#gary woods x reader

[springtyme]

I’m gonna close my request Friday night, just for a little while until I’ve gotten through the current pile. So if you want to send in something please do so before then. 💕

The plan is to hopefully post a kendall, richie and syd fic this week

(I’m taking the bear, succession, cod, & marvel requests atm:))

[loveharlow]

SEVEN - 001

PAIRING ‧₊˚ JJ Maybank x Fem!Reader

SYNOPSIS‧₊˚ [9.6k] based on 1x01.

WARNING(S)‧₊˚ swearing, mentions of drowning, mentions of death

NOW PLAYING‧₊˚

A/N‧₊˚ I've been wanting to do an OBX rewrite for a very long time so here it is, the first chapter from yours truly.

˗ˏˋ series masterlist ˎˊ˗

‘THAT’S ABOUT A THREE-STORY FALL TO THE DECK? I give you about a one-in-three chance of survival.” Pope theoreticized from below. John B was balancing himself on the roof, beer in hand and not a care in the world. 

Licking his finger and holding it up in the air, he spoke. “Should I do it?”

“Yeah, you should jump! I’ll shoot you on the way down.” Pope joked, electric drill gun pointed up in the brunette’s direction. 

“You’re gonna shoot me?” JB mocked the boy below him with fingers guns as Kiara emerged from inside the unfinished home, interrupting their shenanigans.

“They’re gonna have Japanese toilets with towel warmers.” She said, mildly disgusted.

“Of course they are,” JJ chimed in. “Why wouldn’t they?”

“This used to be a turtle habitat,” she continued on, looking the house up and down. “But who cares about the turtles, I guess…”

“Can’t have cold towels…” 

“Do you even use towels, JJ?” You chimed in as you rounded the corner, earbud in one ear and even from the roof, the four of your friends could hear your music blasting faintly. “I thought you shook yourself off like a dog when you got wet.”

“Ha ha.” He fake laughed before he chucked an empty beer can in your direction. You dodged it with an annoyed sneer before picking it up and chucking it back ten times harder, hitting the side of the blonde’s head.

“Ah- ouch!”

“Could you please, not kill yourself?” Kiara stared up at John B with concern in her eyes.

“And don’t spill that beer! I’m not giving you another one…” JJ warned his best friend. His words almost like a trigger, JB dropping the beer right after, hearing the metal clank against the deck as the remaining liquid splattered on the wood.

“And of course he spills the beer.” You couldn’t help but speak as you slid down one of the wooden fixtures to sit against it.

“Hey!” A new voice bellowed. That’s when your eyes found Pope leaned over one of the banisters. 

“Security’s here. Let’s wrap it up.” He said, voice wavering slightly as he pat the deck and turned around.

John B got down from the roof, following behind JJ as you all picked up the pace. You all made your way into the house, quick in your steps to avoid the officers.

Rushing down the stairs, JJ was in the front. “Right turn, J!” You shouted. But of course, he still made a left turn, coming face to face and just narrowly missing one of the officers as you all went right. “I said right turn, dumbass!” You yelled over your shoulder.

“They’re going out front!”

You, Kiara, and John B had already managed to jump into the van, watching as JJ and Pope hopped the gate and landed flat on their stomachs. John B honked the horn to urge them on. “Bus is leaving!”

With the last two of the group in the vehicle, John B practically stomped on the pedal, sending the vehicle forward.

He drove the van as fast it could go, which wasn’t all that fast for the record. The side door was still open as you, along with JJ and Pope, mocked the officer who was chasing after the busted van. 

“Check out Gary, gunnin’ for a raise.” Pope mocked, eliciting a chorus of giggles inside the van. 

“You little pricks!”

JJ waved a beer can out the door, shaking it in the mans face. “You’re so close, you can do it! There you go.” He said as he tossed the can in the running officer’s direction. “They don’t pay you enough bro!”

The officer fell behind just as the van hit the bridge, passing the welcome sign to The Outer Banks. ‘Paradise on Earth.’ The natural habitat of you and your friends.

The Pogues. Pogues, pogies, the throwaway fish.

There’s JJ, one of your best friends out of them all. He’s about as local as they come. He does the dumb, risky things none of the rest of you will and you actually find him quite funny, not that you’d ever let him know that. He's tries to act all wreckless and tough-guy but you all know that he's just a loyal friend who tries to do the right thing in the wrong way.

Then there’s Kiara, or Kie as she would prefer to be called. She’s been your closest and dearest friend since forever. Your fathers were as thick as thieves and you and Kie seemed to follow in their steps being best friends since pre-school, even though you lived on two differen't sides of the island up until recently. Her family owns The Wreck, this Outer Banks institution and her parents love you. The others? Not so much… 

And you can’t forget Pope, the brains of the operation. Finalist for the Luther T. Vanderhorst Merit Scholarship. And the smartest person you know. Little bit of a weirdo but who isn’t. His father’s sort of.. strict, but he gives you free seafood. He says you're the 'least negative influence' his son keeps around.

Then, of course, There’s John B — legally, John Booker Routledge. You all have a myriad of nicknames for him though — John, JB, Bree, Jombee. You all typically hang at his place, The Chateau as his dad used to call it. Speaking of his dad, he disappeared at sea nine months ago, looking for a shipwreck and his mom split when he was three. You’ve all been doing your best to look out for him but it was an extremely difficult situation…

Last is you, the Pogues resident Pogue Princess. Well, former Pogue Princess. You moved to Figure Eight about eight months ago, after your dad died and your mom’s lawyer career skyrocketed seemingly out of the blue. But you hate it there, you spent her whole life on The Cut. Plus, your dad’s death caused a bit of a strain on your relationship with your mother. Things just haven't been the same.

WAKING UP TO HARSH POST-HURRICANE WINDS IS NEVER PLEASANT. Especially not for someone who isn’t much of a morning person. You’d barely had time to rub the sleep out of your eyes when your mom came into your room, in a rush as she was running late to meet with a client, reminding you to turn on the backup generator and ordering you to help out Kiara and her father at The Wreck.

“Is that all of it?” You asked, mouth half-full of french fries that were hot and salted to literal perfection. Kie stood in front of you, apron covered in food scraps and hair in a messy bun. 

“As much as we’re gonna be able to get today.” She sighed, eyes scanning over the crates and boxes littered amongst the floor. “Here,” She started, walking towards a couple of coolers stacked in the corner. “We’ll take these coolers out on the dock. The guys should be here soon.”

“M’kay.” You hummed, jumping out of the chair you were sitting backwards in and clapping your hands together to dust them off. She grabbed the cooler off the top and you grabbed the one underneath, following her out to the dock. 

It had gotten hotter in the short time you both had spent cleaning The Wreck, sun hitting you directly in the face as you walked out onto the damp deck, eyes squinting from the harsh beam of sunlight. Your hair was thrown up and out of your face into a high ponytail. You had discarded your flannel, tying it around your waist in front of your shorts, leaving your top half in only a bikini.

“Top o’ the mornin’ to ya.” JJ greeted. 

“Good morning.” Kie replied, shielding her eyes from the sun.

“Whatcha got? Some juice boxes?”

You lifted the lid and peeked inside as you and Kiara continued walking towards the boat. “Looks like, carrots? And… yogurt?” You looked to Kie for some assurance. She smirked.

“I have his kind of juice boxes in this one.” She assured, wiggling her cooler in the air. 

The boat stopped at the end of the dock, the guys helping you both inside. Once you and her were all arms and legs inside, John B sped off. Kie opened up her cooler handing everyone a beer who accepted, which was all except for John B, who was steering, and Pope who opted for baby carrots.

“Salud!” You all cheered as the three of you clanked bottles.

“HEY POPE, CAN YOU GO A LITTLE FASTER?” JJ asked, now standing at the forefront of the boat, beer in hand. Pope had taken over as driver when John B joined in drinking with the rest of the group.

“Dude, nooo, not this again. It fails every time.” You tried to stop the blonde from trying this borderline ritualistic party trick that never worked. 

“Have some faith, will you?” He shot back sarcastically. “It’s gonna work!” He spoke over the rev of the engine as Pope idiotically listened to him and sped up the boat. JJ tilted the beer bottle back enough to splatter beer into his mouth, and in Kie’s hair, and on John B’s cheek, and on your lips. 

“Alright, alright!” Pope tried. “Alright, stop!” 

It happened out of nowhere, the boat coming to an aggressive and abrupt stop. The last thing you saw was JJ flipping forward into the water, JB and Kie falling off their seats, and Pope tumbling back before you were submerged within an endlessness of dark blue, a harsh stinging-sensation blooming on your back and thighs. You couldn’t tell what was up and what was down. Too disoriented from the fall, your brain didn’t catch up with your body, attempting to inhale in your panic before getting a mouth full of water. Then, within seconds, you felt a hand on your back, seemingly feeling around to make sure you were what they were looking for before two hands were under your arms and pulling you up.

You coughed as your eyes were met with the harsh light of the sun, but you were grateful for it. You could hear JJ’s voice behind your ear as you coughed up water. “I got her! She’s fine!”

He swam in front of you, his hand rubbing and patting your back as your coughing fit slowly became less intense. “You alright? You took a nasty fall.” You managed to strain out a hoarse laugh. 

“You guys okay?” Pope shouted over the edge of the boat. 

“Almost drowned but yeah, we’re just fine.” You and JJ joked back, swimming back to the boat.

“Pope, man, what happened?” JJ inquired, treading water next to you. 

“Sandbar. The channel changed...” 

“No kidding.” You said, voice still scratchy from the Marsh water. 

“Guys…” Pope started, staring in confusion over the edge of the small boat. “I think there’s a boat down there.”

“Yeah, okay...”

“No, I’m serious. There’s a boat down there. For real.” You and JJ gave each other a glance, still treading in the water as you watched the remaining three peer over where Pope was staring. “There’s a boat!”

Kie quickly turned around. “Holy shit, he’s right.” You and JJ began paddling towards where your friends eyes were glued before as they shed their clothes and jumped in with the two of you. You all took one last glance at each other before dunking your heads below the surface and diving to the pristine, white boat that stood stuck in the middle of The Marsh.

When the tips of your fingers touched the surface of the boat, you swam around it, examining the structure. This wasn’t an old shipwreck, it was too clean. This had to have happened during the hurricane. As you kept swimming, you recognized the layout, the structure, the fixtures. There was no way this was what you thought it was…

Coming back up to the surface, JJ’s voice was the first one heard. “You guys saw that, right?” He asked breathlessly, a smile on his face as he shook his wet hair from in front of his face.

“That’s a Grady-White.” You added, still catching your breath. “That’s like a half a million dollar boat, just sitting there.” You all swam back to where the HMS Pogue swayed, climbing back on all at once. 

“That’s the boat I saw when I surfed the surge. Maybe it hit the jetty or something.” John B spoke. Both you and Kiara turned to him, your faces falling from excitement to dismay.

Kie was the first to speak, a quiet question. “You surfed the surge?...”

“Yeah.” JB spoke carelessly, barely paying any attention before answering.

“That’s my boy. Pogue style.” JJ encouraged him, slapping a hand against his shoulder.

“Well that was dumb.” You immediately protested, siding with Kie. “You could’ve gotten killed.” You added seriously. What the hell was he thinking? Surfing a surge isn’t uncommon in the Outer Banks, but waves like that? That’s a death wish, for sure.

“I’m still here, aren’t I?”

There was brief, tense eye contact between the both of you before you scoffed and turned around, walking off.

“Wait. Do we know whose boat that is?” Pope asked. 

“No, but we’re about to find out.” John B spoke up. 

“Dude, it’s way too deep.” JJ pointed out. He was right. It was too deep, especially for someone with no diving experience. Diving experience that you happened to have. No matter how pissed you were at him for surfing the surge, letting John B make another dumb mistake was just as bad. Also, mildly hypocritical.

“Oh, for the weak and feeble, JJ.”

“I’m not resuscitating you.” JJ reminded. “I’m just...making that clear up front.” He told him, scrunching his nose and shrugging his shoulders.

“That’s fine.” John was now standing on the edge of the boat, anchor in hand with a smile that was much to happy for someone doing something so dangerous.

“Diver down.” Pope saluted.

You turned around, about to offer to go down yourself. That was, until JJ pushed John B off the edge of the boat himself.

“JJ!” You shouted, hands out. He turned to you, blue eyes wide and wandering. 

“What?” You just shook your head and groaned.

You just opted to stand on the other side of Kie, watching and waiting for John B to emerge again. 

Seconds passed, seconds that felt like minutes. “He’s been down there too long.” You eventually vocalized, breaking through the tense silence. 

“Should we go get him?” Pope suggested. Just then, the brown haired boy sprung up out the water, shaking his head side to side flinging water on the four of you. You all shielded your faces, mutual groans leaving the four of you on the boat.

“Dude! C’mon…” Pope complained, wiping droplets of water from his forehead and peering over the edge of the boat. “Any dead bodies?”

“No.” John B answered. “I found this motel key.” He continued, holding up a small, silver key with a yellow tag attached. 

“A key...” Pope said unimpressed. 

“Great! We… salvaged a motel key.” JJ continued mocking as they helped John B back onto the boat. Pope resumed his position behind the wheel as John B examined the key, you sat back with your earbud in one ear, still able to listen and chime in on the conversation. 

“Guys, we should report the wreck to the coast guard. Maybe we’ll get a finder’s fee.” 

POPE DOCKED AT THE COAST GUARD, THE PLACE BOMBARDED WITH ISLANDERS. Some searching for their spouses, pets, and family members. JJ and John B walked inside to find someone while Pope, Kie and yourself waited outside the maze of tents.

“It’s the day after a hurricane. They’re looking for old people and children, not boats. Besides, would it really be that bad if we just, didn’t report it?” You voiced.

“I don’t know,” Pope expressed, hand on the back of his neck. “What if there’s a body down there and we just, I don’t know, missed it.”

“And,” Kie started in that motherly tone that could make you question all bad judgment. “Reporting it is the right thing to do. No matter what.”

Just then, JJ and John B came back out of the tent. JJ shook his head. “No luck.” You couldn’t say you were surprised. Or disappointed. All heads turned to John B who stared out at nothing. He fiddled with the key before voicing his thoughts. 

“...I think I know how we’re gonna find the guy who owns that boat.”

“No, no, no,” Pope stressed, pointing at the key as if the object was to blame. “No bad ideas. We don’t know whose that is.”

The two boys ignored him, JJ taking the key from John B’s fingers and tossing it to Kie. “I’m in.” He declared. 

“Come on,” Kie urged Pope. “I’ll be lookout.”

You shrugged, following behind them but talking to Pope as you walked backwards. “At least we tried.” You turned to walk forwards, JB trailing behind you. 

“Finder’s fee, just sayin’” You heard him say. “And hey! At least you’ll only be an accomplice.”

Pope sighed before you heard his footsteps join the group. “Man…”

“Come on, bubba.” John B comforted, throwing an arm over the dark-skinned boy's shoulders.

THE FIVE OF YOU ALL STOOD, NOT MOVING, AS YOU SILENTLY JUDGED THE MOTEL COMING INTO VIEW IN FRONT YOU AS THE HMS POGUE DRIFTED CLOSER TO IT. 

“This is place is a shithole.” You were the first to say it out loud. The cloudy windows, the overgrown vines on the, what you guessed used to be, white walls, and the overgrown weeds. 

“I thought The Chateau looked bad...”

“Motel or Meth-lab?”

“Doesn’t look like the type of place someone with a Grady-White would stay.” John pointed out the obvious.

“It looks like the type of place someone with a Grady-White would get mugged.” You mumbled as JJ winded up the rope and jumped off the front of the boat, tying it down to anchor it in place. 

“We good?” John B asked as the chipper blonde wrapped the blue and white rope around the anchor point a couple more times for good measure.

“Good to go.”

“All right,” John B said. “Here goes nothing.”

“Hey.” Pope uttered, pointing a finger at JJ but maintaining eye contact with JB. “Don’t let him do anything stupid.”

“I’m not making any promises.” Was all John B said, you and Pope simultaneously rolling your eyes.

“Be careful…” Kiara spoke softly, handing John B the key. “I mean it.” John B kept his eyes on hers until a small smile crept up on his sun kissed cheeks. He let out a soft, almost school-girlish chuckle.

“Yeah...” He muttered as he turned to walk away with JJ. 

Seconds passed as you watched the boys disappear, already knowing nothing good could come out of those two. It was only a small matter of time before Kiara spoke up, eyes on you as she fiddled nervously with her fingers.

“You should go with them.”

You could feel your expression morph into one of of confusion, looking on both sides of you. “Me?” You asked incredulously, pointing a finger at yourself. “Why me?”

“Well, they’d just rope Pope into whatever dumb decision they make, so he’s not an option.”

“Hey!” Pope threw his hands up in a poor attempt to defend himself. His mouth opened and closed, trying to find words before eventually surrendering to the fact that what she said was at least somewhat truthful.

“And what about you?” You asked, crossing my arms and raising an eyebrow. “Any chance for some extra time with John B, right?” You teased, edging towards the girl as she rolled her eyes.

“Will all of you stop saying that?” She looked away, playing with her bracelets. "I just get worried..."

You laughed and playfully pecked her cheek. “Yeah, worried. More like hot and bothered.” You played with the girl, hopping off the boat and landing just barely on your feet. You hadn’t made it but two steps before you heard her voice again.

“Hey!” You turned around. “Don’t forget your phone.” She reminded, tossing the small device your way as you caught it between your palms. A slight look of uncertainty on your face.

“Aren’t the towers down?”

Both of them shrugged before Pope spoke. “Couldn't hurt to have it.”

You pondered on it for a moment before letting the thought go. It wasn’t long before you caught up to the boys, the two not even noticing your presence behind them over their own conversation.

“...super sexy island chick that can play guitar and loves dogs. And her mom’s a hotshot lawyer, dude! Do you know how many guys on this island alone would jump at the chance to hit that?”

“I’d jump at the chance to hit you.” You disrupted whatever direction that conversation was going in. “I don't even want to know.” You snarked when he stuttered to defend himself, their heads turning back, JJ blubbering like a fish with his eyes wide.

“Where the hell did you...”

“Just, sh.” You dismissed him with your palm, John B chuckling under his breath. 

“It’s like, every girl who has a heartbeat you’re just like…” John B made a semi-sexual motion with his hands and let out some ancient, elderly groan. 

“It’s not a big deal.” JJ defended, the topic of conversation dying as the three of you approach the end of the walkway.

“Is this us? Twenty-nine?” You piped up, pointing to the motel door that was scuffed up entirely, paint chipped and scratches all over. 

“This is it.” John B declared, staring at the key in his palm. JJ knocked in a rhythm on the wood, pretending to be housekeeping with a high pitched voice. 

“Should we try it?” John B looked at JJ for a green light, JJ saying something in Spanish as you looked around before giving JB a nod as your signal of agreement. The door creaked open as we stood in the frame. Needless to say, the room looked better than the exterior. There was a decent sized duffel bag on the bed closest to the door, it was clear to see that the room was actually occupied for a considerable amount of time. 

“I’ll check the bag.” JB directed, using the flashlight to search through the bag. “Definitely over 50, he’s got New Balances…”

You shot him a dirty look that he couldn’t see. “I have New Balances…” You mumbled.

JJ was leaned over a map on the nightstand, scanning it curiously. “Maybe this is where they were fishing.” He declared, John B and you crowding around him on either side. “Right there?” He pointed with his finger at a spot on the map.

“No, that’s off the continental shelf.” John B argued. 

“That’s the Big Swell. No one fishes there.” You informed.

JJ continued looking over the map for a bit as you saw John B lift a piece of paper that was ripped from the motel notepad, a series of numbers written on it. You couldn’t see what numbers they were exactly but they didn’t seem important as he sat the paper down and both boys backed away from the nightstand.

You used the flashlight on your phone to continue scouting the room. It was what you’d expect out of a motel room — chipped walls, dust particles visible at every turn, the faint smell of sweat and what was either mildew or mold. Or both. 

“Oooh...” JJ could be heard from the bathroom.

“You find somethin’?” You inquired, walking into the space he was in and watching him rifle through a small black bag on a shelf.

“Just a dopp kit Bree won’t let me steal.” He whispered before peeking his head through the doorframe and pocketing a bottle of pills.

You swatted his chest, prompting him to clutch his chest like an offended old woman. “We aren’t stealing.” You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “Put those back.”

“Whoever’s it is won’t miss them. They’re probably dead somewhere-”

“We’re not taking anything, JJ. Just put them back-”

“You know how much these could sell for?”

“I don’t care-”

“What are you guys doing?” JB was standing in the doorframe, flashlight by his side as he eyed the both of you back and forth. You both pausing and looking at John B, then each other.

You rolled your eyes and brushed past him, heading for the main bedroom. John B followed, crouching down in front of a cabinet that held a safe before he began punching in numbers.

“That will literally take forever.” You reprimanded, eyeing him with confusion as you shifted your weight behind him. 

“One, one, one, two?...” He ignored you as he continued punching in combinations.

“...Or try the piece of paper you picked up not even two minutes ago?” You told him as if was the most obvious thing in the world, face twisting as you threw your free hand out to the side. He paused in his number-punching, his head craning to the side before he stood up and looked at you.

“Maybe you are good for something.” He spoke absentmindedly, walking past you to get the piece of paper as JJ reviewed the map once again. 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean…” You mumbled to no one in particular as he brushed past you once again to go back to entering codes into the safe, this time you crouching next to him, watching as he punched ‘61666’ into the keypad. You watched as the door unlocked itself. 

Your eyes widened when John B fully opened the safe, revealing wads of cash secured with rubber bands, a folder, and a gun. 

“I don’t think we should…” You started.

“Holy shit.” John B proclaimed in awe, picking up one of the stacks of money.

“..touch, any of that.” 

“JJ, you’re gonna wanna see this.” The boy called the blonde over, waving the money behind him.

JJ made his way behind the both of you. You could hear his gasp of “no freaking way” before his hand was reaching to grab the one thing in the safe all of you knew better than to touch — the gun.

“Why would you do that?” You whisper-shouted with wide eyes, standing up alongside John B as JJ played around with the firearm.

“Dude, don’t touch it!” John B warned.

“This is a fucking spendy-gatt man! Blat! Blat!” JJ geeked like a school girl, pretending to shoot the gun at the wall. “Just take a picture of me, man.”

“You want me to take a picture of you? With a gun?” John B asked as if JJ was an idiot. Just then, you heard something hit the frame of the window above the nightstand, speed walking over to it and peeking through the blinds to see a frantic Pope and Kie pointing to their left, mouthing what you thought was the word ‘cops’.

“What is it?” John B and JJ said almost simultaneously as you pushed through both of them to peek out of the window next to the motel room door, spotting Deputy Shoupe and another officer making their way to the room.

“Cops.” You spoke monotonously. “Go. Now. Hide.” You urged as the three of you scattered like mice throughout the room. 

“Kildare County Sheriff’s Department!” A manly voice boomed on the other side of the door when you decided to lift the window, urging the two boys to follow you out onto the roof as quietly as possible.

You could hear the officers enter the room seconds later, telling one another to look around. John B got a little too curious, peeking his head slowly around the corner before you grabbed the ends of his hair that poked out under his baseball cap to snatch his face away from the window.

“Ouch!” He whisper-yelled, hand going to the back of his head.

“What’re you, five? Stop peeking.”

The three of you waited, hearing the muffled chatter of the officers inside as now both John B and JJ attempted to peeked inside, little visibility with the blinds being closed. For some odd, unknown reason, JJ decided to try and retrieve the gun he shouldn’t have touched in the first place from his pocket, the metal slipping through his fingers and clattering against the roof you were standing on.

You all cringed at the noise, giving JJ a side glance and thumping your head against the brick wall. 

Your heart jumped in your throat when the blinds were suddenly drawn up from the inside, Shoupe peeking outside of the window carefully. The three of you waited, anticipating the worst thing to happen until he spoke, voice deafened from the wall between you.

“No one’s here. Let’s go.” You allowed yourself to breathe a sigh of relief. 

“WELL, THAT WAS FUN.” JJ spoke with a chipper tone.

“The cops took everything like it was a crime scene.” Pope spoke up. “Did you guys even find anything?”

“Did we find anything? No, I don’t think so…” JJ mocked, reaching into his pockets. All you could do was roll your eyes as he whipped out the gun and a wad of cash. “Oh, yeah, we did.”

“What the hell?” Pope said, anger in his voice. “Why would you take that from a crime scene?!”

“My thoughts exactly.” You reprimanded under your breath, glancing at Pope who looked at you for a brief second. 

“Better than the cops having it.” JJ tried to justify, shrugging nonchalantly.

“Are you serious?” Kie added. 

“I’m gonna lose my merit scholarship.” Pope worried, JJ pulling him into his side and putting the gun to his lips as he shushed him.

“At least you have us, right?” JJ tried to remedy to which Pope, as well as the rest of you, gave him a deadpan look, shoving him off.

“I’m living a nightmare.”

It wasn’t long before you’d made it back to the docks where it was now swarmed with emergency services. The coroner’s had a man’s body on a stretcher as they questioned another. You all watched on the sidelines with another group of teens as a middle-aged woman ran up to the body, cradling his face.

“Who’s that?” JJ asked.

“Scooter Grubbs. He was out during the storm.” A random blonde girl replied. “Check out this pic I got. Dead Body.” She mocked, shoving her phone into John B’s face.

“...What kind of boat did he have?” JJ piped up randomly, most eyes turning to him.

“Somehow,” The girl started. “That dirtbag copped a brand-new Grady White. Everyone’s out looking for it.”

BACK AT THE CHATEAU, POPE CAME THROUGH THE DOOR, FRANTIC AS HE JOINED THE REST OF YOU ON THE PATIO. “Okay, so we didn’t see anything and we don’t know anything. We need to have total and complete amnesia.” 

“Actually, Pope’s right, for once.” JJ chimed in from his place on the chair farthest from the rest of you. “Deny, deny, deny…” 

“Guys, we can’t keep that money.” Kie interrupted as if the thought had been plaguing her mind.

“Okay, not all of us can afford unlimited data plans, Kiara.”

“That’s not fair, JJ.” You added from your place next to John B, leaning against the post that held up the house.

“Coming from another person who can afford an unlimited data plan.”

“Why are you acting like we didn't live down the street from each other like, eight months ago?” You criticized.

“But you don’t live there now, do you, princess?”

“Don’t call me that." You warned, chucking a pillow at him as he dodged it. "You know I hate when you call me that-”

“Guys.” Pope stopped your childish bickering, allowing Kie to finish her thought. 

“We have to pass it off to Lana Grubbs. Otherwise, it’s bad karma.” 

You shook your head in disagreement. “If anything, giving her the money is bad karma. This whole thing is sketchy and those wads of cash literally scream drug money.”

“I agree.” JB finally spoke. “This is Scooter Grubbs we’re talking about. Same dude that’s buying individual cigarettes at the Porthole. One time, I saw this dude begging for change in the Save-A-Lot parking lot.”

“I can attest to that, I saw him doing the same outside of a Shopper’s once. He didn’t have a shirt on. It was disturbing.” You added absentmindedly.

John B threw his hands in your direction as if saying you were proving his point further. “We are talking about a dirtbag, marina rat who’s never had more than 40 bucks in his pocket and somehow managed to get a brand-new Grady White. Think about it—how does a marina rat get a Grady White, Pope?”

The boy sucked air in through his teeth, tilting his head to the side. “Prostitution?” John B shook his head in disagreement.

“Uh-uh. Square groupers, bro.” He claimed, using his hands for emphasis. “Flying under the radar, no aerial surveillance. They don’t do that stuff during a hurricane. Which means? JJ?” John B handed off the invisible mic to the blonde.

“They were straight smugglin’.”

“And I guarantee there’s a serious amount of contraband in that wreck.”

“For the record,” Pope began to tell the four of you in that overly-intelligent tone, fiddling with the wad of money. “If that is a smuggling ship with illegal contraband on it, it probably belongs to someone else. Someone could come looking for it. Taking it would be catastrophically stupid.”

“Right,” JJ added, taking the stolen stack of money from Pope’s hand. “But stupid things have good outcomes all the time.”

“But usually not in our case…”

“Not helping, Princess.” JJ quipped, head tilting in your direction. You took steps in his direction, smacking him upside the head and snatching the wad of cash from his hands, counting it as you spoke.

“Ouch- dammit!” He exclaimed, caressing the back of his head.

“I warned you once. Listening is fundamental.”

“We need a way on to the ship.” John B added, ignoring you both with that distant look in his eyes. “But for now we gotta lay low.”

“Right…and how exactly do we do that?” JJ inquired, leaning back in his seat.

Sharing a glance with Kie, you both looked back at the boy in front of you before speaking at the same time.

“Kegger?”

THE BONEYARD WAS CROWDED, TO SAY THE LEAST. With Kildare being such a small part of the Outer Banks, news spread quickly. The beach flooded with tourons, pogues, and kooks alike. Beer sloshing, girls dancing.

You’d all went your own sort of ways when it started to kick up — JJ chugging beer with some chick, John B chatting up another, Kie educating a group of girls, and Pope scaring off some poor girl with dead body talk. You’d just gotten off the keg, lightheaded as you stood back up the right way from where two strangers were holding your legs as everyone around you chanted, wiping the beer from your lips when Kie approached you with a snarl on her face.

“What is she doing here?” Your eyebrows pinched together, your eyes following hers to find what had her wound so tight.

It was no other than Sarah Cameron — stood on an old beach post with her loyal dog of a boyfriend, Topper, right behind her. You couldn’t help but internally groan, turning back to Kiara with an eye roll that set into an annoyed expression. 

“God, why is she everywhere?” The brown-haired girl complained as your eyes drifted across the beach, landing on the puppy-eyed friend of yours whose own eyes were fixated on the blonde near the shore. Even from feet away, you didn’t miss the glint in his eye. But there was no way JB had a thing for Sarah Cameron, right? He knew how you and Kie felt about her and he didn’t like Kooks. There was no way.

Nudging Kie’s shoulder, you spoke again. “Better question is, why is John B looking at her like that?”

Kiara’s attention drifted to John B, watching him like he was watching Sarah. A look in her eyes you couldn’t quite decipher — somewhere between disappointment and betrayal. Your own attention was pulled back to the aforementioned couple who were steadily approaching the crowd of teens.

If this were a house party, you’d shun them at the door. Unfortunately, this was public beach and nothing could be done to stop them from joining in.

THE SUN HAD GONE DOWN AND WHAT ONCE WAS A KEGGER IN FULL SWING WAS NOW A BEACH FULL OF TEENS CROWDED AROUND BONFIRE. The four of you were sitting near one another, the only one missing being JJ.

“I’m just saying, it was ninth grade guys. Maybe she’s changed.”

“Ninth grade or not, Sarah Cameron is still a bitch.” You shot at JB who was suspiciously defensive of a girl who really only knew of through his job, Kiara, and yourself. The topic of conversation kept drifting back to Sarah throughout the night, watching her frolic and gawk at the crowd of people as if she’d never been to a party before. Topper glued to her side per usual.

You all watch from the side as Topper grabbed her hand, helping her up from the log they were perched on as it seemed they finally decided to call it a night just as JJ had come back with the beers he’d went to go refill for John B and himself. 

John B stood up and approached his friend, ready to take the cup when Sarah and Topper walked by, gaining the attention of a drunk JJ Maybank who wouldn’t let them go unnoticed. If Kooks had one-hundred haters, JJ was the leader of them. If Kooks had no haters, JJ was dead. 

“Wait, Sarah!” He stopped them in their tracks. “Can I interest you in a tasty Milwaukee beverage?” He slurred. Sarah looked him up and down before politely declining the offer. You, Kie, and Pope watched the interaction silently from your places in the sand. “What? Is it not fancy enough for you?”

“We were just leaving…” She sassed, throwing her hair over her shoulder.

“Y’know what?” Topper mused. “I’ll take it. Thank you, man. ‘Preciate it.” You could tell this wasn’t a genuinely civil interaction, the remaining three of you in the sand watching from the sidelines sparing one another a weary glance.

“That’s a nice gesture, Topper, but I didn’t ask you.” JJ retorted, the smile dropping from Topper’s face quickly. John B was already attempting to step in between the two. “If you said ‘pretty please’? Maybe. But you didn’t. So…”

“Oh, pretty please?” Topper shot back unbelievably. 

JJ dismissed him, turning back to Sarah and once again offering the drink when Topper suddenly smacked the drink away, the beverage splattering all over JJ’s face. The beach of teen’s attention was suddenly pulled to the four of them in the middle of the beach as you, Kiara, and Pope stood from your spots in the sand.

JJ was quick to snatch Topper by the collar of his button-up before John B pushed him back in an effort to calm down his friend. He was speaking to JJ, words no one could hear until Topper shouted ‘dirty pogues’, stealing John B’s attention in a matter of seconds as the boy whipped around to march towards him.

John B pushed Topper’s shoulders back, the action not doing much. The three of you still standing figured it was time to step in, dispersing from your places and getting in between the four of them — mainly the three guys as Sarah stood off to the side. . 

You saw it coming before you heard the connect, Topper edging towards John B before striking him in the jaw.  “Hey!” You shouted, jogging in their direction with Kie by your side as you watched Topper kick your friend while he was down.

“Guys? Guys!” You heard Sarah shouting. 

“Don’t make me drown you like your old man, alright?!” Topper spat. If you were any further back in the crowd that all watched like this was a professional brawl, you wouldn’t have heard it.

The statement obviously struck a nerve within JB, the boy finding strength in his state of anger to get up and tackle Topper into the shallow water. You usually weren’t one to condone violence, but JB was standing his ground and Topper deserved it.

The two boys circled each other, taking turns throwing punches. The odds were in John B’s favor, until they weren’t, Topper taking the opportunity to flip him onto his back into the water. 

You couldn’t tell what was happening immediately until you finally registered what was going on. Topper had John B pinned by the back of his neck, face down into the shallow sea water.

“Topper!” Sarah shouted over and over, her whining making your fists ball.

“Sarah!” You turned to her. “Will you shut the hell up and get your psychotic boyfriend?!” All the girl could do was shoot you a mean glare, turning back to the sight in front of her and continuing her chant of Topper’s name.

“He’s drowning him.” You heard Kiara speak behind you. Your eyes scanned the beach for something, anything — landing on a thick piece of driftwood, you wasted no time in sprinting over to it, picking it up almost like a baseball bat. You could hear your three friends calling your name as you ran up behind Topper, wielding the piece of wood like a weapon, ready and fully prepared to knock his ass out with it.

You were feet away from the angry, rich blonde before JJ had beat you to it, holding a gun to the back of his head. You stopped in your tracks, the piece of wood falling to your side as your jaw went slack and your eyes wide.

“JJ!” Kiara yelled.

“Dude, chill!” Pope shouted, walking up behind his erratic friend.

“JJ! Put the gun down!” Sarah tried, finally deciding to actually step in with the rest of you. The blonde girl shouted you and Kie’s names. “Will you check your psycho friend, please?!”. You and Kie simply ignored the girl.

“We’re good! We’re good!” Topper surrendered, releasing John B’s neck from his hands. You, along with Pope and Kiara, wasted no time in rushing over to aid your friend, kneeling in the wet sand and salt water next to him as the three of you sat him up.

“Everyone listen up!” JJ continued. “Get the hell off our side of the island!” He yelled, shooting stray bullets to the sky. You flinched slightly at the unexpected, ear-ringing sound.

“JJ!” You yelled at him, louder than you had the entire night. The crowd of teens dispersing, running every which way in between the trees. You made sure Kiara and Pope could take care of your wounded friend themselves before shooting up from your crouched position and approaching JJ, snatching his shoulder back to face you before pushing his chest. “What the hell is wrong with you?! Do you have any idea what you just did?!”

“I was saving his life, okay?!”

“By firing a gun you stole?!”

JJ had no idea the trouble he’d just created and the argument didn’t go much further than that when the four of you heard a splash and turned back to find John B, who’d collapsed, unconscious, back into the water. 

“I’M CALLING IT OFF.” Was the first word said between any of you. It was the next morning and John B had called you all together at The Chateau, the five of you spread out in the yard. There was a cloud hanging over the group, a tense silence. The only noise being a ball JJ kept tossing back and forth. “Peterkin said that if I stay out of The Marsh, she’ll help with DCS.”

“And you believed her?” JJ asked as if his friend was the biggest dunce in the world. 

“Yes, I believed her, JJ, she's the Sheriff. All I have to do is stay out The Marsh for a few days and she’ll help me out.” He repeated. “It doesn’t help that your ass was the one shooting a gun!”

JJ scoffed, shaking his head side to side. “Y’know what? I should’ve let Topper drown your ass.” 

“Yeah, because Topper was really going to drown me.”

“It sure looked like it. I mean, have you looked in a mirror?” JJ shot back, leaning against a wooden post of the outdoor structure. “They always win, don’t they, man? They don’t want us in The Marsh which means there’s something valuable down there.” JJ tried to reason, eyes pleading with the rest of you. “I understand why you don’t wanna go.” He pointed at Pope. “You’re the Golden Boy, too much to risk.” Then his eyes were on Kie. “And you’re rich as fuck, anyway. Why would you bother?” She ignored him, rolling her eyes as his own blue ones landed on you. “And you? You-”

“Don’t go there, JJ.” You warned him, eyes connecting with his, a serious expression plastered all over your face. You stared at one another, a bitter exchange without words. Then, he was looking at John B.

“We got nothing nothing to lose. And I know it didn’t use to be that way for you.”

“I don’t wanna talk about this.” 

“I have plan John B, just listen,” JJ started, staring at the tense back of his best friend who wouldn't face him. “You got the key to Cameron’s big boat, right?”

“No, dude-”

“There’s scuba gear!” The blonde protested, standing right next to John B now. “We borrow that, go down to The Wreck this afternoon-” Your eyes met Kie and Pope’s as you mockingly mouthed ‘borrow’, the jab followed by an eye roll. JJ Maybank was never known to just ‘borrow’ anything. “And that’s what going to save you. You don’t see rich kids going into foster care, do you?”

“AND WE’RE SERIOUSLY LETTING JOHN B STEAL FROM THE LION’S DEN?” You questioned as the remaining four of you lounged around the boat. “I mean, what if he gets caught? I doubt Ward will just let him go.”

“He won’t get caught.” JJ exhaustedly reassured you for the millionth time as he unanchored the small motor boat from the dock.

“And how do you know that?”

“Well, judging by the lanky bandana wearing boy waddling towards us with his hands occupied by oxygen tanks, I’d say he did just fine.” Everyone’s attention was now drawn to John B, climbing one leg over the other into the boat, letting the tanks clank against the floor of the water vehicle.

You were the first to snatch them up, shooting JJ a mean glare for his sarcasm. It was only seconds before you scoffed and let your head fal back, zoning your sights in on John B. “Good job, you scored empty tanks.”

“What?” He proclaimed breathlessly, a look of sheer confusion written across his face as you continued looking at the meters on the tanks.

You held up one of them on display. “This one's a quarter-full. That’s only enough for one of us. And judging by the look on your faces, I’m going to assume I’m the only one here who knows how to dive?” They all averted their eyes. “Great.”

“It’s kind of a kook sport…” JJ mumbled. You supposed he was right but for you it was just a skill that your dad had spent years teaching you, being a professional diver himself. “Plus, how hard could it be anyway. You put the thing in your mouth and breathe.”

“Well,” Pope started. “If you come up too fast the nitrogen could enter your bloodstream and you could get the bends.” 

“The bends? Like bend over?-” JJ tried to joke before being cut off, his body in a half bent position.

“The bends kill you.” You and Pope both corrected simultaneously, both with the same amount of annoyance in your tone. Shaking your head, you stood up with the semi-full tank in hand and made your way over to Pope.

“You’re the only person I trust to help me with the math on this.” You proclaimed. The boy’s eyes widened, nearly jumping up from his feet, a notepad and pencil in his hand that seemed to almost appear out of thin air.

“Yeah, yeah, I can help,” He stammered. “The boat’s about thirty-feet down. So, at that depth, it’ll take twenty-five minutes. Which means you need to make your safety stop at about ten feet. For two minutes.”

“Got it.”

“When you’re down there,” JJ started, key in hand. “Look for the cargo hold, stick this thing inside, twist and pull-”

“I know how to use a key, JJ.” 

“I- y’know you have been very sassy today, little miss thing, and I don’t appreciate it, alright?” He started ranting in mock-offense. “That’ll be the last time I try to help you.” He muttered, pouting next to Pope. You chuckled before picking up the oxygen meter, trying to make sure you would have enough air to decompress. And you did, just barely.

“Hey,” Pope announced. “If we get caught in The Marsh, we’re basically screwed, so…”

“Is this your way of telling me to get my ass into the water?” His eyes looked around as if he were thinking deeply, a small nonchalant shoulder shrug before he was replying.

“Mmm...Basically, yeah.” You snickered at the boy before stripping down to your bikini, pulling the tank over your shoulders and the mask down over your face before jumping in. Once you were in the water, you gave one last look to your friends before letting the air fill your lungs and going completely under. 

You started to make your descent, slowly. Making your safety stop at what you estimated to be about ten feet as Pope has advised. Stopping for those two minutes before continuing to dive further down.

The water was dark, foggy, and murky — a lot different from diving in ocean water. It was like walking through an abandoned mansion with only a lighter to see. Nonetheless, your eyes landed on the cargo hold within the sunken boat. It was a small struggle trying to fit the key into the hole with the water swaying your hand in different directions but you managed after a couple tries.

Twisting and pulling as JJ had directed, the cargo holds door came up, floating gracefully to the side, revealing what was inside. A black duffel bag and even in the water, it was still decently heavy. You couldn’t waste time examining what was inside with the amount of oxygen you were running on, so you started to swim your way back up, careful not to move too fast.

Following the length of the bowline, the boat came into view the closer you got to the surface of the water. But then so did another, a slightly larger one. You stopped, squinting trying to make out whose boat it could be but it was pointless. The meter on your tank told you that you had about a minute before you were out of air. 

You waited for what felt like minutes but what had really only been about fifteen seconds. Your heart thumped out of your chest when you saw a figure standing on the edge of your friend’s boat through the water that was far too buff to be any of your friends. And you could’ve sworn it was Deputy Shoupe.

You were still but you didn’t feel still enough, as if any slight movement might make the man able to see through water. To see you. You couldn’t get caught in The Marsh. They couldn’t know Scooter’s boat was here. One wrong move and you could screw this all up. Despite your nerves, you looked frantically at the meter in your hand — fifteen seconds of air left.

And it just kept getting lower.

You were mentally screaming at whoever that figure was to get the hell out of here. Ten seconds. Then five. Four. Three. Two. One.

Zero.

You had no air left and your only option was to hold your breath and hope for the best. And maybe a little hope was all you needed because by the grace of God, the figure retreated not long before the boat was speeding away. You wasted no time in swimming towards the surface, bursting through the waves and snatching the mask off as fresh air filled your lungs.

You heard sighs of relief as your chest filled and your hearing returned to normal. 

“Don’t scare us like that!”

“Scare you?” You breathed out, treading water while looking at your four friends. “I thought I was gonna die!”

“What’d you find?” asked Pope.

“I don’t know but it’s something.” You started swimming back towards the boat, throwing the bag overhand towards JJ as you climbed up the ladder. 

“You good?” Pope questioned, concerned. “You scared the shit out of us. The cops were up here but we took care of ‘em.” So it was Shoupe, you thought as you plopped yourself down on the boat, wasting little time in shrugging the tank off of your back when you spotted another boat coming in your direction.

“Guys? Bogey, two o’clock.” You announced, breathlessly. 

“Anybody recognize it?” Pope asked, prompting collective ‘no’s’ to sound out. 

“What’re they doing here? The Marsh is closed…” John B questioned silently.

"Maybe they don't know?" You threw out.

“My vote’s on not sticking around to find out.” JJ advised, going straight for the bowline as fast as he could to unanchor the boat. John B began steering the boat before the anchor was even completely out of the water. 

“Go into The Marsh. Go.” Pope commanded firmly. At that moment, the opposing boat followed the HMS Pogue and you could’ve sworn it sped up. 

“They’re definitely following us.” Kie voiced worriedly. Looking back, there were only two men on the boat. Two faces you’d never seen in Kildare before.

“Gun it, JJ!” John B shouted. There was no doubt that you all were being followed at this point and you didn’t want to know what would happen if they caught up. Your hand was gripping the edge of the boat as it sped through the shaky waters, the small boat practically zooming past everything in sight but the two men remained on your tail. Suddenly, the man not steering the motorboat behind you pulled out something — a unmistakable object.

“Guys, get down!” Was the last thing heard and the only thing you could shout before a shot rang out in the air, a stray bullet clanking against the structure of John B’s boat but failing to puncture anything severe, everyone ducking except the boy himself. 

“John B, get down!” Another shot followed, zooming right past your head. So close and so fast that you didn’t even see it, the only sign being the sound of wind breaking next to your ear and a stinging, burning sensation at the top of it.

“Jesus!” You shouted, slouching against the inside of the boat, smooshing yourself in between Kiara and Pope. Your hand went up to hold your ear, pulling it back to reveal a small amount of blood on the tips of your fingers. You doubted you got fatally shot, it couldn’t have been anything more than graze.

“Are you okay?” Kie asked as you drifted your own eyes to meet hers, a genuine concern swimming in her gaze. Your sights roamed her face for a moment before nodding and touching your ear slightly.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be fine.”

Then a third shot was sounding out. “Shit!” yelled Kie, her own eyes were focused on some netting laying in the boat. You watched as she got up and grabbed the material, throwing it over the back of the boat just as the fourth, and hopefully final, shot rang out. The boat that had been following you all spun out once it the net, the trap causing their engine to fail, sending you miles ahead of them in seconds.

You all stood up and stared back at the male figures disappearing behind you, chuckles leaving you all one by one until the boat was nearly shaking with triumphant laughter. You turned to JJ, giving him a victorious double high-five.

“Oh, damn,” His smile fell as his gaze turned to the left side of your face. “Did you get hit?” He asked, his hands reaching out to trail his fingers down the length of your neck, pulling them back to reveal the red substance decorating his fingers.

“Barely. I’ll be fine.”

“You’ll have a sick scar, though.”

You scoffed at this. “A girl can only dream.”

THE SUN HAD SET BY THE TIME YOU ALL HAD REACHED THE DOCK. The four of you had all but flew off the boat and onto the wooden platform, John B rushing to unzip the duffel bag you’d retrieved, still shivering slightly from your damp state. You’d thrown your t-shirt back on at some point, using your shorts to soak up the blood from your ear which made them un-wearable.

“It’s gotta be money right?” You expressed, shaking the remaining water from your damp hair.

“That or a couple of keys with street value from the low to mid-mills.”

“Can we please just open the bag?” Pope blurted quite aggressively. The group turning to him in shock and amusement.

“Wow, Pope. That’s a… rare outburst of emotion.” John B added. 

“You guys are literally killing me with anticipation.”

“Same.” You added in your two cents. “I almost drowned for this.”

“We all almost died for this.” Pope cut in.

“Yeah, that too, I guess.” You dismissed him playfully.

John B finished unzipping the bag, revealing a metal container about the size of a human thigh. Anchoring the object between his knees, he grunted and groaned as he attempted to twist it open until it popped, allowing him to twist off the top and reveal…

“A compass?” Kie said unamused, almost disgustedly. Pope threw his hands over his head and JJ scoffed.

“Great job, everybody. We found a compass.” The blonde threw out. But John B saw something. He was looking at this object as if it meant the entire world to him, and that look prompted you to kneel next to your best friend and set a hand on his shoulder.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” You asked softly, eyes fleeting back and forth between John B’s watery gaze and the dingy compass.

“...This was my father’s.”

next chapter>

[deadgurlfilmz]

CHAPTER 1- “what. The. F*ck”

Ford pines x platonic!teenage!reader

Summary- Reader and their friends go out to the forest. When reader is looking for a secluded area to pee instead they find a creepy statue. That definitely won’t lead to nothing more… right?

Warnings- teeny bit of swearing, reader is gender neutral, this is probably the only time these friends will be in the story they are only here to add context for the chapter.

it’s been 4 months since stand and Ford returned from their travels on the Stan o’ War and for the most part life has been normal. fords house is still ‘The Mystery Shack’ Stan and Soos co-manage the shack, Ford still continues his studies of Gravity Falls even writing a 4th jornal (it’s more of a personal jornal just for Dipper) and best of all there is no Bill. The pines family is no longer being terrorised by demonic triangle. YAY!

Now for you a 17 year old kid living in Gravity Falls. You are very ordinary you go to high school, have a close group of friends, decent grades and like every other teenager in Gravity falls you want to get the hell out of there. Even with Gravity Falls weirdness for example the gnomes you’ve encountered (that tried to force you to become their wife), and the ghost that haunts you’re old hangout spot (the abandoned 24h convenient store) the weird and supernatural just never really interested you.

Now for the present. It is a Saturday afternoon July 2017 you and your friends (Maren, Rebekah, Owen, and Julia) All decided to go deep Into the forest just for something to do. Owen and Julia were walking ahead of you, Maren, Rebekah, and You were gossiping about some junior his name was something like Gary? Gideon? Definitely on those lines. You spoke about his criminal history what is insane as at the baby age of 11 this boy was in prison. You all continued walking until you shouted to the group.

“Wait guys! I gotta pee” you shout so Owen and Julia would hear aswell.

Rebekah turned to you “babe… where about are you gonna pee? We are miles away from any bathroom.”

You look around and see a patch of land totally hidden with thick trees. “I’ll go over there” you point.

“Cool. We’ll just be here” Owen nods.

You walk over to the “pee spot” you walk into the tall trees and as you do the vibe changes from ‘normal woods’ to ‘suddenly I don’t need to pee anymore’. You feel as if you are being watched. You walk further in trying to shake the feeling. That is until you see a stone statue sticking out from the ground. It’s triangle shaped. On the one hand it’s creepy but on the other how can anything look creepy when it’s wearing a top hat and bow tie? You take a quick picture of it muttering under your breath “ahaha this is cool” and quickly leave (without peeing). You head back to the group not mentioning the statue you saw. A few hours pass and it’s getting dark so all of you head home.

When you 5 make it back to main gravity falls you all go your separate ways saying byes. The walk to your house isn’t long just 5 minutes away from lazy Susan’s diner. You reach you’re home taking out you’re key from you’re pocket and letting yourself in, you heat up left over pasta in the microwave and go to your room. You place the bowl on your dresser when you see a black book sitting on your bed. You know for a fact you didn’t put it there. Curiosity takes over and you pick it up skimming through the pages and taking in it’s horrifying illustrations and stories.

Two things you notice about the book-

1) the book was covered in drawing of the statue you saw in the woods. (Strange)

2) there was one man who repeatedly showed up. You recognise his face from somewhere… you take a moment to think that’s when it hits you the mystery shack! This is the man who owns the mystery shack!! You need to talk to him ask him what the fuck is going on.

You close the book and toss it under your bed not wanting to look at it any longer the only thing you can say is

“What. The. Fuck.”

—————————————————————

Okay!!! Chapter 1 done. Yay!! I know the dates and ages of characters I’ve used may not line up with the actual plot of GF but oh well just try to ignore it lol

[merakilii]

Bound by the Tide / Pirate AU

Part three: More than a Crew other parts

pairing: Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x fem!reader

words: 5k

tags: Sword fighting. blood and gore AFAB reader. pirate captain Mactavish and reader. the British Navy, including CPT Price and LT Riley. rivals to lovers.

The battle is over, but the aftermath clings to the ship like an unwanted guest. The air is thick with the acrid tang of gunpowder, mingling with the coppery scent of blood and the salty brine of the sea. The deck is a mess, splintered wood, broken blades, and the grim evidence of the fight scattered across every surface. The sun is beginning its slow descent toward the horizon, casting the wreckage in hues of gold and shadow, but the sight of it doesn't soften the reality.

The crew moves swiftly, their faces grim but determined. Buckets of seawater are hauled up to wash the blood away, and tools are brought out to patch the railings and repair the rigging.

You've retreated to the edge of the deck, your back against the railing, your sword resting in your lap. A cloth is draped loosely over your hand as you run it along the blade, wiping away the grime and blood in slow strokes. It's a familiar motion, one that usually helps steady your thoughts, but today it does little to quiet the churn in your chest.

Your eyes drift toward the helm, where Mactavish stands directing repairs. His voice carries over the noise of the crew, sharp commands mingling with the occasional gruff word of encouragement. He moves with a confidence that seems unshakable, his presence commanding in a way that you both hate and grudgingly respect.

He catches your eye for a brief moment, nodding once before turning back to his crew.

You scowl, focusing back on your blade.

"Mind if I sit?"

The voice startles you, pulling you from your thoughts. You look up to see Gary, you think his name is, standing a few feet away, holding a bucket of water and a rag. He's lean, with a mop of firey hair and a nose that looks like it's been broken more than once. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, revealing arms scarred from years of hard work and harder fights.

"What do you want?" you ask, more sharply than you intend.

He chuckles, unbothered by your tone, and plops down on the deck beside you with a sigh. The bucket sloshes as he sets it down, dipping the rag into the water before wringing it out. "Nothin'. Just figured you might want some company. We've all been in your boots before, new ship, new faces, tryin' to figure out where you fit."

You raise an eyebrow, glancing at him sidelong. "I don't need to fit anywhere."

"I can see that," he says with a grin, running the damp rag over the hilt of his cutlass. "But fit or not, you're here. And you saved the captain's arse today. That counts for somethin'."

You glance at him, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. Before you can reply, another voice chimes in.

"She did, didn't she? I've never seen the captain get caught off guard like that."

You look up to see Kyle approaching, a sailor with a pearly grin that reminds you too much of Mactavish. He's carrying a crate of rope but sets it down nearby, clearly more interested in joining the conversation than finishing his task. His skin was damp with sweat and sea spray, and there was a smudge of soot across his cheek that he hadn't bothered to wipe away.

"Don't let it go to your head, though," Kyle adds with a wink. "We've all saved his sorry hide at one point or another. It's a rite o' passage on this ship."

Gary snorts, his broad shoulders shaking with laughter. "That it is. Though I've got to say, you've got a mean swing with that sword of yours. Remind me not to get on your bad side."

You shake your head, unsure whether to feel amused or annoyed by their easy company. "I didn't do it for him," you say, your tone firm as you focus on your blade. "I did it because losing this ship would mean losing my lead on the treasure."

Gary shrugs, unbothered. "Motivation doesn't matter much when the blade's comin' down, does it?"

Kyle laughs, leaning back against the crate of rope. "Spoken like a man who's been on the wrong side of a fight too many times."

"Still alive, aren't I?" Gary retorts, flashing a grin.

Kyle's gaze flickers back to you, his grin softening slightly. "You're a tough one, I'll give you that. Not many'd jump into a fight like that for a crew they barely know."

You stiffen slightly at his words, your fingers tightening on the cloth in your hand. "I didn't do it for the crew, either," you reply, though the words feel hollow even as you say them.

Gary chuckles again, shaking his head. "Whatever you say. But actions speak louder than words."

You don't reply, turning your focus back to your blade as the two of them settle into a comfortable conversation.

Later that day, the galley is warm and bustling, the smell of stew and fresh bread mingling with the hum of conversation and the occasional burst of laughter. You usually avoid this kind of gathering, preferring the solitude of your corner to the noise of the crew, but tonight is different.

Tonight, after the battle, something has shifted. The way Gary had waved you over with that easy grin, the way Kyle had made room without hesitation, it was enough to soften your resolve, just a little.

And so you sit with them now, a steaming plate of stew in front of you, the long table crowded with sailors still riding the high of survival.

Kyle leans forward, his elbow on the table and a lopsided grin on his face. "So," he begins, eyeing you over his mug of rum. "You've been on the seas a while, aye? What's your story, then?"

You glance at him, raising an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

Gary, sitting to your right, chuckles. "Oh, come on. We all know you didn't just fall out of the sky and land on our deck. You've got that look about you, like you've seen the worst of it and lived to tell the tale."

The others murmur their agreement, a few nodding as they glance your way.

Kyle grins wider, leaning closer. "Start with the Navy. You've tangled with 'em, haven't you?"

The table falls quiet, the attention of the crew settling on you like the waves of the sea itself. For a moment, you consider brushing them off, keeping your past locked away where it belongs. But something in their expressions, the curiosity, makes you pause.

You sigh, setting your fork down and leaning back in your chair. "It's not much of a story," you begin, your voice quieter now. "But aye, I've crossed paths with the Navy. More than once."

Kyle's eyes light up. "Who was it? Commodore Shepard?"

You shake your head, the faintest hint of a grim smile tugging at your lips. "No. Worse."

The crew leans in, captivated.

"Captain Price," you say, the name carrying a weight that settles over the table like a storm cloud. "And his right hand, Lieutenant Riley."

The reaction is immediate. Gary whistles low, his brows rising in surprise. "Bloody hell. Price. The old man himself. They say he doesn't stop once he's got your scent."

Kyle shudders theatrically. "And Riley. Creeps through the shadows like he's a bloody wraith."

You nod, your hands curling slightly against the table as the memories rise unbidden. "That's them. They're relentless, worse than dogs on a hunt. They've chased me across half the bloody seas, always one step behind... or sometimes, one step ahead."

You pause, staring down at your plate as the past rushes forward, vivid and sharp. "It started years ago, back when I was captaining The Black Siren. I made the mistake of hitting a British convoy, rich cargo, heavily guarded, but too tempting to pass up. We took the goods and got away clean...or so I thought."

You glance around the table, your voice lowering slightly. "Turns out, one of the ships we hit was under Captain Price's command. And Price doesn't take kindly to pirates."

Gary raised his eyebrow. "You'd think a man like him would have better things to do than chase one pirate."

"Oh, it wasn't just me," you reply, your lips twisting into a faint smirk. "Price's made it his life's mission to rid the seas of our kind. And Riley, well, let's just say he takes it personal. They don't just want to catch you. They want to make an example of you."

The table was quiet, eerily so as they listened to you.

"Once they've got your name, your ship's flag, your crew's faces..." You trail off, shaking your head. "There's no shaking them. They know the sea better than anyone I've ever met. They'll use the tides, the wind, the stars, they'll even wait out storms if it means catching their quarry."

Kyle swallows hard, his grin faltering. "Sounds like you've had a rough go of it."

You shrug, though the motion feels heavier than it should. "Rough doesn't begin to cover it. They've ambushed me more times than I can count. One time, they nearly sank The Black Siren in a cove off Castlebay. We barely escaped, but not without losing half the crew."

Your voice dips, the words thickening in your throat. "And then there was the raid in Islay. They burned everything, the docks, the ships. Price himself told me it was a warning. He said if he ever caught me again, there wouldn't be a trial. Just the noose."

It's Gary who breaks the silence after, his voice steady but tinged with respect. "And yet here you are, sittin' at this table, still fightin'. That's somethin'."

You glance at him, surprised by the sincerity in his tone.

Kyle nods, his grin returning, though it's softer now. "Aye. Can't say I envy you, though. Price and Riley? That's a nightmare I wouldn't wish on me worst enemy."

You smirk faintly, leaning back in your chair. "Don't think I'm out of their reach just yet. If they've caught wind of this treasure....they know I'm involved."

"You think they'll come after us?" Gary asks, his brows furrowing.

"They will," you reply simply. "It's not a matter of if. It's when."

The crew exchanges uneasy glances, the jovial atmosphere of the meal dampened by the reality of your words.

After a moment, Kyle lifts his mug, his grin returning in full force. "Well then, here's to makin' the bastards regret it when they do."

The crew cheers, their mugs clinking together in defiance of the fear that had crept in moments before. Even you find yourself smiling, the sound of their laughter warming something deep inside you.

For the first time since stepping aboard The Highland Flame, you feel a flicker of something unexpected. Not trust, exactly. Not yet. But a sense of connection. Of belonging.

And as the meal winds down and the crew begins to disperse, you linger at the table, your thoughts heavy with the past but lightened, just slightly, by the present.

The warmth of the galley is almost comforting now, the lingering camaraderie from dinner easing some of the tension that's been riding you all day. You're still seated with the crew, though most have started leaning back in their chairs, settling into post-meal chatter.

You've shared more than you intended about your run-ins with the British Navy, and you're almost regretting it. But the teasing looks on the crew's faces tell you they're not done yet.

"So, let me get this straight," Kyle begins, leaning forward with an elbow on the table and a wicked grin tugging at his lips. "Not only have you been chased halfway 'round the world by the Navy, but our very own Captain Mactavish had to swoop in an' save your arse?"

Your eyes narrow, and you glare at him over the rim of your mug. "I didn't ask to be saved," you snap, though the heat rising in your cheeks betrays you.

Nova cackled, her shoulders shaking with laughter. "Oh, aye, you just happened to be flounderin' in the middle of the sea, and the captain decided outta the goodness of his heart to pluck you up."

"Tell us, did you thank him properly, or are you savin' that for later?" Stone snorts from the other end of the table.

The crew erupts into laughter, mugs clinking together as they revel in your discomfort. You groan, leaning back in your chair and rubbing a hand over your face. "You lot are unbearable," you mutter.

From the head of the table, Johnny, no, Mactavish, you remind yourself, clears his throat, though you can tell from the faint smirk tugging at his lips that he's enjoying this far too much. He's been silent so far, letting the crew do the work for him, but now his eyes gleam with mischief as he leans back in his chair, his mug cradled loosely in one hand.

"Well, lass," he says, his brogue thicker now, his tone infuriatingly casual. "It was quite the rescue, if I do say so meself. Pullin' ye from the wreckage, keepin' ye from the Navy's grasp... I'd say I've done ye a favour or two."

Your jaw tightens, and you glare at him, willing your voice to remain steady. "I didn't need your help then, and I don't need it now."

"Oh?" he replies, his grin widening. "So ye would've preferred the Navy had their way with ye, would ye?"

The table falls silent at his words, and all eyes turn to you. His question isn't mean-spirited, but it carries an edge, a challenge that sinks deeper than the playful banter of moments before.

You hesitate, the memory of the Navy's ambush flashing behind your eyes. The sound of cannon fire, the acrid scent of smoke, the icy grip of seawater dragging you down, it's all too vivid, too close.

The words catch in your throat before you can form them, but before the silence stretches too long, Kyle steps in, laughing nervously. "Come now, Cap'n. Don't put her on the spot like that. She's got her pride, aye?"

The tension breaks slightly, the crew laughing again, though it's a bit more subdued this time.

Gary leans forward, whispering mischievously. "Still, I can't help but wonder, what was it like, eh? Bein' rescued by our captain? Did he cradle you in his arms like a damsel in one of those stories the bard tells in port?"

You groan, rolling your eyes. "Oh, for the love of—"

Kyle cuts you off, slapping the table with a bark of laughter. "I can see it now! Her lookin' up at him with those big, grateful eyes, whisperin', 'Oh, Cap'n, my hero!'"

The crew roars with laughter, their voices carrying through the galley as you bury your face in your hands.

"Enough," you mutter, though the heat in your cheeks betrays you again.

"Oh, no," Gary chimes in. "We've barely started."

It's Mactavish who finally cuts in, his voice low and firm. "That's enough."

The table falls silent, the crew suddenly remembering who they're teasing. You glance up, surprised to find his expression more serious now.

He lifts his mug, taking a slow sip before his eyes meet yours across the table. The lantern light flickers over his face, casting shadows that make his features sharper, more defined. His gaze is steady, unreadable, but there's something in it that makes your chest tighten.

The silence stretches, and you realize you're holding your breath.

Then, with an almost imperceptible nod, he sets his mug down and leans back in his chair. "She held her own today," he says. "Let's no' forget that."

The crew mumbles their agreement, the teasing quickly replaced with a quieter, more respectful atmosphere.

But he doesn't stop looking at you.

You don't know what it is, if it's a challenge, an apology, or something else entirely, but the weight of his gaze feels heavier than it should. You force yourself to hold it, refusing to back down, even as your heart pounds against your ribs.

Finally, he looks away, pushing back his chair and standing.

"Good meal," he says simply, nodding to the crew before turning toward the door. "don't let 'em get to ye. They mean well."

With that, he's gone, his boots echoing against the wood as he leaves the galley.

The table is quiet for a beat before Gary leans closer. "See that? He's sweet on you."

Kyle snorts, shaking his head. "Sweet on her? Nah, he's just tryin' to keep her from stabbin' one of us."

The crew laughs again, the tension finally easing as the conversation shifts to other topics. But you're not listening. Your mind is elsewhere, stuck on the way Mactavish had looked at you.

Shaking your head, you finish the last of your stew and stand, mumbling an excuse about needing air.

As you step out onto the deck, the cool breeze hits your face, and you exhale slowly, trying to shake off the weight of the evening.

But his voice lingers in your mind, low and steady, as if the words are etched into your thoughts.

"Don't let 'em get to ye."

And for the first time, you wonder if he was talking about more than just the crew.

Later that night the ship sleeps.

Its breaths are the creak of its timbers, the soft shudder of sails catching the faintest whispers of the wind. The sea murmurs against the hull, an endless lullaby for the restless and the lost. The moon watches from above, swollen and pale, its light dripping down like cold milk, pooling in the shadows and stretching across the deck in silvery veins.

You wander through the stillness, your steps soundless against the worn wood, a ghost haunting the ship that has become both prison and sanctuary. The air is grave with the remnants of the day, sweat and salt, blood and smoke, laughter and the maddening echo of his voice. It clings to you, suffocating, until you feel like you're drowning on dry land.

You tell yourself this is just a walk. A chance to clear your head. To let the cold night air strip away the weight of it all. But you know the truth. You're running. Running from the echoes of the fight, the laughter at dinner, the way his gaze had lingered on yours just a heartbeat too long.

And then you see him.

He is there.

The sight of him stops you cold.

Mactavish sits at the edge of the dock, his broad shoulders slouched and his head bowed. The moon's light falls over him like a shroud, silver and shadow painting him into something otherworldly. His elbow rests on his knee, a bottle dangling from his fingers, its contents catching the faint glow like liquid starlight. He stares out at the sea, its vastness stretching beyond him into oblivion, an unbroken void that swallows his silhouette whole.

He doesn't notice you. Or maybe he does, and he simply doesn't care.

You should leave. You know you should. But your feet refuse to move, rooted to the deck as you watch him in stunned silence.

Gone is the insufferable grin, the biting wit, the maddening spark of mischief that dances behind his every word. In their place is a stillness that unsettles you, a heaviness that clings to him like the sea mist clings to your skin. He looks carved from stone, his edges softened by the moonlight but no less sharp, no less dangerous.

The moonlight turns him into something unreal, a cursed sailor, tethered to a fate he can never escape. The shadows cling to him like old scars, deep and jagged, and in the hollow curve of his shoulders, you see something that almost feels like despair.

You've spent so long hating him, hating his arrogance, his teasing, the way he needles at every part of you. But this? This version of him, carved from silence and shadow, stripped of his armour? It terrifies you. Because you don't know what to do with it.

You step forward before you realize what you're doing, your boots whispering against the deck. His head lifts slightly, just enough for his eyes to find you in the moonlight.

"Couldn't sleep either?"

His voice is low, roughened by the hour and softened by something you can't name. It carries none of its usual mockery, none of the sharp edges you've come to expect.

You should turn around. Leave him to his solitude. But instead, you take another step forward, drawn in despite yourself.

"I didn't think you ever slept," you reply, your voice quieter than usual.

A faint smile tugs at the corner of his lips, though it doesn't reach his eyes. "Aye, well... some nights are harder than others."

He tilts his head toward the sea, his gaze distant once more. The moonlight catches on the line of his jaw, the stubble there casting delicate shadows that make him look almost too human.

Almost.

"Why are you here?" he asks, though his tone holds no accusation, only a quiet curiosity that feels heavier than any barbed remark he could have thrown your way.

The question lodges in your chest. You don't know how to answer.

Because you were restless? Because the sight of him stopped you in your tracks? Because you hate the way you want to understand him, to unravel the storm that rages behind his eyes?

The words tangle on your tongue, the truth too sharp, too raw to speak aloud.

"I was walking," you say finally, though even you can hear the hollowness in your voice, the way it barely scratches the surface of what brought you here.

He hums softly, low and resonant, a wave crashing against the cliffs. "And yet ye stopped."

It isn't a question, but it feels like one.

The silence stretches between you, taut as a rope pulled to its breaking point. The ship creaks beneath your feet, the only sound to break the quiet aside from the faint rustle of the sails above. You shift your weight slightly, the movement hesitant, your boots whispering against the deck as you take a step closer.

He doesn't move. Doesn't acknowledge the narrowing space between you. Instead, he lifts the bottle to his lips, unhurried. The pale light of the moon catches on the glass, illuminating the faint traces of his fingers smudged across its surface.

When he finally sets the bottle down beside him, the soft clink of glass against wood feels louder than it should.

You hate how much his stillness unnerves you. How much his silence pulls at you, like a current tugging you deeper into waters you have no business entering.

"The ocean's a cruel mistress, aye?" he says suddenly, breaking the quiet.

The words take you by surprise as you frown, your brow furrowing slightly. "What makes you say that?"

"She takes more than she gives," he replies, his tone steady. "Men, ships, lives...dreams. She doesn't care about any of it. And yet we keep comin' back to her. Like fools."

His words hang in the air, anchors sinking into the silence that follows. His eyes are on the sea, dark and distant, as if he's looking at something far beyond the horizon.

"She's not cruel," you say finally, your voice softer than you intend. "She just is. The sea doesn't promise anything. We're the ones who think we can control her."

Your words hang there, fragile but defiant, like a ship weathering a storm.

His gaze snaps back to you then, searching.

And then he exhales, the sound barely more than a whisper, his shoulders shifting slightly as he leans back against the railing.

"Aye," he quietly says at last, the edges of his brogue softened by the night. "Maybe yer right."

But there's something in the way he says it, a bitterness that lingers beneath the surface. As if he wants to believe you but can't. As if he's spent too long staring into the void to see it as anything other than an enemy.

He doesn't say anything else, but you can see it, the storm that churns behind his eyes, barely contained. You want to hate him for it, for letting you see this side of him, for making you wonder about the man behind the devil's grin.

You've spent weeks telling yourself he's nothing more than an infuriating distraction, a thorn in your side, a rival you can't quite seem to shake. But now, as you stand here in the quiet of the night, you feel him in a way that unsettles you.

Because you see yourself in him.

Not in the sharpness of his words or the arrogance in his smile, but in the way he looks at the sea, as if he's searching for something he knows he'll never find.

The realization hits you like a blow, stealing the breath from your lungs. You hate it. Hate the way it makes your chest ache, the way it makes you want to understand him, to close the distance between you.

But you don't move.

Finally, he stands slowly, like the shifting of tides. His shadow stretches over you, long and dark under the pale glow of the moon. The faint scent of salt and rum clings to him, mingling with the brine-heavy air, and despite yourself, you feel your breath hitch in your chest.

"Get some rest," he whispers. "We've a long day ahead of us."

There's no teasing now, no sharpness to his words, and that should make it easier to turn away. It doesn't.

He brushes past you, his presence trailing after him like the wake of a ship. He doesn't look back, doesn't acknowledge the way you linger there, rooted to the deck as if the wood beneath your feet might splinter and give way.

You stand there long after he's gone, staring into the darkness where he disappeared. The ache in your chest refuses to fade, pressing down on your ribs until you feel like you can't breathe.

Your hands clench at your sides, your nails biting into your palms as your thoughts spiral.

Why do you let him get to you?

You scowl at the horizon, your gaze fixed on the inky black stretch of the sea as if it holds the answers you can't seem to find. The ship creaks softly beneath you, the night quiet save for the gentle lap of waves against the hull.

You tell yourself you hate him. That it's simple, clean, and sharp like the blade you once held to his throat.

But nothing about John Mactavish has ever been simple.

You remember the first time you crossed paths with him. You'd been after the same prize, a gilded chest filled with Spanish gold, hidden in the ruins of a crumbling fort. It had been a game of cat and mouse, each of you one step ahead, one step behind, until the confrontation finally came.

He'd burst into the chamber just as your hand closed around the chest's ornate handle, his broadsword gleaming in the torchlight.

"That's a bonnie sight," he'd whistled. "But I'm afraid it belongs to me."

"Over my dead body," you'd spat, your own sword drawn and ready.

"Aye, that can be arranged," he'd replied, his voice laced with maddening amusement.

The fight had been brutal, your blades clashing in a symphony of steel and sparks. You'd matched him blow for blow, your movements swift and precise, but he fought like a storm, wild and unpredictable, his strength overwhelming.

It ended with the two of you locked in a stalemate, your blade pressed against his throat and his broadsword poised above your chest.

"Yer a stubborn one," he'd said, his grin never faltering.

"And you're insufferable," you'd snapped, your breath coming hard and fast.

He'd laughed then, the sound rich and infuriating, before stepping back and lowering his sword. "Keep the gold, lass. I'll take the pleasure of seein' yer face when I steal it back."

And he had. Three days later, under cover of darkness, he'd ambushed your ship and taken the chest, leaving you fuming on the deck as he sailed away with a salute and a wink.

That was how it always was with him, a game of give and take, each victory and loss a new chapter in a story you couldn't seem to end.

There was the time you'd outmanoeuvred him off the coasts of the Irish sea, your cannons shredding his sails and forcing him to flee. You'd relished the sight of his ship limping away, your laughter carried by the wind as you shouted after him.

And the time he'd cornered you in the markets of Kippford, his pistol pressed against your ribs as he whispered in your ear, "Care to dance?"

You'd managed to slip away with nothing but a bruised ego, but the memory still stung, the heat of his breath against your skin, the way his eyes had gleamed with something far more dangerous than anger.

And then there was the night he'd taken you captive, throwing you into the brig of The Highland Flame after intercepting your ship in the dead of night.

You'd cursed him with every name you could think of, your voice echoing off the iron bars as he leaned casually against the wall, his arms crossed and that insufferable grin plastered on his face.

"Ye've got quite a mouth," he'd said, his tone almost admiring. "But I'd save yer strength if I were you. It'll take more than words to get out of this one."

You'd escaped, of course. You always did.

But not before you'd carved the memory of his mocking laughter deep into your mind, where it still lingered.

Now, standing on the deck of his ship, surrounded by the quiet of the sleeping sea, you try to hold on to those memories. To the moments of anger, of defiance, of blades pressed to throats and curses exchanged like cannon fire.

But they slip through your fingers, replaced by something softer, more insidious.

You remember the way his voice had softened tonight, the way his eyes had searched yours as if looking for something he couldn't name. You remember the ache in his words when he spoke of the sea, the weight of regret and longing that you recognized all too well.

He's your enemy, you tell yourself, the words a mantra. A rival. A thorn in your side.

But your heart doesn't listen.

The devil in the moonlight, the storm in the man. He is everything you should hate, and yet you can't deny the pull he has on you, the way he drags you into his orbit no matter how hard you try to resist.

You hate him. Hate the way he makes you feel too much, see too much. Hate the way he strips away your defences with nothing more than a glance, leaving you exposed.

And yet, as you turn your gaze back to the sea, you can't help but wonder if you'll ever stop chasing the answers you see in his eyes.

Because the truth is, you don't think you ever could.

[msookyspooky]

Omg omg omg SPOOK!! I just saw Nosferatu and I am obsessed!! I hope you're doing well because I know you'd love it and if you're up for it. What do you think if Near Dark was even gritter and more gothic with Severen like Count Orlock

Severen or Homer prob:"Wdym? We have Nosferatu at home." *Points at Jesse.*

I have not seen it yet! (But I have seen most of it online lol) And I love any vampire media not afraid to make them unsettling and ngl Count Orlock having maggots on him??? *Gagging* I love it. It's so deliciously dark and toxic and conflicting like a true gothic horror romance should be.

I ADORE this idea you have no idea and I wish at least once in his career Bill could've did what...Bill (lol) did with Count Orlock. It's such a pity such a creative and adventurous actor like Bill Paxton didn't get to put on heavy prosthetics and be like Gary Oldman's Dracula or Count Orlock where it makes him almost indistinguishable. I feel like even if Bill's good at playing rednecks, assholes, hero types or domestic men he missed his calling in more fantasy or gothic films (We don't count him crawling in the puppet suit in Weird Science lmfao) Especially since we wouldn't have Near Dark if it wasn't for him seeing how gothic it was and dragging everyone on board. Though I sorta feel like with how expressive and high energy he is; they would've type casted him as Jonathan Harker or Arthur in Dracula or Thomas for Nosferatu.

Contains: Hinted grooming depending on what a 'child' was (could be 16 could be 21 back then) and the way they viewed innocence till marriage; I don't condone it in modern times just going based off the movies layered gothic take on what Count Orlock is and history. DLDR ��� Dark Themes • Blood • Decay • Dubcon • Manipulation • Hinted Mindcontrol / Hypnosis • Different Time Period / Severen during the Wild West Era with a bit more modernish speech than Nosferatu • Fem!Reader x Monster!Severen Van Sickle from Near Dark

Severen / Nosferatu Au

🥀 You're on the prairie ready to be married and have babies like any Christian Woman even if a decent proposal came rather late for you. Still a girlish cherub face not a line or gray hair in sight yet with a womanly body that had bloomed fast and powerful the last few years nearly a decade in time since the first incident. One day, you were a teen still playing in field's and the next, a woman in her late 20's to be wed to a strapping young man albeit wet behind the ears not from around your part of the woods ready to homestead and settle down with a pretty wife.

🩸 You told no one of the sensual energy you felt from an invisible visitor in your nightly escapades out of pure shame. Blaming dancing in the dark field with shadows as sleep walking and the convulsions of horror and orgasmic lust as illness and that you were just a creative shameful girl with a wicked mind to conjure up something so grotesque that your family covered up but people in such a close knit community miles around talked

🪰 You had heard the rumors from the Romani traveling through of a creature at night as they did their odd superstitious methods to keep it at bay. A deadman hung and left to rot as an outlaw decades prior that they swore had crawled out of his musty grave and was the source of the cattle mutilations and the missing children in the local area

🪦 But you couldn't ignore the call to you late one evening while you're new husband was away helping ranchers overnight when a jangling of a spur sounded. A sound that beckoned you to the window and like a trance you opened it as a shadowy figure that defied logic; entered

You stared, taking shallow breaths at the creature before you. The one from both your nightmares and erotic dreams. He had an accent similar to the area and times yet older with a tinge of something you couldn't place.

"Enchantress..." He purred in a guttural voice no doubt from how rotten he was. His body decaying and his once mischievous blue eyes now sunken in and dull. Hollowed cheeks and gapped jagged teeth with grime on them. Clothes dusty and old and weathered as his leathery skin. "Thou summoned me. You made me come here." He purred almost mockingly as if hindering upon old folktales of ancient night creatures and modern forboding outlaws.

You swallowed, shaking your head in only a thin white seeth of a nightgown, "I did not." You clutched your arms to your chest to not have him see your breast through the thin fabric meant only for your husband.

"You did." His breathing was labored from the rot shriveling his lungs as his clawed hands outstretched to you. Seeking you out. "Just as you did when you were a buddin' flower in full bloom aching to be picked."

"I was a child!" You admonished even as butterflies fluttered from the memories you thought were in your head.

"And yet-" He circled you. Bodies creaking noises only covered by the jangle of his spurs on his studded boots. "You called upon me like a siren in the night. Bewitching me while frolicking bare in the field-"

"Lies." You murmured shaking your head as he continued.

"Calling out...'Come to me. Dance with me. Love me...Touch me as a man would a woman'.... Ya didn't know why you felt how you did and why your body shook a burning ache between your thighs you couldn't mistake and I made it feel better-"

"Lies!" You hissed even if you felt your cheeks heat in shame and embarrassment at the fact it was true.

He chuckled a low rumble that echoed in his hollowed chest. "Yet..." He breathed out as he drew closer to you. Gazing down at you in lust in reverance in yearning. "You bewitched me. Called me out from the grave and I had no choice but to crawl to you on my belly like a lowly beast. You are my addiction. "

You glared even as your lower stomach, right over your womb, flipped and heated pleasantly from the Monster before you. "I care nothing of your addictions!" You spat.

"And yet, we're bound and ya know it... In spirit, you consumed me. Had me clawing at my coffin everynight eager to just smell that heady musk of that forbidden fruit...Almost as tempting as the sweet blood in your veins." He mumbled as his clawed hand yearned to touch you. You closed your eyes feeling a shadow of his touch that quickened your heart. "And in turn, I gave you what you needed and craved instead of what I craved. To be loved-"

"You cannot love. You're a monster." You shuddered as you forced out the words with trepidation.

"...I...Cannot love." He agreed with longing in his gaze. "I'm an itch that you need to scratch. That's all... Can't stand nights without you...I crave you as you do me." He hesitated. His leathery palm near your cheek. Feeling the heat from your skin as you ached to touch him.

He faltered before with the force of a starved man grabbed you in fierce kiss. One you both couldn't share before when he visited your dreams and helped you explore yourself. This kiss, had your core pooling with heat and yet your mind reeling at his chapped lips, bad breath, his musty dusted clothes and parts of his flesh decaying and yet you kissed back in a way you admittedly never kissed your husband.

He pulled back breathing heavily , "...Mine." He whispered in possessive rumble.

And then, you had the bit of pride to tell him, "...I hate you."

You swore to God you saw hurt. Genuine human hurt flashed in his blue eyes before he hissed like a cat and threw you back onto your bed. You almost struggled till he held you down by your wrist and growled. Showing his fangs and damn you to Hell that you jutted out your breast and cranned your neck for a millisecond in reply to his advances. You stopped yourself as you shook wanting this creature to fuck you into this bed then wanted to vomit and peel your skin off for him daring to touch you. You ached for him so badly your head spun yet your stomach churned in revolting sickness.

He sniffed your neck like an animal, labored breathing at the blood rushing under the surface he ached to taste for years now. Your skin was on fire despite his icy cool touch and you wanted to just shout 'Take me! Bite me, love me, hate me, use me for all eternity!' and yet you couldn't know if these were your thoughts or the monsters coercion.

"3 nights. You have 3 nights to choose or your loved ones die...Especially that damned boy you call a husband." He growled out and eased off you as you looked frightened at him killing him. "All you have to do is give in and I'll be your paramour for all eternity...I will be near, my lil witch." He gave in dare you say warning.

You watched him recede into the shadows. His eyes never leaving yours until he vanished into the night. Dogs tied up on homesteads furiously barking at nothing as locals got their guns thinking it was a raid or coyotes.

Meanwhile you almost cried at how violated you felt, how scared, how disgusted...How wet, how disgracefully tingly, how hot and bothered.

You swallowed remembering a dream you had while sleep walking in that field. Touching your soft bush under your gown and whimpering. Feeling foolish being close to a young adult as far as marriage went yet unable to truly know without a man's touch. Your female relatives saying it wasn't proper to be talking about such things and you'd figure it out like they had on how to service a husband followed by punishment of Bible verses.

'Why do I feel like this? Am I sick?' Your younger self had asked no one in particular yet someone indeed answered

'Nay Darlin'. You're horny. Feels good, doesn't it?' A wickedly sensual voice spoke as you cranned your head back at a shadowy hand roaming your body when nothing was visibly there. 'What a shame. A fruit so rip, spilling juices, ready to fall off the tree of naivete ages ago with no one to pluck it...Lick it's juices...Sink into it...It's a damn disgrace to let you rot in agony like this or to let some boy squish that fruit without truly savoring it...'

You panted at the words and feeling your nipples pebble at the ghostly touch of that shadow as it descended lower.

'Please, touch me like a woman..." You gasped out and trembled. 'Please I'm sick of innocence. Sick of purity. Sick of this ache that haunts me nightly!'

You threw your head back with a wanton cry as just that shadow grazing over your cunt had you seeing stars. Tingles of pleasure shot up you and burst through every part of your body in ways you had never felt.

'Then let me be thy hand to give you what you need.' The voice gave in a breathy horny sigh of his own. You couldn't tell but your hand started touch those slick folds as if a puppet on a string guided by that shadowy hand over yours. Whispering cooes of praise and arousal like an adoring lover that took you over the edge again and again.

It was exquisite. A phantoms touch that seared into your soul. That made you an addictive wench beckoning the shadow to play with you nightly in ways your husband to this day couldn't even please you

Till it wasn't. Till you saw the image of a creature with blood all over him and rotting flesh hissing at your fright from seeing him in your mind...You though it was in your mind? But it was so real his big hand around your throat to silence your screams and redoubling his efforts to bring you to both Heaven and Hell. Your family came outside seeing you convulsing and touching upon yourself in ways that disturbed them and you were in a dream or a nightmare.

How could you have predicted what you thought was shameful exploration and imagination was real? That you in your loneliness had casted some wayward cry of necromancy to raise the outlaw from the grave!? And now...

You wrestled with your morals, you love from your husband, and the affliction of this corpse. Wanting to slap yourself yet also thrust your fingers into your aching wet heat like you had many a nights since he crept into your life and spirit like a parasite in the body you couldn't get out. "God help me-" You shakily voiced clutching your crucifix on your dainty necklace while pushing up your nightgown.

[justanothergoldfish]

Greg Lestrade x reader

Handsome stranger - part two -

pt. 1 pt. 2 pt. 3

warnings: swearing, drinking

words: 2200

A/N: there will be a third part. I love Greg too much. Also in this part, reader is definitely written from a female POV. If i hear one complaint about my interpretation of Scottish English I'm burning down the internet.

---

It didn't take long for your boss to show up at the bar after that interaction. 

“Seriously? Ain't he a wee old for a lassie like you?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowing together. With a feign look of innocence you shrugged, “What are you talking about?”

“I heard ya, young lady. Drooling over that poor fella.”

Hearing him call you out so shamelessly made it impossible to stay serious and to not grin like an idiot. 

“Oh can't I have some fun? Hey, maybe he'll tip nicely, alright? I'm just… boosting your business. Sales, you know?”

Gary rolled his eyes and shook his head, and you could almost hear him think ‘You're a hopeless case’ as he nudged towards the kitchen. “Go help the lad in the back, aye? I'll take it from here.”

You too rolled your eyes and clicked your tongue. “Hey, just to make this clear; men are like wine, they get better with age. Guess you might've gone bad.” you groaned in annoyance, throwing the linen cloth from your apron onto the counter before heading into the kitchen.

“Oi, remember who's paying your bills, lassie!” Gary called after you, his voice a bit elevated, earning a huff from you. It was all friendly banter, but it still made you pout, not to be able to serve Greg and have some fun conversation. You had been looking forward to another chat with this gorgeous man from London, he seemed… Interesting. 

~

After what felt like a thousand peeled potatoes later, Gary returned and slumped himself into a corner in the kitchen. 

“I feared the day would come…bloody shite…” he mumbled, looking pale as a ghost. The man shook his head, staring into the steamy kitchen air. 

Without looking at him, you already guessed what happened. “What's wrong? Someone discovered that the ‘monster’ is just a hungry dog you've sat out in the forest?” 

Gary's eyes drifted over to you. “That fella you've been drooling over… He's an Inspector.”

Oh shit. 

Instant panic broke out internally at his revelation and you basically dropped everything. “A Health Inspector? Bloody christ Gary, I don't have a fucking food or beverage certification! I'm only supposed to help you out until you find someone else! What am I supposed to do?!” you hissed, crouching down in front of him. 

Gary sighed and waved it off. “Not a Health Inspector. A Detective from Scotland Yard.”

Was that better or worse? 

It took a few moments to calm down and collect your thoughts. 

“So? What now?” 

With a groan, Gary buried his face in his hands.  “We told him everything, I can never look that man in the eyes again… He's only staying for one night, aye?”

You got back up and crossed your arms. 

A Detective from Scotland Yard? This man got more interesting by the minute. 

“Looks like I'll take it from here again. I'll make sure he’ll have a pleasant time and won’t close down your business.”

~

As you came to the front, you saw Greg leaning against the counter, scrolling through his phone. He nipped on his beer and locked his phone as you approached with light steps. Even though he had scared the shit out of the owner, he seemed so… relaxed. 

Once you cleared your throat you decided to speak up to him again. 

“So… You're a Detective? Is that what brought you here? Are we in trouble?” you tried to jest as he locked his phone and gave a reassuring smile.” I'm on holiday, no need to panic. I think the owner’s already learned his lesson and if I learned one thing in life it's to never mess with a lady who pours my beer.”

The way his eyes creased when he carried that beaming smile, it was honestly heartwarming. 

“You're a smart man then.” you chuckled, grabbing a small chestnut wood bowl and filling it with a bag of mixed nuts and crackers from one of the cabinets. 

“So, a Detective from London, all the way out here in the Dartmoor in our humble village,” you grabbed a tall glass and poured him another, noticing his drink was nearly finished, “You probably brought some exciting stories along. Care to share?”

Greg huffed as he supported himself on the counter with both arms in front of his chest and adjusting his seat on the barstool. “Rather gory than glory, trust me. Sure you can handle it?”

The teasing smirk on his face made your heart flutter and cheeks redden as you tried to contain yourself and served him his beer and the complimentary snack bowl. 

“You surely know the key to a man's heart. Thank you, love.”

Greg took a few peanuts, juggling him in his hand ever so slightly. 

"You'll probably hate me for questioning you about your job on your holiday, but I have to know. Have you ever seen a dead body?”

Greg munches on his peanuts as he nods along. Knowing that the hotel owner would scold you for just standing around and chatting, you decided to clean up a bit and do some side work during the talk.

“I've seen some, yeah. Part of the job.” He finally says after swallowing. 

From one of the drawers you gathered a bunch of paper towels and a tray of cutlery. Rolling silverware seemed like a perfect task to do right now, surely the conversation would make this eternally hated task probably more bearable.

Greg observed your hands working on the roll-ups with precision and skill as he took one of the crackers into his mouth, chewing on it while watching you.

“So, did you ever… shoot someone?” you asked, spreading out the next paper towel. 

For a moment, he went back into his thoughts. He chewed on the inside of his cheek before taking a sip of his beer. With the back of his hand he wiped off the foam from his upper lip and gave a half nod, half headshake. 

“Fire a gun at someone, yes. Killed someone, no. I think that answers your question?”

You raised your eyebrows and agreed with a simple nod before moving on to the next question. “Can I see your ID?”

The man grinnes and grabbed another peanut from his bowl, “You've seen it already.”

“Aw, not your personal ID, your police ID, you know what I mean” you mused. 

He chuckled as he reached into the inner pocket in the lining of his jacket and got it out, holding it up in front of your face.

“Wow…  Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade… Scotland Yard…“ you read off the card quietly, seemingly impressed before looking back up to him, meeting his brown eyes. 

“It's not as impressive as you think. Lots of paperwork” Greg explained as he stuffed his ID back into his inner pocket and straightened his jacket afterwards. 

“But- my turn to ask a question. I don't even know your name.”

“Then find out? You're a Detective working for Scotland Yard, I'm sure you've got your sources.” 

His expression instantly gave away that he was more than up for the challenge, despite being on holiday it seemed to be worth the effort. 

“Good, give me until tomorrow morning’” Greg grinned, looking at you all over again. Now that made your cheeks flush a bit, hopefully not enough to be noticeable in the dim light of the bar.  His smile made you completely forget about his age for a moment. Not that you truly cared. He was a fine man with an exciting job and probably made good money, what was not to like? 

You tried to get a glance at his hands as discreetly as possible. 

No ring, good. But it was visible that he'd been wearing one until recently.

Maybe that was your chance to get to know him better personally. 

“So, why does a handsome detective go on vacation all on his own?”

Greg can't help but smile bitterly to himself at your words, fidgeting with the beer glass in his hands. He felt flattered by your words, and after divorcing his wife, your words were like a balm to his sore heart. 

“Handsome, huh? Can't say I've heard that in a while” he said almost sheepishly before taking a deep breath, staring at the foam of his beverage for a moment. 

“Yes, i uh.. I'm divorced. Just happened a few months ago.”

You saw the sorrow creeping up in his face and tried to offer a shoulder to cry on as you sat away the tray of rolled silverware. 

“You know, bartenders are perfect to pour your heart out to, if you wanna get it off your chest?”

Greg hummed, his eyes scanning the liquors on the wall behind you. 

“Need something stronger for the nerves beforehand?” you asked, already reaching for a shot glass. 

He couldn't help but smile at your words, “You're a mind reader, my dear. Pour me anything.” 

After scanning through the variety of liquors the bar had to offer, you filled the shot glass with a clear, yellowish liquid and set it down in front of the Detective before returning to your tasks. 

Without any hesitation, the man downed his drink in one go and licked the excess off his lips. 

“That's a good one. Elderflower?”

You nodded and let him reach the empty shot glass over to get it cleaned in the sink. “Owner made it himself last year. Tastes awfully sweet but don't underestimate the alcohol.” 

“You've got quite the taste, eh? Well… pouring my heart out to a bartender, I'm not gonna pass on that opportunity.” He braced himself mentally and propped up an elbow on the counter, his warm eyes drifting off as he started to explain. 

“Been married for years, but due to the job, my ex-wife and I sort of drifted apart. We've been fighting constantly, thought it was getting better only to find out she…”

As hard as he tried to say it out loud, the words just got stuck in his throat. Not that he had to finish the sentence for you to understand. You shook your head, not understanding why people were that way. 

That was fucked up. And as hard as he tried to find his words, you tried to be empathetic but couldn't help to automatically think out loud “What a bitch.”

Greg blinked a few times at your blatant words before the corners of his mouth curled up into a smile. He'd always felt his heart break at the thought of his failed marriage, feeling like it was his fault. He should've had more time for her, he should've showed her how much he loved her, but for the first time, he saw it all from a different perspective as you continued, “Communication problems or struggling to sort out your work - life balance don't justify cheating. Nothing does.”

You cleaned his shot glass and set it away to dry, still shaking your head. You kept on rambling about how wrong this all was, and it made him change the entire way he'd felt about this divorce prior to this conversation. 

Once you noticed how quiet he'd gotten, you too stopped talking and mustered him for a moment. He didn't say anything for a while, he just stared at his glass with a smile, realizing the final straw, his ex-wife's infidelity, was her choice. He never wanted to fight, he never wanted to neglect her or make her feel unloved. 

For the first time since the divorce he could look back at the situation without feeling like a miserable man who had thrown away his marriage himself. Your words had made him realize that this wasn't on him. 

“Greg? Are you alright?”

Finally, his eyes met yours, the outer corners of them creasing as he gave you a warm, honest smile. 

“Pour me two more of those shots, love” he said with an undertone of relief. 

So you did. Two more shots, onto the counter.

He took one of them and gestured for you to grab the other one for yourself. 

“Oh, I can't, not while I'm on shift-”

“Noone's looking. I'm off duty, I won't arrest you.” he says with a reassuring nudge to the other shot. 

If your boss knew… 

Ah, screw it. 

So you looked left and right quickly before clinking your glass against his, hoping no one would ever find out about it. 

“Atta girl. To the pretty lady pouring my drinks and opening my eyes.” he mumbled in a low volume before both of you downed your shot, while his words almost had you choking on the drink. 

He sat down his glass with a sigh and mustered you with care. “You know darling, I think I should come around more often."

[vxnillsstuff]

Hi! May I please request Fionna dating headcanons with a fem or gender neutral reader?

Dating Fionna Headcanons - Fionna (Fionna and Cake) x GN!Reader

——————

BACKSTORY (IN ORDER)

(This is like… in a universe where everything isn’t shitty? Like… how her universe was supposed to be.)

Fionna probably met you while on an adventure.

Her and Cake were fighting this big monster and we’re almost about to be defeated when you dropped in and saved them.

She thanked you and offered you to tag along with her and Cake. You happily accepted her offer.

You guys get along really well and throughout the months of adventuring around Ooo, you, Cake, and Fionna were like best friends.

One day, you guys were camping out in the woods since it was late and you guys didn’t want to travel back to the Treehouse.

You were sitting out by the fire that Fionna put together.

You could hear Fionna and Cake talking in the distance but you couldn’t decipher what they were saying.

Then, Fionna came over and sat next to you, warming her hands up on the fire.

She seemed… different. Almost anxious.

You turned towards her and raised an eyebrow.

She turned towards you as well and her face seemed… pink? Almost as if she was blushing… ^_−☆

You asked her what’s wrong and she immediately blurted out how she thinks she has a crush on you.

You pause, a surprise look on your face. You explained that you liked her as well and she seemed surprised.

You two talked about where you were in your relationship and what you guys were going to do now.

You two decided that you guys should just live with these feelings for a bit and see how things go.

About a month later, she asked you out!

She got you a bunch of flowers and made them into a bouquet with some twine. She gave them to you when she asked you.

WHAT ITS LIKE DATING HER (NO SPECIFIC ORDER UNLESS SPECIFIED)

She’s definitely cuddly and very clingy. She’s constantly holding onto you whether it’s the side of your sleeve or your hand.

She was very nervous to say “I love you” because she didn’t want to say it too early and mess anything up.

She was just very nervous in general but as you started to flirt more she loosened up.

She never had a whole lot of energy to clean so anytime you would come over, clean up and talk to her about how living junk isn’t super healthy. You didn’t mind in the end because you liked to help.

When it comes to fighting, you guys would just get into heated discussions but never like actual fights. It’s always over something silly and you guys always forgive each other after.

She is definitely a hoodie / clothing stealer. For example: “where’s my shirt?” you say. “It’s probably at my house somewhere.” Fionna responded, giggling.

You guys defiantly have a favorite thing. For example, you guys have a favorite song that you always listen to when together or a favorite snack you guys always get when hanging out. She’ll always be like, “(insert name here), ITS OUR THING!”

It’s definitely the little things when it comes to the relationship. Like, maybe you’ll set out her outfit or do her laundry. Maybe she’ll make you some breakfast, even if it doesn’t taste the best.

Double dates with Gary and Marshall are the funniest things EVER. Chaotic energy the whole time. (That’s a good fanfic idea… lmk if y’all wanna see that.)

She loves to make little doodles on paper and leave them on your fridge or at your desk. As well as little notes about how much she appreciates you and loves you.

Cake was definitely predicting your relationship. She’d always be like “maybe (insert name here) can help open that jar…” and yada yada.

When you stay the night at her house and the other way around, she always cuddles you and whispers little compliments in your ear. For example: “you’re so amazing…”, “I can’t believe your mine…”, and yada yada.

Dates are always something very simple other than going out with Marshall and Gary. For example, staying in watching movies, going out for drinks, etc. She isn’t too big on fancy stuff.

She’s very big on kisses. She likes kissing you basically everywhere but especially your neck.

STUBBORN. She is hella stubborn and will make a big deal out of everything single thing.

Note: I DID IT! Feel free to request more. 💙🌀

[wambsgansshoelaces]

Juvenile

Dan Eagan x Reader

errr so this is pretty shit but I promised a post so uhhh I’m sorry I promise it’ll get better just let me het into writing veep style I’d love to take requests 🙏🏽

pls don’t cringe too hard have fun I love you dan pls kiss me dan

Word Count: 1.452k

“Oh, fuck off,” you repeat for what you feel like is the thousandth time. Working for the VEEP is obviously a dream come true- you’d worked your entire life for this, and you’re damn good at your job too.

But of course, a man has to fuck it up for you.

Some jerk has come up from some senator’s office to talk with Selina, and unfortunately for you, he’s snagged right onto you on his way there.

“You kiss the VEEP with that mouth?” he asks, depositing himself on your desk, fuck-ass grin plastered on his face. You suck on your teeth, trying not to lose your shit. You make a weak attempt at ignoring the interloper, instead waving at Ed after he smiles at you shuffles into Selina’s office. “What’s Mr. Dry Spaghetti doing in there before me?”

“Madame Vice President has her priorities,” you reply simply, starting on some paperwork.

Instead of fucking off to wait his turn, like you’d hoped he would, his ass stays firmly on top of the pretty wood of your desk. A shame, you think, the wood is being desecrated.

“More time for the two of us, then?”

“I’d prefer not to.” You don’t look up from your work.

“Oh, come on.”

“I have work to do.” You abruptly stand from your desk chair, crossing the room to pretend like you’re doing something. Mike thankfully gives you a brief respite from what’s about to turn into a living hell, asking you about the difference between matcha and green tea. “What’d Selina ask for?”

“She asked for green tea, but I can’t tell if she means like the ones in the Arizona cans or like tea that’s green, which would be matcha, wouldn’t it?”

“Well, matcha isn’t tea,” you say back, a smile finally gracing your face. “So I’m assuming she meant green tea.”

“Do I just say that? I want some green tea?”

“That’s typically how you order things from places, yes. Where’s Gary? Isn’t this his job?”

“Probably having an anxious breakdown in a bathroom,” Mike mutters.

“Sounds more like you.”

“Where’s Dan?” he asks, changing the subject. “He’s supposed to have a statement for me…” He trails off, walking away from you and the conversation.

To your disappointment, your happiness is short lived. You feel a hand ghost on the small of your back, and it seems that Senate boy hasn’t gotten the hint.

“Do you need any help? I can make quick work of whatever it is you’re doing.”

“No, I’m fine,” you say harshly.

He takes you by the hip this time, turning you to face him. “How about we go out, then? Brunch? Lunch? Anything.” Your face flushes, your lips begin to form a scowl. Before you can yell at him, cuss him out, anything, Ed shuffles his way back out of Selina’s office and beelines it to you. He awkwardly pushes himself in between you and Senate boy, swatting his hand off of you.

Ed shoos the Senate boy into Selina’s office, giving you a pat on the shoulder on his way out. You murmur your thanks and goodbyes before wandering back to your desk to work in peace.

You manage to get a bit of work done, but your focus begins to waver as you hear Selina’s voice rising. Mike rushes back in, doing that goofy run of his, and pushes one of Selina’s office doors open. He barely gets to speak before he’s interrupted.

“Ma’am, I have that green tea you wa-”

“If you don’t have the fucking draft by tomorrow, ma’am, you’re in a WHOLE new black hole of shit-”

“You really think you can talk to me like that? I’ll have you know-”

Mike backs away from the doors, letting them click shut. He places the cup on your desk. “Your problem now. Where the fuck is Dan?”

Senate boy follows Mike closely out the door, practically screaming obscenities, and the ink on one of your documents suddenly becomes the most interesting thing you’ve ever seen. “And don’t think I’ll forget how the Vice President treated me as a honored guest,” he shouts, voice tripping in venom. “And for the record, I never wanted to go out with and ugly fucking bitch like you, anyway.” You blink, barely registering the words spat in your direction. “Fuck off, Eagan, so I can come for your job so shit can actually get done here.”

He shoves past Dan, who’s standing in the doorway with his jaw ticking. “Oh, eat shit,” he mutters back. “Was he talking you you?” He comes over to you, setting the statement Mike’s been running after all morning gently on your desk.

“He’s just butthurt,” you manage, face heated. While you hadn’t taken anything he’d said personally, because Senate boy looked like an ingrown toenail and had the maturity of a spring onion, he’d made a scene in front of the entire office. And your ego wasn’t small enough to not be a bit bruised. You take Selina’s forgotten green tea and quickly run it to her. Dan follows, hands stuffed In his pockets.

“That’s Dale? From Senator Warrith’s office?” he asks, watching Selina pinch the bridge of her nose, wordlessly accepting her drink and demanding you and Dan piss off from her office.

He follows you back to your desk, his eyes staying on you. “I don’t know his name,” you say exasperatedly. You tap at the documents Dan’d set on your desk moments earlier. “Mike’s been looking for these.”

He leans against your desk as you sit down. “I know. That’s why I gave them to you.” You can’t help but smile, properly filing the papers away to be put on Selina’s desk. “What, are you just going to let him talk to you like that?”

“What can I do? File a complaint?” You scoff. “There’d be more use in me sending letters to Santa.”

“I’m not going to let him talk to you like that.” He cards a hand through his hair. “You’re on the Jonad drive.”

“You’re going to bully him?” you ask, laughing.

“Of course I’m going to bully him. It always works.” He raps once on your desk with his knuckles before he straightens out. “I’m going to go visit Shrimp Dick.”

“Shrimp Dick? That’s the best you can do?”

“Shrimp Dick is the least of what’s going to happen to him. It’s factual, too.”

“Can we stop saying shrimp dick? I’m on the phone,” Sue states, expression sharp.

“Point is,” Dan continues, keeping his focus on you, “you will be avenged.”

You make a face. “What are we, twelve? This is all so juvenile, Dan.”

He shrugs. “Just making sure you know.” He adjusts his tie, taking a few steps in the direction of the exit, before turning right back to you. “You’re not ugly. Or a bitch,” he says too loudly. His face pinkens. “Just making sure you know.”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Later that day, you’re running between buildings, trying to get ready for a prep release, when you hear your name murmured in conversation.

“I don’t give a shit if he’s that goose that fucking lays golden eggs, Senator Warrith. He harassed a close colleague of mine, and I can’t even begin on his attitude towards Madame Vice President.” You can recognize Dan’s voice. You’ve been hearing it for long enough. “I mean, he walked in like he owned the place, disrespected everyone, shouted at Madame VEEP, and threatened me, so by proxy, her. I really don’t see how you can tolerate anything of the sort.”

You try to make it past them unnoticed, but the two finish their conversation as soon as you’re near. Dan peels away from the senator, falling into step beside you. The two of you stay in a comfortable silence for a bit before he speaks. “I’m sorry if anything I did made you uncomfortable.”

“What, you? You didn’t do anything wrong.” You both stop before the press room, stealing moments for yourselves. “You hit your head? I’ve never heard you apologize to anyone before.”

He smiles at you before ducking his head down to inspect his dress shoes. “Dale won’t be around anymore.”

“It wasn’t that big of a deal, Dan.”

“Naw, nobody liked him, anyway.” He brushes an imaginary speck of dust off of your shoulder. ��They also found evidence of fraud. Which I might’ve pointed them in the direction of. They also all call him Shrimp Dick now.”

You reach out, pulling his blazer shut and straightening his tie. “Well, thank you for caring.” You even out his collar. “In your own little neurotic way.”

“I like caring about you. It’s… nice.”

[decaf-mother]

*comes sniffin in your inbox for some big monster men* 🐩🐩

"Living With Monsters In Your Closet"

-

COD x F!Reader

Human|Y/N

-

Monster AU

-

Characters: Kyle Garrick, Johnny Mactavish, Gary Sanderson {More in later chapters}

-

Warnings: Pure Fluff and Silliness

-

Of course you had to be the only human living amongst these monsters, you were promised they would be well behaved by Laswell-

They are not.

Just this morning you found your favorite slippers chewed up and you had a sneaking suspicion it had to be Johnny... The groups werewolf.

However when you went to confront him you found his room empty, no doubt he left for the time being because he realized he made a grand error- or he simply got the zoomies and was running around the woods somewhere.

••

"Why is it suddenly cold... It's supposed to be summer."

You murmured while pulling open your closet to search for a nice sweater, letting out a horrified scream as you spotted Gary curled up on the closet floor.

"JESUS FUCK- WHAT ARE YOU DOING, ROACH?!? HOW'D YOU EVEN GET IN HERE?!?"

He groaned clearly irritated by you being so loud, fluffy red fox ears twitching he peeked up at you. He has a sly way of getting himself places he doesn't belong.

That's when you noticed your other shoes chewed up... Of course.

Gary always managed to get out of every bad thing he does via effortlessly having the blame shifted onto someone else- typically Johnny.

"Alright- that's enough nap time. Out with you and stay away from my shoes."

••

Everything is too quiet...

It sets you on edge everytime the house is silent like this, able to hear the smallest of creaks the old wood makes.

Then you spotted a shadow move in the corner of your eye, head whipping around trying to spot the culprit only to see nothing there, heart rate picking up significantly.

Then in a flash there was a voice right beside your ear, sending you nearly tumbling out of your chair but luckily Kyle grabbed your arm successfully catching you.

"Hey- Jesus!!!"

You stared at him all doe eyed for a second and then huffed, which made him slightly laugh. He released your arm and gave an apologetic look.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare ya. I just came for a bowl of cereal."

"Then why were you slinking around like a predator?!?"

"Habit."

You sighed and watched as he made his way over to the kitchen cupboards, still just as silent as ever with each step he took.

Damned vampire...

-

{More Content}

[writersmilex]

Out With The Noise

Gary Smith X Fem | Reader

Summary: There was this one time, you witnessed Gary have some sort of breakdown. ______________________________________

(Y/n) had noticed from the moment you first saw him today. Jimmy, Pete and Gary were waiting for her to join them in front of the main building. He looked so tense and tired even. With a resting scowl on his face, he looks ready to attack anyone who looks at him weirdly. Another thing that was off: is that he didn't talk much at all. Usually, Gary would talk (Y/n)'s ears off with the latest rumours that he fabricated today. He was annoyed, shoulders tense with his hands shoved in his jeans pockets as he shovels around.

His whole posture was off the whole day, so much so that it worried you a bit. Gary is a jerk, that's a given. But the way he was acting was not something that (Y/n) likes to see. For some reason just straight asking him would probably end in defensiveness and/or dismissal. So (Y/n) didn't say anything about it at all. The only thing that happened is during English class, (Y/n) locked eyes with Gary for a few seconds as if to ask telepathically what is wrong. Alas, Gary only sneered and resumed his own schoolwork.

~~~~

"What's wrong with him?" (Y/n) whispers in Petey's direction as the two watches when Gary stomps away towards the Boys' dorm, intimidating a kid who got a little too close to him on the way. "I don't know. I think he would rip my head off if I asked..."Petey replies with a hush. (Y/n) is still slightly concerned. She has never really seen Gary act this way. He is usually the one that irritates others, but it's the other way around today. "Then I'll do it." (Y/n) says with confidence, and walks after the supposed sociopath before Petey could say anything to stop her.

She keeps a distance while following Gary to the dorm. Even from that distance, she can still see his tense shoulders, refusing to calm down still. Entered the boys' dorm as discreetly as possible, seeing Gary take a sharp turn to his dorm, slamming the door closed. There is always a ruckus going on in the boys' dorm, so a slamming door does not catch anyone's attention.

Without wasting much time, (Y/n) approaches his dorm and gives the wood a few short knocks before entering the room itself. Gary's form is compulsively so, everything has its place where it belongs. (Y/n) kind of understands, leave a trinket in one place and you'll never lose it. In the room is where (Y/n) finds Gary; walking the length of the room while biting his nails, (Y/n) had always assumed that he is a chronic nailbiter. He seemed like the type to do so. There is something that agitates him, and out of frustration, he pushes the office chair away from him. The second Gary pushes the chair under his desk so aggressively, the second-hand furniture dares to squeak in discomfort upon movement.

The noise causes him to glare at the furniture with such seething hatred as if it was the cause of all of his problems.

Watching him react to the noise like that, (Y/n) is finally able to put two and two, together. Gary is having issues with noises today, and from the looks of it, it almost seems to cause him some sort of discomfort, or even pain. What kind of pain?

(Y/n) is not sure what to do, or how to help him. Could she even help him? She watches as he starts to circle around his room again, rubbing his temples and muttering about how loud everything is. It takes (Y/n) a moment to find her feet again, she takes slow steps back to close the door of the room gently, muffling the common ruckus that is the Boys' Dorm. Now it is just (Y/n) and Gary alone in a silent room. He lets out a frustrated groan and goes to sit down on his bed. "Turn the light off..." he commands quietly.  (Y/n) does so, flipping the light switch and the room turns dim, a faint source of light coming from the window.

Gary leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands, continuing to massage his head as if nursing a headache. (Y/n) moves as quietly as possible, moving slowly to sit down next to him. Making sure that the mattress doesn't make any noise under her weight. The Mattresses are of rather poor quality in the dorms, (Y/n) can imagine that they must be different in the  Harrington house, or any of the other rich kid homes. Once seated, (Y/n) is still silent. Imagining herself in a library out of compulsion. Really just remaining quiet in order to make Gary feel better.

Gary is so unpredictable it is hard to tell what he wants without directly saying what he wants, he is hard to read, a closed book. But it is clear that he is uncomfortable, pinching the bridge of his nose and squeezing his eyes shut, trying to drown something out. He is breathing rather hard as well. (Y/n)'s hand is frozen in the air, not sure if she should touch him while he is in this state. Then she decides to just try and if Gary objects she'll just leave him be. Very slowly, (Y/n) places her hand flat on his back, the contact causes him to jolt for a hot second. He doesn't do anything to stop her, so she keeps going. Slowly running her hand up and down his back in a rhythmic motion. A feeling for Gary to focus on while trying to calm down. (Y/n) keeps a steady pace despite the fabric slowly starting to irritate her skin, she keeps going. Gary's hand drops from his face and rests over his arm. his eyes are still closed but he seems to be calming down. (Y/n) thinks it's still not enough, so she still keeps going until his shoulders dropped. It took a moment for Gary to calm down completely, it was still silent. But not anymore when (Y/n) finally decided to speak up. "You okay?" She asks, quietly so as not to disturb the rather peaceful yet dim silence of the room. Gary doesn't reply for a long while until he straightens his back and sits up, giving (Y/n) a side glance. "uhh... yeah..." He finally answers quietly. He doesn't look her in the eye, not sure how he could explain himself to her now. Nobody is supposed to see him like this, let alone (Y/n). She gives him a firm pat on his shoulder while standing up from his bed. Moving slowly to stand in front of him with a slight distance between them. Gary moves to look up at her, his features calm. (Y/n) offers a reassuring smile to the supposed sociopath. "I'm ready to talk whenever you are." Is the last thing she says before opening the door of his room, stepping out and closing it again behind herself. Leaving Gary alone in a dark room that feels foreign. Suddenly, he doesn't like the feeling of being alone anymore. He started to like (Y/n)'s company...

______________________________________

Honestly, this is not my proudest work. Writing something for Gary is hard, who would have guessed??

Anyway hopefully the next one is better, but most likely not as much... To my own standards at least.

Thanks for reading.❤️

- Smilex🙂

[sterifels-blog]

writing masterlist!

please scroll for the fandom you are looking for!

creepypasta:

how they'd react series!

•minor inconvenience

•their favorite body part 🔞! nsfw

ben drowned

eyeless jack

laughing jack

masky

hoodie

ticci toby

slenderman

jeff the killer

jane the killer

clockwork

jason the toymaker

bloody painter

kagekao

call of duty (mw + ghosts + all of them)

how'd they react series!

•falling asleep on them

alex "ajax" thompson

alex keller

captain john price

•pandora's reverie (implied 🔞)

•all the pretty little things ... baby fever

•ornithomancy p.1 🔞 ..sherrif!price x widowed!reader

captain john "soap" mactavish

david "hesh" walker

derek "frost" westbrook

dipaolo (shadow company)

elias walker

enzo reyes

erikson (shadow company)

farah karim

frank woods

gary "roach" sanderson

general shepherd

gabriel t. rorke

james ramirez

john "soap" mactavish

•protective over you.. at a bar

keegan p. russ

•petals and pit stops ...biker!keegan x flowershop!owner

kick

könig

kyle "gaz" garrick

logan walker

mace

•domestic knight... spa day with mace

marcus burns

marcus "lerch" ortega

nikolai

•thinking about... working in the hangar

nikto

phillip graves

rodolfo "rudy" parra

simon "ghost" riley

•he hates your boyfriend... simon drabble

•he figures out about your son... request

valeria garza

vladimir makarov

velikan

vance (shadow company)

marble hornets

how they'd react series!

jay merrick

alex kralie

tim wright

brian thomas

•the first time he lets you touch him

jessica locke

slashers

how they'd react series!

michael myers

jason voorhees

freddy krueger

leatherface

ghostface

chucky

pinhead

hannibal lecter

norman bates

pennywise

brahms heelshire

jigsaw

top gun / tg mav

how they'd react series!

pete mitchell (maverick)

tom kazansky (iceman)

nick bradshaw (goose)

mike metcalf (viper)

rick heatherly (jester)

ron kerner (slider)

bradley bradshaw (rooster)

•flyboy’s call to earth 🔞 makeout with rooster

natasha trace (pheonix)

jake seresin (hangman)

robert floyd (bob)

reuben fitch (payback)

mickey garcia (fanboy)

red dead redemption

how they'd react series!

john marston

dutch van der linde

bill williamson

javier escuella

jack marston

house m.d

how they'd react series!

dr. gregory house

james wilson

lisa cuddy

eric foreman

allison cameron

robert chase

chris taub

remy "thirteen" hadley

lawrence kutner

martha masters

stacy warner

[mariariley]

⋆✮⋆ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ⋆✮⋆

·:*¨༺ MASTERLIST ༻¨*:·.

on a hiatus! :(

Russell Adler

Frank Woods

Alex Mason

Helen Park

Lawrence Sims

Eleazar Azoulay

Anton Volkov

Perseus

🖤

Captain John Price

John “Soap” Mactavish

Simon “Ghost” Riley

Gary “Roach” Sanderson

General Shepherd

Vladimir Makarov

🖤

Captain John Price

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

Alex Keller

Farah Karim

Roman Barkov

Nikolai

Soldier J-12

🖤

Simon “Ghost” Riley

John “Soap” Mactavish

Captain John Price

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

Kate Laswell

Alejandro Vargas

Rodolfo “Rudy” Parra

Valeria Garza

Phillip Graves

Warzone bonus: König

🖤

x fem/gn reader

no ships

no pedophilia, rape, pregnancy, gory self harm, mental illnesses, fursonas or any animal-like add ons

no heavy BDSM and weird fetishes

platonic relationship with female characters

will do mental breakdowns, hysteria, death (not too gory)

will do angst, fluff, sometimes smut

will do headcanons and NSFW alphabets

self written fanfics in 1st person

requests and headcanons in 2nd person

please make your requests clear and with enough details 🖤

Dividers belong to @firefly-graphics , @benkeibear 🖤

Banners are mine, tag if you use them 🖤

[cruelsummer-ficfest]

Hey Kids—Reading is Fun!

Dear Readers,

Your mods (@femme--de--lettres and @greyeyedmonster-18) are beside themselves with how many of you have participated in Cruel Summer Fic Fest: The Eras Tour this year.

From full novel-length fics to poetry, from microfics to multi-chaptered works and everything in between, we've been blown away—enchanted, even—by this year's submissions. This fest started as a labor of love for both of us as avid Swifties and HP fic authors and we couldn't have imagined in our wildest dreams the way you've embraced it with open arms.

With that said, we're pleased to offer the below list of this year's love stories. Due to tumblr restrictions on tagging, we weren't able to tag all of the individual author tumblr accounts (something something look what you made us do something something) so we've tried to link to ao3 as much as possible, but if you like a fic—check out that author's ao3! We've tried to connect you as directly to the mainstream of what each author writes in that respect, so if you happen to find a new fave, you can show them more love on the rest of their works!

To make a long story short, the majority of these works can be found in the Cruel Summer Fic Fest: The Eras Tour collection on ao3—with a catalogue of over 100 works, there's something for everybody, and we hope you'll take a peek at this year's truly incredible works.

We've had the time of our life fighting dragons with you, but sometimes, you know in your soul when it's time to go.

Thanks for making this cruel summer another one for the books.

Until Next Time,

Your Mods (Grey and Andie)

Cruel Summer Fic Fest: The Eras Tour

(all fics are followed by the character, relationship, or pairing that each work focused on. for the purposes of our list, both "x" and "/" indicate some level of romantic relationship, while "&" entails a platonic or otherwise friendly one)

Era One (Debut/Midnights)

Stay Beautiful (Regulus x James)

Sweet Nothing (Ted Tonks x Andromeda Black)

Midnight Rain (Sirius x Remus)

A Perfectly Good Heart (Harry/Fred/George)

Bigger Than the Whole Sky (Lavender x Pansy)

Anti-Hero (Sirius x Remus)

Tim McGraw (James x Lily)

Invisible  (Harry x Ginny)

Should've Said No (Ron x Hermione)

Dear Reader (Draco x Astoria, Part 1 of 6)

Glitch (Bellatrix Black x Voldemort)

The Outside (Ron x Hermione)

Bejeweled (Ron x Hermione)

Maroon  (Ron x Hermione)

Teardrops on My Guitar (Ron x Hermione)

Mastermind (Ron x Hermione)

Era Two (1989/Evermore)

Wonderland (Snape x Trelawney)

Dorothea (Sirius x Remus)

New Romantics (Regulus x Lily)

You Are In Love (James x Lily)

Wildest Dreams (Sirius x James)

Long Story Short (Draco x Harry)

This Love  (Pandora x Lily)

All You Had to Do Was Stay (Hermione x Pansy)

Shake It Off (Draco x Harry)

I Wish You Would (James x Lily)

Blank Space   (Ron x Hermione)

I Know Places (Draco x Hermione)

Gold Rush (Ron x Hermione)

Welcome to New York  (Sirius x Remus)

Style (Bellatrix x Voldemort)

Happiness (Narcissa Black x Emmeline Vance)

Tis the Damn Season (Harry x Bill Weasley)

It's Time to Go (Teddy x Victoire)

Cowboy Like Me (Astoria x Hermione)

Champagne Problems (Draco x Astoria, Part 2 of 6)

Era Three (Red/Lover)

The Moment I Knew (Ron x Hermione)

You Need to Calm Down  (Draco x Harry)

Sad Beautiful Tragic  (Draco x Astoria)

Nothing New (ft. Phoebe Bridgers) (Ron x Hermione)

All of the Girls You Loved Before (Sirius x Remus)

State of Grace (James x Lily)

Miss Americana & the Heartbreak Prince Draco x Astoria, Part 3 of 6)

We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together (Harry x Tom Riddle) 

The Last Time (ft. Gary Lightbody) (Ron x Hermione)

All Too Well (Ron x Hermione)

The Archer  (Pandora Lovegood x Lily Evans)

Babe  (Ron x Hermione)

Run (ft. Ed Sheeran) (Narcissa x Lily)

Cornelia Street (Percy Weasley x Oliver Wood)

Everything Has Changed (ft. Ed Sheeran) (Sirius x Remus)

The Very First Night (Ron x Hermione)

Girl at Home (Alecto Carrow x Narcissa Black)

Forever Winter (Draco x Astoria)

Afterglow (Ron x Hermione)

Holy Ground (Romione)

Stay Stay Stay (Blaise Zabini x Daphne Greengrass)

False God (Bellatrix x Voldemort)

Era Four (Fearless/Reputation)

Come in With the Rain (Ginny & Hermione)

Look What You Made Me Do (Ron x Hermione)

That's When (ft. Keith Urban) (James x Lily)

Fifteen (James x Lily)

Tell Me Why (Harry x Charlie Weasley)

The Best Day (Percy x Oliver Wood)

Call It What You Want (Ron x Hermione)

You Belong With Me (Ron x Hermione)

Untouchable (Narcissa x Lily)

Change (Ron x Hermione)

Superstar (Draco x Hermione)

Forever and Always (Piano Version) (Draco x Astoria)

King of My Heart (Ron x Hermione)

This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things (James x Lily)

Fearless (Ron x Hermione)

The Way I Loved You (James x Lily)

Gorgeous (Ron x Hermione)

Bye Bye Baby (Ron x Hermione)

White Horse  (James x Lily) 

…Ready for It? (Blaise Zabini x Daphne Greengrass)

Don’t You (Ron x Hermione)

I Did Something Bad (Draco x Astoria, Part 4 of 6)

The Other Side of the Door (Sirius x Remus)

Era Five (Speak Now/Folklore)

Haunted (Bellatrix x Lily)

Enchanted (Ron x Hermione)

Innocent (Draco & Narcissa Malfoy) 

Back to December (Ron x Hermione)

The 1 (Ron x Hermione)

Exile (ft Bon Iver) (Ron x Hermione)

Mad Woman (Draco x Harry)

Invisible String (Sirius x Remus)

Cardigan (Ron x Hermione)

Epiphany (Padma Patil x Theodore Nott)

Mirrorball (Draco x Harry)

Mine (Harry/Fred/George)

Mean (Ron x Hermione)

This Is Me Trying (Marcus Flint x Percy Weasley)

Timeless (Ron x Hermione)

My Tears Ricochet (Ron x Hermione)

Seven (Sirius x Remus)

I Can See You (Sirius x Remus)

Foolish One (Angelina Johnson x George Weasley)

[agerefandom]

Agerefandom 2022 Masterpost

This is a belated collection of my content from 2022! If you’re interested, here are the previous years: 2021 and 2020! 

In 2020, I wrote eighteen fics: In 2021, I wrote twenty-two. In 2022, I only wrote five full fanfictions, but that’s probably because I was writing so many more headcanons this year! Here are the fanfictions I wrote last year: 

Angels At The Window (Hazbin Hotel, caregivers!Charlie and Vaggie, regressor!Reader) As Sleeping Amber  (Phantom of the Opera, regressor!Erik, caregiver!Christine)  Flourishing In Sunlight  (Avatar: The Last Airbender, postcanon, regressor!Katara, careiver!Zuko)  Fancy Tuna and Frantic Texts  (Ouran High School Host Club, regressor!Haruhi, caregivers!Tamaki and Kyoya)  Natasha Is Young (Great Comet of 1812, regressor!Natasha, caregiver!Helene)

In 2020, I wrote thirty-two headcanon posts! In 2021, that went down to nineteen, but in 2022 I wrote forty-three headcanon sets! 

regressor!Gary King (World’s End)  caregiver!Jareth (Labyrinth)  regressor!Vaggie (Hazbin Hotel)  flip!Sans (Horrortale)  regressor!Adam/creature (Frankenstein)  caregiverse!Sundrop and Moondrop (FNAF Security Breach)  regressor!Brahms Heelshire (The Boy)  regressor!Severus Snape (Harry Potter) caregiver!Pennywise (It)  caregvier!Annabelle Crane (Magnus Archives)  regressor!Beetlejuice (Beetlejuice musical) regressor!Jade Harley (Homestuck) caregiver!V (V for Vendetta)  caregiver!Val Frizzle (Magic School Bus)  regressor!Stanley Pines (Gravity Falls)  caregiver!Alastor (Hazbin Hotel)  caregiver!Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel)  caregiver!13th Doctor (Doctor Who)  regressors!Anna and Elsa (Frozen)  regressor!Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel)  caregiver!Count Dooku (Star Wars)  caregiver!Caleb Widogast (Critical Role)  caregivers!Ruby and Sapphire (Steven Universe)  regressor!Dana Scully (X-Files)  regressor!Victor Frankenstein (Frankenstein)  regressor!Stevonnie (Steven Universe)  caregiver!Anakin Skywalker (Star Wars)  regressor!Sam Winchester (Supernatural)  regressor!10th Doctor with caregiver!Rose Tyler (Doctor Who)  regressor!Eleven (Stranger Things)  regressor!Bea and caregiver!Mae (Night In The Woods)  regressor!Monika (Doki Doki Literature Club)  regressor!Yuri (Doki Doki Literature Club)  regressor!Sayori (Doki Doki Literature Club)  regressor!Natsuki (Doki Doki Literature Club) 

Disney Caregivers Gaston (Beauty and the Beast)  Belle (Beauty and the Beast)  Snow White (Snow White and the Seven Dwarves)  Bruno (Encanto)  Tiana and Naveen (Princess and the Frog)  Oogie Boogie (Nightmare Before Christmas)  Ariel (The Little Mermaid)  Captain Amelia (Treasure Planet) 

Under the ‘keep reading’ I’ve collected links to my thirteen favourite moodboards from the seventy-three I made in 2023, and some of my favourite art and edits as well! 

Favourite Moodboards: 

caregiver!V 

regressor!Will Graham

regressor!Dipper Pines

regressor!Erik/Phantom

regressor!Peter Parker

regressor!Kylo Ren

caregiver!Count Dooku

regressor!Charles Xavier

regressor!Cal Strider

caregiver!Bakugou 

regressor!Shigaraki 

regressor!Noah Czerny 

caregiver!Jasper Cullen

Favourite Art/Edits: 

Tokoyami and Dark Shadow

regressor!Jade Harley

regressor!Angel and regressor!Charlie edits

regressor!Himiko Toga

regressors!Mae and Gregg

regressor!Ashton and cg!FCG

regressor!Bruno Madrigal

[slashingdisneypasta]

Are there any new villians or characters that you are obsessed with?

Hmm, new villains... /: I've mostly been re watching stuff lately, but I do have a list of villains I don't really talk about but really want to!

Here it is! ^^ Bolded ones are the ones I'm REALLY REALLY into XD

Stuntman Mike, Death Proof

Look at him !! I could get lost in writing about a nasty creep like him. I want him to kiss me but I also wanna smack him; I dunno XD

Agent Eddie Zane, Man of the House

He's Bo-age Brian Van Volt (Literally the same year) and his character is a sneaky scoundrel who pretends to be the protagonists friend so he can get close to his daughter (And he calls her doll)- need I say more?? No, I don't think I do. Damnn.

Steve Abnesti, Spiderhead

Not gonna lie, I wanna write some really dark stuff for Steve.

Eleanor, Do Revenge

David Harris/Unknown, The Stepfather 2009

I love this movie so so much!! It always makes me want peanut butter toast, which is a little weird if you've seen the movie. David, though, oooffffff. He's so AWFUL. And he's got this shit under control, and his energy is so soulless, but ohhh boy, when he finally loses it?? I'm so obsessed. This is honestly one of my favourite movies and his character is played perfectly.

Suzie Marie Toller, wild things

MEAN GENIUS. MEAN GENIUS. MEAN GENIUS-

Rusty Nail, Joyride

LakePlacid3!Reba, Lake Placid

Gary Sitterson, Cabin in the Woods

I don't know, there's just something cute about him XD He's not full villain, but I'm very very intrigued.

Helene, Tony, and Becky Le Domas, Ready or Not

Chef Slowick, The Menu

He's so sad, I just wanna give him a cuddle and encourage him to cook at a soup kitchen. He's the kinda character where you just wanna be his favourite person- the only person not expendable to him (Including himself!!).

Chase McKinney, Now You See Me 2

Detective Wayne Bailey/Kirsch, Scream 6

Warwick, Graveyard Shift

Another one I could write some really dark stuff for... :D :D :D Sorry, haha XDD

Alexis Butler and Val, We Summon the Darkness

They're so crazy. I wanna be friends (Or more) with them so badly XD I just love any crazy women in horror movies- we need more crazy women in horror movies. I just love watching them to be gross and terrible, theirs something cathartic about it.

Pearl, X + Pearl

Pelle, Midsommar

Norman Bates, Psycho

Brenda Bates, Urban Legend

Another crazy lady. Rebecca Gayheart just did so amazing as Brenda, and she's so much fun, and just... yeah. I love funny Slashers.

Mulgarath, Spiderwick

Have you heard his voice? Its Nick Nolte.

... Count Olaf... Series of Unfortunate Events

Look, leave me be. He's just so GROSS. I love gross, irredeemable villains that you know the writers really just went 'I am going to make this character so unlikeable'. Truly top tier.

Capricorn, Cockerell and Flatnose, Inkheart

I always thought Cockerell especially was pretty XD Kinda Otis B Driftwood-Style.

Dag, Barnyard

I MEAN?? Ugh. I'm sorry. I know he's a coyote. But he's such a bastard and I love it. He's been a favourite of mine since I was a kid!

Lady Van Tassel and the Hessian, Sleepy Hollow

I know one person especially will be happy to see the Hessian on here- XD

Velma Von Tussle, Hairspray

She's so mean... Agh. Haha XD I wanna write that Wilbur scene in the joke shop with reader in his place XD

The Colonal, Spirit Stallion of the Cimarron

Verosika Mayday, Crimson and Paimon, Helluva Boss

Nathanial Demerest, Wishmaster

The Trapper, Dead By Daylight

T.G. McCabe, S.W.A.T 2003

Little greedy coward that he is... I so wanna write for him XD

Please, anyone, if you're interested in any of these guys please tell me about it!

[artemisferris09]

Call of Duty Franchise Master list

Advanced Warfare:

Jack Mitchell

Gideon

Joker

Black Ops 1/2/3/4/Cold War:

Alex Mason

David "Section" Mason

Dating David "Section" Mason will Include

Jason Hudson

Frank Woods

Modern Warfare (2009-2013): Original Timeline

Gary "Roach" Sanderson

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Male Reader Headcanon

John "Soap" MacTavish

John Price

Sandman

Truck

Grinch

Derek "Frost" Westbrook

Modern Warfare (2019-2022): Reboot Timeline

Alejandro Vargas

Philip Graves

Rodolfo Parra

Ghosts:

Logan Walker

David "Hesh" Walker

Keegan P. Russ

Kick