meant the sad reality that a man who you had known for only a few days would take you to his grave. Your memory of your kindness would keep his soul company as the angel ascended him to his afterlife. 

The executioner spit by Oberyn’s feet a wad of shame at the crimes this man had committed. “‘Nough out of you murderer,” He sneered as he tied the wounded hands violently behind Oberyn’s back. 

But Oberyn didn’t react, didn’t say anything in his defense. He kept his eyes on you, and as the executioner marched to the lever that would take your man from this world, Oberyn smiled softly and mouthed something that would stay with you for the rest of your life, “I love you,” as the lever was pulled. You closed your eyes as his body fell through the floor and a crack boomed across the crowd. 

Sobs racked your body as the people around you cheered. Everyone could rest easy as the Red Viper was finally slain. But safety wouldn’t come to you not when your family still ruled this town. So with the cover of the cheering crowds, you darted away from the people carrying your meager belongings. You ran. It didn’t matter what direction. It didn’t matter where you were going. You were going to run until the Lannister name was just a last name, and not a name that brought blood and sorrow to everyone around it. Until then your legs didn’t stop moving as the wide vance of the country spread out before you. 

Your legs collapse from beneath you and your breath heaves. It was now when your emotions caught up with you. There on your knees in the middle of the wilderness did you finally throw back your head and wail like a wild animal letting out the sorrows of its ancestors, and yet the birds still chirped and the world spun as if the life of Oberyn didn’t matter to anyone else but you.

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All Works Taglist

@for-a-longlongtime

Pedro Character Taglist

@littlemisspascal @burntheedges @carusolikey @thebeldroramscal @morallyinept

@lady-bess

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@rivnedell

[snaggletoothedbastard]

For @ineffableplanet

Farah Black's autistic-coding explained!

She has unusual speech patterns that can also be attributed to her anxiety; she talks very fast and often talks to herself

She's very knowledgeable about law, the police force and various weapons, often using this knowledge to correct people or give them advice (like telling Dirk about a system he can use in his detective agency, and telling Tina she's using the wrong type of holster) or figure out that someone's lying (like soul-swapped Agent Weedle not knowing how to be a convincing policeman)

She's generally more quiet and serious than most of the other characters, and one of the only times she shows a substantial amount of enthusiasm is at the music festival when everyone's under Suzie's spell

She's always very focused on whatever task she has to do and doesn't seem to get distracted at all

She doesn't notice that Todd has a crush on her in season 1 and just seems confused when he hints at it ("my clothes look good on you." "okay ... thanks?")

Small detail, but in season 2 episode 2 she infodumps to Sherriff Hobbs while sorting and lining up the pens on his desk

Part of her character arc through seasons 1 and 2 is about embracing her weirdness (at first she was very insistent that she's a perfectly normal person, but slowly comes to realise that she has found her place among people who are just as weird as she is and she doesn't have to worry about being normal any more)

[inkedobsidian]

~ It doesn't mean shit S.R ~

summary: While on a case an officer hits on you, even though you're with Spencer.

pairing: Spencer ReidxReader

warnings: creepy men ofc

word count: 793

a/n: Requests are open! Prompt list is there if you guys want extra ideas!

Master-List - Prompts

The doors to the disgustingly damp police department open and the whole team steps inside trying to ignore the sweat building up in places they don't appreciate. They were guided into an open room full of blank boards and a water machine. As Y/N walked over to the machine she could feel her trousers slowly start to itch at her thighs. As she grabbed a plastic cup she felt someone stood behind her, spinning around and coming face to Spencer she smiles and offers him her cup.

"Hey sweetie, how you feeling?" Spencer says taking a sip of the water he was just handed. Y/N wipes the back of her neck with her hand and cringes as she feels the disgusting amount of sweat that has built up.

"I'd be better if this room was cooler in all honesty. I feel like I'm dying is there no AC or anything here." Y/N pouts as she takes another sip of her water trying to cool down. Scanning around the room to find only her team Y/N tries to find the sheriff, once again having no luck.

"I think we'd all work better if the AC was on, just go ask one of the deputies it will be okay." Spencer kisses Y/N on the forehead as she walks out the door towards one of the deputies, as she taps them on the shoulder trying to attract his attention. As the deputy spins around he smirks as he sees Y/N stood in front of him.

"What can I do for you, pretty lady?" The deputy asks still smirking.

"I was just wondering if you guys had any AC in the room the rest of my team are in. If not do you guys have any fans?" Attempting to be polite to the creepy deputy was hard but Y/N had to be professional and she was going to start ugly sweating soon.

"Our AC is broken right now if you couldn't tell but I mean I could take you out for a drink if you would like." As the deputy placed his hand on Y/N's lower back she took a step away and politely smiled at the deputy.

"Actually I'm spoken for sorry, thanks for your help." She says pointing at Spencer and smiling at the goofy genius who is currently attempting to find a working pen, with not much luck. As he spots Y/N looking at him and he smiles and waves.

"Seriously the nerd got you? You are way out of his league." Spencer hears the deputy and frowns and as Y/N turns back to face the deputy she gives him the stare from hell. Y/N bites her tongue to stop her from saying something she probably should, it doesn't work too well.

"It is none of your concern who 'got me' deputy. Your office may have requested my team here to help with an investigation you have failed to solve, but I imagine your Sherriff would take great interest to know how his deputy talks to the agents here to help. What do you think?" As Y/N stares more and more at the deputy she could see him falling into himself more and more out of embarrassment.

As she turns around she sees Spencer has dissipated but she can see all the team looking at her and the, now very uncomfortable, deputy. As Y/N walks off to try and find Spencer she sees Aaron start to walk towards the deputy. Spencer stood in the corner of the room looking out the window not hearing Y/N enter the room.

"Spence?" Y/N says trying not to freak him out by her sudden presence.

"He's right though, you're perfect and I'm just nerdy Dr. Spencer Reid," Refusing to turn around Spencer keeps staring out the window. Y/N walks towards the broken boy stood in front of her. Someone she loved with all her heart no matter what. "I've heard plenty of people say I don't deserve you and you could do better."

"I don't care what they said, it doesn't mean shit! You are the love of my life Spencer nobody else. Excuse my language but screw what anyone else thinks. You can't see you how I do, frankly, nobody else matters to me. If I wanted them I'd leave you. I'm still stood here saying I love you. Now actually look at me!"

As soon as Spencer turned around Y/N grabbed his face and attached her lips to his. As if in slow motion Spencer let out a massive breath and let himself relax into the arms of the woman he loved. All they needed was each-other and together in perfect harmony, they were reminded of how powerful love and how much they love each other.

[wintervalewritersecond]

siren song vi - xavier thorpe

masterlist

requested: yes! requests: open!

a/n: this might be the last part of siren song! i am still debating if i will make one last one, just to see what the new 'normal' is (also because im pretty sure xavier and reader never shared a kiss before and they deserve it by now). thank you so much for the love on this fic and my other works, i appreciate it so much! i hope you enjoy this part and i will see you in the next one!

wordcount: 3.289 warnings: she/her reader, angst, injuries, act like wednesday isn't in the gif, cursing

You had gotten Xavier out of jail and got your memories back. But, at what cost?

You had a restless night. How could you sleep in a comfortable and warm bed, knowing that Xavier was stuck in a cold prison cell? People think he is some horrible monster, yet you know better. There is no possible way that he is the monster.

It is early in the morning when you walk down the stairs and toward the Quad. You are already dressed in the uniform, not wanting to go back upstairs after breakfast only to change out of your clothes. You just want this day to go by as fast as it possibly could - you have to get back to the Sherriff's office.

There is no one at breakfast when you get there. After grabbing a tray filled with some food, you sit down at the picnic tables. Though you have food in front of you, your stomach isn't grumbling and you have absolutely no appetite whatsoever.

Slowly, the Quad fills up as your entire friend group comes walking to you with trays in their hands. With a sigh, Bianca sits down, taking a big sip of her orange juice.

No one really talks as everyone is sulking about everything going on. It is quite understandable, really.

The day flies by - literally. Because of your jumbled thoughts and extreme emotions, you accidentally flung different items off your desk or against the wall. It was all fine until you threw a glass past someone's head. The teacher excused you, insisting you take the rest of the class off. It was your last one anyway. Just as you enter your dorm, you get a text message.

bianca ★

wanna hang? a lot of stuff happened yesterday

You quickly text her back, saying that you will be there in a few minutes. No use to change clothes. Within a few minutes, you stand in front of your friends door. As you knock, the door opens, revealing Bianca behind it. She is dressed in other clothes already.

"Gosh, so much happened," she lets out a sigh, letting herself fall on the bed.

"What did? I wasn't away from Nevermore for that long."

"Where were you, anyway?"

"The Sherrif's department," you slide her desk chair backwards, sitting down on it as you look at her. "Why?"

"Wednesday has gotten expelled," Bianca leans on her elbows, looking back at you. "She tried to abuse the shit out of Tyler. We all agreed to talk to him because she thinks he is the Hyde, but then she pulled out a hammer and shit."

You scoff.

"She thought that Xavier was the monster, right? He is stuck in jail because of her."

"Yeah, she says that Tyler admitted everything to her."

"I'm going to sound rude, but she deserved to get sent away. In the time that she was at school, we have seen Sheriff Galpin more than in all previous years combined."

Bianca opens her mouth to say something, but her phone rings. On the screen is Enid's name. She lets out a sigh, picking up the phone.

"Hey, Enid. No, I'm in my room with Y/N. No, not really? Enid- Enid, you have to talk a bit slower," you let out a laugh as you watch your friend. "Yes, I know what the Nightshades are. Thornhill, a psycho? See you in a sec."

She hangs up, jumping up from her bed before looking down at you.

"There's a problem."

-

You run down the stairs together with Bianca, Davina, and Kent. In the library stand Ajax and Enid who is holding Thing. Was Thing not going with Wednesday?

"Bianca, Davina, Y/N and Kent? Seriously?" The blonde turns to Ajax. "Even Kent is here! How exclusive is this club?"

Davina snorts, looking over at Kent as you just hide your smile behind your hand. Kent looks from the two of you back to Enid, rolling his eyes.

"So what's the deal with Thornhill being a psycho?"

"She murdered Weems and then kidnapped Wednesday. They're in Crasckstone's Crypt."

Your eyes grow big as your smile quickly drops. Principal Weems is dead? Murdered by the normie teacher? But- how? Where is she now?

"We have to get everyone in the school to safety before it's too late" Enid lets out a sigh, fiddling with her hands.

Ajax unfolds the piece of paper in his hands, showing it to everyone. On it is a picture of what seems to be Crackstone, some sort of wand or stick in his hands as he stands in the Quad, fire surrounding him and the building.

"This is what's coming. They want the Outcasts gone."

"So, do we pull the fire alarms?"

You shake your head, tearing your eyes away from the drawing.

"No," you look at him. "We don't want to cause a big panic amongst everyone. It will alert Thornhill."

"How do we get everyone out then?"

"We will use our Siren Song to convince them. No one will bat an eye."

Your Siren friends pull off their amulets, hiding them in their pockets before nodding. Thing taps his way over to Enid as she picks him up.

"We will go look for Wednesday," she looks at everyone.

"I will stay in the Quad," you mumble. "My Telekinesis might be able to keep everything safe for as long as possible."

Bianca looks at you for a second. She doesn't want you to get hurt. It's not like she doesn't trust you, or that she doesn't think you can handle yourself - she is more worried about Crackstone showing up.

"I will hide on the second level, keep my eye out for anything crazy. Just get the others out of there."

"Okay," Bianca finally nods. "Nightshades, forever."

Everyone except for Enid snaps twice, which makes her glare at Ajax again.

"Seriously? A secret snap?"

-

You follow the Sirens upstairs, standing in the hallway that leads to the dorms and to the second level of the Quad. From here, you will get a perfect view of the place. If anyone opens any door, you will be able to see it. Worst case scenario, you will have to let yourself fall into the Quad. You can soften the fall though, by being able to let yourself float just for a second.

People start running past you, still pulling their jackets over their shoulders. Even Coach Vlad walks past you, not even acknowledging you as you are hidden in the dark corner. Good.

Bianca, Davina, and Kent then walk out of the dorms, giving you a glance.

"You sure you're going to be safe out here?"

"Of course," you grin. "I can handle myself."

"You better be careful, Y/N!"

Bianca has a grin on her face as she walks off to go to the next dorm, making sure everyone leaves the building. Hopefully, Enid and Thing are doing alright. A shaky breath leaves your lips. There is still hope. Hope that Weems is still alive and that Crackstone will not show up. He has been dead for over four hundred years already.

You check your phone - nothing. That must mean that no one found anything yet. Slowly, more and more people are running through the Quad. Your phone then makes a sound as you see that Ajax sent a message.

ajaxxx

heard from xavier. crackstone and thornhill are on their wya

b careful

They found Xavier? Or at least, heard of him. Has he been released from prison then? Just as you start typing back, a door in the Quad flies open, revealing screaming students and two other figures. Crackstone and Thornhill. You quickly shove your phone in your pocket, leaning down a bit to try and stay out of their line of sight.

The tall guy, probably Crackstone, says something to Thornhill which makes her walk off, talking to herself. Bianca and Ajax run up to you, out of breath. The sudden steps make the figure in the Quad look up, the staff in his hands glowing brightly.

"I will expunge you abominations from this Earth!"

One tap of his staff makes fire spread out, catching onto everything it can. Ajax quickly pulls you and Bianca down as the hot fire flashes over you.

More people are running through the Quad, almost not noticing Crackstone. They just want to get out.

"I'm going down there."

You quickly hurry down the stairs and to the Quad. You can not let this stupid, dead, old man ruin everything that Nevermore stands for. If he died once, then surely he can die again.

You run through the door, opening it harshly with your telekinesis.

"Hey, you asshole!"

The figure turns around. He looks even more disgusting up close. His skin looks like it is ready to peel off, and his hair also doesn't quite help the case.

"I will make sure that thy heart will not beat," he grits his teeth. "All Outcasts shall be destroyed."

You lift your hand, slinging the broken picnic table to his head as you focus on another item to throw to the man. Maybe you should have brought a weapon. Crackstone holds up the staff, blocking all the objects you throw at him. Stones, broken tables, pieces of rubble - nothing hits him.

With a simple flick of the staff, you fly against a pillar, hitting your head against the stone. For someone that wants to kill all Outcasts, he surely does use a lot of magic. You wince, your hand going up against your forehead. You can't let him win.

You take hold of the big piece of wood next to you, tightly gripping it in your hands as you slowly stand up, your legs barely able to keep you up. Crackstone only has a grin on his face - he is not against a fight. The door behind you opens again.

"Stay away from her!"

You immediately turn around when you hear the voice. Xavier. A faint smile is on your face as your eyebrows crease. He got out. You knew that he wasn't the monster. The boy fires an arrow pointing straight at Crackstone's heart.

For just a second, you believe that it's finally over. You can just be with Xavier and your friends again, no Crackstone and no monsters.

That is, until the arrow stops in the air, the point slowly turning back straight to Xavier. You can't let it hit him. The arrow gets fired off again.

So, you did the logical thing.

You jumped in front of the arrow.

You yelp as the arrow sticks itself in your shoulder, falling back against the remains of a picnic table.

"No! Y/N!"

Xavier runs down the stairs and towards your body. You gasp for air, your eyebrows creased and tears staining your cheeks. Your head hurts and every light and sound is just a bit too bright and loud.

His hand reaches for your head as he holds it up. Your eyes slowly move from Crackstone to Xavier. You feel like you are getting high - in a bad way. Your head feels like it's floating and your movements feel slow. It is like you are watching everything happen in slow motion.

"Xavier?"

He nods quickly, taking hold of your hand with his other hand.

"Can you take the arrow out?"

Tears pool in his eyes as he softly shakes his head.

"I can't," he whispers. "It's going to hurt more."

"Xavier!"

Wednesday walks through the doors, a sharp blade in her hands. Her face is covered in blood and her shirt is ripped. First, she wanted to ask him to fight with her, but then she sees his expression and you on the ground, an arrow in your shoulder.

"Get her out of here. I'll finish this."

He looks at her for a second, shock still evident on his face.

"Now!"

He picks you up with a swift motion, making sure to not put too much unnecessary touch or pressure on your shoulder. He has to get you to safety. It's his only priority.

With you in his arms, he runs down the halls and out of the Nevermore gate. It is cold outside, though he feels like he is burning. He can see the crowd of students already. Enid is also covered in mud and what seems like blood. The rest looks scared.

Kent immediately rushes up to Xavier as he sees that he is carrying you. He is one of your best friends.

Xavier slowly places you on the soft ground as you do nothing but blink. The Siren quickly shrugs off his jacket, rolling it up to act as a pillow that he carefully places underneath your head. Xavier also takes off his coat, placing it on top of you to try his best to keep you warm. The arrow still sticks out of your shoulder - he doesn't dare to touch it. Your hands are shaking when he takes hold of them.

"Am I dying?"

Xavier his heart breaks once you ask that. You have lost a bit of blood and you are quite out of it. He would stay in that jail cell for the rest of his life if that meant that this would have never happened to you. All he wants is to have you safe.

"No, sweetheart," he sniffles. "You're going to be fine. I promise."

"I'm scared," a whisper leaves your lips.

Xavier only scoots a bit closer to you, the rest of the Nevermore students not being able to do anything else than watch.

"I'll stay here, okay? Right by your side."

A nod is the only reaction he receives. Your entire body is trembling, though he isn't sure if it's from the cold or the shock that you are in. Kent places his hand on Xavier's shoulder, offering him a small smile.

"Is that-"

Enid storms off to the Nevermore gates, engulfing Wednesday in a big hug. That's the last thing you saw.

--

Xavier picked you up again. You were drifting between consciousness and unconsciousness, your eyes droopy as you did not react to any noise or movement. Both you and Enid needed care in the Nevermore infirmary. As Wednesday patched Enid up, Xavier could do nothing except watch as another nurse made sure that your wounds were tended to.

If only he had not shot the arrow.

If the arrow had never left his bow, then you wouldn't have to get it removed. He never even wants to touch a bow and arrow again. Not if this is what happens. The nurse finally finishes the stitches as she cleans the last drop of blood. Your eyes have been closed this entire time - the anesthesia making sure you don't feel anything. All the past events had made you so tired, that you were knocked out immediately. Being thrown against a pillar did not really help you.

Luckily, nothing was broken and you weren't in a coma. Your ankle is fractured though - you must have fallen on it.

"Xavier," the nurse softly says, a smile on her face. "I think it is time that everyone retires to their rooms. It has been a long day."

He doesn't want to move. He wants to stay. What if you wake up, scared and alone in a dark room?

"Yeah," he mumbles, standing up. "Can that light stay on?"

He points to the small lamp on the bedside table. As long as it's on, it's going to be fine.

"Of course."

The nurse walks out of the room, making sure the lamp is on as she looks at Xavier. Her arm is holding the door open. He doesn't want to leave. He glances at you once more, breathing in shakily before walking out the door.

Not even the hot water from his shower makes him feel good. He feels itchy and he can't sleep. He doesn't know what tomorrow will bring. All that he knows is that he wants to be there for you.

Xavier pulls a white hoodie out of his closet, throwing it on before finding a pair of sweatpants and shoes. No matter what the nurse said, he has to go to the infirmary again. His hair is still wet by the time he makes it downstairs again.

After making sure that there are no nurses anymore, he sneaks in, closing the door behind him softly. You are in the exact same position, your eyes still closed and your hands by your sides. He takes a chair from behind the curtain, placing it close to your bed. It is the most uncomfortable thing that he ever sat on, but he doesn't care.

He pulls the hood onto his head, slumping in his chair while fiddling with his hands. He wished that none of this had ever happened.

--

Exhaustion had knocked out Xavier, making him sit in the chair uncomfortably. His elbow is leaning on his knee and his head is on his hand. His neck is going to hurt like crazy.

You wince as you open your eyes. The light next to you is extremely bright, especially considering the rest of the room is dark. Your head is pounding like crazy - it feels like someone is trying to claw its way out of it.

Your fingers are tingling, making you look down at them. They feel sore, just like the rest of your body. The blue blanket is thin, though you were convinced yours was a mixture of pink and red. Your neck feels frozen as you turn to look around the room.

Xavier.

Xavier is sitting on the chair, his eyes closed and his mouth open with just a bit of drool on his cheek. You almost giggle.

He is wearing a hoodie that you have never seen before - a white hoodie with a small print just on his chest. The boy stirs a bit, rubbing his eyes softly before sighing. He should not have slept in this stupid chair. His eyes slowly open as he blinks a few times.

He checks his phone - 9:03am. Xavier has been here for ages. He stretches his arms, looking around the room until his eyes fall on you. You are awake, your eyes open, and a small grin on your face.

"Y/N!" He exclaims, a big smile on his face. "You- You're awake!"

A giggle leaves your lips. You can't believe it took him this long to notice you.

"Awake and only in a small amount of pain. If a banging headache and a burning shoulder are considered a small amount."

It's like you see him in a different light. Not that he changed anything or that the small table lamp really changed his appearance, but he just seems different. In a good way. You just feel different about him - but better. Even better than before.

"I can see if there's some medicine," he stands up, walking through the small room to find something that might help. "Don't think this is considered a small bit."

Your eyes only follow him, a smile still on your face. You are lucky that there is no heart monitor connected to you. It would have been going crazy right about now. Xavier looks more beautiful than ever.

"I don't think I have ever seen you wear something plain white," you speak up. "Not since the Rave'n. Hey, you should wear white more. The suit fits you really well and-"

Xavier whips his head around so fast that he sees black spots for a second.

"What did you just say?"

"Since the Rave'n," you whisper.

Is it true? Is everything finally falling right back into place? Is everything how it used to be again?

"You remember."

--------------

taglist

@pagesfalling @skrlls-devonte @clingytraitscclist @annamarieisbae @babyminghao @rayliz7931 @morningstar09 @flowersownme @sunnytkm23 @sweeterheartxamerica @geekgirleve @lorayma9 @eringaitskill @itscheybaby @sophiathereader @r3fundmyb1rth @sweaterxav @stxrangerdxnger @wrenwastooshort @negativity4you @poppet05 @bambi-munson @diorheaven @mirikusashes @yksthings @kis9na @br66klynbaby @ietss @xxhospital-for-soulsxx @secretdazeobservation @lunacurlclaw @dredres @joselyn001 @sojo154 @parkersmyth @hannahnikohl @peanutbutter-y-jams

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[ceilidho]

your sherriff price/reluctant bride fic is amazing!!! so excited to read what happens next with them! will we ever see/hear from the actual ordered bride??? that could potentially ruffle some feathers

eheheh yes we will :))) again, i did put the entire plot outline in another ask if you want to be spoiled lmaoo but oh absolutely - the actual bride finally showing up is like...a perfect moment. how could i pass up writing that??

thank u sm!!!!

[bumblesimagines]

Midnight Beach

Part 8

Request: Yes or No

Taglist: @nathan-no @hyubg @ash455

Can you tell I'm a John B anti yet?

~~~

"As Kelce is making this turn on the course, I go flying out of the cart. I'm tellin' you, man, I was in the air for a full minute. I promise you. And then, all I see-" (Y/N) slowly tuned out Topper's voice, swirling around the cola and ice in his cup with his straw. He stared at the droplets sliding down the glass, mimicking the way raindrops slid down the railing beside them. He felt undeniably numb. The past week had been nothing but a fever dream he desperately wanted to escape. His ex returned from the dead, his closest friend had been arrested for the murder of Sherriff Peterkin, and Topper Thornton had become his newest ally. But that was OBX. Always full of surprises.

 "Shit, wait... who's that talking to my grandpa?" (Y/N) blinked and looked up at Topper, shifting around in his seat to peer back at Judge Holden and the officer speaking to him with papers in hand. The chair scraped when Topper stood up from it and he walked over, beckoning (Y/N) with a flick of his wrist. (Y/N) took another sip of his drink and stood, following Topper over to the table where Judge Holden sat. Peeking over Topper's shoulder, he spotted what the papers were about.

An arrest warrant for Ward R. Cameron.

"What is this, Grandpa?" Topper asked but Judge Holden waved him off and took the phone the officer offered, speaking to whoever was on the other end. Judge Holden sighed heavily, ending the phone call and fishing out a pen from his pocket. In one swift movement, he signed off on the warrant and the officer dipped his head in thanks. (Y/N) turned and speedwalked back to their table, picking up his phone and dialing the phone Topper had given Sarah. He held it up to his ear and nibbled on his bottom lip, listening to it ring before she picked up.

"Hey, what's up?"

"Sarah, hey, I, uh... I'm with Topper and we just watched his grandpa sign off on a warrant for Ward's arrest. He's your dad and... I thought you would've wanted to know. They're going over to get him right now so if you want to say one last goodnight, now's your chance. I know if it were my dad... I'd want to see him one last time." (Y/N) spoke into the phone, hooking his finger around his car keys and taking out his wallet. He heard her let out a shaky breath whilst the Pogues whooped and hollered in the background, likely blissfully unaware of what the phone call was about.

"Thank you, (Y/N). T-This means a lot to me." The phone clicked and (Y/N) set some money down on the table, hurrying through the restaurant and practically bolting out the front doors. He glanced over his shoulder when he heard them open again and spotted Topper following him. (Y/N) unlocked his car and climbed inside, turning it on and waiting for Topper to settle in before reversing out and following the line of cop cars heading toward Figure Eight. 

"You called Sarah, right?"

"Yeah, I let her know. She's definitely going over there. And- shit, Wheezie's there too." (Y/N) cursed, continuing to follow the cars until they arrived at the Cameron Residence. Patrol cars, SUVS, and unmarked black cars scattered the street and driveway of the mansion, officers scattered around. Some hurried into the mansion but most of them watched the dock. Among the cars, (Y/N) noticed the familiar nearly broken down van John B drove around. He flung off his seatbelt and hopped out of the car, heading onto the property and toward the dock. In the distance, at the end of the dock, stood the large white yacht otherwise known as the Druthers. He saw a faint figure standing on the deck, arms waving wildly and a familiar voice calling out to Shoupe. Ward Cameron. (Y/N) cursed again and hurried down the dock, seeing Sarah and her friends amongst the officers standing on the dock pleading with Ward. 

Ward disappeared into the yacht and then, it felt as if all time stopped as the Druthers abruptly exploded into flames. Bits and pieces of the boat flew threw the air, littering the water and forcing the patrols on boats to halt. (Y/N)'s feet were heavy, keeping him planted on the dock. He brought a trembling hand to his gaped mouth, widened eyes searching the waters for any sign of the family patriarch. His eyes immediately flooded with ears and he staggered back, unable to find air as his chest constricted. Ward... Ward couldn't possibly be dead... No, (Y/N) had seen him standing on the deck just seconds prior. No, no, no-

Sarah's grief-stricken scream broke through the horrified silence and broke (Y/N) from his shock-induced trance. His head snapped in her direction, seeing her stumble forward, feet nearing the edge. Her arms desperately reached out toward the boat, sobs and wails escaping her as she called out for her father. (Y/N) wiped away the tears that had slipped down his cheeks and moved forward, pushing past officers until he reached the blonde. She crumbled to the ground the moment his hands made contact with her skin, forcing him to crouch down beside her and pull her into an embrace.

"Dad," Her body shook violently with each sob. "Dad, please... Dad, come back, please..."

"I'm so sorry." (Y/N) breathed into her ear and she wept harder, trembling arms wrapping around him. Her face buried into his chest, soaking his shirt in tears and snot. His hold tightened around her and he rubbed circles around her back, eyes trailing up to look at her boyfriend. John B stared at the wreck but unlike his shocked friends, he looked relieved. But no part of him moved to check on his sobbing girlfriend. His eyes refused to tear from the fire. (Y/N) pulled Sarah closer, scoffing in disbelief at the Pogue. His head craned to look at Topper, who stared at the wreck with wide eyes and a slack jaw.

"Topper!" (Y/N) called out to him, snapping the blonde out of his daze.  "Go check on Wheezie and Rose!" He pleaded and Topper nodded, nearly stumbling over his feet in his rush to get back to the mansion before the little girl could step outside and see what the chaos was all about. (Y/N) cleared his throat and sniffled, taking a moment to gather himself before he pulled himself and Sarah up onto their feet. Sarah clung to him, her wails quieting into whimpers. He pressed a hand to the back of her head, getting her head pressed against him in hopes she wouldn't look at the remains of the beloved yacht. 

"Come on, Sarah," Kiara whispered soothingly as she moved toward them, rubbing Sarah's back. "We need to head back."

"Wheezie needs you right now, Sarah. She needs her big sister." (Y/N) leaned back, cupping Sarah's face and brushing the hair out of her face. Sarah hiccuped softly and nodded, more tears slipping down her face and dripping off her chin. With Kiara's help, they got Sarah to walk down the dock, letting her lean against them and cry. (Y/N) led her to the back porch where Rose stood, her arms stretching out toward Sarah the moment she spotted her. Sarah collapsed in her stepmother's arms and together, the two wept. Kiara placed a hand on (Y/N)'s back and looked up at him with a worried frown.

"Are you okay?" She asked quietly.

"I'll be fine, Kie. Just... Sarah needs you. She needs all of you. She needs John B the most right now." (Y/N) told her softly, glancing at the Cameron women when they walked inside the house. He licked his lips and faced Kiara, lifting his brows. "Tell John B he needs to be by her side. She doesn't need a Pogue right now celebrating the death of her father, she needs her boyfriend to show some fuckin' empathy. Don't let her sink in her grief when all you preach about is family and friendship."

                    ✽        ✽       ✽       ✽       ✽       ✽

"Hey, you've reached Rachel (L/N). Leave a message and I'll get back to you soon."

"Ward Cameron's dead. He... He blew up his yacht while he was still on it. One minute he was alive and the next-" (Y/N) cut himself off before his voice could break and sighed heavily, rubbing the sleeve of his jacket across his tired eyes. "It all happened so fast. I-I thought he was just trying to have one last hurrah before they caught him or-or maybe he was aiming for a chase but got distracted by Sarah. Fuck- ...Sorry, I didn't mean to curse. I just... Sarah and her family aren't doing so hot. I can't imagine what it must be like for them. But, I... I called to let you know about Ward. You probably already know though. News travels fast... Bye, Rachel."

Blowing a raspberry, he hung up and eyed the saucepan on the stove, flicking off the heat and grabbing the handle. Carefully, he poured the hot chocolate into a mug and set it back once done, licking some off some droplets that got on his finger. The doorbell rang and he spared a glance at the clock, brows furrowing. Considering it was a school night, he deducted it couldn't be Topper or Kelce. His stomach sunk. Rafe had been released from custody after a confession from Ward had been found. (Y/N) pressed his lips together and walked, stepping out of the kitchen and taking slow steps toward the front door. Peeking through the peephole, his body slumped with relief when he spotted a different blonde standing on his porch. 

Pulling the door open, he smiled solemnly. "Hey, Sarah. You need somethin'?" He asked gently, taking note of the backpack she had. Sarah fiddled with the sleeves of her white and blue sweater, hand reaching up to tug the side of it back over her shoulder slightly. She pursed her lips and lifted her puffy eyes to look at him.

"Hi, (Y/N).. I-" She paused and sighed, eyes dropping onto the floor again. "I was wondering if I could stay here for a while. I-I... I can't be around Rafe, not right now, not after what he did. And I know it's a lot to ask after everything that happened between us so I totally get if you don't want-"

"I don't mind, Sarah. I'm not turning you away after everything you've been through." (Y/N) soothed, stepping aside. Sarah mustered a smile and stepped inside, slipping her backpack off her shoulders and holding it against her chest. She inhaled and then sniffed, blinking at the smell wafting from the kitchen.

"Is that-"

"Hot chocolate? Yeah, I just made it. Want some?" (Y/N) closed the door and motioned toward the kitchen, chuckling when Sarah eagerly nodded. They walked into the kitchen and Sarah took a seat at the island, setting her backpack on the barstool beside her. (Y/N) grabbed the can of whipped cream from the fridge and a bag of mini marshmallows from the pantry, a smile appearing on his face when Sarah perked up at the sight of them. He covered the top of the hot chocolate with the whipped cream and sprinkled some marshmallows on top, setting the cup in front of her before he got another cup for himself. 

"Thank you for this. For all of this. I know I don't deserve it after what I did to you. After what I did to us." She muttered, lifting the cup to her mouth and taking a sip. 

"You're acting as if you divorced me and then murdered my entire family, Sarah. Yes, you cheated on me with Routledge of all dudes, but we're in high school. This shit's bound to happen. Relationships start and end all the time until we find the one who makes us thankful we endured all that heartbreak and drama." (Y/N) said, setting the saucepan in the sink and turning around to face her with his cup in hand. He licked some of the whipped cream off and hummed quietly at the taste before sipping on the drink. "If John B feels like that guy for you-"

"We broke up." Sarah interrupted, gazing down at her cup with a distant glint in her warm eyes.

Good riddance. "Sorry to hear." 

"It was bound to happen. We were just... It was too complicated. His dad died because of mine and- and I couldn't get the look on his face out of my mind. He- He looked so pleased. I've spent all day today and yesterday crying and he never sent a message. He didn't call or anything. He waited for me to do something. Even Kelce called to check on me and my own boyfriend couldn't?" Sarah scoffed and shook her head but her eyes began glittering with fresh tears. "I did so much for him and he couldn't even be there for me."

"You know what might cheer you up?" (Y/N) smiled playfully, gaining Sarah's attention. She blinked away the tears and leaned forward curiously, strands of hair slipping over her shoulder and almost getting mixed with the whipped cream. 

"What is it?"

"The annual bonfire party tomorrow. Topper begged me to go all morning until I accepted and I'm sure he wouldn't mind if you tagged along. You'll be able to get your mind off everything that's happened this month. There'll be enough mai tais for you to drink and forget about things for the night. Just like old times." Sarah hummed, nails tapping against the island in thought. She met his eyes and her lips formed a small smile.

"Alright, I'll go. Sounds like it'll be fun." She responded and resumed drinking until she finished her cup. Sarah slid out of the stool and walked around the island toward the sink. Rolling up her sleeves, she began washing the saucepan. (Y/N) finished his drink and set it in the sink, waiting for Sarah to finish cleaning before leading her up the stairs and to the hardly used guest bedroom. He flicked the light on and looked back at her.

"I'll be getting up early tomorrow for school so don't panic if I'm not home when you wake up. I'll leave something for you to eat in the microwave and then once school's over, I'll come by to get dressed and we'll head to the party with Topper. Sound good?" (Y/N) folded his arms over his chest, watching Sarah set her backpack down on the bed. She nodded and tucked some hair behind her ear, looking over the room and getting herself acquainted. She plopped down on the bed and ran her hand over the covers, a bittersweet longing on her face.

"Thank you, (Y/N). I really appreciate this." 

"Anytime, Sarah. Let me know if you need anything." (Y/N) offered her one last smile and turned around, stepping out of the room and closing the door behind him. He headed down the hall to his own room and collected his pajamas, walking into the bathroom. After taking a quick shower and brushing his teeth, he tossed the old clothes into the laundry basket and made a mental note about doing laundry later in the week. Turning off the light and plugging in his phone, he collapsed into bed and curled up under the covers. He stared up into the darkness and let his body sink into the mattress, waiting for sleep to creep up on him. And just as it began tugging at his eyelids, his bedroom door creaked open, forcing him to open his eyes. 

"(Y/N)?"

"Hm?" (Y/N) propped himself up onto his elbows and squinted through the dark, only being able to see the outline of her figure. Sarah nudged the door with her foot, closing it behind her and carefully walking through the room until her knee bumped against the edge of the bed. Silence fell over them and after a moment, (Y/N) pulled the covers up in a quiet invitation and Sarah accepted. With his eyes finally adjusting to the lack of light around them, he noticed she had changed out of her sweater and shorts, exchanging them for a shirt he was pretty sure used to be his and knee-length shorts. Her hair had been tied back into a low bun, and from the way her hair stuck up in random directions, she'd given sleeping alone a try before deciding to join him in his room.

"I'm sorry for everything-"

"Go to bed, Sarah." (Y/N) murmured, tugging the covers further up over his shoulders and pressing his cheek against the soft pillow. He was sure she'd continue apologizing until they parted ways. And while part of him enjoyed hearing her apologies, the guilt gnawed at him. She'd gone through enough, and he hadn't missed the scar just above her hip that looked far too much like a bullet wound. It made him queasy. She was only sixteen.

Sarah made a soft noise- a sign she wanted to apologize again for disturbing his sleep- and wiggled her way closer to him until the hair on her head tickled his chin. Her movements were slow and hesitant as if testing the waters for how much contact he'd allow before kicking her out of bed. He stayed still, eyes staring at the lamp on his nightstand, trying not to focus on the girl and the fact she was his cheating ex. Sarah slithered her arms around his waist and her eyes fluttered shut, face pressing into his chest. Her skin felt warm against his, and he guessed she felt similarly when she nuzzled against him further. But he couldn't decide if she was trying to wiggle her way back in to get some sort of revenge against John B or if she genuinely sought comfort. Maybe both. 

Her breathing eventually slowed and her body went limp against him, parted lips letting quiet snores out. Even while sleeping, she looked angelic. Everything about Sarah Cameron seemed perfect. From her soft golden locks and her almond-shaped eyes to her slim and tall figure. A perfect track record, a sweet and genuine personality, popularity, and easiness when it came to boys. Sarah could flash a smile and dazzle a crowd. But it'd been her personality that'd attracted (Y/N) to her in the first place. Her attentiveness, her playfulness, and her loyalty to her friends even in the face of drama. He'd been cautious when he allowed her in. Her reputation with relationships had been no secret to him. She dumped guys months or weeks after dating. He put the caution away and it left him with a broken heart. 

His eyes left the lamp and he leaned back slightly to peer down at her, only seeing her sleeping face. He pried her arms from around his waist, folding them across her waist and gently pushing her back slightly to leave some space between them. He'd given Sarah her chance and she'd chosen to ruin it. He loved her, he always would, but he knew it'd only do him good to keep her as a friend. To keep her at arm's length until she moved on to the next guy. Turning around, he put his back to her and got comfortable, letting his eyes close and sleep pass over him.

                    ✽        ✽       ✽       ✽       ✽       ✽

Pulling up at the party, he could hear the rumble of dirt bikes, excited shouting, and music blasting from speakers. The bonfire itself stood high and mighty in the center, flames towering up toward the sky and posing a rather obvious hazard to the intoxicated teens dancing and mingling around it. Topper immediately jumped out of the jeep and hollered to his boys, bumping chests and fists with them before downing the first beer given to him. (Y/N) snorted at the sight and got out, locking the car once Sarah hopped out. She gravitated toward his side, arms crossed and eyes flickering in every direction as if she were the new girl in town and didn't know anyone. 

"Come on, I'm sure someone brought something decent to drink tonight." (Y/N) smiled, hoping it'd at least cheer her up enough to socialize with her old friends. Sarah nodded in response to his words, arm reaching out and fingers wrapping around his bicep.

He tried not to think about how they looked walking toward one of the coolers. It was only a friendly gesture, a desire to be close to someone she knew well. One of the guys beside the cooler popped it open for them and they looked inside, shuffling around the cans on ice. (Y/N) grinned and pulled out a mai tai for her. The sight of it made Sarah giggle and she took one, wiping off the water on her shorts. The drink fizzed when she opened it and she clinked her can with his drink of choice before drinking. (Y/N) easily downed his drink, relishing in the soft burn in the back of his throat. 

"He's here." 

"What?" (Y/N) swallowed, wiping his lips with his sleeve and knitting his brows at her. He followed her gaze and searched the crowd of dancing teens until he spotted John B standing with someone. The girl with him rubbed his arm and leaned toward his face, and even at night, (Y/N) easily noticed the way John B's face flushed at whatever the girl was telling him. Sarah took his wrist into her hand and gently tugged him closer, hair swaying as she shook her head dismissively.

"It's whatever. He's single, I'm single. We can do whatever we want with whoever we want." Sarah crushed the can in her hand and tossed it aside, quickly bending down to grab another drink. Despite her words, she kept her eyes trained on the Pogue and the new girl. Her brows furrowed when the two leaned in toward each other, only relaxing when they leaned back. (Y/N) lightly squeezed his can of beer and finished it, tossing it into the nearby trashcan. He leaned in toward her ear.

"Tonight's about forgetting, Sarah. Let loose, have fun, go talk to your old friends." (Y/N) told her, one hand instinctively grabbing her hip when she stumbled slightly. Sarah pressed her hands flat against his chest and tilted her head up, a twinkle of mischief in her eye. Her lips formed a wide grin and her hands moved up, sliding around his shoulders.

"I am having fun! With you!" Her eyes flickered in the direction of John B. (Y/N)'s jaw clenched. 

"You can have fun with Topper, Sarah. He'd love to have a dance with you, I assure you. But I feel like hooking up with someone tonight, so, I'll leave you to it." Sarah blinked at his words and her ears turned red, mouth almost going agape. He tugged her arms off his neck and moved around her, heading down the slope toward where the others were. Her footsteps followed then stopped. He didn't need to look to know she'd gone off to see John B. He scanned the crowd for familiar faces, looking for anyone interested in chatting with him. He made eye contact with a dark-haired girl and she grinned at him but before he could approach, he heard Sarah's irritated voice piercing through the crowd.

"Did I ask you?" He groaned internally and turned around to look at her. She stood between John B and the girl with Topper stumbling around slightly behind her. The teenagers around them began turning around and backing up, glancing at each other and exchanging whispers. Topper began shouting in Sarah's defense, prompting the girl to get in his face whilst Sarah turned toward John B and shoved him back angrily.

Phones were quickly whipped out in hopes of catching a fight and a crowd formed around the four of them as the shouting grew louder. Kelce's voice mingled with the shouting and then, gasps echoed through the crowd and they quickly dispersed, allowing him to see Kelce staggering backward and holding his jaw. Topper rushed at John B, grasping the collar of his shirt and pushing him down on the ground. People began pushing and shoving, causing more fights to break out.

"It hasn't even been twenty minutes." (Y/N) muttered under his breath. He caught sight of Sarah being pushed off the small platform, landing on the ground with a thud and a groan. He walked toward her and caught her forearm, helping her up onto her feet. She hissed softly and turned her hand over, looking at the scrapes and pebbles on her skin. (Y/N) took his keys out from his pocket and put them on the palm of her hand before he climbed onto the platform and searched for Topper through the crowd. He found him pinned by JJ as Pope took swings at him and huffed, grabbing the sleeve of Pope's flannel and pulling him back. He only needed to give JJ a look for the blonde to shove Topper toward him and raise his hands in surrender. 

"(Y/N)-"

"Move your ass, Top." (Y/N) mimicked the way he'd seen Heyward grab Pope before and took Topper by the base of his neck, dragging him back toward the jeep. Topper stumbled and staggered, somehow already drunk enough to trip over himself yet somehow land a good punch.

"They started it!" Topper protested, pawing at (Y/N)'s arm in a desperate attempt to free himself from the older teen's iron grip. Sarah sat in the car, looking like a child who'd been caught with their hand in the cookie jar. She avoided their eyes and focused on the scrape on the side of her palm, lips pulled into a small pout. 

"Just get in the damn car, Topper."

[musicfeedsmysoul12]

By music! Question, I was looking for a Drabble you wrote and post, I think it was a WIP about havenfall is for family, about hisashi’s will and how Izuku wouldn’t get anything if he transition or something and I was wondering if you could help me find it?

Inko had been the first to fall for Hisashi’s charm but she hadn’t been the last by far. Sitting in the small police station that Sherriff Hunt had escorted her, Izuku and Mr. Smith to, she figured Martha probably hadn’t been the last either.

“It fits his usual antics.” Inko said tiredly. “The only reason I stuck around was because he’d actively sabotaged my college career and had a lot of money. Leaving would have ruined me even with evidence of him cheating which three of his girlfriends had given me.”

“A real piece of work,” Sherrif Hunt said in disgust. She paused to look at Izuku who was lost in his own world with Inko’s phone and headphones.

“He’s looking up local heroes.” Inko explained. Hunt looked interested, eyes twinkling.

“Really? Does he know any English? My Japanese is rusty, and I’d like to talk about heroes.”

“He knows a fair amount.” Inko smiled as the sherriff easily drew Izuku away. Far enough he couldn’t hear but close enough Inko could see. She was a good woman, Inko could tell.

“Alright so, Hisashi left you and Izuku everything,” Mr. Smith didn’t beat around the bush. “His funeral was last week, but you didn’t come due to…”

“Izuku’s classmates thought it would be funny to push him down the stairs and he broke his arm and leg,” Inko said shortly. The lawyer stared at her in open mouth shock. Inko noticed that the Sherrif seemed to have stiffened briefly to. Enhanced hearing probably. “One of the parents at least felt bad enough to get a relative with a healing Quirk in but it took a while.”

“Oh…” Mr. Smith swallowed. “Okay, so, it makes sense why you’re staying here for a while.”

“Just a few years to handle Hisashi’s affairs so I can arrange to move to a new place in Japan. The house he and his mother lived in is still good, correct?” Inko asked.

“It is.” Mr. Smith nodded. He made a note on some paper he’d taken from his briefcase. “Izuku will inherit a large sum as long… as…” he trailed off. Inko sighed.

“Izuku declared he was a boy when he was four and I never denied him that. Perhaps he’s a little to young for it, I don’t know. Don’t ask me how gender works. I don’t see any harm in letting him explore pronouns and his identity. Maybe he’ll decide otherwise.” Inko sighed. “What did Hisashi put?”

“Izuku cannot go on hormone blockers and has to have a kid.”

“That sounds illegal.” Inko said instantly.

“It actually is thanks to certain laws in Japan.” Mr. Smith told her. “Here in the states it’s still legal so I believe he thought he could do that. However as most of his assets are in Japan…”

“He couldn’t.” Inko let out a breath of relief. “And you didn’t say anything?”

“Told him Japanese law makes that condition null but he ignored me.” Mr. Smith shrugged. “Not my problem.” The rest of the meeting was just discussing the assets. It was a fair amount of money, enough Inko could go back to college herself to finally get that literature degree she’d always wanted and not work until Izuku was in his teens. And Izuku could be well off as an adult himself. And that was just the liquid assets.

“How many houses did he have?” Inko wondered. There were four in America and two in Japan. Along with multiple sets of art and other goods. “Please tell me he wasn’t a villain.”

“Oh no, just shady,” Mr. Smith said. The meeting continued with Inko agreeing to have some companies clean out the houses and sell them, including the ones in Japan as Inko wanted to arrange a new home for her and Izuku. Without memories of her ex-husband.

Some days were better then others concerning him. She missed the man she thought he’d been; the funny and kind man who swept her off her feet when she was young. Who took her dancing and who promised to love her.

The cracks had appeared when she was twenty-five but she didn’t fully notice them until she was pregnant. When Hisashi knew she wouldn’t leave, because she didn’t have a job or any education. Izuku became her whole world and he used it against her.

Inko would never regret her son. Izuku was her pride and joy, a beautiful little boy. But Hisashi knew what buttons to press. It just got worse when Izuku got his diagnosis.

(She hated that word. Diagnosis, like being Quirkless was a terminal illness meant to kill him. It wouldn’t kill Izuku.

Society would. It already tried when he got shoved down the stairs. It tried when Inko had to fight to get anyone to care. When Mitsuki tried to convince Inko that Katsuki had nothing to do with it, when the woman was so obtuse to her son’s actions that she ignored Inko’s worry. When Mitsuki kept defending Katsuki even when proof came out.

When Inko tried to believe Katsuki apologized only to find Izuku sobbing because the blonde had burned Izuku’s arm due to ‘making auntie side against him’. Inko told Katsuki off and she realized how little anyone had seen her son as a person.

All highly illegal and Inko walked away after setting the police on Aldera and the Bakugou family. She blocked them all.)

Inko hadn’t been a saint when she’d learned Izuku didn’t have a Quirk. She’d gone through the motions and had a pity party until she snapped out of it when Izuku came home with tears in his eyes because he got told by a teacher he’d end up on a street corner.

He was five. Inko hated it took that single act of cruelty to wake her up. Hisashi hadn’t been woken up, but he’d been decent enough to keep up the facade.

[isthatbloodonhisshirt]

So I stalk you on AO3 and I found this promt and my first thought was "Thats def gonna be Sherriff Stillinski" and I love you and you are awesome and you were the first person I thought of when I read it. 1/2

2/2 "A man enters a police station drenched in blood with a shotgun in his hands. He's angry. He walks past the front desk and the receptionist merely glances at him. He continues through the police station, stalking past dozens of police officers, who either walk past him or remain at their desks."

(Oh, indents don't exist on Tumblr anymore, okay wow, things have changed since I was last here pfft).

Okay but dude, wtaf that prompt is absolute fire and 100% Sheriff Stilinski after dealing with some bullshit of the week type of situation he was unceremoniously pulled into (thank you Stiles and your dumb Werewolf boyfriend and best friend, get new friends who are not Supernaturals please).

I've never written anything from someone else's POV in the series before, just Stiles and Derek, and given my current vision issues I am absolutely not promising anything, but that is a bomb ass prompt. Do you remember where it came from? (Just in case I do write it, I want to credit appropriately).

I don't usually do requests or suggestions or anything, but this one is definitely tickling my fancy and it'd be cool to write from the Sheriff's POV for once XD Thank you for thinking of me <3<3<3<3

[mzannthropy]

Sam Claflin and Adaptations (there's a lot more than you think!)

Articles and interviews be like: Sam, you have done so many book adaptations and then name at most three titles. Every fucking time. Luckily, I'm here to tell you about them! (Under the cut as it got long.)

Hunger Games Catching Fire and Mockingjay (books written by Suzanne Collins) - YA dystopia. The most obvious, of course. Sam plays Finnick Odair, the coolest character. (He's not dead, Katniss is lying.)

Daisy Jones and the Six (book written by Taylor Jenkins Reid) - story of a rise and fall of fictional band in the 1970s. Sam is Billy Dunne, the main male lead and a real rockstar!

My Cousin Rachel (book written by Daphne du Maurier) - Gothic thriller, 19th century. Sam is the narrator, Philip. This is my personal favourite.

Their Finest - adaptation of Their Finest Hour and a Half (book written by Lissa Evans) - Drama with bits of comedy. Set during WW2 in the film industry. Sam plays screenwriter Buckley, a member of a film crew working on a film about Dunkirk evacuation. Also features a side character who is gay and is alive at the end. More people should watch this film, imo.

Enola Holmes (book written by Nancy Springer) - kiddie Sherlockian pastiche. Sam plays Mycroft Holmes, at least that's his character's name, but it's not the usual Mycroft; his version is dumbed-down and cartoon-villainised so that the eponymous teenage girlboss can have her story.

Adrift - adaptation of Red Sky in the Mourning (book written by Tami Oldham Ashcroft) - survival drama of a seafaring couple lost at sea after a hurricane. Sam is the main character's love interest, Richard.

Two mini series from Sam's early career (that I haven't watched so can't give you any info):

Pillars of the Earth (book written by Ken Follett) - TV mini series set in 12th century about building of a cathedral. This was Sam's very first role.

Any Human Heart (book written by William Boyd) - TV mini series, chronicles a life of a writer in 20th century. Sam plays the youngest version of the main character, Logan.

Adaptations of plays - it counts, okay?

Journey's End (play written by RC Sherriff) - WW1 war film, but not a regular one (there's no battles). Covers a week in the trenches in March 1918. Sam plays Captain Stanhope, an officer at the edge of nervous breakdown. One of his best performances, if not the very best.

Riot Club (play written by Laura Wade) - contemporary film about a posh elite club at Oxford. Sam's character, Alistair, is a spoiled brat, Draco Malfoy-like. (Not the good fanon version, the bad canon version.) Btw, this is no Dead Poet's Society, no dark academia - the titular club is based on Bullingdon Club (of which Boris Johnson was member). They book a table at restaurants, trash them and then hand the owners a cheque to compensate. You see now why we have all these problems...

You can make an argument for:

Snow White and the Huntsman - (folk tale recorded by Brothers Grimm). It's a darker retelling. Sam plays William, the prince charming of the story.

Snow White and the Red Shoes, (as above) an animated film, he voices a character named Merlin. No idea what this is as I haven't seen it.

Okay now I'm stretching it

Pirates of the Caribbean On Stranger Tides - adapted from a Disneyland ride. BUT the ride itself was inspired by legendary tales of pirates, among others the books of Emilio Salgari. So, not that crazy. Might be the weakest of the franchise, but Sam's storyline--he plays the missionary Philip--is what saves it, his romance with the mermaid is just the cutest!

So that's it. Thank you for reading and I hope you check some of these out.

[jensenackleswifey]

Don’t Ever Let Me Go

Supernatural Fic

Summary: While hunting a Crocotta, you discover someone is alive who should've died 10 years ago.

Notes: Blood, violence, gore, death, anxiety, angst (?), italics are thoughts about the past

"I think it's a Crocotta." Sam says from the seat next to me. "The phone calls from their loved ones before their deaths even though the victims’ families claim they didn’t... it’s the only obvious option."

Dean and I agree as Sam's phone rings.

"Agent Stiles."

I can hear a slight murmur over the phone, but I can't quite make out what is being said to Sam.

"Mhm... Yes, we'll be right there... Alright, thank you."

As soon as the beep of the disconnect is heard Sam announces that there has been another murder.

We all get in the Impala and head towards the latest crime scene to talk to the witness.

As we get there the body is getting wheeled into the coroners’ van and Dean stops it to check the deceased as Sam and I go up to the Sherriff

"Victims name is Lily Moonarch. She just dropped dead, same as the rest of them."

Sam replies, "Interesting. Any ideas yet?"

"Fourth victim and we're still stumped."

"You said there was a suspect?" I questioned as Dean rejoined the group.

"Yes, she was on the phone to the victim when she died." Dean and I shared a look, thinking back on what Sam had said back at out motel. "It's our only lead so we think she might have something to do with it."

"Okay well what's the suspects name, we'll head over first before you guys if that’s alright?" I ask at the same time as Sam appears at my side.

"Yes of course, her name is Phoebe Y/L/N"

Both Sam and Dean look at me wearily and I feel my stomach drop and my heart goes to my throat.

Sam is asking for her address, but my ears are ringing and everything seems muffled. I can barely breathe, and I can hardly feel Deans hand linked with mine, dragging me away back to the car.

Phoebe Y/L/N. Phoebe. Pheebs. My younger sister. My younger sister who died over 10 years ago when a demon killed my entire family while I was on a playdate. She was only 6 and I was 12.

"Mum! Dad! I'm home!" I yelled as I walked in through the large white door.

I heard no response, so I yelled out again but still, no one responded.

'Maybe they're asleep' I think to myself, so I walk up the stairs, but I stopped dead in my tracks when I see a bloody, red handprint smeared on the door of my parents’ bedroom.

"Mum?" I say anxiously awaiting her response.

I didn’t hear anything, so I push her door open very carefully. The scene before me is something no 12-year-old should see. Her parents dead on the bed in a pool of blood. A knife in her dad’s abdomen with his own hand wrapped around it. Her mothers throat slit. Blood splashed all over the room, the stench making me want to throw up. With tears streaming down my face I run out the bedroom and into my sister’s room, but I was too late to her as well. As I step in their room, a man is standing over her tiny bed with these hands around her neck, choking her. When the man looks over at me, he smirks, and slowly walks over to me, his eyes glowing red and he slams the door shut with just his mind.

"What are you doing here you sweet, sweet child?"

His smirk grows wider and so do my eyes as he continues making his way to me, but I can’t move. It's like I'm stuck in the mud, no matter how hard I try I just can’t move.

As I've accepted the fact that I can't go anywhere, that this is the end the door bursts open again, and a tall figure stands in the door, and I hear a shot.

"It's going to take a lot more than that to kill me, John." He drags out the man’s name, almost like he shouldn’t know what his name is but does anyway.

The man screams but no sound comes out, all that does come out is a long line of black smoke. The man- John, picks me up and runs outside and puts me in the car next to another boy who looks around my age and he runs back inside which I later found out was to double check that my family is in fact dead.

"Hi, I'm Dean and this is my brother Sam." Says the boy in the front seat.

"Y/N" I say through sobs.

"Y/N, Y/N, Y/N"

I jump up from the back of the same Impala I was in those 10 years ago.

Sam is looking over at me from the front seat and Dean is looking down at me on his lap with a worried look.

"We're 5 minutes away from Phoebes house."

I just look at him and give a late responded nod.

You can tell that the brothers are worried about me by the way they keep looking at me every couple of seconds.

When we pull up, I'm frozen in place, just like that night a decade ago but this time I have the help to pull me out of my trance. Dean puts his hand on my thigh.

"Y/N... Sam and I can do this on our own if you'd like? You can stay in here and-"

"No. I want to come. I need to see if it’s actually her." I interrupt.

"Okay."

We get out of the car, and I adjust my pants and suit jacket and wipe off the remaining mascara on my face and smile at the two brothers in front of me.

"Let's go."

As we're walking up the stairs in silence my mind is running wild with thoughts of what could happen. What is she's a vampire? What if it's someone else just with the same name? What if she doesn’t know who I am? I try to keep my heart rate normal and my breaths even but the longer we walk up these stairs the more worried thoughts are running through my mind.

When we get there both the boys give me a questioning look and I nod.

Sam knocks on the door, "FBI open up."

Phoebe opens the door.

"Is this about Lily?"

I stand there shocked, and Dean subtly holds my hand.

Before I can stop myself, I blurt out. "Pheebs?"

She finally makes eye contact with me, confused.

"No-one has called me that in years."

Sam puts his hand on my shoulder as a warning to stop and slow it down.

"It’s me Phoebe. Its Y/N."

"That can't be possible. The real Y/N died 10 years ago.”

"We were told you died 10 years ago." Dean told her.

"How about you come inside."

We all go inside, and Phoebe makes us all a tea and I pretend to not notice the holy water she boils for the drinks, and I sit down on her grey sofa in between Sam and Dean.

We sit in a semi-awkward silence until Phoebe hands us our holy tea and waits for us to drink it before continuing the conversation.

When there is no reaction to the holy water, a look of relief washed over her face.

"How are you alive?" Dean asked, almost accusatory.

Phoebe looked taken aback as she answered "I don't know. Just one day I woke up in my childhood home, cops everywhere. They told me my whole family were killed and my sister was missing, presumed dead. I went into a foster home and as soon as I hit 18, I moved in with Lily."

"So you have no idea how you go bought back?" Sam asked, sounding more sympathetic than his older brother did.

"Maybe she never died to begin with?" Dean suggested.

"But she couldn't have. I watched her die and John went and confirmed that they were both dead." I still remember the feeling of watching my baby sister die and never getting answers for it. Why did it happen? Who did it? I'll never get those answers, but it doesn’t matter anymore because my little Phoebe is alive.

"What about Lily?" She said, tears returning to her eyes. "Is it something supernatural? Is that why you’re here?"

"We think so." Sam replied.

I zone everything out after that. Looking around her little apartment. Her cat and the detailed drawings on the walls, she always was a good drawer, and the pink accents in her decor, pink is still her favourite colour. Everything is so normal compared to what I was expecting. I think I was expecting her to be a lot like me. A hunter trying to find out what happened all those years ago but she somehow managed to not get involved in this life and hopefully we can keep it that way by not getting her too involved in this job.

"Thank you for your time, Phoebe, we should get going." Dean says, putting his hand back on my thigh.

Sam and Dean stand up as I sit still, watching Phoebe.

Dean holds his hand out to me, and I accept it, getting to my feet and giving Phoebe a tight-lipped smile, still holding Deans hand hard.

"If you notice anything else strange, don't hesitate to call us," Dean hands her his FBI card. "We will call you with any updates as well."

"Thank you, guys."

As we're all walking out the door, I feel a cold hand grab by arm, and I turn around.

"It's good to see you again." Phoebe says and she pulls me into a tight embrace as I drop Deans hand. "I wanted to give you my number, maybe we can try and get to know each other properly."

"Of course, I would love that Pheebs."

A single tear falls from her eyes as I hug her again, never wanting to let go.

This could have a part 2 possibly

[pocketofpossums]

I originally did this as something funny for a friend since one of his long running Hyperfix’s is the EmpiresSMP and one of It’s favorite characters from the server has been the one and only Sherriff Jimmy. Now I know next to nothing about Empires outside of the Hermit x Empires crossover but I wanted to do a silly drawing. Thank you Moth :)

[watchingspnagain]

Rewatching Fallen Idols

Welcome to “Okay So It’s Not a Loki Episode, but I’m Still Super Magnanimous and That’s the Biggest Takeaway Here: A Supernatural Rewatch Blog” with Lor and Mace!

Up today, s5e5: Fallen Idols.

Our boys get intrigued by a case that involves James Dean’s car as a murder suspect, which turns into a series of murders, all seemingly by famous dead people. It’s…weird, to say the least (and can I get an “amen” to the idea that it sounds like something Loki would do? Thank you.) The culprit is Leshi, a pagan god from the Balkans who has found a new feeding ground by transforming into the likenesses of famous people and feeding off their fans. It takes the form of Paris Hilton in the end and wails on both Sam and Dean before Sam can kill it. Cut to an end scene in which the brothers actually…talk? About their feelings? This, too, is weird.

Mace:

maybe open the garage door first?

Lor: 

naaaaaw

Mace:

absolute banana loafs

oh GROSS

Lor:

RIGHT?

mmmm Baby engine

Mace:

yeah

Lor:

"back"? where's "back"? they are IN the only home they have. there's no "get back" from anywhere they ever go pets them

Mace:

YEP

Lor:

omg Dean's "you are so stupid" face

Mace:

HAHAHA

Lor:

down, Dean

Mace:

RIGHT?!

Lor:

"oh we are definitely checking this out"

Mace:

how his little face just lights up talking about it

Lor:

YAAAAAS

OMG ROLLED UP SHIRT SLEEVES

Mace:

YAS

Lor:

AND NOW HE'S ON A CREEPER I CANNOT

Mace:

HA

OMG SAMMY

Lor:

haaaahahaha SAM

YES

"don't even look at her or she might not like it" I love him

Mace:

YES

Lor:

he needs someone to gently massage his neck and give him little temple kisses

Mace:

okay, if it disappeared, then there’s no research to do, and surely someone else has already done it

HA

Lor:

RIGHT?

Mace:

esp THAT car

Lor:

DEAN WINCHESTER stop lying to girls to get laid. for one thing, it's not necessary

Mace:

right?!?! Jesus, honey, just smile at them

Lor:

RIGHT?

he's mad at you for correcting papers in red ink

Mace:

HA

Lor:

i love that their "this cop is an idiot" faces are different

Mace:

I CAN UNDERSTAND HER

Lor:

"she's not making any sense in Spanish either" like he would know

OMG THAT'S AWESOME

Mace:

HAHAAHA

Lor:

well done!

Mace:

thanks!

omg Sam’s FACE

Lor:

YES

Mace:

i don’t remember this ep at all, but it’s got to be Loki, right?

Lor:

I know nothing, Mace

Mace:

sigh

Lor:

lol Sam's face when he says "that look like James Dean" he's so done

Mace:

LORE

EVERYBODY DRINK

YES

Lor:

YAAAAAAS

Mace:

omg Sammy you are so hot when you’re correcting language

Lor:

yeah, Sam, well, say it in Latin, buddy

LOLOLOLOLOL

Mace:

HAHAHAHA

Lor:

nnnnnggg henley and leaning

Mace:

YES

Lor:

that Ghandi one was really good. looks just like Ben Kingsley

Mace:

I’m pretty sure Gandhi was a dick, wasn’t he?

HAHAHAHA

Lor:

I dunno maybe?

Mace:

I feel like I vaguely remember that he was hugely racist or misogynistic or something

Lor:

i know someone in the history of my schooling made me watch that movie but I remember like NONE of it

Lor:

lol Dean's "aaaaah THERE it is" look

Mace:

YES

I’ve never seen it

Lor:

who's... Gen Y? isn't that what they called millennials before they called us that? because they mostly wouldn't be kids?

Mace:

no idea

Lor:

OMG DEAN

Lor:

he and I are the same person, I swear

Mace:

HAHAHA

dude, don’t lean into the jumps scare, christ

Lor:

RIGHT?

lol even a hunter raised in the life first thinks it's his big brother being a jerk when something goes bump

Mace:

“wanna see my Gandhi impression?”

HAHAHA YES

Lor:

lol

"couldn't've been a fan of someone cool?"

Mace:

HAHAHAHA

omg Dean laughing at Sam

Lor:

YES

"that is good. even for you, that is good"

Mace:

yeah

Lor:

iiii feel like there's a little revisionist history going on there, Sammy, hon

Mace:

huh

Lor:

lolol this poor sherriff

Mace:

right?

Lor:

I mean I feel like Dean does treat him like his little brother, but not like he's not an equal?

omg his ARM

Mace:

I disagree. Dean still thinks Sam’s being away at college and rejecting The John Cause makes him lesser

Lor:

huh. interesting

Mace:

that compounds with his Big Brother Knows Best business

Lor:

well he certainly has that

maybe it's the characterization of "dragging me around" that I disagree with? Sam always chooses to come back? and it's not like Sam never picks the case or directs where they're going to go

Mace:

letting him make some of the decisions is not the same as treating him as an equal

Lor:

I can't get over the fact that Paris Hilton agreed to do this

mmm, fair

Mace:

I can’t believe they wanted her to

Lor:

LOL

it's so meta. I really hope she gets it

omg the wink

Mace:

huh. I really don’t care if she did or not.

YES

Lor:

I sense that you do not care for PH

Mace:

i do not think about her at all, in fact

Lor:

very good. I think watching this episode is the only time I've ever thought about her. except for the times I had to read persuasive essays about her from students

Mace:

ha!

Lor:

awww, Dean offering to let him drive

Mace:

indeed. LETTING him drive. but sure, he totally sees him as equal.

Lor:

Dude it's HIS CAR

Mace:

it’s their father’s car.

it’s THEIR car

Lor:

he gave it to Dean, though

Mace:

fine, but making a big deal out of LETTING him drive it is my point

Lor:

grumble mutter whispers maybe you have a point

Mace:

graciously lets you joint the correct side of the argument

Lor:

LOLOLOLOLOLOL

it's always been your magnanimous spirit that's drawn me to you, Mace

[mrhowells]

Smallville 4x12

OH THANK GOD IT'S LOIS

my wife😭

OH GOOD GOD

broooo if I was Lana I'd be LIVID

oh heyyyy Sherriff🤗

LMAOOO where is the support Chloe😭😭😭

This Tim dude is so obviously the killer it wasn't even a plot twist the first time I watched it💀

Jason's mother is ridiculous

I forgot this was the episode Alicia exposed Clark to Chloe🤡 She just can't stop violating him, can she?

I can't believe I'm agreeing with the killer dude here but "they're both over 18" doesn't make it okay for a school coach to date a student, also let's not forget they started dating before she was 18💀💀

he's still insane tho

Lois is like "THANK YOU Chloe, for setting me up with a literal murderer"💀

Is Jason's mom flirting with Lex literal seconds after she told him she knew him as a young kid?

I'm sorry but every time I watch this scene and Clark screams "NOOOOO" I want to laugh😭

This scene is so ??????

She's been in what, 6 episodes now? They're not even friends yet but she's already seen so many sides of him he doesn't usually show to anyone except his parents, it's actually insane if you think about it.

"Lois if- If you found out something... something that someone didn't want you to know about them, would you tell them?" "That depends, is that person someone you care about?" "Yeah." "And does keeping the secret hurt anyone?" "No."

the love I have for her, you don't understand

LOIS FREAKING LANE, THE WOMAN THAT YOU ARE

"I've learned the hard way that people keep secrets for a reason. Even from the people they're closest to."

Once again Lois I am down on one knee-

Nooo Lois pls don't leave🥺🥺

Do you honestly have to ask?💀💀💀 Should I start LISTING reasons and incidents, because-

[deadboyfriendd]

hello flea i hope ur well. i just wanted to say that i very, very recently started watching justified, and idk if you have watched it before, but timothy olyphant stars as a cowboy us marshall, and omg it was like bisbee sherriff steve harrington leaped to life right in front of my eyes in all his glory. looking forward to reading tequila sunrise! wishing you well!

Ahhhh hi! I missed you!

I haven’t seen it yet because tbh I don’t really watch a lot of TV, but I looked it up and it also looks like something Mr. Flea would love so we’re gonna try watching it!!

Thank you for the rec!