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indulgentdaydream · 4 months

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I added these two together. I hope you guys don’t mind! Since I added them together I’m also making this a two parter. My first one ever!!

Comparisons Pt.1

Jason Todd x Jealous!Insecure!Fem!Reader || Angst/Fluff || Word Count: 2,488

Part 2

Warnings: not proofread as of yet. Maybe will after i post who knows

After a six hour morning shift as a dishwasher, you were ready to head home.

It was the early afternoon, your shift having ended at 12. It was sunny. Warm, but not too hot. You were still in your work clothes, simple black pants and a black t shirt, your tote bag full of belongings over your shoulder. It was nice weather for the half hour walk you had back to your apartment. Better than the weather you’ve faired before.

Jason usually picked you up after your shifts, no matter where he was, as long as he wasn’t on patrol. He never wanted you to be seen in public near the Red Hood. He didn’t want you as a target.

“It’s bad enough I come straight here after patrol some nights.” He had said once.

“I’m just that irresistible, eh?” You had smiled.

He laughed, kissing your shoulder, “Damn right, baby.”

This day, though, you knew he was busy with a certain case he was working on. One he wouldn’t tell you about. He had been hard at work on it for the last few weeks, barely able to make much time for you. You didn’t mind. He tried as much as he could, even if it ended up being a five minute phone call, or a visit in the middle of night in between beaten-up thugs.

The sun hits your face and warms your skin in a comfortable way. Your headphones blocked out the Gotham noise, making the moment more enjoyable. Your favourite music instead of honking horns, sounds of engines, distant sirens, and people yelling.

You were stuck in your own world. You began thinking of asking Jason if he wanted to take you for a ride on his bike later. If he was free. You knew it’d be hard for him to say no. He loved taking you for rides. He didn’t have to say anything for you to know that.

You turn a corner, stuck in your head. Thinking about what you were going to do when you got home. You weren’t used to the morning shift.

You start your walk down the road, passing busy storefronts. Crystal shops. Pet stores. Mostly cafés and diners. You briefly considered working as a dishwasher at one of these places instead so you didn’t have to walk as far.

Maybe you and Jason could go to a diner tonight? That was a hopeful thought. There wouldn’t be time.

You’re walking past the third outdoor seating that takes up most of the sidewalk, small bistro tables hidden from the sun by large, white, beach-style umbrellas. Nearly identical to the two others you had passed, only different colour schemes.

You stare straight ahead, the extended seating narrowing the sidewalk and making it harder for people to walk around. You’re nearly halfway past the café when a hand reaches over breaching the shaded area and entering the sunlight to gently grasp onto your wrist.

You’re already twisting, ready to pull the mace Jason had bought you (though you more-so believe stolen from Batman himself, as you could see where he had scratched out the bat symbol on the canister) out of your tote bag and aim, when your eyes land on the owner of the arm, stretched across the thin barrier separating the seating from the sidewalk.

It’s Jason. His face hidden behind sunglasses, a small frown on his lips as he looks up at you from the shade. He waits for you to slip off your headphones before speaking.

“I was waving to you,” his thumb absentmindedly stroking the back of your hand. “You didn’t see?”

“Sorry,” You smile in relief at him, stepping closer to the barricade so as not to impede the flow of foot traffic. “I was more focused on getting around.”

There was someone sitting across from him. You didn’t think much of it at first. You saw red hair. That was regular with Jason, since he was always hanging around with Roy. Or Kory.

That’s who you thought it was. Roy. Nothing different at all. You turned to greet him, a smile ready on your face.

The second you clocked the pretty face, the waist-long, flowing, shiny red hair, your smile faltered.

Artemis gave you a sincere, friendly smile, her fingers swirling her straw in her cup.

Something churned in your stomach, “Hello.”

Jason’s grip on your wrist tightened slightly once, speaking up, “Why didn’t you call me to pick you up?”

You look back to him, “You said you were busy today.”

He frowns again. Technically, he had never said that. But it was true.

“Sit with us,” Artemis said, pointing behind her. “The entrance is there. We’re almost done anyways. Jason can drive you the rest of the way.”

You nodded, sending the best smile back to Artemis that you could muster in the moment.

As you approached, Jason reached towards the empty table behind him, flipping the chair and placing it at their own table, in between him and Artemis, facing where you had just been standing.

Something in the back of your mind noted how he didn’t even stand to do it, his face still pointed towards Artemis, his eyes concealed by his shades, hiding his expression. You sit down, placing your tote bag on the ground beside on, on your right, between you and Jason.

He picked it up and moved it onto the table without a word.

“This is my girlfriend,” Jason introduces you, his hands back on the table, folded in front of him. “This is Artemis. She’s helping me with my case.”

You nod, your mouth suddenly dry as she smiles at you again, “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” she smiles again, stretching out plump lips to present straight, shiny teeth.

Jason’s quick goes back to talking with her about whatever they had been talking about before you had walked past, wrapping things up.

You weren’t even capable of listening at this point.

You trusted Jason. You’d always trust Jason. This was for the case and nothing more. You knew that.

Jason had never really spoke about Artemis before. He had mentioned her once, in the early months of your relationship. You had done something. He had later asked you not to, saying he had a bad memory of it from his ex. He had never even mentioned her name. You knew he didn’t like talking about her.

However, you had been out with Jason and Roy at a bar once. Roy had briefly mentioned Jason’s ex, since she was included in the story. Jason had changed the topic fast after that. Then when he’d gotten up to use to washroom, you’d asked Roy to tell you more about her.

“Just what she looks like,” You reasoned. “So I can recognize her if need be.”

Roy hesitated in telling you, but he still did.

You trusted Jason. However, you were losing trust in Roy. He had never mentioned how gorgeous this woman is.

Her skin was smooth. Not a blemish or wrinkle in sight. You tried not to stare, but you couldn’t help it. Her hair was perfect. Her skin flawless. On further inspection you even realized she wasn’t wearing any makeup.

She wasn’t wearing any makeup and she looked that good?

Artemis lifted her coffee cup to her lips, nodding to something Jason was saying. Nothing you understood, anyways. Even if you were listening. You caught sight of her flexed arm as she finished off the drink. She was strong. Probably worked out nearly as much as Jason, but far more slim than he was. But in a good way.

She smiled again, wide, displaying her pearly whites. You ran a tongue over your own teeth, pursing your lips quietly in thought. Yours weren’t anywhere near that.

Your arms suddenly felt itchy as you looked over Artemis’ again. You looked down. You needed to take your eyes off of her. You were being stupid. Jason had broken up with her. Jason had picked you. He had been dating you for nearly a year and a half.

Your eyes drifted to your own arms, spots of acne along biceps. No definition in sight. Your under eye bags suddenly felt like they were on broadcast. Your face felt gritty, your hand coming up to absentmindedly scratch at the break out you had along your cheek. The frizz of your own hair visible in the corner of your eyes.

You looked back up, looking out at the busy street. Jason had chosen you. Jason loved you. Jason kissed you everyday and always made sure to tell you how much he loved you.

Except in the past few weeks while he had been busy with this case.

Had he been working with her this whole time?

You glanced back down as Jason placed his hand on your knee. He always did this when you guys were out. You look back up at him. He’s leaning on the table with her other arm, straight-faced, nodding along to something Artemis was saying. Even her voice is pretty. Her tone carrying a confidence you were failing to find in the moment.

You looked back down to your own legs, Jason’s thumb moving lightly back and forth over the side of your knee. He didn’t even know he was doing it. He never did.

You looked over to Artemis’ legs, hidden underneath a pair of jeans. Even then you could see how skinny hers were. Could see that her thighs weren’t spilling off the sides of the small metal bistro chair.

Soon enough, she was standing, beginning to say her goodbyes. You swallowed thickly. She was tall too. An amazon, you remember Roy mentioning. How could you forget.

The crop top she was wearing fit her nicely, showing off her toned stomach and even dipping down at the neckline to show some cleavage.

You looked away, your arms folding across your stomach, hiding your own torso.

She smiles at Jason. You quickly look to Jason and find him smiling, too. A genuine smile. One he had yet to give you while you’d been sitting here.

You’re his girlfriend, you remind yourself. He loves you.

She smiles at you and gives her farewell. You can only nod. You watch as she leaves.

God. She was nice, too. Nicer than you had wanted to be to her.

She walks in the direction you had come from. Her hair flowing behind her, an expensive-looking purse hanging from her shoulder. Most men walking past stop to turn and look at her. She ignored them all.

That never happened to you. In fact, Jason had been the first guy to ever even ask you out. You never understood why you were his choice. Not when he was able to pull women like that.

Jason pats your knee and pulls you out of your thoughts, “Want to get anything before we go?”

You can’t even face him. She’s perfect. Absolutely perfect. A fucking amazonian warrior.

You stare down at the table, catching sight of your own hands. Your nails worn from your shift at the restaurant, fingertips still wrinkled from the water.

Why the hell would he ever stay with you if she was still in his life?

“No.” You finally answer. “Thank you.”

He nodded, sighing as he fished out his wallet to pay for their coffees. He counts the bills and change, speaking with his head down, “How many times have I told you not to walk around with your headphones on?”

You lift your head to look at him, “What?”

He doesn’t look at you, his eyes still hidden by his shades. “Your headphones. You get so lost in your music you couldn’t even see me waving to get your attention.”

Your fingers curled around the edge of the table, “I was looking past you. I didn’t expect to see you—”

“I was calling your name, too. If your headphones were off then you could’ve heard me.” He tossed a twenty onto the table, leaning forward on his elbows to look at you. “Anyone could sneak up on you.”

You pursed your lips, your brows tightening at him.

Why did she get a smile and not me?

Jason gestured to your bag on the table, “Same with this. The hell you putting it on the floor for? You wouldn’t notice it was taken until far too late—”

“You don’t have to drive me,” you interrupted. “I’ll walk.”

Jason cocked his head slightly, looking genuinely curious, “Why? Car’s right over there—“

“I’ll walk.” You repeated. Firmly.

You needed the walk. You had to try and work the jealousy out of your mind before you got into it with Jason. You didn’t want to argue. Not now. Not in public.

Jason sighed, running a hand over his mouth, “Don’t be like that.” He started to stand, his keys jingling in his hand, “Come on.”

He reached to take your bag for you, a large brown envelope already in his hand. Whatever Artemis had given him.

You reached out and snatched it from his hand. You stood, throwing it over your shoulder. “I’ll walk.”

Jason stared at you for a moment, seemingly frozen in place.

He sighed through his nose, “What’s wrong?”

You took a deep breath trying to control your emotions. This was stupid. Jason had broken up with her for a reason. Had been dating you for the last year and a half for a reason.

Unfortunately, your mouth was working faster than your mind, “Don’t act like you didn’t start this.”

Jason pushed his shoulders back. He tried again, “What’s wrong?”

You shook your head, frustrated.

“Fine,” he stuffed his free hand in his pocket. “Just don’t be wearing your headphones while walking around.“

You were tired. Your shift had been long. You were worked up from your mind running all the comparisons between you and Artemis. It was still running them, you suppose, as otherwise you wouldn’t have said, “I guess you wouldn’t have to worry about her all the time. She can handle herself.”

Jason’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, his first shown emotion since that smile he’d given her, “Who?” Then they shot up almost just as quickly. “Artemis? Is that was this is about?”

You felt your face heat up in embarrassment at his realization. He’d figured you out.

His shoulders tensed, “Do you really not trust me?”

The way he had said it, his tone, has made it sound like the silliest thing in the world. Now it made you feel even stupider. Of course you trusted him.

You caught people staring in the corner of your vision. You ducked your head back down.

You gripped your tote bag at the straps over your shoulder and stormed off.

You heard Jason call your name as you passed by him again, on the other side of the barrier, headed back to your apartment.

Hope you guys enjoyed!! Pt 2 will be out later this week!!

Update!! Part 2 is here!!!

Part 2

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #dc #red hood #jason todd fic #red hood x reader #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x you #red hood x you #missy writes #ask missy #jason todd x y/n #dc x y/n #dc x fem!reader #dc x you #dc x reader #dc fic #red hood x fem!reader #red hood fic

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newobsessionweekly · 6 months

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Stolen moments

Main masterlist | The Rookie masterlist

Tim Bradford x rookie!reader Fandom: The rookie

Summary: You and Tim find it difficult to have some sort of intimacy due to your busy schedules.

A/N: Here's another Tim one that I loved writing. Not really a fluff girl, but I think I wrote something cute. Hope you like it. Don't forget to leave your feedback, it'll help me. Have a great day bubs and lots of love! 🫧

Fluff

Warnings: Not proofread yet, that's it.

Requested: yes Words: 1.8k Requests for Tim are open! GIF not mine, credits to the owner!

Being a rookie was intense. The constant struggle to keep yourself out of dangerous situations and, even more important, to manage them and go home safe and sound was exhausting. Gladly, your T.O. was understanding and his open, talkative personality helped you through when things get complicated.

John Nolan was a man that you trusted with your life and you grew closer, being not just your training officer, but a very important friend in your life. When between you and Tim things weren't going smoothly, he is your go to person. Mostly because you appreciate his advices and on the other hand because you're stuck with him every day, him reading you like a book.

You and Tim have been together for a few months now and it was clear as day that you adore that man with every breath. Tim is not far away from that, his love for you reflecting in his eyes, some might say he smiled in the last couple of months more than he ever did in his whole career at the station.

Music from Tim's car echoed through your mind as you embraced that still moment. No more people talking through the radio, no sirens whiling down the streets, no gunshots fired. Just you and Tim, singing along the radio, his hand resting on your lap as he squeezed it from time to time, sending chills down your spine, memories from the last night you'd spent together reddening your cheeks.

"I was thinking, maybe, you'd want to move in." Tim broke the silence as he checked the mirrors, his car making its way to the station. You hummed at his words, considering that. No more squeezing out your schedules, no more running around to see each other. More Tim tests on your time off work.

"I'll think about it. I love staying with Lucy though." you told him as he parked the car.

"Seriously? When's the last time you saw Lucy?" he quietly laughed.

"Yesterday."

"When's the last day you've been to your apartment?"

"Last..." you tried to remember what day it was. "Saturday."

"And now it's Friday." he pointed out the fact that you spent a whole week at his place.

"I'll think about it." you smiled at him, making him do the same as Tim was about to closed the distance between you two.

A loud knock on the window made you jump right before your lips could meet and Tim grinned at the sight of Lucy. "Speaking of the devil." he murmured frustrated under his breath, making you laugh as you went to greet her.

"Y/N, here's the mail from this week. Didn't know when you'd come home so I thought..." you thanked her, stuffing the envelopes in your purse. "Morning, officer Bradford." Lucy greeted Tim and he welcomed her with his grumpy face.

"Officer Chen" he didn't leave your side, hoping your best friend would disappear, but she grabbed your arm, rambling about her date, stealing you away from your boyfriend.

The morning briefing concluded, leaving a hasty window of respite before the day's duties would fully take hold. In that fleeting moment, you found yourself alone with Tim, the magnetic pull between you palpable in the air.

"Hey," your boyfriend murmured, his voice low and husky as he closed the distance between you. "Be safe out there today, okay?"

Seeing Tim so handsome in that uniform, made your heart skip a beat. His beautiful blue eyes searching you from head to toe, admiring your beauty and playing a wide smile on his lips. A smile that means sinful thoughts are running in his mind.

His words were a tender caress against your ear, sending shivers down your spine as you leaned in, drawn to him like a moth to a flame. Your heart quickened as his hand brushed against yours, the electricity of his touch sending sparks of desire coursing through your veins.

Before you could respond, the sound of approaching footsteps shattered the moment, jolting you back to reality. You turned to see Nolan standing before you, his expression expectant as he awaited your response.

"Ready for patrol, Y/N?" Nolan's voice cut through the air, breaking the intimate spell that had enveloped you and Tim.

You blinked, startled by the sudden intrusion, and turned to face your TO with a forced smile. "Yes, sir, ready to go."

Nolan glanced between you and Tim, his expression shifting from curiosity to understanding as he realized the tension that hung heavy in the air. "Sorry to interrupt," he said, his voice tinged with awkwardness. "I'll let you two carry on."

But before he could make his escape, Tim's voice cut through the silence, his tone laced with frustration and determination.

"Be careful out there, both of you," Tim said, his gaze fixed on you with a mix of concern and love. "And stay safe."

With a curt nod, Tim turned on his heel and made his exit, leaving you and Nolan standing in the wake of his departure. As you watched Tim disappear from sight, a swell of emotions washed over you—frustration at the interrupted moment, longing for the connection you shared with Tim, and gratitude for his unwavering concern for your safety.

Tim's frustration was touching the ceiling. Both of you had plans that night, leaving him longing for the next time you'd be alone again. A next time tagged with a question mark because of your chaotic lives. He wanted to have you close all the time, to make sure he can protect the woman he loved dearly. But above this excuse, Tim wants you close because he needs you. Every touch and little kiss stolen here and there gives him the strength to carry on with his life, gives him an anchor to hold on when things get messy.

The midday sun beat down on the bustling streets of LA as officers gathered around the street food area for their lunch break.

As you and Tim sat together at the table, the bustling activity around you seemed to fade into the background, leaving only the two of you in your own little bubble. Tim's touch was gentle yet possessive as he reached for your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours in a silent declaration of affection.

"You know, Y/N, I think moving in together could be a great step for us," Tim said, his voice soft and tender. "We already spend so much time together anyway, and it would make things so much easier."

You nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you leaned into his touch. "I know, Tim. It's just...a big step, you know? I want to make sure we're both ready for it."

Tim's gaze softened, his eyes filled with understanding as he squeezed your hand gently. "Copy that. We'll take things at your pace, okay? No rush."

His touch sent a thrill racing through you, igniting a warmth that spread from your fingertips to the depths of your soul. His thumb traced delicate patterns on the back of your hand, a tender gesture that spoke volumes without a word being spoken.

The connection between you and Tim was electric, a palpable energy that pulsed between you with each passing moment. His gaze was intense, his eyes filled with a mixture of desire and adoration as he leaned in closer, his lips tantalizingly close to yours.

You could feel the heat of his breath against your skin, the anticipation building to a fever pitch as you inched closer to each other. Just as your lips were about to meet, the voices of your beloved colleagues shattered the moment once more, leaving you both frustrated and longing for more.

"No, I mean is great that Henry is visiting me, don't get me wrong. But I feel like this weekend is going to fly by so fast and the chief already approved my OT for both days and I feel like we won't spend so much time together." Nolan ramble about his son and they sat down beside you and Tim.

"Tell me about it." your boyfriend scoffed as he caressed your thigh, his tone tinged with frustration.

For Tim, each interruption felt like a cruel twist of fate, a barrier preventing him from fully expressing the depth of his love for you. He yearned for the stolen moments, the brief glimpses of intimacy that left him craving more. With each interruption, his frustration grew, a silent plea echoing in his mind for just a few moments alone with you.

"I already spoke with him and he's gonna meet us tonight at the bar" you told John as you savoured the food in front of you.

"But I thought he's coming tomorrow." Nolan frowned and Tim raised his eyebrows at your words. He knew you meet them now and then after shift, but he didn't know that was your plan for tonight, instead of spending it with him.

The constant interruptions felt like a cruel reminder of the obstacles standing between you and Tim. You longed for the stolen kisses and whispered words, moments of intimacy that seemed to slip through your fingers before they could fully blossom. Each interruption left you feeling incomplete, aching for the chance to bask in Tim's presence without the prying eyes of your colleagues.

"Surprise."

As the lunch break drew to a close and the time came for you to return to patrol, Tim's frustration was palpable. He shot you a longing look, his eyes silently pleading for just a few more moments alone together.

He walked you to the shop and when you made sure Nolan was already inside and away from your whispering, you turned to him and intertwined your fingers together.

"So that's the plan you have tonight, huh?" he asked you, clearly not feeling very happy that you chose them over you. He had plans too, watching tonight's game with his friends. Some important game he said, but if it was to choose, he'd rather spend the night with you than watch it.

"Well, they asked me to join after you said you have plans. I thought maybe some time apart from each other would be nice." you admit.

"Some more time apart?" he questioned.

"Maybe it's best if I move in." you told him after Nolan informed you about a call that was just dispatched to you. Tim smiled, softly grabbing your cheeks, finally placing a kiss after long hours of watching you from distance.

"I'll see you tonight, Y/N," Tim said, his voice tinged with regret as he watched you leave. "Be safe out there, okay?"

You nodded, a bittersweet smile playing at the corners of your lips as you bid him farewell. And as you headed back out onto the streets, the memory of Tim's tender touch and loving gaze lingered in your mind, a reminder of the love that bound you together, even in the face of interruptions and obstacles.

#tim #tim bradford #tim bradford x you #tim bradford one shots #tim bradford the rookie #tim bradford imagines #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford x reader #tim the rookie #the rookie imagine #the rookie x reader #the rookie

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illyrianbitch · 15 days

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Handsome as Life and Poison

For @erisweekofficial Day 6: Retellings

Pairing: Reader x Eris

Summary: Defying your father’s sacred command, you wander to the grove where Spring and Autumn blend, only to encounter a sinfully divine figure with glowing amber eyes.

Warnings: sexual content/smut, nsfw! religious & biblical undertones & allusions, reader is overly innocent/naive, implied loss of virginity, sinner eris

Word Count: 3.5k

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

You shouldn't be here.

You can feel it in your bones.

You've never traveled this far, never managed to make it to the border. Your father warned you about this area, where the bloom of spring meets the decay of autumn.

He says that there is evil that lurks under the canopy of fire trees, that the blood of Autumn is so cruel it's cursed their very ground. Father has warned you that if you were to come across a fall beast, you would never return. At least, not the way you once were.

You understand his concerns—to a certain extent. He's protective. He has a certain plan for your life. Safety, purity, security above all. And father has been stressed recently, twitching hands and sharp reprimands.

Your High Lord has descended into madness, moving on all fours, his paws sinking into the mud, more beast than man. He prowls in the darkness now, no better than the creatures he once cared for, and your father believes there’s safety in the small village you call home.

It’s far enough from the heart of Spring to grant a quiet, predictable life. The faces around you never change, familiar and worn like the stones that line the village paths. It's peaceful, quaint—a life promised to you forever once you marry Adramis, the neighbor’s son.

Until then, your father urges you to stay safe, to temper the curiosity he knows stirs within you, the kind that might lead you too far, too soon.

Yet, despite his warnings, you find yourself here, day after day, drawn to the very place you’ve been commanded to avoid.

It's prettier, somehow, at this time of day— in the dim dusk, when the birds are beginning to tire. The air is tinged with an unfamiliar chill, a whisper of the season’s change that beckons you closer. You can see the colors of the autumn leaves clearly, watch as they sway in an intricate dance of red, orange and gold.

The movements stir something within you—a call like the ancient siren songs your father once spoke of, drawing you into the twilight's fire embrace. You take another step further into the shifting hues of the forest.

The rustling of leaves comes to your ears—soft, hesitant, as though a beast moves swiftly through the underbrush. The sounds intensify, multiplying by the second.

Beasts, you think, multiple.

You catch a fleeting glimpse of red hair through the tangled foliage, a figure half-hidden by the encroaching shadows.

You stop, and a sickening thrill rolls through you. You should turn back. But a phantom hand seems to beckon to you, an invisible thread leading you deeper.

Then you see him.

His clothes, finer than any you’ve seen even at your High Lord’s court, cling to his tall, lean frame, the dark green fabric glinting with gold thread that catches the last remnants of the fading sun. Each detail—his long, tailored coat, the sharp lines of his collar—speaks of wealth, power, and a meticulous cruelty you’ve only heard whispers about.

Your breath hitches. You know, deep down, who he is.

He’s surrounded by beasts, ferocious creatures with eyes gleaming in the half-light, their snarls low and guttural. Their presence should terrify you, yet you can barely hear them over the thundering in your chest. You count more of them than you have fingers, but with a subtle motion of the prince's hand, they fall still. Regal, patient, they sit at his side, watching you with the same unnerving calm as their master.

He studies you.

You want to take a step forward, to speak to him, but a rustling sound breaks through the stillness behind you. You turn sharply, scanning the underbrush.

From your side, a firm hand clasps around your arm, jerking you back with startling urgency. Almost immediately, once your body has been moved, the touch leaves you.

You meet the frantic gaze of your fiancé. His eyes are wide and his chest is rising and falling with uneven breaths. He ran here, you conclude. Past the border of Spring.

He's scared. Not just for you—but of something else entirely. Adramis is afraid of your father more than he is of what lurks in these forests.

"What are you doing here?"

“I saw—” You turn quickly, pointing toward where the figure stood moments before, but the woods are empty. The fire hue of his hair, the regal presence, the hounds—all gone, swallowed by the shifting shadows of the trees.

You glance back at Adramis. He's staring at you with furrowed brows, lips pressing together as if he's unsure whether to scold or comfort, wary as if you were troubled in the mind. His eyes scan your face, searching for something. You're not sure what.

“It’s almost dark,” he says, his voice calm but insistent. “We should get back.”

There’s no question in his tone. It’s not a suggestion, not really. He’s telling you—gently, but still telling you. He'd never force you, no, Adramis is sweet. Simple. But he’s a male and you are his promised bride. What good would you be if you were to get lost in the autumn woods?

Nothing at all, you suppose.

You don’t answer him. Your mind wanders to the fire-haired prince, to his amber eyes and the strange pull that brought you here.

Your silence seems to worry Adramis more. He steps closer, his hand hovering near your skin but never making contact, as if he’s afraid to touch you.

“Are you feeling alright?”

His voice is soft. Too soft, almost, to where it makes you shiver uncomfortably, like the touch of something too light, too ghostly.

You momentarily expect him to reach out, to place his delicate hand on your forehead or gently touch the flushed skin of your neck. But Adramis only hesitates, his hand hovering in the air for a moment longer before pulling back.

Too good for his nature, too holy to even touch you with a bare hand.

With a slight shake of your head, you dispel the strange sensation that lingers.

“No, I’m alright." You blink and muster a smile. "Thank you.”

He nods, though his eyes remain troubled. You follow him back toward the familiar warmth of home, casting one final, reluctant glance at the encroaching shadows of where autumn's decay kisses the air.

The leaves are aflame with fading light, but beyond them, the darkness waits—quiet, watchful, tempting.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

You're grateful for the familiar routine of your father’s sleeping hours, for the certainty that he wouldn't wake for another few hours.

The sun is still waking now, too, its low, gentle light spilling into the navy sky. It is as slow and tentative as you, quiet in its bearings.

The air is cool and biting, the kind of chill that lingers in the space between night and day.

You wrap your cloak tighter against yourself. It's a thin fabric, white with green thread. It does little to ward off the morning’s bite, but you don’t mind. You welcome the cool breaths that manage to slither past the soft cloth.

The scent of the autumn forest is sharper, more vivid than the soft blooms of home, where everything is neat and ordered. It smells richer, more alive. As traitorous as it feels, you almost prefer it.

It’s only a short walk before you find yourself in the familiar patch of trees. The autumn leaves sing their song, that same siren call that led you here again.

And he’s there—alone this time. Waiting.

His amber eyes gleam and shine with a glow that you’re certain is sinful. You know, deep down, that you should leave, that holding even his gaze, with that burning stare, is treacherous. But you do not.

You're unsure of what to say, unsure if you should wait for him to speak. He pushes himself off the tree he'd rested against.

"Hello again, little lamb."

His voice drips with a smooth, hypnotic cadence. It wraps around you like an incantation, compelling and unholy.

It's strange to see him before you, to have him acknowledge you, to hear his voice directly. You glance around him almost instinctively, as if expecting his hounds to materialize from the shadows, to form a regal, beastly, floor-lain crown once more.

As if he senses your question by look alone, he lets out a small laugh.

"It's early," he says. "Even beasts must sleep at times, too."

Against your better judgment, the corners of your lips twitch upwards. He scans your face, taking another step towards you. You stand still, remain in the spot you had froze in. He begins to study you, walks around you like a shrine.

"A bit far from your home. Curiosity must be a powerful force."

He stops before you. You can smell him now. It envelops you—rich and intoxicating, a blend of autumn leaves and something darker, more primal. You clench at the sensation, a sweet tingle spreading through your body. It courses from your head to your fingertips, settling deep in your now aching core.

"My father says it's my nature."

Eris hums. The answer seems to please him. "And what else does your father say?"

You admire him for a fleeting moment. When the gentle breeze rakes its fingers through his hair, it glows like a live fire. Freckles dot his skin, spread across the pale coloring like the stars you adore in the sky. His eyes are a molten gold that match the detailing on his fine coat.

"That I shouldn't be here," you finally respond.

A serpent-like smile curls at his lips. It spreads slowly.

"And yet here you are."

You nod. The faintest shiver of fear lingers in your veins, but you're unable to tear your eyes from him. You feel an inexplicable pull, wishing for him to come closer, to feel the brush of his presence against you.

Eris takes a step forward, his hand extending to graze the edge of your cloak. The touch is feather-light, a barely-there whisper of contact that sends a jolt through you. But it's firmer than Adramis's touch. It leaves you wanting more.

"Do you know who I am?"

You nod again. "Prince," you say, almost timidly. Quiet like a prey. "Son of the High Lord."

"Eris," he corrects. "My name is Eris."

"Eris," you repeat, his name falling from your lips like a comfortable prayer. You want to say it again, to taste the sweetness it offers your senses.

"And you are?"

You pause, brows furrowing slightly as you hold his gaze. His eyes still gleam, still glow with something so deliciously sinful, but something in them coaxes an answer from you.

"Y/n."

A moment passes. Eris takes a breath.

"Why did you return, Y/n?"

The way he says your name—a silky caress, a whispered secret—makes you yearn for him to repeat it, to let it roll off his tongue again and again. You have never heard anything so beautiful, so mouth-watering. You've never felt a desire this strong.

You struggle to find words, your head shaking slightly. “I-I don’t know.”

Eris’s gaze drifts to your lips, eyes darkening with a predatory curiosity. You're acutely aware of your lip trapped between your teeth and self-consciously release it, swallowing hard.

His eyes are intense as he meets yours again, almost devouring. But not scary. Not terrifying like you'd once believed.

"Does your village bore you?"

He knows where you live. That buried sense of fear begins to flare and you blink, swallowing hard as you take his presence in once more. He doesn't move, doesn't say anything else. Slowly, the fear dissipates.

"Yes," you admit. There is a stillness in your home that bores you. It makes your bones ache with craving. "But it is all I know."

He studies you for what feels like an eternity, his gaze intense and all-consuming. His hand, almost imperceptibly, brushes against the fabric of your cloak once more.

"You should return home, little lamb. Your father is going to worry."

Eris turns and leaves before you have a chance to respond.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

The secret should make you feel dirty, feel guilty like a reckless child, but it does not.

You wake before dawn and, like clockwork, you're traveling before the first ray of morning.

It's become routine now.

You approach the familiar area, where the border of Autumn seems to hold its breath, waiting for you. And there, amid the crimson and gold of fallen leaves, lies Eris.

He’s sprawled on a blanket laid out on the ground, a feast spread before him. The array of foods is a vision plucked from your most indulgent dreams, an array of rich, and tempting dishes. Your mouth waters at the sight—at the lavish feast and the male who has provided it.

"Come," he beckons and pats the blanket beside him. "Sit."

You lower yourself, the fabric soft beneath you. The scents of the feast rise to meet you, mingling in the crisp autumn air. You turn to him, your large eyes drinking in the sight before you, the face of celestial allure: hair like a smoldering fire, eyes glowing with the golden light of autumnal sunsets. Eris’s features are etched with an ethereal grace that seems both ancient and timeless. With each passing day, you find yourself yearning to worship at his feet, to forge a devotion just for him.

“Eris?”

A melodic hum leaves his throat. “Yes, little lamb?”

“Why do you call me that? ‘Little lamb.’”

Eris's fingers graze your cheek, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear. His touch is gentle, almost reverent. "I believe you know," he murmurs, his voice a low, soothing caress.

"Why did you seek me out again?” You ask him, “Why do you wait here?"

A smile curls at the corners of his mouth. He lets his fingers trace the line of your lips, his touch light as a sigh. “I believe you know that, too.”

Eris's eyes glint with something that seems almost divine. It is unlike anything that you’ve ever known, nothing like the stories your father has told you. Your gaze drifts to the feast laid out before you. You reach for a small, perfectly ripe apple, its glossy skin catching the muted light. The fruit feels cool and smooth against your fingers.

Somehow, autumn's bounty surpasses even the lush abundance of spring.

A sense of longing stirs within you.

How naïve you had been to think that your village, your court, held all the wonders the world had to offer. You had planned to stay, to settle into a life of security and predictability, never daring to venture beyond what was known.

You turn to Eris once more. His eyes flicker, amber catching the light as he reaches out, fingers brushing against your arm. His touch is featherlight, yet it sends a ripple of warmth through you.

Your voice is barely a whisper as you confess, "I want to know a life bigger than my village."

“You wish to be free, little lamb?” He trails his hand down to where the apple rests in your grip, and with a slow motion, he gently takes it from you. "I can show you," he murmurs, turning the fruit over in his palm. His voice is like honey, rich and smooth. "You’ll know life—pleasure, want. All of it."

A tingle spreads through your body at his words, your breath shallow as you nod, leaning unconsciously into the heat of his presence.

“Yes," you breathe, the word barely a whisper. "I want to be free.”

Eris’s lips curl into a grin, a quiet satisfaction settling in his gaze. He looks pleased, eager, as if he’s waited for this moment since time itself began. He draws closer and you can feel his presence everywhere, consuming, enveloping.

His lips brush against your ear. “Then let me show you.”

The apple falls from his hand, forgotten. He inches closer, the space between you dissolving as his warmth spills over you. A hand finds the delicate line of your throat, fingers grazing against your pulse. With the lightest pressure, he lifts your chin, tilting your face toward his. His touch feels like a benediction.

He’s so close now that his breath melds with yours, the air around you thick with the scent of earth and fire. The world shrinks and the only thing that exists is him—his heat, his gaze, the slow, measured closeness that steals away your reason. His lips hover just above yours, and the ache of not touching nearly brings you to begging.

The first brush of his mouth against yours is light, a whisper, a tease, and you tremble beneath it. And then he claims you, his lips pressing against yours with a slow, haunting fervor. Your body goes slack as his movements seem to weave a spell, binding you to him with every caress of his tongue, every sigh he draws from your lips.

You feel him guiding you, lowering you gently onto the blanket beneath, the world beneath you falling away. Eris hovers above you and dips his head, pressing his lips to the soft skin of your neck. His mouth sears your senses as he works his way down, the press of his touch growing heavier, more possessive with every inch.

“Such beauty,” he murmurs, “Unfolding before me like the dawn. You were meant to be here.”

His words fall like a decree, a promise, and his lips continue their journey down, parting from your skin only to explore further. His fingers find the fabric of your dress.

The air shifts around you, something soft brushing against your skin, falling away with the gentleness of leaves in autumn, leaving you bare to the elements—and to Eris. The cool air grazes your skin in places untouched by even the sun.

His calloused hands explore your bare form, one cupping your breast, fingers pressing and kneading with a practiced touch. His lips follow, settling on the other, and your hands grip the blanket beneath you— knuckles white as he demands your gaze to remain on him. His tongue circles your nipple, amber eyes locked with yours, burning, all consuming.

Eris continues his careful exploration, moving downward as his lips follow the path of his hands.

Fingers spread you apart with a confident touch.

The sensation is profound and awakening, a mingling of sacred heat and cool anticipation. The essence of your very being is laid bare before him. You feel the brush of his fingertips against the tender places, feel as his lips follow with a similar reverence, their touch becoming a worship of its own.

And then he devours you with his mouth and hands.

His tongue traces every inch of your throbbing core, flicking and teasing your sensitive nub. Your entire body quivers beneath him. You’re overwhelmed by a tidal wave of sensations you’ve never known before—an innocent purity being slowly unraveled and transformed by his touch alone. You tangle a hand in his auburn hair as his fingers plunge deep inside you, scissoring and pumping, working you over until you’re a quivering mess of desire.

Your body responds instinctively. You’re writhing and squirming, small sounds of pleasure falling from your lips. He bathes in the moans, groans in response as you repeat his name like a prayer.

Eris sits up and soon you’re staring at his sculpted form, bare before you, ready to be worshiped, touched as he had explored you. His hardened length rests against you, blunt tip against your aching core, and you tighten your legs around him, pulling him closer. The crown of him splits you open with a steady pressure and he fills you completely, a divine intrusion that makes you gasp with the pleasure of being so thoroughly claimed.

Eris stills, his body pressed flush against yours, your walls clenching around him as you adjust to the new, overwhelming sensation. His face nuzzles into the crook of your neck, his hand cupping your breast, thumb teasing your nipple in slow, deliberate strokes.

“Let me show you how pleasurable life can be.” Eris leans down, his lips brushing against yours in a tender caress. “Just tell me you’re mine.”

You arch into him. “I’m yours,” you whisper, voice trembling with surrender. “Free me.”

And as he begins to move, begins to roll his hips against yours, you turn your head, gaze falling to the apple lying beside you, untouched yet no longer gleaming—its perfect surface now bruised, smeared with the dirt of the earth.

Father was right about one thing.

You'd come across a beast, indeed, and you could never return.

Not fully.

Not the way you once were.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

author's note: happy retelling day from ur local exmormon!! im an eve defender till i die. biblical lore goes crazyyyy

as always, thank you for reading <3

permanent tag list 🫶🏻:

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@evergreenlark @marina468 @azriels-human @book-obsessed124 @bubybubsters

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@angel-graces-world-of-chaos

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brightjimini · 2 years

Text

High up in the tower

Xavier Thorpe x reader

The sirens song reaches y/n later than other students..

Warnings: reader gets hurt and spoilers for ep 8. (Havent really checked the spelling yet.)

word count: 1.2K

masterlist (from this wannabe writer)

A/N: I love Xavier in the show. I love the whole show. But he has a special place in my heart. I actually was supposed to post a Burce Wayne fic today.. but I got distracted by the show. Sooo I had to write something for this character. Let me know you thought!

The only thing that was going through my mind was that there was danger. What kind of danger? I didn't know, and the fear that clouded my mind did not allow any time to think rationally. I just had to get out of the school.

The problem was that my tiny single room was in one of the highest towers at Nevermore. I hurried down the steps as fast as I could. Nothing else mattered to me, I just had to get out. A tiny voice in the back of my head screamed at me that something was wrong. This did not feel natural. But my body did not listen.

The sounds of screams and footsteps could be heard echoing through the halls. I finally made it downstairs. Another sound reached my ears. A deep shout echoed through the halls of the ground floor. “-you abominations from this earth!” As far as I could see the hall that I was running through was empty and the angry screams came from somewhere by the fountain.

I just made it past one of the open windows when from the corner of my eye a sudden bright light came closer. The fear I felt was not unnatural anymore and as I put one of my arms up in instinct my body lifted off the ground and I was slammed against the stone wall.

There was a ringing in my head. Everything felt too hot and some places on my body were very painful. Without realizing it I had opened my eyes. It took a while for my eyes to get used to everything and be able to concentrate on something. That something being a boy with long blond hair and pale skin. He was kneeling over me. His mouth was moving but I could not hear what he said.

My brain was foggy and it felt like every sense was coming in too late. The air smelled burnt and when I felt something pressing against my back I realized it was the hand of the boy. That I still could not recognize.

Another man's face came into my line of sight. He looked older and had shorter blond hair. At least that is what I thought because there wasn't that much light. My body was picked up off the ground. There was something familiar about the younger boy. His name was on the tip of my tongue. Blue and red lights illuminated his neck and jaw. Before I could come up with his name my eyes closed and everything went silent.

The smell of lavender, cheap soap and antiseptic is the first thing I noticed when I slowly started to gain consciousness. With a little bit of effort I opened my eyes. Light streamed into the room from a window at my left. I heard footsteps coming down a hall towards the room I was in. I was in a giant hospital bed. The walls were an ugly light turquoise color. My upper body laid down against surprisingly soft pillows. So that I could clearly see what was happening around me. The door in the right corner opened.

“Xavier?” My voice sounded very different than normal. My throat was dry and my voice cracked in the middle of his name. He hurried towards me and sat down on a stool that was next to my bed. My eyes found the source of the lavender smell. A bouquet of lavender was on the plastic table next to get well soon cards, a pot of honey and a black book.

“You told me the smell calms you down. Everyone sent you something even Wednesday.”

I smiled at the kindness and looked back at Xavier, he was wearing his uniform, but without the blue and black striped blazer. Instead he wore a vest on top of it. I looked back at his eyes. He had a worried expression on his face and my smile dropped.

“What happened?” I asked. That seemed to bring him back out of his thoughts. He reached for a water pitcher and poured some water in a plastic cup and handed it to me. While I was taking a few sips he kinda filled me in on what happened. A crazy man from the past came back from the dead to kill all the outcasts. The sirens had used their song to get everyone out. But because my room was high up in one of the towers it probably reached me a little later. He didn't tell me every detail, but promised he would when I was healed enough.

Almost my entire right arm was covered in white bandages from the burns. A part of my hair was also burned. I had a concussion and a few other little wounds and bruises.

Xavier had found me in the hall after the crazy pilgrim was killed by Wednesday. I did not remember that part but I was conscious. I only had images in my head that were blue and red. Sadly Principal Weems was killed. He stopped explaining what happened at that point.

“I should probably let you rest now, your parents are coming later today. Everyone is going home tomorrow.” He said. “They- The rest of the semester is canceled. After, you know everything..” His shoulders dropped and he leaned his head against the bed.

It was silent for a while. The only thing I could hear were people passing the room we were in. Carefully I lifted my right arm and stroked his long hair. “Thank you.” I said after a while. The water had helped a little. He softly grabbed my hand and sat up. That is when I noticed the tears in his eyes.

“I thought you died.” The pain in his voice was clear. I did not know how to respond to that.

It seemed like he also did not expect one because he said: “I like you- I don't know- maybe even love you. But when I saw you laying there the only thing that was going through my mind was-” He took a deep breath and wiped a few of his tears away. I felt my own eyes water.

“I was just praying that you werent.” He coughed and his grip on my hand tightened. I didn't even notice the slight pain that went up my arm.

I was used to trying to lighten painful moments with my dumb humor. So the first thing that came out was.

“Well i'm glad that I'm not.” smiling at him. Xavier let out a laugh and wiped the rest of his tears away.

“But- yeah.. I like you too.” My voice suddenly more timid and shy. I had never confessed my feelings for someone. He leaned closer to the bed and pressed a kiss to my hand. And clutched it between both of his hands.

I forgot that we were in a public space for a moment and the door of the room opened. Xavier and I both looked as a nurse with a clipboard walked in. Her eyes went from him to me and again from him to me.

“I told you to call out when she woke up.”

#xavier thorpe #xavier x reader #xavier imagine #xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe imagine #wednesday #wednesday addams #wednesday netflix #wednesday netflix imagine #wednesday imagine #fic #writing #please show up in the tags

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perrywrites · 11 months

Text

Asking “Can you… Can you hold my hand?” during your first time together, part 2;

NSFW

Part 1 (Isagi, Hiori, Bachira) and part 3 (Reo, Chigiri, Nagi) and part 4 (Rin, Sae, Kunigami) and part 5 (Otoya, Oliver, Yukimiya) and part 6 (Kaiser, Ness, Kiyora)

Includes; Barou, Shidou, Karasu

Barou: ever so stringent with his principles, he makes you come on his fingers first, gaze dark and hungry as he looks on at your expressions twisting and body writhing in ecstasy. Rough hands grabby and kisses so overpowering you can only whimper and accept his domination, just the way he likes it. That’s how you’re supposed to be, submissive and pliant, all weak whimpers and powerless for him, and just him. He can barely restrain himself, grip tense and firm on your hips as he positions himself. He has prepared you enough, right? He can take what he wants now, right? He’ll stop if you say no. He will, he really will, even if his cock is painful, angry-looking, like it’s about to burst. He will stop, but God knows, he really doesn’t want you to say no right now. You don’t say no, but you do make a request that makes a growl come out from the back of his throat. You’re so powerless beneath him, helpless, eyes large and watery, he has to be careful with you, he remembers, his hand awkwardly reaching out to yours to give you the intimacy you yearn for. Gently, far too gently, like you’re already his wedded wife, he presses a chaste kiss on your forehead. You’re his woman after all, if he can’t even satisfy you and take care of you, he’s a failure as a partner. He pulls away from your forehead, and asks you yet again if you’re ready. He asks, holding back the urges telling him to just rail you and make you cry on his cock. That’ll come, and it’ll come later, once he’s taken your virginity, once you’re begging for his cock, begging for him to fuck you like he wants to fuck you. You’re his woman after all, there’s no way you won’t be begging for more once he’s done with you.

Shidou: you’re finally letting him do this with you, have you like this, weak and vulnerable under his touch. He’s greedy and unrelenting with the way he keeps on kissing you, wet and hot - he wants to mess you up so bad, fuck. Yeah, make sure his name is the only thing on your mind, hm? His hands grope, his touch hungry and insatiable. Come on, don’t try and hide those pretty sounds, he knows you’re a naughty girl, huh? Shit, maybe even naughtier than him - that flushed expression of yours, eyes squeezed tightly as your lips quiver, so lewd. So fucking lewd. Can you make an ever dirtier expression? He bets he can make you make an even lewder face, have you moan and cry out like his own personal cockslut as he pounds into you. He wants to watch your eyes roll back, head tilted back as you arch your back, his name your every prayer. It’s so romantic that you’re letting him corrupt you like this, letting him see all those erotic expressions as you unravel under his touch and mouth - yet somehow you manage to draw him in even closer. You want him to hold your hand? Was it not enough to ensnare him like a siren? Fuck, yeah, he’ll hold your hand, he’ll fuck you and keep holding onto your hand. He intertwines his hand with yours and then hikes up one of your legs over his shoulder. Love is so sweet, huh? He grins, manic; it’s going to be a long night. Hold on tight, because he’s not letting you go until your used body has satiated his hunger for you. He wants you to see you depraved and out of it, fucked dumb, a view only for him and no other man. You can give it to him, right? Well, he’s taking it either way. He loves you after all, even if it’s a little sick.

Karasu: he has you beneath him, exactly right where he wants. His touch is unrelenting, persistent, greedy - impatient to hear more of those sweet whimpers that are going straight down to his cock. Fuck, that voice, how do you sound so erotic yet sweet? He needs to make you cry on his cock, bet you’d sound even sweeter then, choking out his name and crying out in that broken voice of yours, face and body all flushed because of his ministrations. Oh, it’ll probably be even better than his imagination. He bites down on his bottom lip to suppress a low groan, panting slightly before he continues teasing you, his voice raspy and low, “Oh? Does it feel that good…? Come on, don’t fall apart yet, we haven’t even gotten to the main event yet, eh?” His hand drags down your sides and squeezes perversely the flesh of your thigh, enjoying the way you jump and the surprised mewl that spills from your bruised lips. Honestly, as much as he wants to drag this out, watch the tears pooling on your lash line spill down throughout the night as the moon ages, make you dumb and babbling before he takes you on his cock, you’re sounding too good. Way too good. He can’t wait any longer. He might just bust untouched at this rate. And that’s no good, right? So he has you spreading your legs for him then, encouraging you with naughty whispers that have you whimpering, and then he pauses as you mumble a shaky sentence. And then he chuckles, pulling himself up and away from the side of your face as he smirks down at you. You’re blushing, shaking, all shy, eyes misty and dazed, and oh god, he can’t take it anymore. He reaches out to your hand, firmly grabbing it and holding it down as he presses a surprisingly delicate kiss at your lips. Don’t be mistaken, though, that kiss might just be the last gentle thing of the night. He wanted to be gentle for your first time since you’re trusting him with it, but since you’ve said something so cute, riled him up so much, you can handle it if he completely ruins you on his cock, right? I mean, you’re his now. Don’t complain too much - or maybe you should do it. If you keep on babbling in that shaky whimpery voice of yours, he can promise you that you’re not going to be leaving that bed until the morning - if you can walk, that is.

#blue lock #bllk #bllk smut #blue lock smut #barou shouei #bllk barou #barou shoei x reader #barou x reader #barou smut #shidou ryusei #shidou x reader #bllk shidou #shidou smut #shidou x you #karasu tabito #karasu x reader #karasu x you #bllk karasu #karasu smut

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sinning-23 · 11 months

Text

Net (Shanks x Siren!Reader)

warmings; none

enjoy loviesss

Pt.2 found here

Scales of opal catch against the harsh netting, tearing them from your tail. You thrash around, breathing raged as you claw feverishly. Tears fill your eyes as the horror of your situation settles in.

You’re surrounded by men, all of whom are either too afraid to come closer or are simply watching you spiral into a panic attack. The sound of your jewelry clangs as they tangle with netting. You scream, the men covering their ears at the pitch and ferocity of the sound.

Your native tongue rolls off your lips with a hiss and you pull some of the net off your face and arms, it's wrapped tightly around your dorsal fin, the digging drawing more blood now. It mixes with the puddle of seawater on the deck, staining it red. They'd kill you...use you, sell you maybe.... mermaids were nice, but a siren...sirens were more of a treat considering they are far harder to catch

Helplessly, you curl into yourself.

"Captain, it was caught in one of the nets." One speaks, the rest of the men making space for this so called 'Captain' to observe you.

The blow of a sword never comes, and your scales are met with a gentle, warm touch. You flinch, trying to crawl away only to have the net that was very much so injuring you, tug against a tail. You yelp, feeling your legs begin to form from being dry for so long.

You still fight, trying to use the shredds of the net to cover. It proves to be unnecessary though, when a much larger, less torn piece of fabric covers you.

"You’re injured. Let us help." He speaks, finally earnign your attention.

And there it is. The calm silence that makes you slow. Lucky is what you were, that you'd been accidentally caught by a different kind of pirate. His eyes scan yours, not a hint of malice written in them.

Your gills are melding into your skin now, not completely hidden though, they always seemed to leave a sparkle behind along the flesh there. Your whole body did, hints of what looked like glittery scale tattoos covering parts of your neck and shoulders. He cuts the net now, your new legs scratched pretty deep.

_______________

The bath was warm, somehow soothing against your injuries as you gently cleansed your body with a simple soap and cloth. The red-haired Captain insisted you stay in his quarters for the time being, just until you were washed up and relaxed. You didn't speak, still trying to comprehend the language, your brain far more advanced in the sense that you only had to listen to one or two conversations to pick up a language. The light rapping at the door pulls you from your thoughts your eyes focused on the slap of wood.

"Yes?" Your voice is shaky, as if unsure of how to use it.

He clears his throat, trying to find the words.

"You're more than welcome to stay aboard until your injuries heal. And, then you're free to go." He explains, awaiting a response.

They weren't going to kill you? Had you actually lucked out and landed amongst some, less violent pirates? No. No they were definitely violent, but maybe only when they needed to be? Earlier had they seen no reason to be violent with you? Or fearful?

They really did just want to help...guilt floods your chest and you one your mouth to speak, an accent slightly remaining from your native tongue as you try to adapt to the English.

"Thank you"

_____6 weeks_________

Your legs were fully healed now, but you had yet to make your great escape back to the ocean.Mostly in slight fear of being captured by a ship far less friendlier but also in fear of never seeing him again. You had managed to spend every minute of the last 42 days shadowing him, helping his crew, and making yourself useful. At this point, you didn't really want to leave, and damn it could he tell.

You shared more...intimate touches than any Captain would a crewmate, and you couldn't help but melt at the new feeling. He was charming funny, and witty. He ensured you were safe, always having your pinkies interlinked or keeping you close in any way he could.

One night, he found you sitting alone at the ships helm, hair being blown by the breeze and moonlight dresses you in aglow. Your skin is illuminated with glitter, most likely just your biology as a mermaid. In any case, he's entranced. And while he takes in your calmed form, he hears it. The thing that made you a siren in the first place. that beautiful, beautiful voice. Low tones and melodies whisper lyrics he couldn't understand but he didn't care.

He just wanted to hear more of it. You freeze when one of the floor boards creaks underneath him and your head whips around in surprise. Shanks throws his hands up in defense and you flash a smile in return.

"Are you spying on me?" you joke, moving to come face-to-face with him. He shakes his head with that boyish grin.

“Not innitially, your voice caught me off guard guppy." He teases, the nickname making your heart jump.

"Why dont you go back home?" He asks, seeing your gaze move to the pitch black ocean below.

You swallow, debating wether you should amit to your current feelings for the Captain.

" Im scared I'll be captured again... and if I leave what if I never see you again." You voice, inhaling sharply whenhe wraps around you in a warm embrace.

You return it, finding yourself breathing him in with a smile, your arms squeezing him just as tightly as he was squeezing you.

“Then stay, y/n. With me.” He speaks, lifting your chin so your eyes meet.

You only nod, your lips connecting with his in a silent agreement. It’s soft but feverish, your bodies flush against one another and for once you were thankful to have been snagged in that net.

#x reader #reader is black #one piece #headcannons #one piece live action #opla shanks #one piece shanks #shanks x reader #shanks #one piece shanks x reader #reader is a mermaid

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coloursflyaway · 16 days

Note

So uh, in the wake of the cancellation news I’ve been re reading your dbda fanfics.

Not sure if you’re planning on writing more but if you are, have you considered something where Charles meets Desire of the Endless? It’s something a lot of people have talked about for S2 and since we might not actually get to see it on screen, I’d love to see your interpretation of it. Anyway, even though the cancellation news makes me really sad I have so much love to you and all the creators in this little community 💗

Hi anon ♥♥

I know, I was so sad about the news of the show being cancelled 😭 they absolutely would have deserved to get at least one more season!!

And here you go, I had a lot of fun with this!

---

The world falls away, turns red and plastic and velvet, and where Edwin had been, looking through a spellbook they had recently acquired, a person sits that Charles has never seen before. They are tall, slender, graceful, their platinum blonde hair coiffed so perfectly that Charles can’t help but wonder how it would feel to push his hands through it.

“Well, well, well”, blood-red lips drawl, one corner rising. “You have left me waiting for far too long, so I thought I would make time for a formal introduction.”

The person rises, alluring and cat-like in their elegance, and Charles has to suppress a shudder; part of him wants to run away, part of him wants to get closer. There is something woven into every motion of their body, a siren song, and Charles feels himself grow weaker to it with every second he spends in their presence.

“Who are you?”, he grits out, thinks of Edwin and how confused he must be, thinks of Crystal and Niko and Jenny, thinks of everything but this. “What do you want from me?”

The figure laughs softly, musically, and takes another step towards him, so that Charles can make out the gold of their eyes, framed by heavy lashes and kohl.

“They call me Desire”, they answer, like they are indulging a child, then hold out their hand, like they expect Charles to kiss it. “And I know just who you are, Charles Rowland. You and your little friend, the one who looks at you when he thinks you don’t notice. It would be quite adorable, had I not been watching it for the past few decades.”

“What do you want with Edwin? You don’t touch him, I swear, or I’ll-”, Charles starts, a fire burning in his chest that he only knows from situations like this, when someone, or something, is threatening the best friend he has ever had.

And yet, his body moves by itself, hand coming up to grasp Desire’s in his, spine bending, lips pressing a feather-light kiss to the back of it; the touch is brief and yet it makes his skin tingle, pleasure sparking in his palms, his lips, his fingernails.

“Absolutely nothing”, Desire tells him, pulling back a hand Charles didn’t realise he was still holding; his skin misses the touch immediately, even if Charles hates the thought of it. “It’s my dear sister who has taken an interest in him. I would never interfere in her affairs like this.”

They cock their head, and their gaze is so heavy it feels like a physical touch, half a caress, half fingernails dragging down Charles’ skin, both leaving a mark on what feels like his very soul.

“And me?”, he asks, even though he knows he doesn’t want to hear the answer.

Desire smiles, fingertips and claws trailing down Charles’ spine, and leans in until Charles is enveloped by their aura, their intensity, which all but feels like a scalding bath, almost smells like cedarwood and smoke and honey, sounds close to violins and gravel and the song of planets circling the sun.

“Oh, you”, they breathe out, and Charles cannot suppress the shudder, doesn’t know if he wants to anymore. “You already belong to me.”

#dead boy detective agency #edwin payne #edwin paine #charles rowland #painland #payneland #paynland #chedwin #charles x edwin #edwin x charles

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thursdaygxrls · 1 year

Text

A Lesson in Biology

summary — sirius has a midnight craving.

pairing — vampire!sirius black x fem!reader

disclaimer — i don’t own sirius black (sighhh) or the gif used

warnings — mentions of blood, oral (fem receiving), general smut, and (say it with me now) unedited

no one asked for this but sirius is literally so yummy i couldn’t contain myself

He comes to her at night — he always does. It’s stupid, and he chastises himself for the giddy feeling that warms his frozen body. She makes him feel like a fucking teenager and it’s disgusting.

He can see the dim, yellow glow of light coming from her window when he arrives. He climbs the trellis with ease and perches near the outer windowsill. Through the glass, he makes out a hunched figure seated at the desk. She’s in her baggy joggers and a tank top — lovely. Another quick glance around the room and he sees that it’s empty except for, no roommate in sight. Even lovelier.

Deep down, he knows how wrong this is. It's not wrong because he feels silly, or he didn't warn her before he got here. It's wrong because everything about her brings him closer to insanity: her scent, the outline of her body through the tank top, the trail of glistening salvia on her lips that her tongue leaves. He brings his hand to the lip of the window and is delighted (but not entirely surprised) to find it unlocked.

"Sirius!" Her tone is shocked, maybe even scared, but it wraps around him in a way that feels like a hug.

"Hey there, Lovebug," he grins widely as he slips through the window, his feet hitting the floor far too gracefully.

"Sirius, I didn't know—" She shoots up from her seat, "—You didn't call, right?"

"No, no," he chuckles, his voice thick as honey, "I didn't. Is that a problem?"

"Well, no," she sighs, "You just scared me, that's all."

"And you left the window unlocked." Sirius closes the space between them, raising his hand to gently stroke his thumb against her cheek, "Sure you weren't expecting any visitors?"

"Of course not." She knows he's only teasing, but the very thought makes her want to laugh. Someone else?

"Was I interrupting anything?" He asks, taking her hands into his. He brings them to his lips to press a soft kiss to the skin. His sharp teeth scrape lightly against her knuckles.

"Just a bit of homework," she sighs.

"Well, don't let me get in the way, Bug," he grins, "Go on, get back to your work."

She knows better than to think he's just going to let her work in peace. He shrugs out of his leather jacket, hanging it from her bedpost as he takes a seat closer to the headboard. He lays down, taking one of her pillows into his arms.

"You all alone tonight?" He asks as he smoothes the wrinkled fabric of the pillowcase.

"Liv's spending the night at her girlfriend's," she responds as she settles back down into her desk chair.

"Does she ever sleep here?" He tilts his head back to look at her, "She's less roommate, more occasional guest."

"You don't seem to mind." Though Sirius can only see the back of her head, he knows there's a smile on her lips. Her gorgeous, delicious lips.

He's tired of the pillow in mere seconds. The sound of a pen scrawling on paper calls him to the desk like a siren song. His hands are freezing against her bare arms. They rub up and down slowly, though, it's not as soothing as intended. Goosebumps erupt on her skin when his lips meet her ear.

"What class is that for?" He whispers.

"Biology." She swallows. Hard.

"Hm, interesting," he hums. The sight of her neck pulsing is not lost on him. His fingers, still cold as ice, trail her throat. It would be so easy to take her now. Her roommate wasn't home and likely wouldn't be until at least tomorrow morning. He could keep her silent enough that no one would hear a think, not even the dorm next door. Sirius's lips met her neck, and she let out a sigh. It would be so easy to take her, yet, it would be the most difficult thing he's ever done.

He'd created a routine over the years. When he was really thirsty, it wasn't hard to find a snack in secluded alleyways or dark corners. What he enjoyed most, though, was the chase; he'd find a new man or woman to pursue every once in a while. He'd charm them, butter them up, then drain their blood after fucking them into the mattress. He expected her to be no different.

Sirius met her outside a coffee shop on the edge of the campus. She smelled so sweet, so tempting, he couldn't just let her walk away. And so he proceeded as usual: he was charming, she was smiling, a date was planned. Somewhere between romantic dinner and vicious murder, though, his routine began to derail. When they talked, he didn't have to fake his laughs, nor did he notice the ache in his cheeks from how wide his smile had grown. He told himself he would just delay the inevitable—treat her to another date, give her the best sex of her life, then end it all there.

"I'm almost finished," she spoke quietly, glancing up at him. It was nearly three months later now, and he was still making excuses.

"Are you now?" He grinned against her neck, "My lips that good, Bug?"

"With my homework," she clarified with a roll of her eyes. He only let out a soft chuckle as he pressed open-mouth kisses to her shoulder. He couldn't be more thankful for the tank top she was wearing.

"You think you could wait another ten minutes?" Her voice was soft as she asked the question. She didn't want to give in when she was so close to finally finishing her work.

"No," he answered honestly. Wordlessly, he pulled her chair out, eliciting a squeak of surprise from her. He slipped into the small nook under her desk and kneeled before her. His misty grey eyes met hers.

"We can both get what we want, though." His tone was low as his fingers trailed to the waistline of her joggers.

"Sirius..." She trailed off. Sirius, yes? Sirius, no? Sirius, wait? Sirius, please? She didn't know what she was going to say, all she knew was that she was lifting her hips so he could slide her pants down.

He could feel her quickening pulse under his lips as he kissed her inner thigh. Sirius worked slowly, never once taking his eyes off of her as he delved further between her thighs towards her clothed heat. Nimble, callused finger yanked at her panties. He was gentle with her as he let them fall down her legs; it was like he was delicately plucking away petals from a flower. Even when she was fully exposed to him, he remained where he was, nibbling at the flesh of her thighs. It took him a minute or two teasing a few whines to give in.

"Oh, God." Was her cry when he finally pressed his lips to her folds. His tongue licked a stripe from the bottom of her cunt all the way to her clit where he focused his attention.

"I like the new nickname," he grinned up at her, halting his actions, "Am I your God now, Bug?"

She was halfway through grumbling at him when another moan tumbled from her mouth. Sirius was good, far too good. He had decades of experience under his belt and could find how to make anyone tic within seconds. Pride bloomed in his chest as her hands clawed their way into his long, black hair. Homework forgotten, she let herself fall into the trap he'd so easily set.

Before, he'd thought about silencing her, now, all he could think about was finding a way to make her louder. He fed off the sounds she made, relished in the shaky breaths and whimpers. His hands held her thighs apart with an iron grip. There would likely be bruises there next morning, but he didn't care. In fact, he pressed further, icy fingers burning marks into her skin.

"Sirius," she whispered, her voice hoarse with pleasure.

"I know, love, I know," he cooed, "Are you gonna cum for me?" He didn't wait for a response. His tongue slipped into her, prodding at her hole before returning to her clit. He knew she was getting close—the sound of her blood pumping rapidly mixed with the clenching of both her thighs and walls gave it away.

She came undone on him, soaking his his face from the nose down. He helped her come down with a few gentle licks and soothing rubs against her legs. If he wasn't undead, his heart would've exploded at the way she looked at him. It was selfish to keep her to himself like this. It was wrong to leave her ruined.

"Finish up your homework, Bug. I'm gonna need you to return that favor."

It was wrong, and Sirius couldn't care less.

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4noirre · 2 years

Text

PREY 🫗

tyler galpin x reader, in which you knew before anyone else.

consists of spoilers!

— Tyler Galpin was a paradox, a mastermind in the scheme of pretending, a semi-white-collar at the arts of coffee brewery but a complete amateur when it came to fixing the blown out coffee machines. He was everything a ‘normie’ would be but he was far from that & I happened to have known that since the beginning.

It was 2 in the morning when the sound of sirens went against my bedroom window. “Bear on the lose” was the first thing that popped up on my phone’s screen, it was always this damn excuse. It wasn’t a bear, it was him.

My bedroom door flew open and there he was, Tyler Galpin in the flesh. Shoes muddy, shirt torn, hair a mess and lips nearly busted open. ‘Did you get attacked by the bear too?’ , i breathed out, hoping that today he’d come clean. ‘No, i nearly got jumped’ , the brown haired boy said as he sat on my bed. I went to the bathroom to get cleaning supplies for his wound. Oh boy, was he damned.

Coming back i sat on the opposite side of him as i began to tend his wounds. Hyper-analysing the features of his pale face and broken mental. ‘You knew didn’t you? That i’m a fucking monster.’ A Hyde.’ Tyler breathed out as his lips turnt into a smirk. My dabbing of alcohol towards his wounds came to a halt, the lumens of my veins constricting, blood running cold — a snake. I was afraid, i didn’t want to die.

‘I did, so what? Are you going to kill me now?’

‘Maybe’ the boy chuckled. Hand going against my cheek grazing it softly, ‘My dear ____, everyone i have ever murdered, brutally or not, all of them had relations to you. You disliked all of them didnt you? Are my feelings obvious enough yet?’, Tyler said in a tone so serious. I stayed silent too scared, too afraid. I felt small, I felt like prey.

Pulling me closer, his lips on mine, tasting the iron of his blood from his bleeding lips, ‘i like you.’ he confessed, my mind too boggled to comprehend. I kissed back. His hands going to my throat, squeezing as he breathed out ‘Continue to keep little hyde our secret, & you can play master eventually’

I am, and have always been prey.

repost as i edited certain parts of this!

requests accepted :)

take care everyone 🤍

this was so rushed & relatively badly written! constructive criticism is appreciated. aaa i love tyler galpin sm, send requests or wtv ! i’ll gladly write them. I hope u enjoyed this short piece.

#tyler galpin x reader #wednesday x reader #wednesday netflix #tyler galpin #tyler galpin gif #wednesday 2022

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msookyspooky · 6 months

Text

Fours a Franchise

Part 13

wordcount:9k

[I have been combing over this sm bc like...Yeah. There's no coming back from this one PLUS matching it with the next chapter that I already have done just doing the same to it. Sorry for the wait and emotional damage! 😁🖤 Just making sure it all lines up with the plot. Thank you!! 🖤🖤🖤 BTW this starts with Jill's POV, Dewey, Jill, Gale, YN, then Dewey, then YN again in case it's confusing since it's in second person still.]

Jill got off the table stumbling while trying to catch herself. She had to get this just right.

Shards of glass littered on her before she staggering in her high heeled boots over to where your body lay. Silence other than her heels scuffling over the tile as she stepped over Trevor's body to get to you. Not caring about the boy that supposedly 'loved' her. Hell, she sicked Charlie on that bottle blonde whore Trevor was cheating on her with and her friend too. Made it look like Steven Oarth and Casey Becker from 96. And Jill laughed her ass off too when she saw the video Charlie shot of Jenny gutted. Some people get revenge for cheating by keying a car and ripping seats...Jill got it by killing the other girl, her collateral friend and ripping Trevor's face off. Well making her pawn Charlie do it, to be precise.

Blood dripped down her face with her breathing labored as she stepped over Trevor's mangled upper body; Eager to get to you. Had to make it look good.

...As soon as she saw Billy and you too close; She kicked him as hard as she could, the best she could, out of the way. Couldn't have him looking too nice to us. Not yet.

He released a pained groan; Half conscious as he rolled over. Coughing and falling limp again a foot away all before Jill collapsed where he was with your unmoving form. She stared at you on the ground nose to nose just inches away. Studying you up close like she had in pictures so many times. Almost holding your hand as sirens sounded down the street. Closing her eyes and letting being sliced, stabbed and hurled into objects by her own doing finally take her.

-----------

Dewey all but slammed on his breaks in the yard and rushed to the scene. Gun drawn frantically yelling out orders, "Come on! Move it!"

A neighbor had finally called hearing the commotion. Dewey made a u-turn on the highway and got here as soon as he could.

He unknowingly rushed to the scene, heart pounding after everything tonight. His wife almost getting killed, Randy dying so cruelly and the call with you trying to leave town.

But as soon as he entered ...His heart sank at the scene of the crime.

He should've known. Knew you would try and do this yourself. Why did you always do this? Why did you always act alone? Why did you either run away or run towards the danger?

Seeing you face down on the floor in a pool of blood made his heart plummet.

"Oh God no..." Dewey mumbled getting closer.

In his eyes, Jill's hand was on yours for comfort. Both of you tried to protect each other till the very end as far as he could see.

Judy gave orders to the other officers as second in command while Dewey got closer to you.

He didn't even see you breathing from here. He took in the sight...A boy with his face peeled off bound on the floor. A body sizzling in a leaf pile outside. Two men he didn't recognize bleeding everywhere. The whole house is a wreck...And you and Jill in pools of blood close to each other.

"Dear God..." It was 1996 all over again. This felt more brutal than the last two times. Whoever did this was sick. Absolutely as demented as Billy and Stu to do the things they've done here tonight.

And to you...You and Randy tonight...

It was almost as bad as finding Tatum so long ago. The party at the Macher house in general. And even then, this felt like a never ending nightmare tonight. Non-stop horror that got worse every hour.

He failed. Two deputies under his command are dead. Randy and you died tonight under his watch. His wife he should've protected was in surgery. He failed all of you...He failed Tatum, Sidney, Randy, Gale and now you...

Dewey felt tears trying to burn his brown eyes as his guts twisted into guilt ridden knots. His face red from the strain of trying to keep it together as Judy looked shocked at the crime scene. Peeking over his shoulder but covered it with a pokerface to keep doing her job.

He motioned for EMT'S to come in as some officers helped cheek bodies or load people up. Jill was the first to 'wake up'. Asking in an innocent voice like any scared teen girl in this situation. "W-What happened? Are they dead? D-Don't let them hurt me or YN-" She weakly gave as EMT's checked over her, getting her on a stretcher. That just broke Dewey's heart.

He took off his hat out of respect for you and hung his head. Releasing a shaky sigh before leaving the house. He had to. He subtly went out the broken backdoor as tears threatened to spill. Biting his lip and running a hand over his hair.

Jill was already knocked out again and wheeled into an ambulance out the front door.

He failed. He felt like he failed everyone. He became a cop again to help, became Sheriff to make sure this never happened in this town again...And because of following the law and forgetting who he was as a man; Putting that badge before his own common sense... He failed. Randy and you were dead. Two kids he swore to protect like he couldn't his little sister. All grown up and yet still so young. You and Randy just entered your 30's and now you were gone right when your lives were truly starting after so much trauma.

"Sir?" Judy stepped outside asking him softly as he sniffed and waved her off.

"I'm fine, Deputy. Just give me a minute."

Suddenly, they all turned to hear an EMT yell out from the kitchen. Right after Jill went out on a stretcher so it only meant one thing. "We have a survivor! Female!"

And a small twinge of hope that soared like a rocket ran through him...You were alive!

-----------

Jill woke up to blinding lights and so many microphones and questions and people calling her name as she was wheeled into the hospital. An awestruck relieved smile painted her bloody lips as she blurrily looked around. It's what she always wanted. Everything worked out. She was famous. She was a star. She was the final girl.

She wanted to laugh and hollar and cheer that her name would be talked about for decades. No ordinary life or anything like that. She could live like a celebrity while being America's Sweet Little Cherry Pie in the media's eyes. She was golden now.

She got worked on and patched up but pretended she was so shaken. Fake tears that didn't even spill as she whimpered and both nurses and Doctors comforted her. One nurse said, "That poor thing. She's so brave. She's an Angel."

Jill wore a sly smirk the second that nurse left; no cameras in the hospital rooms. She released a sharp laugh she quickly covered. Shielding her mouth and acting like it was a sob when a nurse went by to check her vitals.

Yeah, her eye was hurting badly. She broke blood vessels in it. Bruised up. Just got her shoulder stab wound sewn up. On pain relievers. Everyone felt bad for her. Everyone was a bunch of fucking idiots that bought it.

She got closer than any other Ghostface. Billy and Stu could never! And soon they'd be recognized and going to prison, if they lived, and NO ONE would believe they weren't involved!

But Jill wasn't stupid. She had to play dumb. Blame Charlie for now and those 'bad men' that she didn't know till the authorities figured it out. Couldn't say a lot as the new victim and ruin it all that she knew too much...Damn! This was gonna be a great twist for a book all about her. Your 'Out of Darkness' hack job novel could be used for laughs or kindling now.

Jill could practically laugh and squeal with glee if it wasn't for her faking it.

Most of all. You were DEAD! She stabbed you so many times and you were fucking dead.

Dewey came in and Jill quickly acted subdued and tired when really she felt high on meds and life right about now. She gave a fake sniffle, voice heavy with false tears as Dewey was at her bedside.

"How are you doing?" He softly asked.

She shook her head, sighing heavily. "Feeling...Guilty. I mean...My friends. It should've been-" She choked on a fake cry.

"Shh...You made it, Jill. That's all that matters." He softly told her with a sad frown as he sat beside her bed.

Jill sniffed and gave in a shaky voice, "Charlie tried to kill me. And those men came in talking about things with him...And I...I heard they killed my mother-" She clutched her mouth to prevent a 'sob' and Dewey had tears of sympathy in his eyes.

Jill got so lucky getting an idiot like Dewey. A bleeding heart moron that lost two people he was close to tonight and almost his bitch ass wife Gale. That's all Jill could think of. She had to cover her mouth to hide the smile at Dewey crying...She had this in the bag.

"And Robbie and Kirby too. And Trevor-"

"Shhh." Dewey soothingly gave. "Just lay back. Try to rest."

"I-Is your wife?" Jill asked as she took a deep breath.

Dewey smiled, "She'll be fine. She's recovering."

Jill smiled back because at least the journalist that could gain her notoriety was alive to report this. A cheap shoulder wound was on purpose. She ordered Charlie to make it look worse than it was so they could use Gale in the future; not caring if he killed Randy or not. That was his own personal vendetta. Some geek jealous of a slightly older, cooler geek. Getting Charlie to think she loved him...Her?! Jill Roberts, a girl way out of his league?...It was just too easy. Dewey was just as stupid buying her pity party and as soon as Gale saw those dollar signs; she'd be easy too.

"If I ever write a book one day; I want her to write it with me." She smiled looking at her shoulder. "Be a good team with our matching wounds." She had to sell it. Looking down all contemplative. "We're survivors now...I just wish YN was too." She gave a 'sad' smile. Playing like America's sweetheart by having sympathy for the one that didn't make it.

Dewey looked serious. "Jill...They're not sure yet. It's still touch and go...But she's in ICU along with those two other men that are being monitored." He smiled. "If you think they were involved then we'll look into it and make sure when they wake up they're safe from hurting anyone ever again if they did...But YN? She might make it."

Jill felt a cord snap in her brain as she forced a smile that didn't match her eyes.

"....What?" She swallowed. "I-I-I but I saw...Charlie kill her?" She quickly thought up.

"Look." Dewey sighed. "We don't know yet but she's hanging on."

Jill swallowed. Cursing every word in her head. Screaming internally as her stomach twisted.

"I...I want to see her." She gave with urgency to her whisper.

"She's not awake yet. She was lacking oxygen for a bit. She might not remember everything and we'll have to help her with that...In time. Just get some rest, okay?"

Jill forced a tight lip smile that probably anyone with brains could see wasn't a pleased one as Dewey left her dim room with only the beeping monitors as a sound.

Jill nestled in the pillow acting like she was trying to doze off...The second she heard the door click shut; Those dark eyes snapped open with a deadly glare.

She wasted no time taking off her wires and heart monitor. Unplugging the cord before its beeping alerted nurses and made her way out the door of the isolated community hospital to ICU. No visitors were allowed with it being so late. Most nurses and staff switch shifts. Perfect.

She slunk in the shadows of the hall when a nurse on night shift went by before making her way to you...You would tell them everything. You would ruin EVERYTHING. You had to go.

-----------

Gale laid there on meds from her minor surgery hours ago. Pretty awake now just foggy headed. It cut a few tendons but she was lucky. She'd be fine with some rest.

Her mind was a million miles away though when she heard the news about Randy and you upon waking up.

"Damn..." She mumbled under her breath rubbing her face tiredly with her good arm the more she thought about it.

Hoss and Perkins Dead. She knew that would weigh heavily on her husband's mind.

Randy having an arrow through his shoulder- neck area and hung from the barn by a rope, guts all strung out like...Like Himbrey in 96.

Gale scoffed to herself. She felt like she should've known. She was the target and Randy was the distraction. Whoever did this studied those murders like the back of their hand; like they were there. Probably obsessed with horror movies like those freaks Billy and Stu too.

She sighed heavily...Now, you were in critical care and had no idea if you'd have amnesia or disabled or if you'd even live. Doctor's just said you were sewn up in your stomach area.

She wasn't one for sappy stuff. Wasn't one for friends. But...Well, she spent a better part of a decade or more talking to you and Randy. Plenty of dinners and talks.

She sighed remembering her last conversation was you and Randy thinking she was a liar making false promises. Of putting her career before people. How did she go from waking you both up yesterday morning at Randy's house to in a little over 24 hours? 20 hours to be precise. Randy was dead and you were in critical care.

Gale felt sad, yeah sure, but it was such a strange emotion really. At least for her.

...Maybe she did actually not care as much as she acted? Maybe...Maybe she was deluding herself with all this. Gale felt bitter seeing you have the spotlight while no one hardly knew her and her 'tarnished brand' anymore.

She loved Dewey but domestic life in Woodsboro wasn't cutting it. It didn't cut it a decade ago before her separation with Dewey and it wasn't working now despite trying the last decade to make it work. She was 47 years old now. She wasn't getting any younger.

But it confused her more that on one hand the thrill of getting the story was all she knew and she finally felt like Gale Weather's again instead of just Mrs. Riley...But at what cost? She got stabbed, Randy was dead and you were in ICU. And yet it was her life.

She shook her head to herself.

What was she saying? Of course she cared a little. You and her may be frenemies at times but you still were her maid of honor at her wedding. You still called her. You both were linked to these murders for life. And you were her husband's practical surrogate sister as he annoyingly called it.

She lightly rolled her eyes but frowned at everything.

So...Charlie and Robbie? Charlie and Trevor? Then who were those two men Dewey mentioned?

Her dark hair was matted from tonight as she laid her head back on her hospital bed. "...Why? Why did you do that?" She asked herself aloud in the empty room as if Ghostface was there.

It didn't make sense...Maybe her brain wasn't working properly with hospital grade drugs still in her system but why? Why were you at that house? Why were you and Randy not together when he was killed? Why was she only stabbed in the shoulder? That Ghostface had a clear shot of her chest or throat or even her head like Dewey said Perkins got so why a shoulder? Why some superficial wound she'd most likely live from?

Dewey popped in smiling lovingly at her. She smiled back...Sometimes he was the only thing grounding her.

"How do you feel?" Dewey asked his wife.

Gale shrugged lightly, eyes droopy and tired. About to force herself to shut off her brain and sleep after the night they had. "Same as earlier...How is she doing? Alright?"

Dewey sighed but nodded, coming closer to his wife's bed, "Yeah she's a strong kid."

"She's gonna have to be." Gale mused. "What about those two mystery men? Any ID?"

Dewey mumbled, "Yeah those guys are a mystery alright. But no, no ID on them. I haven't seen them myself but they're for sure suspects. In fact, I think I'm going to pay each a visit and see what I can figure out. One is in a different part of ICU than YN and the other is upstairs...Jill seems scared of them...Poor kid." He frowned.

Gale nodded, "Yeah, mystery contenders. She's a strong kid to fight off Charlie and possibly those two if they are involved. I'm sure YN helped her a lot...."

"That's YN. A fighter. Jill is too." Dewey smirked, "She asked if you were okay. Says you should write a book together." He smiled more, chuckling at the coincidence. "With your matching wounds."

"Why? She was stabbed in the shoulder too?" Gale kept smiling while laying back.

Dewey nodded...And yet looked away thinking to himself. Gale did too...

Now, Gale's brain may be a bit foggy but...Something wasn't adding up...She went straight to the hospital from the barn. She never...She never saw Jill? And Dewey didn't talk to her till just now...

"How did Jill know I was stabbed in the shoulder? Did you tell her?"

Dewey scrunched his face in thought. "Well...No, I-"

Gale opened her mouth to say something wasn't right when Dewey's radio sounded loudly on his shoulder.

Dewey answered just to hear Judy frantically tell him. "Sheriff, the two male suspects are gone! The one in the ICU was reported missing first. Me and another officer just checked upstairs and the other male suspect is gone too."

"What??" Dewey's face scrunched as he stood up straighter.

"We don't know how they slipped out or how long. Searching all floors, Sir. I'm on my way to check Jill Robert's room now. "

Dewey gave the affirmative and clicked off.

Dewey quickly got his gun and with wide eyes exclaimed as it dawned on him where Ghostface would go. "Shit...YN!" Before bolting out the door heading to ICU. "Stay here!" Dewey ordered.

Gale grumbled to herself. All before smacking her bed. "Oh fuck." She sneered out before jerking herself tiredly off her bed to get dressed quickly. "Married over a decade and he thinks orders work on me-"

Yeah, those men were definitely suspects but something wasn't right...How did Jill know Gale had her shoulder stabbed?

-----------

Jill rounded the corner and right when she got near your room a hand grabbed her by the mouth and dragged her into the shadows. "You're not nearly as smart as you think you are." Billy hissed in her ear. Medical gown on with pants underneath. "That knife didn't even penetrate an organ. If you're gonna gut someone? Do it groin to sternum-" He shoved her against the wall hard. Pissed off, injured, but still a grown man's strength as she grunted in pain from the impact. Billy positioned his one hand on her jaw the other on her throat. Ready to snap her neck or crush her windpipe. Whatever was quickest.

All before she bit his finger as hard as she could as it got near her mouth. He hissed in pain before releasing a harsh groan as she elbowed him in his stitches then turned around and kicked him in the groin as hard as she could as his knees buckled.

"Stay out of my way, fucking has-been." She warned as he was on his knees trying and failing to get up from how vicious she was with her hits. She rushed to your room; too zoned in on ending you.

Billy clenched his teeth and sucked air through them "I swear to God, I'm not resting till I kill everyone in this bitches family! Goddamn twat-" He growled out under his breath as he tried to brace himself against the wall. Still a bit high himself from anesthesia as he fell back against the wall again.

Jill entered your room. You were slightly awake, probably a nurse waking you. The teen girl wryly smirked at the luck she had of you barely hanging on. All alone.

"You just won't die." Jill mused with an exasperated arm motion as she came into the room.

You blurrily saw her form. Trying to fully wake yourself up to sit up as Jill stalked towards you with a glare. "What are you? Michael Fucking Myers?"

You quickly tried to grab the button for help. Still half out of it but Jill got it sooner. Yanking it away with a deadly smirk on her face. "Yeah, I don't think so."

You went to make a noise and soon nimble fingers clamped down on your throat as hard as they could as she straddled you on the bed. It hurt. Everything hurt like hell as she tried to choke you as hard as she could; her weight pressed on your stitches.

"Fucking die already!!-" She grunted out putting force into her hands to crush your airway.

You looked up seeing the rage filled evil look in her eyes. Her dark eyes even darker as pupils dilated to saucer plates in full kill mode with one eye red and blood vessels popped. She wanted you dead and would stop at nothing to get it. You smacked on her cut up forehead, pressed on her eye with your thumb before grabbing her by the hair to slam her hand into the metal railing beside you.

You practically tumbled out of bed to try and get away from her before releasing a strangled cry of pain as she jumped down and almost shoved her knee hard into your stitched up organs and abdomen. It hurt the flesh beside it but that still felt like anguish.

...All before she cried out when a fist slammed HARD into her temple. Toppling her over.

You gasped for air seeing Stu wobbling on his feet having hid in the bathroom. Heavily stitched up and medicated.

Jill released an enraged groan through her teeth clutching her face over her red eye. "I'm just a teen girl, you prick!"

"Do I look like I give a shit?" He retorted. He didn't waste time lunging at her the best he could, his adrenaline pumping as she rolled out of the way.

You quickly forced yourself off the floor with pained hitches in your breath.

Stu huffed and grabbed Jill by her body throwing her into the medicine cabinet where shards of glass broke. She cried out landing with a thud. Stu picked up a shard to kill her as he dropped to his knees to corner her.

"...Man, ya know. You're not bad for a chick. But you made a big fucking mistake the second you put on that mask." He warned. Raising the glass overhead with both hands. Ready to plunge it into her and end her life. A smirk playing at his lips ready to do what he does best. "Even bigger one going after my girl."

He yelped out as something sharp stabbed through his neck...A brand new empty needle that went deep in the side of his neck. Jill grabbed it when it fell from the broken medical cabinet. He blindly tried to get it out.

Jill stood up and you used your IV cord holding it in both hands to jerk her back to try and stop her before a strangled yell escaped you as she elbowed you in your stomach. Turning around to force you to the wall and her fist hitting you hard as you yelled. Blood seeping through your bandages and gown.

"How are those stitches?!" She exclaimed with a grin. It's as if being thrown into a medical cabinet like that didn't phase her. She was clearly on a mission that only death would stop her. It didn't help that she was just on some good pain relievers while you and Stu still had anesthesia in your lungs.

You screamed in agony as she punched you so hard in your stitches, your knees gave out on you.

Stu glared at her, rushing to her as she let you go and dodged him, slinking into a small corner near the shadows of the room. By far the less injured one in this room as she went to run into the closet.

"Hiding already?!" Stu demanded snarling at her. He was ready to beat the living shit out of her as he tried to jam that door open.

Using all his strength he jerked it open, locked or not, "It's over, you-"

A huge hollow bang sounded. A heavy metal bedpan hit him square upside the jaw as he stumbled back. Stu looked almost cross eyed, jarred and trying to get his footing before she slammed it upside his head a second time and he went down. She hit him so many times you were scared she was gonna kill him right then and there!

You tried to get up and keeled over. Mouth hanging open in a silent scream as blood stained your hospital gown. Your stitches are opening again and you were so fucked up right now.

Jill heard you make a noise and stopped beating Stu, walking towards you. She went to swing the pot over her head to do the same to you...Maybe worse. "Is this how it's gonna be, YN? The ending of the movie was supposed to be at the house...I mean, this is just... Silly!" She wryly chuckled

You weakly stared up at her seeing Stu knocked out cold. You noticed someone else but kept your eyes on her.

"You'll never get away with this."

"Of course I will!" She grinned even if her eyes looked manic. "Who is going to believe Billy and Stu didn't kill you?"

Before she could swing on you, she released a scream as something sharp stabbed her from behind. Looking down at her abdomen at a shard of glass sticking out all before it was painfully yanked out. She yelled again looking down in shock.

You looked up to see Billy glaring behind her. A bloody glass shard in hand before he leveled it at her throat. "I've had enough of this shit!" He made the first cut on her throat ready to yank it. "You want to be famous? You got it."

Jill went to fight, eyes wide in actual fear that she was seconds away from being cut.

"DROP IT!" Someone barreled into the room, keys and other metals clanking on his belt...Police boots thudding into the room.

Your breath caught as you heard that familiar male voice...

No...No, no, no.

You looked to see Dewey with his gun drawn. Aimed at Billy.

-----------

Dewey looked on in shock at the scene before his cop instincts kicked in. You stayed there frozen and so did the man holding Jill hostage. He kept a firm grip on Jill using her as a human shield with that bloody shard of glass in hand.

What the hell was going on here?...

"Let her go!" He ordered the man but he stayed hidden behind Jill. Side stepping with her close to his chest so the Sheriff couldn't get an accurate shot without hurting her. The bastard.

Dewey watched how you looked like a fish out of water with your mouth and eyes wide open. Blood seeping through your hospital gown onto your fingers as you held your bandages.

Jill had been stabbed, blood seeping from her gown as well as tears of pain in her eyes. A man laid knocked out on the floor while the other held her hostage.

Dewey steadied his aim, nervously running his bottom lip over his top teeth a moment at how hairy this situation was. He didn't know who these men were but they were clearly the killers. They hurt you and hurt Jill too. Trying to finish the job.

Then Jill opened her mouth, "Dewey help! I came here to see YN and these guys she invited to the house were here! They're the killers, Dewey! Please!"

He glanced over seeing your expression twist into what he thought was in shock for poor Jill...But...You invited them?

He saw your breathing stop seeing what Jill was saying and your jaw clenched.

"Wha-" Dewey didn't think he heard her right. But then his stomach sank as the stabbed teen continued.

"She called them at Kirby's house telling them to get there and take care of things. I thought they were there to help but YN and them..." She trailed off in tears as the dark haired man holding the shard of glass to her neck sneered at her.

Dewey's eyes widened as he kept his gun aimed. "Let her go! Let her go right now, damn it!"

You finally stammered out from your spot in the room, "No Dewey... S-She's lying! Her and Charlie-"

Jill shook her head with tears as she looked at you, "I trusted you, YN. I thought you were there to save us! You and these guys helped Charlie!"

Your jaw went slack as Dewey saw your face contort in outrage. "Dewey she's lying! God damn it, she's fucking lying!" You yelled over her with a strained voice.

He felt his heart hammering and mind buzzing...No. There was no way! There was no way you were in on it. No way you were helping these killers...But why was Jill saying this?

Dewey looked positively confused and frantic. "Damn it, I said let her go!"

You sat up, pain or not. Groaning in anguish that seemed to fuel your anger. You were angry and bleeding, Jill was bleeding and scared, these men were holding Jill hostage and Dewey felt yanked back and forth.

"No! Don't you dare let her go!" You yelled at the man and then glared with pure desperation in your gaze at Dewey. "Dewey, fucking listen to me-" You growled out through your teeth in frustration.

"YN?" Dewey asked apprehensively with the gun still aimed. "Why is Jill saying you're involved?! Why don't you want her to be away from that man!?"

"Because she's the killer!!" You almost screamed in desperation as Jill almost got out of Billy's grasp and to Dewey's surprise, you gasped. As if Jill getting away from the man was a bad thing? Was Jill actually the killer? Then who were these guys? Dewey felt as panicky as the room was right now.

He almost envied the guy knocked out by a bedpan on the floor and wished he could be there too!

Finally, the man spoke up. Getting tense himself with a fighting hostage and gun pointed at him. "I'm saving YN, you idiot! This girl is the killer! She hurt YN, not me!"

....

The whole room grew silent.

He...Knew that voice.

Dewey felt his brows scrunching and his body tingling. A chill down his spine because...No...No, it couldn't be. But as soon as he spoke and as soon as Dewey saw those eyes...He just knew. A deep instinct. Then looking at the form of the laid out man on the ground...He recognized him by what side of his face he could see.

Gale was right. All these years Gale was right...Gale was right.

The picture from a decade ago and that feeling he got was full force now.

...He recognized that voice...Things were clicking as he looked into the man's dark gaze. Eyes wide with fury and shock, jaw clenched...As he stared down the man that played dead all these years... He was looking at his sister's killer for the first time in years...And Jill claimed you were involved?...

-----------

You stared enraged and frantic and pained and plain out scared. She couldn't do this! She couldn't get away with this! If she couldn't kill you then she was going to lock you away as long as she stayed the famous innocent victim.

You wanted to grab Dewey's gun and just let Billy hack away. She was making you feel like a cornered animal at the lies she was spewing that you were fearing Dewey was eating up.

But all those thoughts halted as Dewey uttered a word. "...B-Billy?...No...No way it can't be..." The middle aged Sheriff dragged out in a strained whisper. "...It is. It's you."

You felt pale. It was Randy in that barn earlier tonight all over again and with the risk involved; this was so much worse.

You went to speak but nothing came out. Your mouth was dry, head foggy, hands clammy, so in pain you might vomit, short of breath, throat tight...This was a nightmare.

Even Jill was silent as everyone saw Dewey's demeanor change...Silence in the room. Your breath quickened seeing the satisfaction in Jill's eyes as you realized she was winning. She wanted to play innocent while putting the blame on Billy and Stu...And if she couldn't kill you? Then you too.

"...YOU." He growled out. So uncharacteristic of gentle and polite Dewey.

"D-Dewey wait-" You forced out with a wince; getting closer.

"Stay back, YN! He's dangerous! It's...It's Billy Loomis. Gale was right. He's alive. He's the killer again!" Dewey was in fight or flight as he glared down Billy but even you could see the shock slowly bit by bit being replaced with rage.

You held your breath feeling cornered. What could you say?! What could you possibly say that wouldn't end in you being as guilty?

Billy mumbled, "I'm not, Billy...I-...Look. You're mistaken-"

Dewey snapped, "I'M NOT! I saw your picture a million times, I picked you kids up in my jeep, I was filing reports while hearing the old Chief of Police talk to you and your Dad...IT'S YOU. You lived..." Dewey sneered as angry tears pricked his eyes. "You killed my sister."

You felt your heart hammering away in your chest. Of course Jill manipulated. Crying fake tears, "Oh God, Dewey please help me!"

"Stop!...Please stop." You gingerly inched closer "Dewey, I know how this looks but Jill is the killer...Jill is not innocent, do you hear me!?" You urged in a harsh whisper.

Dewey looked bewildered and angry. Rage slowly taking over. Leveling the gun at Billy as Billy tried ducking behind a much shorter Jill which made his grip not as secure.

You kept trying to talk sense into him. "Dewey, think... Why would Jill even be here if she was innocent? Why would she need to see me this late at night in ICU?" You demanded holding your bleeding stomach.

"Why is Billy Loomis here!?" He countered.

You didn't know what to say without digging your own grave.

Jill shook her head, her voice a quiet pitiful tremble. "I was worried about you, YN. So I came to see you and these two were here and...You all were trying to escape and-"

Dewey glanced down eyes widening at Stu's passed out tall form on the floor then narrowing as Jill was painting a picture...It was just sealing the deal that Jill was truthful in his eyes.

"Shut the fuck up!" Billy snapped, not able to handle the lies from her as he jerked her in his arms. "You came here to finish the job with YN, we knew it, we beat you here to put you down-"

Dewey got closer with the gun. Eyes narrowed. "Not on my watch, Loomis. Put the glass down and let her go...Or else."

Billy didn't. However, he actually looked nervous for once behind that smoldering dark gaze. "...Why? So you can shoot me? Get revenge?"

"So, I'm right...You are Billy Loomis. 15 years later." Dewey mumbled with an edge to his voice all while Billy didn't say anything. "Turns out, evil doesn't win. Your time was bound to happen...What kind of sick man preys on innocent teenagers?! Even as a teen yourself, you were demented! I trusted you and your friend Stu to be near my baby sister and her best friend and look what happened!!" Dewey boomed with an emotional outburst as years of pent up anguish was coming out.

Jill shoved away and ran to Dewey. "Dewey, shoot him!" She rushed to hug Dewey's side, playing up the innocence as Dewey protectively put her behind himself.

Billy looked with wide fearful eyes. As much fear as you saw when you shot at him on stage all those years ago or when Neil nearly choked him to death in Hollywood.

And then...A strange sort of acceptance washed over him. Billy gave a frown but seemed to untense his shoulders and let the hand with the bloody shard of glass fall. It's like he was accepting his time was gonna come eventually. That his past from Woodsboro in 96 would bite him in the ass one day. That one day just surviving like a street rat criminal would get to him.

Dewey went to pull the trigger as Billy closed his eyes a moment. Dewey was so lawful you expected him to just handcuff Billy but the vengeful look in his eye and after tonight? You weren't so sure.

You may have let him shoot him had so much not happened but after they returned to save you twice tonight and after Jill tried to frame you too?...You knew what you had to do. If not for them then for your own selfishness to have extra hands to destroy Jill.

"DON'T!-"

You rushed as quickly as your body allowed.

....

Dewey gasped and jerked his gun away before he could pull the trigger as Billy opened his eyes again in shock...Seeing you standing in front of him in pain from rushing over but still trying to block Billy's body with your own.

You didn't know why. Didn't know what you were doing. Other than the Billy standing here was not the one you fought over a decade ago. He stood up for you to Randy tonight, he came here, he saved you twice tonight, and with Jill painting you as an accomplice? Your choice was to let him die and go to prison for something that Jill was framing you with too and everyone would trust her...Or try to reason with Dewey that Jill did this before a rash decision was made and suffer the choice afterwards. You probably still should just let Billy die yet with your world thinning and them actually helping you...

"YN? What are you doing?!" Dewey asked in a voice that was filled with betrayal. With hurt as his brows shot up and he shook his head in bewilderment.

Billy looked down at you in shock, his mouth parted and eyes wide.

You sucked in a shaky breath and looked straight at Dewey as you shielded Billy. Making a choice you can't come back from as you held your bloody stomach through your bandages.

"Don't do this. You follow the books, you follow the rules, you make things right the lawful way...Dewey, they deserve death or prison for everything they've done. They do..." You pointed an accusing finger at Jill. "But not until she gets it also! If she's handcuffed, then you can do what you want but not until then. She isn't a victim. She's the killer!" You glared at the teen playing innocent. "She killed her own mother tonight at her house after Perkins and Hoss were dead."

Jill furiously shook her head at Dewey but you saw the glare she gave you before he looked at her. She wanted you dead. So much she looked ready to forfeit and lunge at you; Dewey here or not. You wish she would.

"Her and Charlie planned all of this. She is the killer that recorded everything! Check her phone and you'll find deleted videos in the hard-drive!-"

"YOU MONSTER!!" Jill screamed. She never ever expected to be investigated, that much you could tell. Thought she would get away scott free and never be questioned or her phone searched.

"No, you are!" You jeered in disdain. "Charlie killed Randy and stabbed Gale upon your request! You killed the cops and your Mom and you or Charlie killed Dewey's deputies. Jenny and Marnie, Olivia, Kirby, Robbie, Trevor all to recreate what Billy and Stu did so you can be me!"

Dewey looked frazzled. Like he wanted to scream at all of you to shut up so he could think.

Jill scoffed, barely concealing her rage with the victimized acting. "Then why did you call Billy and Stu to the house?! Why are they here?...Isn't that what Randy and you fought about before he got killed? That he knew?" She gave like a stab in the gut with a cruel smirk trying to fight its way to her lips that Dewey couldn't see with her back to him...But you and Billy could.

Billy grumbled under his breath, "You fucking cunt."

You froze, breathing heavy as Dewey's eyes widened to saucers. He SHOULD be questioning how Jill would know any of that, unless she was recording and watching Randy before he died. And it's no secret Dewey wasn't exactly the quickest thinker but especially this clusterfuck warzone happening right now. He SHOULD be taking into consideration all the evidence that even if Billy and Stu were here; Jill's story wasn't adding up. But he was so hurt by this news all he could think of was one thing.

"How would you know that unless you saw it, huh!? How would you possibly know that!?" You argued. "It's over for you, Jill! You saw those recordings uploaded to the dark web because Charlie's camera was sending feedback to your fucking phone!"

Jill looked tongue tied. Glaring. Ready to jerk the gun out of Dewey's hands to shoot you. You never thought you'd feel relieved but you kinda did. Even if you got shot; it would prove Jill isn't innocent.

But Dewey...Had other things on his mind...Something that looked as painful to him as it did Randy tonight.

"...Y-You...You knew." He stumbled out with hurt in his voice, gun still raised.

"Dewey...This isn't important right now-" You tried to even say but he cut you off.

"The hell it isn't! You...You actually knew. This whole time?" His voice cracked.

Billy and you stood still, Dewey's eyes only focused on you, and Jill had nothing but smug satisfaction in her gaze even as she was in pain bleeding out.

Gale ran in and looked bewildered at the scene before. "What the absolute fuck..." She mumbled under her breath.

Jill quickly informed her like some kid tattling on another. "Oh God! Gale, Dewey saved me! I came to see YN and-"

Dewey held up a hand to silence her as he glared at you with tears in his eyes. "...You knew...YOU KNEW!" He yelled in betrayal.

"Dewey, stop! I didn't-"

Gale was faster than her husband as she saw Billy. "Jesus Christ. Is that?-"

"Billy Loomis and Stu Macher...Apparently...You were right Gale." He sniffed, shaking his head with a wry smirk as tears threatened to spill. "These were the guys all those years ago, weren't they?...YN, you're telling me you knew they were alive and lied to my face? You lied to all of us! You were helping them?!" Dewey looked close to just breaking down.

"This isn't the time! The murderer this time is Jill-"

"Did you!?" He demanded with such hurt and desperation in his eyes to say it wasn't so. That this was a mistake even if he knew better. "God, you did...The photo, the motel, the secrecy, you so distant...GOD YN-" He almost broke down crying right then and there at the pain you were sure he was feeling.

You stumbled, "Dewey I'm sorry but it's not what it looks like and I will explain everything after you arrest Jill! Please." You pleaded just as desperately.

"You helped hide the guys that murdered my little sister, YN... She was your friend! Tatum loved you! She trusted you!...I trusted you." His face scrunched in emotional turmoil as he shakily held the gun; still pointing at you and Billy. "Randy tried to tell me tonight. And a photo...The damn photo I had from the motel a decade ago and..." He shook his head.

Gale even looked at him oddly, "Photo?"

"Dewey, whatever you think...I swear, I didn't know-"

"Stop lying! It's too late, the pieces of this puzzle are adding up too much." Dewey demanded. All before addressing Gale. "YN going into her motel room with these two men...I knew she was acting weird and I pocketed the picture to save her from being accused by the media." Dewey sniffed shaking his head. "What an idiot I was. I thought they looked familiar but I didn't want to think...I just never thought-"

"What?!" Gale exclaimed at something that huge being hidden from her by her own husband.

You knew you weren't getting through to Dewey so you turned to Gale who didn't seem nearly as victorious as she should.

"Gale! Think! Plleeasse, I'm begging you; think!" You pleaded desperately not seeing a way out of this. "You know Jill isn't innocent. Why would she be down here? How would she know everything she does? Evidence points to her! Just check her fucking phone at the police station!" You yelled out as Gale looked away for a moment.

Gale looked so conflicted.

"Gale, please! I can explain everything just listen-"

All before Gale glanced at Billy behind you...Then steadied a glare your way. "...You ruined my fucking career and name. I had evidence you knew and you made me look like a fucking fool to the whole world! Ruined my relationship with Dewey for years over your sorry ass lies." She jeered in contempt. "You were my fucking bridesmaid and you do this to us? I can handle it, you know I can. But to Dewey!?"

Your heart squeezed at how bad this was.

Gale huffed, "You're just as guilty as I said you were...You made me look like a moron and broke my husband's trust hiding his sister's killers!"

"I did hide them but not how you think I did. I didn't, I swear! I didn't help them, I've never helped them other than towards other Ghostface's!"

Billy even spoke up, "She really didn't, morons. If you just get that lil bitch behind you in handcuffs; YN could explain-"

"Shut up!" Dewey ordered angry tears pricking his eyes. "YN, I can't believe this...I just can't...I can't trust you. Not a word!"

Jill shook her head with fake sadness, "YN, we all trusted you. Did you actually kill my cousin Sidney too?" She was fucking mocking you at this point.

You almost snapped. Ready to say things that dug your grave more but it was insane being painted this way and no one backing you up on 'the good side' while the true villain played everyone like puppets. The puppeteer herself smirked subtly beside Dewey.

Billy's breath quickened and jaw ticked behind you as you felt frozen.

"Wait a minute...If Billy's here then where's Stu Macher?" Gale asked as back up was on its way and Dewey had you and Billy at gun point.

"Huh?-" Dewey mumbled and even Jill's eyes widened in realization. Too busy arguing with you to notice.

"...You said Stu Macher? Where is he?" Gale mumbled with a raised brow close to Dewey.

Just then, Deputy Hicks charged in with guns blazing. "Sir! I'm here-"

!!!

All before Stu who had to have sneakily crawled on the floor while all eyes were on you and Billy, stayed hidden in the dim lit room. Then used the damn bedpan to womp Judy upside the head just hard enough to daze her and snatch her gun. By the time Dewey aimed his gun, it was too late. He had a gun and Billy quickly grabbed you from behind.

"Billy, what the hell!?-" You yelped out in a bit of pain and shock as Billy used you for a human shield and started dragging you out the room.

"Sorry YN, but we gotta get outta here now." He mumbled behind you before giving a cocky look to everyone.

Stu kept the gun aimed at Judy and when she tried to get it back he let off a bullet into her chest. You gasped not expecting him to go that far but then reminded yourself this is the guy that gutted his ex and hung her in a tree.

Stu grabbed your stuff off the chair in the room and smirked. He gave a grin to Dewey. Dewey glared, going to shoot at Stu.

"Do it and your Wifey dies." He leered, gun now aimed at Gale who held her hands up with wide eyes.

Billy already had you halfway out of the room as you tried reasoning. Everything was happening so damn fast. "Wait! Wait, wait, wait- This is gonna make shit worse! Stop!" You frantically begged. "Dewey! Please, I'm sorry! I swear, I was telling the truth years ago! I swear on everything I did not help them kill Tatum or Sid-"

It fell on deaf ears as Dewey glared with the gun pointed. Following his gaze at you and Billy while Stu was doing urgent hand motions to hurry up. Billy's gaze never left Dewey's as he side-stepped you both out of the room avoiding broken glass on the floor.

Now, it was Jill's turn to panic as she ordered Dewey with a snarl, "Do it! Shoot the fucking bitch! Shoot them!" And when you almost got out of the room with Billy she went for Dewey's gun.

"Jill, no!" Dewey shoved her away from almost getting the gun.

...And you saw the look on Gale's face. You saw it. That look of shock at Jill's tone and shift in personality even when 'hurt'...You knew Gale had to have her doubts but her damned ego was too great at being right all this time.

"Dewey?" Gale urged as Billy started slipping you both out of the room.

Jill joined in, "Aren't you gonna stop them?! They...They killed my friends!" She quickly saved. Still playing up that pathetic act.

"I can't without shooting YN!" He exclaimed.

Jill scoffed, "SO!? She's in on it! You heard her! She knew about Billy and Stu! She's the killer."

Gale eyed Jill. Dewey shook his head. Only you and Billy visible now but unable to get a shot at Billy holding you.

"YN!" He yelled to get your attention as you were dragged down the hall. "...Don't ever step foot in Woodsboro ever again. If you do?..." He trailed off shaking his head. You both knew. He'd arrest you by any means necessary...Or worse.

"...Dewey..." You mumbled with your chest aching.

"YN, c'mon." Billy jerked you away as Stu provided cover as you all moved in the shadows as much as your pained bodies allowed. Adrenaline is a hell of a drug.

Dewey had tears in his eyes. Lowering his gun and hanging his head. Jill scoffed and went to go to the hallway before Gale used her good arm to jerk her back, "What the hell are you doing?"

Jill lost her determined glare and looked like she was caught before she jerked away from Gale to quickly rushed to Dewey hugging him and 'sobbing'. "I was so scared! I don't want them to get away and hurt others, please!"

Dewey numbly wrapped an arm around Jill. "It's okay...They won't hurt anyone or I will stop them by any means necessary myself. I promise..."

Gale mumbled, "What are you gonna do?"

... Dewey called into his radio for an officer down and to not let YN, Billy Loomis or Stu Macher escape the hospital. He may not be able to kill us but if he thought in any way we had hid Tatum's murderers under his nose all these years and the police did catch us? Well...At least we could get medical attention, be seperated from those two and receive help we need or face some justice.

Dewey clutched Jill like he would you. Like he did with you back in 1996 in the hospital after that hellish night. A single tear running down his cheek as he tried to hold it together. An older, more experienced man now even if this betrayal still hurts. Jill was his to protect now...Even if it was from you.

Judy groaned a bit, getting up in a haze. No blood but hit in the head with a metal pan and shot with her bullet proof vest on just enough to knock the wind out of her.

And Gale just...Watched the scene beside herself as her husband let you escape while comforting...The victim.

(Remember when we were getting taco bell and listening to Wasn't Me in the car in the 2000's? Yeah, I miss that 🥲)

#scream #stu macher #billy loomis #my writing #scream fanfiction #yn fanfic #she her yn #my stories #polyghostface #scream 4 #fours a franchise

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vgreysoncellars · 1 month

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WIP Wednesday

work has been wiping the FLOOR with me but I am still squeaking out progress on the authentication Buck POV companion fic. so here's the beginning of that, which might make more sense if you've read authentication.

Unlike the first person Buck dragged to shore, the second surfer is still conscious when he makes it to her, but she's disoriented, yelling and fighting him as he tries to get a grip on her slippery rash guard. The rising wind is strengthening the current, which is carrying them further and further out with every second, and Buck struggles to keep both of their heads above water while not losing his hold on her. The tether on her ankle is still attached to her uselessly dragging surfboard, the line threatening to ensnare Buck's leg as he treads water. He wishes he had a knife, trauma scissors, anything he could use to cut it loose, but of course he's off-duty so he's out here in just board shorts with no gear and no backup, trying to pull an idiot out of a riptide.

"Hey, hey, I got you," Buck says, at least the tenth time he's said something like it, trying to sound calm and in control although he's spitting salt water.

"My brother," the surfer gasps. "My brother, he's--"

"I got him already," Buck says, reassuring. "I got him, it's OK. Come on, hold on to my arm," he says, but she doesn't seem to hear, too frantic, thrashing against him, tangling them in the surfboard's leash. The changing wind sweeps them sideways, out of the rip current but into the path of a white-capped wave, and Buck has just enough time to think, Oh, FUCK, and then, don't let her go, don't let her go, don't let her go don't let her go, and then they're both pulled down, the surfer's scream garbled underwater before it cuts off. Buck's got two hands on her and one leg wrapped up in the board leash and no chance to protect his head as the wave slams him face-first into the rocky sea floor. It's only from adrenaline dulling the pain and sheer stubbornness that he manages to keep his grip tight, his mouth closed, and his eyes open, thrashing his leg loose and kicking for the surface with all his strength, lungs burning.

She's stopped struggling by the time they break the surface, which is overall a bad sign, but at least Buck is finally able to grab her ankle and undo the board strap so he's not pulling that along too as he tows her to shore, her back against his chest. His head is throbbing, but over the sound of the waves and his panting breath he can hear sirens, close already and getting closer, a beautiful, heartening sound. The flashing lights of an LAFD rig blaze in his peripheral vision as he swims perpendicular to the shoreline, steering them into a weaker current before he can turn for the beach.

"Hey," he tries to yell, as he reaches the shallows and can get his feet under him, but maybe he did inhale some water after all, because his voice comes out in a hoarse wheeze. It's too quiet to get the attention of the knot of people up the beach, gathered around where Buck had left the first person he rescued, and the firefighters and paramedics are just pulling into the parking lot, too far away to help him yet. His whole body burns with exhaustion but he forces himself to keep going, pulling on some deep reserve to scoop the surfer into his arms and carry her the rest of the way out of the water, staggering as the surf drags at his ankles.

"Hey," he tries again, managing to get some breath behind it. "I need help over here," and now heads are turning his way, some of the bystanders at the other scene breaking off and coming towards him as he gives up on forward motion and drops to his knees on the sand.

As he lets himself fall, he sees Kevin staring at him from the crowd, looking stricken, eyes huge and face pale under his tan. But Kevin doesn't come towards him; he doesn't move at all, just keeps standing there, arms at his sides. Then Buck looks away to focus on what he needs to do: lay the patient down, tilt her head back, check her breathing, and then thank fucking god, she retches, coughing, and he helps her roll onto her side as water comes up. Two paramedics with med kits reach them, two firefighters with a backboard on their heels, one of the paramedics saying, "LAFD, we can take it from here," and then a firefighter asking him, "Sir, are you alright?"

Buck has a moment of disorientation to be addressed like a civilian, a split-second flash of his coma dream, and then remembers--right, he's just some guy in a swimsuit. "I'm a firefighter, I'm Evan Buckley from the 118," he says, and then launches into his briefing, scooting back to let the paramedics assess her--"I just pulled her out of the water right now; she was distressed but conscious when I got to her. We got taken under by a wave and she might have inhaled some water while we were down there, not sure, and she was semi-conscious after that."

"Did you know you're bleeding like hell, Buckley?" the firefighter asks him. Her nametag says Rao.

"What? Oh," Buck says, uselessly, touching his forehead where he smashed it on the rocks, fingers coming away red. Not all of the wetness on his face is saltwater, it turns out.

"Here," Rao says, holding a wad of gauze from the medkit up to his head. The paramedics and the other firefighter have the surfer on the backboard and are getting ready to move.

"Thanks," Buck says to Rao. He puts his hand on the gauze to hold it in place. "Listen, I'm fine, really, you know scalp wounds, they always bleed like crazy." He doesn't want her to feel obligated to stay with him when there are people here who actually need help.

"Uh-huh," she says, skeptically. "You take that knock on the head while you were underwater?" Although they don't look anything alike, her expression reminds him so strongly of Chim's this patient is an idiot face that he has a wave of what feels almost like deja vu. Or at least that's what he blames the sudden lurch of dizziness on.

"Um. Yes," Buck admits. He's glad he's sitting down. The adrenaline is leaving him, a tide going out, stripping him down to the detritus underneath, and his hands are starting to shake. Maybe not just his hands. Maybe his whole body. He clenches his teeth and puts more pressure on the wound on his forehead, grounding himself in the pain.

Further up the beach, he can see another team of firefighters and paramedics swiftly crossing the sand with a loaded-down backboard that Buck assumes is the other guy--the brother, Buck thinks. Buck spares a thought to hope he's OK and then mentally hands him off, trusting his colleagues and reminding himself he did all he could, even if that guy's lips were blue when Buck got him ashore.

"Alright," Rao says, and then she's waving over a couple other firefighters and talking into her radio, asking dispatch to send a third ambulance, and Buck thinks, Wait, for who? and then realizes. Right. It's for him.

"I'm really OK," Buck says, as two more firefighters come over, one carrying a medkit and the other pulling on gloves.

"Buckley from the 118," Rao says. "They call you Buck, right?" Buck nods. "Yeah, your reputation precedes you."

Buck squints up at her. "I'm not totally sure what that means."

"It means that, based on the stories I've heard about the 118, I'm pretty sure you would try to walk it off if a shark had taken half your leg," she says, and then, "Thanks," as one of the arriving firefighters hands her a fresh set of gauze. Buck tries to reach for it and gets a glare so fierce he sits back meekly, chastened, and lets her tape it down.

#vgreysonfics #the mission statement of this one is #Buck has a lot of orgasms and a real bad time #also it's the first thing I've written in a while with significant non-chronological parts #Buck's POV: bouncy ball inside a coffee can that's rolling down a hill #weewoo show #wip wednesday

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intrepidacious · 7 days

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just fairer than death

summary: One night, you pull a dying sailor from the depths of the sea.

pairing: james norrington x siren!reader

word count: 2.3k

warnings: set right after james' canon departure; slight dubcon because sirens; brief blood licking; i think this qualifies as soft dark? please note that my blog is rated 18+. minors dni. ageless/empty blogs will be blocked without warning.

a/n: crawling out of my void with this fic that absolutely no one asked for 🫶🏼 i first wrote this in may so that's how i'm doing at the moment. @brandycranby and @scrumptious-delusion thank you for actually making me finish this story, i love you both so immensely x

masterlist | read on ao3

It was said, among your kind, that there was nothing more dangerous than a sailor; for you were destined to either love him or kill him.

That is, if he did not kill you first.

Your life had already been long, then, and you’d never even seen a human up close. You’d learned to understand how the seas would change when they had to carry a ship, how the waves would moan under its weight, and you’d taken great pains to avoid watchful eyes in the dark every single time. The odds were stacked against you, and you weren’t ready to risk your life for a notion as abstract as love.

Others, you knew, had been bolder than you. Several of your sisters liked to venture out to take a closer look at a passing vessel and its crew, and some of them had never made it back afterwards. You didn’t like to think what might have happened to them.

It was worse, though, when they did return. Blood on their gills and flesh still stuck between their sharp teeth, a mad, angry, horrified look in their eyes. See what they made me do, it seemed to say. See how they conjure violence from thin air.

Passion, you learned, was a dangerous current to get caught up in.

Night fell early that day, like the goddess herself wanted to hide what was about to happen underneath a shroud of darkness. The sea was quiet. The stars were hiding as you let yourself get carried by the waves with your face turned towards an empty sky, far enough from the cursed ship to stay out of sight. The Flying Dutchman made you shiver in your scales, no matter how many times you smelled her rotten wood from afar. There was nothing good on that ship; nothing good could ever come from it.

You never knew what strange tides carried you closer. These waters had their own sense of humour, sometimes, cruel and biting like medusa venom.

A shout cut through the night, clearly audible even from where you were floating at a distance. Normally, you would’ve taken this as your sign to leave, but for some reason, you hesitated. An icy chill went through you and stopped you from slipping away into the safety of the deep. Instead, you turned your head towards the source of the sound.

Something had plummeted into the water.

You squinted. Yes, you could see several figures, their heads just bobbing above the surface as they moved hastily away from the abominable ship.

Good, you thought. Not even humans deserved the likes of Davy Jones.

Then the wind picked up. It carried the coppery stench of blood and steel mixing with seawater, and the fine hairs covering your neck stood up in response. Every cell of your body was screaming at you to flee, and yet you were unable to move, the ocean gently pushing you closer still.

You couldn’t see anything else in this murky darkness, but a few minutes passed in tense silence before you heard a hollow, ghostly laugh followed by another splash. The sea tasted of iron, too, now; and of something else.

It was that other, undetermined thing that made you swim closer against your every instinct. You were still far enough from the Dutchman to be out of sight, the tides moving in your favour, when you saw the shape in the water.

It was drifting away from the vessel as well, but in a way much more uncoordinated than the ones you’d seen earlier, barely staying afloat for another moment before the ocean swallowed it whole.

You did not hesitate this time.

Underwater, it was much easier for your eyes to make out the shape, sinking heavily as the ship’s wake pushed it down, down towards the bottom of the ocean. A muscle strained in your tail, your gills protesting as you shot through the waters to get a proper look before it fell out of sight. You still didn’t understand why.

Goddess help you, you should’ve known.

For something as terrible as a sailor, he didn’t look all that intimidating. He only looked decidedly lifeless, his eyes closed, limbs floating loosely. Blood tinted the water around him, coming from a hole in his chest that probably wasn’t supposed to be there. Then again, what did you know about humans?

You wondered if all of them looked this beautiful.

Then, like a shockwave, you remembered that they needed air to breathe.

Before you could consciously decide on it, you had grabbed the sailor under his shoulders and dragged him back up. He was heavier than a grown reef shark, unresponsive dead weight, the ocean refusing to loosen her grip on him.

Finally, you burst through the surface again, a gasp of relief escaping you when you spotted a sandbank not that far away. The Dutchman, thankfully, was far off in the distance by now. No ghostly eye saw you taking off into the opposite direction with the lifeless sailor the ship had spat out.

You couldn’t help but glance at your charge every now and again as you struggled to keep him afloat. He had lost part of his hair to the currents, and the rest of it had another colour underneath, dark like sea weeds. You could only hope that he didn’t need the upper part.

But need it for what, exactly? This man was dead; or at least mostly so. He still smelled slightly alive, and his skin was warm against yours.

"What am I doing?" you whispered to yourself as you tightened your grasp around his shoulders.

Careful, sang the waves. Do not play with things you don’t understand.

But what a ridiculous warning that was. You knew this man was in no shape to harm you, so how could your curiosity be something terrible?

After what felt like hours, your hands touched rock and sand. With great effort, you managed to heave the sailor onto it. No matter how much you scowled at the waves, his head kept rolling back under water, until you lifted yourself up and carefully put it in your lap.

Your tail was aching with exhaustion and your uncomfortable position, but you couldn’t keep your eyes off him. Breathe, you thought, holding his face in your hands, breathe.

The sailor didn’t listen, but then again, he was mostly dead.

You could feel your heart racing as desperation started to rise. What had you done this for, then, if he refused to cling to life after all? It was as if something had possessed you, and now that you were halfway through the motions it dictated, you’d been once again left alone with your thoughts and the rush of the sea around you.

Something compelled you to push a strand of wet, dark hair away from his face. No; he didn’t look intimidating at all.

Love him or kill him.

You were a simple creature steered by fate as much as anyone, and right now, you were a helpless guppy between her fingers. You wondered what colour his eyes might be.

He was so heavy on you, like his weight was trying to remind you of the odd reality of this situation. You had no idea what to do, and so you kept staring at him.

Like small fish lured in by photophore, your fingers trailed inevitably downwards to that strange hole in his chest. Human blood smelled the same as yours, and it had the same colour, as far as you could tell; but it was warm.

Hesitantly, you pulled your hand back and licked it up.

An involuntary sigh left your lips.

Sweet. Maddeningly sweet. Even after just a few drops, you could see why your sisters would lose their minds over this. You could feel your mouth watering as you savoured the taste, your mind going blissfully blank.

This was like nothing you’d ever experienced.

Your heart was beating a frenzy as you heaved the sailor up in your lap and leaned over his chest, dipping your tongue against the hole. Each lick of blood intensified the gentle buzz in your head, a giddy lightness spreading through your limbs, your chest, your very core.

Just before you lost yourself entirely to this sensation, you heard a low rumbling noise. Gurgling, like stuck water. The sound faded again almost instantly.

Around you, the wind picked up, the waves rumbling menacingly, and you looked up to see the clouds darkening overhead. A storm was coming, after all.

You went to continue your meal and found that the hole had closed up. Soft, reddened skin covered it like it had never been there in the first place. Only a small, shimmering scar remained, and you traced your fingers along it in wistful wonderment, blinking as you wiped your mouth and came to your senses again.

How strange, indeed.

Still, your appetite had been wet, now. You looked at the sailor’s face again, craving more of his sweetness. Maybe …

Slowly, you brushed your lips against his, breathing into him as you carefully nipped at his flesh. He tasted like the sea, here, salt and brine and something else entirely, something that made you press closer as you exhaled into him.

Perfect, you thought because you’d never felt anything so true, all things falling into place for the first time in your life. It sent a pleasant tingle up your spine.

A sound again; this time, it reverberated in your mouth. The sea lashed at you but you ignored it, pushing into the noise as if going to smother it, and then something moved in your lap and the mostly dead sailor grunted weakly against your lips.

You flinched backwards as he sputtered before you, his entire body convulsing as he coughed up seawater and blood. Each rattled breath ended with another fit of coughs until finally, he calmed, slumping back into his previous position in your lap.

It was then, for the first time, that he opened his eyes.

They were green, green like the deep sea on a particularly fine day, green like a palm leaf on the beach at Whitecap Bay, green like shards of smooth seaglass, polished and shimmering. Even in the darkness, they were bright, and they were looking up at you in confusion.

You were confused, too. Something very odd was happening, and so you leaned in and you did the only thing your mind could think of at that moment. You pressed your lips against his once more.

Again, you were filled with that feeling of rightness as you pressed closer, as his mouth gently moved against yours as if in an unheard question before answering you in equal. Yes, yes.

You didn’t understand but this was the way things should be, how they were always meant to go, how—

Cool hands pulled your face away and an involuntary whine escaped you. The sea green eyes had darkened, softened, and they blinked at you several times before the sailor asked, "Am I dead?"

"Not anymore," you said, making to move closer again. He didn’t let you, his hand solid against your cheek.

"I don’t—I’m not sure what happened." His voice was hoarse with the salt of the ocean. His thumb kept tracing your cheekbone like he wasn’t able to comprehend you were actually here. "I thought I was dead."

"Does it matter?" you asked. Your voice was gaining a sing-songy quality entirely of its own accord, and it made his seaglass eyes glaze over a little.

He made to sit up and even though some deep, primal instinct didn’t want him to withdraw even a little, you helped steady his shaking arms until he was upright. Still, your tail was relieved at the lifted weight, giving an involuntary spasm that splashed in the water.

The sailor barely seemed to notice, even as he looked around at his surroundings. The wind howled and dark waves kept lapping at his legs as he tried to get his bearings.

It was a long time before his eyes settled on you again.

"Who are you?" he said, and there was wonder in his voice, incredulity.

Beautiful, you thought again.

You told him your name, quickly, without even thinking about it. Your kind wasn’t usually supposed to share this information; names held power, after all. But this was different. He was different.

"What about you, sailor?" you asked softly. "What do they call you?"

"I … James," he said, his brow furrowed in concentration, like he wasn’t all that sure at all. "Admiral James Norrington of the EC … the EITC. I think."

"Don’t think," you said, putting a hand on his chest. You could feel his heartbeat in there, fast enough for it to sound as if he, like some creatures, had three of them. Unlikely, of course, but what did you know?

In time, he might spare one of them for you.

For some reason, that thought didn’t shock you.

"I should …" he said, his eyes half-shut again. You wanted to kiss away that frown. You wondered if his smile was as magnificent as you imagined, hidden somewhere beneath that stern face. "There was something … someone …"

It broke your heart, the way that worry weighed on him. You needed to take care of him. Take him somewhere safe, somewhere he could rest.

"Don’t worry, James Norrington," you said gently, slowly leaning in once more; he didn’t stop you. "It’s going to be all right."

This time, when your mouths connected, he sighed, like he was letting go of whatever burden his memory was trying to remind him of. This time, his arms came around you and wrapped tightly around your shoulders so that when you slipped into the water, he clung to you, your lips still moving in perfect tandem. He tasted divine.

Yes, you thought, maybe there was a point to these stories about sailors after all.

But this one … he was good. He was yours.

And you intended to keep him.

thank you for reading!! if you want to see more of my writing, check out my masterlist or follow @intrepidacious-fics for update notifications!! remember to stay hydrated and reblog the fics you read to make a writer smile today 💛

#james norrington x reader #james norrington fic #james norrington x you #james norrington fanfiction #james norrington oneshot #pirates of the caribbean fanfic #potc fanfic

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