Salem Fanfictions

We all know you secretly have dreams that your favorite people will do. Here's where you can make them into a reality. Of sorts.

[salemfanfics]

Maybe an idea for the fanfic blog is also fanart? So manips, gifsets, drawings, small poems? Things that the players made could be reblogged on here? Idk maybe thats a cool idea.

That’s such a great idea! Yes! If you make any of these, please feel free to send them in! I welcome this so greatly! Especially since it might be easier than stories all thhe time!

[salemfanfics]

The First Kiss | Byde

Bonnie and Clyde had certainly found themselves in quite the situation. Since meeting each other as kids—and instantly becoming best friends—the two had been practically inseparable and shared everything. This, apparently, extended to getting a real boyfriend and girlfriend at the same time. They both had a laugh about the coincidence—reminiscing old times, and swearing up and down that their relationships wouldn’t get in the way of their long-standing friendship—before moving on from the situation. That was until a little over a week later when they both started to get worried about the same thing—their first kiss. Neither Bonnie nor Clyde had ever kissed anyone before and, like everyone in their situation, they were a bit nervous. Maybe a lot nervous. Probably a lot nervous. Okay, fine. Defiantly a lot nervous. Being best friends and all, of course, the two came to each other about what to do.

“I really like her, Bonnie…” Clyde was saying now, pacing the length of his bed where Bonnie was sitting, cross-legged.

“And I really like him, Clyde,” she threw back and sighed, “But really liking someone doesn’t really help either situation. We need to think.”

“You want me to think? Here’s what I think: what if I’m a horrible kisser and she breaks-up with me for it?”

“No one would break-up with someone just because they can’t kiss,” she told him, then paused, worrying herself, “Would they?”

“I don’t know…but I’d rather not find out…”

“It’s our first time, Clyde…I mean…it’s not like anyone knows what to do their first time…it takes experience and practice and…” she trailed off, thinking.

“I doubt Lindsey needs practice…and I doubt it’s her first kiss,” he grumbled, mostly to himself, before sighing. Bonnie, her gaze focused on the floor, deep in thought, just gave a noncommittal hum as a response. Clyde looked up at her with a small frown, “What?” he waited, but she didn’t appear to be listening to him at all. Clyde sighed and walked over to her and waved his hand in front of her face, “Clyde to Bonnie. Come in Bonnie,” he said and Bonnie blinked, looking up at him now, “What is it?”

“I was just thinking…” she started.

“Thinking what?”

Bonnie bit on her lip, “Nothing…its stupid…if I say it out loud you’re just going to think I’m stupid…”

“I wouldn’t think that,” he told her seriously, sitting down next to her, “Just tell me.”

“Well…” she started, “What if me and you…?”

“What? Kissed?”

“Not like…just for practice. I mean…like I said…no one knows what they’re doing the first time they kiss and they’re kind of overrated because of that. You get all this hype for a first kiss and it’ll suck because no one know what they’re doing. I think I’d prefer to knowwhat I’m doing before my first real kiss.”

“Me too,” Clyde agreed after a moment of thinking. Feeling a strange twinge in his stomach as he turned towards his best friend with the intention of kissing her. Weird. Even though Clyde knew it was just for practice it was still just soweird. She was his best friend. There was none of those nonsensical more-than-friends feelings between the two of them and they’d known each other for so long. Clyde just shook away the weird feeling, “Okay…I’m…I’m going to do it,” he announced to her, which earned a teasing eye roll from said best friend. Clyde started leaning in, his eyes closing on their own, but just before their lips touched he heard a laugh come from Bonnie. Clyde pulled away again, eyes opening to look at Bonnie, who was still laughing a little.

“Sorry, sorry,” she said, “It’s just so…”

“Weird?” Clyde supplied.

“Yes! So weird!” she replied, making Clyde laugh as well to show his agreement, “We’re just…friends and friends don’t usually do this,” she said and Clyde nodded with a smile, “And that weird nervous feeling in your stomach? Are you getting that too?” she asked and once again he nodded. Bonnie shook her head with one last laugh, “Okay, okay. Let’s do this for real,” she told him, wiggling out her giggles.

Clyde leaned back in, eyes closed, and finally their lips met. But only for a brief second—a peck—before they both pulled away. The two looked at each, “That wasn’t so hard,” he said, feeling that “weird nervous” feeling intensify, “But I doubt Johnny and Lindsey are looking for just a peck,” he told her without even thinking about it. Why did he do that? Clyde had figured that just one peck would be good enough for their purposes so why did he want to go at it again? It felt like his whole body was being pulled back into his best friend.

Just as he was starting to think of these things, Bonnie nodded, “You’re right. I know that it’s…weird, but…pecks are for, like…your grandmother.”

Clyde nodded once again, not wanting to speak again without knowing what he was going to say. The two leaned back towards each other, their lips meeting once again and lingering. As if it was the most natural thing for them to be kissing, Bonnie and Clyde simultaneously moved closer to one another, acting without thinking. Bonnie raised her hand and cupped Clyde’s face, deepening the kiss while Clyde grabbed Bonnie’s hips and pulled her closer and closer and closer until—

“Wow,” Bonnie said after finally pulling away, but not enough that Clyde couldn’t feel her shallow breathing on his lips, “You’re a really good kisser,” she told him, then smiled as if this was just an observation. Which, Clyde supposed, it was supposed to be. Except, to him, they weren’t just observing anymore. He started to feel something change between the two of them. He’d felt something in that kiss that he couldn’t explain.

“You too,” he whispered to her, breathless from the kiss, before leaning in to kiss her again, craving her lips. Bonnie didn’t seem to notice as a second later instead of feeling her against him once again, he just felt air. He opened his eyes and sometime between then and when he started to lean in Bonnie had moved off the bed and to his bedroom window, her back to him, talking away as if nothing was different. She was oblivious to what he seemed to be feeling in those moments. It was such an amazing kiss, she said so herself. She had to have felt it. How could she not be feeling what he did? Later on that night, as he was thinking about That Kiss, Clyde just decided that it had to have been kissing in general he liked. Not kissing Bonnie.

The following day, however, he found out this wasn’t true. At lunch Bonnie and Clyde had gone separate ways for their “real first kiss” as Bonnie had put it. Except, Clyde found out, Lindsey wasn’t his real first kiss. He’d taken the girl aside and they’d kissed. And that was just it. They just kissed. There was no weird, nervous feeling in his stomach. There was no wanting for more. It was a kiss and it was over, Clyde thinking about Bonnie the whole time. Lucky for him, Lindsey wasn’t feeling it either. The two broke-up, mutually, on the spot. Immediately after Clyde went looking for Bonnie.

Bonnie, meanwhile, had gotten her kiss from Johnny and was having a similar predicament as Clyde—her reasoning was just a little different. Like Clyde, Bonnie failed to feel anything leading up to or actually kissing Johnny. Her first thought as she pulled away was wondering why kissing Clyde felt so much better than kissing her actual boyfriend. Unlike Clyde, who recognized this situation as an attraction between two friends, Bonnie had chalked it up to Johnny simply being a bad kisser. Not wanting to embarrass him Bonnie told everyone who asked that her first kiss was “completely amazing”.  This was true. Her first kiss, the one with Clyde, was amazing. She just didn’t mention who the kiss was with. Everyone knew she and Johnny were an item and since no one knew what had gone down the night before…everyone would all just assume and start to gush about how lucky she was to be with Johnny. Everyone except Clyde, of course, who was on his way to tell Bonnie what he was starting to feel when he’d overheard what she was saying about her first kiss. Clyde, too, assumed she meant Johnny and left, hurting inside.

A week later Johnny dumped Bonnie, who hid herself in her room without telling anyone and cried for half an hour until Clyde came, comforted her, and got her to stop crying, back to the old Bonnie, in under a minute. And so the cycles started. A cycle of Clyde trying—and failing—to find something that meant as much to him as the first kiss, pining after Bonnie and a cycle of Bonnie dating, getting dumped, and cheering up thanks to Clyde over and over again, completely unaware of her best friend’s feeling towards her and her deep, hidden, ones for him.

[salemfanfics]

A Vision of Beauty | Marshinao

Floyd walked down the hall of his home, starting down the stairs, and halting only a step or two down. His reason for halting his late night walk about the house was seeing someone standing at the bottom of those very steps, waiting, it seemed, for him. He didn’t reach for his gun, he didn’t tell the intruder to stop where they were. Even in the dark lighting he knew who it was. He could never mistake her for anyone else.

Yevette stood there, looking positively radiant. Her black hair was curled and spilling over her shoulders—like ink against the paper white of her skin. She wore a long dress that shined brightly into Floyd’s eyes, a contrast to the darkness of the room they stood in. But all of this wasn’t why she was so radiant. It was for a different reason. It was because she was her. An angel to the ragged man at the top of the stairs.

Floyd blinked and blinked again, but this seemed to be the only movement her could muster. He couldn’t reach his hand out and try to beckon her closer, he couldn’t move his legs down the steps, he couldn’t even move his lips or tongue in order to form the words he really wanted to say. Lucky for him, Yevette decided to move up the stairs, quickly towards him, stopping a step short of being on the same one as him. He blinked at her and she blinked back, then gave one of those impossibly beautiful smiles of hers. The one that never failed to make his heart seemingly speed up and melt all at the same time.

“Floyd,” she said and even though it was a whisper, the sound of her voice filled his ears. It didn’t seems quite the same, though. It was smoother and more melodic than the last time he’d heard her speak. He started to count the days, but then she reached out for him, going to caresses his cheek with her soft, delicate fingers. Floyd closed his eyes and imagined, imagined hard what those fingers—what that palm—would feel like in the moments just before she touched him. He had to imagine because that’s all he was going to get. Because she would never—could never—touch him ever again. Floyd was right as a moment later there was nothing but air where Yevette had once stood.

The more days that passed since Yevette was killed, the more often this happen to Floyd. If he was having conversations with his dead brother, then he was seeing his dead wife. He never knew when her jarring image—her in that dress, with her hair effortless, her voice like the ring of a bell, and an unnatural glow—would turn up. Usually it was at night, when his insomnia was just kicking in. She wandered about the house, never saying much more than his name. She was dancing to a song in front of the TV, beckoning him forth to an airy embrace. She dwelled on the porch, wishing on stars that she saw up in the sky. She was cooking in the kitchen and reading in their bed and singing in their shower.  Her laugh seemed to always be heard just around the next corner. And the next. And the next. And the next…

[salemfanfics]

The Cliche High-school Experience | Mako

(This is an AU set in 1980’s high-school. TW: Bullying, homophobia/homophobic slurs)

Merlin switched on the tiny flashlight he kept on his car keys and held the book on the Salem witch trials up to where he could read. He’d probably be locked in this locker for quite some time. He hated high school. Every day it was the same. Some big, dumb jocks pushing him into lockers and giving him wet willies and calling him names. Fag, queer, homo…to Merlin it was so childish, but still…hurtful. Merlin told himself he didn’t care, but he did. He just hoped that in college or trade school or whatever came after this was better. Everyone told him it would be, after all. He’d have friends and he wouldn’t get picked on for his differences. In fact, that’s what would make him stand out. Make him successful.

Merlin was so focused on reassuring himself that he didn’t even hear the voices from outside the locker, discussing something. There was a loud bang as someone kicked the locker Merlin was in and the locker door popped open, causing Merlin to tumble out onto the floor. He looked up and there stood the three boys who’d shoved him in there in the first place, looking sullen, and just beyond them was the newest addition to the football team–Akio Sunohara. He was a transfer from some country in Asia and even though he’d only gotten to Salem High two months ago, he’d already secured a spot on the school football team and a place at the “cool kids” table. In other words, just the kind of arrogant prick that Merlin had come to despise. Merlin awaited whatever worse fate would come now that he’d been released from the locker-prison by the tall, emotionless male, but it never came. Instead Akio barked at the other three to “get to class” then started heading the other direction as they scurried away. He stopped short, then looked at Merlin, who hadn’t moved from the floor. There was no emotion, no care in Akio’s eyes as he stared at the other, “You too,” he said, then continued walking without another glace at Merlin.

Over the next week Merlin put together that Akio made the other three release Merlin from that locker and continued to instill in them what seemed like an anti-bullying policy. More and more the jocks left Merlin alone and anytime they started to pick on him, Akio was there to tell them to knock it off. For whatever reason, they listen to Akio–not that Merlin was complaining. He just wanted to know…why? What purpose did this serve Akio?

Then one day after lunch, Merlin was walking down an empty hall–he was in the library and accidentally had stayed too long, making himself late to his next class. He was hurrying so fast that he didn’t even watch where he was going as he turned the corner and bumped right into someone, spilling his own books everywhere. It was Akio. Merlin’s throat tightened, worried that he would surely receive some sort of punishment for knocking into Akio, “S-Sorry,” he said, pressing his back against the wall. This somehow made Merlin feel safer, like he can’t be attacked from behind.

Akio looked at him and then put one hand on each side of Merlin’s head, successfully trapping Merlin against the wall. Akio leaned down so that he was eye-level to Merlin, Akio’s breath warm against Merlin’s lips, “Can I kiss you?” he asked, his face still showing no emotion.

Merlin was startled to say the least. This must be some sort of joke right? Merlin’s eyes looked left and right, scanning for other jocks or a camera or something. This must’ve been some sort of prank. Get the “fag” to admit to what he was, take photos and send it around so that there would be more reason to tease him, right? But still…Merlin was curious and his heart thumped hard in his chest. Akio had never bullied him and had stopped others from doing just that…why start now? Merlin swallowed hard, “Y-Yes,” he finally answered.

“Good, I wouldn’t want to do anything you’re uncomfortable with,” Akio mumbled huskily as he drew closer to Merlin, pressing his lips against Merlin’s. The kiss was both soft and strong. Soft, like he didn’t want to frighten Merlin, but strong, like he wanted more. Merlin kissed him back, giving him a little more.

Finally Akio pulled away, his tongue flicking out just a little to lick his own lips, “You taste nice,” he said to Merlin and Merlin flushed. He couldn’t think of a thing to say, so he stayed quiet as Akio pushed himself off the wall and walked away, leaving Merlin to stare after him.

[salemfanfics]

Known Risks | Floyd and Tristen

(TW: Death, Somewhat Suicide.)

The buzzing of radio static echoed throughout the apartment Tristen inhabited, a chair was thrown to the floor, liquid dripping from the table to the floor, far from the cup where it belonged, and the door was agape. Zarek was gone, out at work. Tristen was gone as well, but he was nowhere near doing something he normally would.

The Polish boy had taken up listening in on the police scanner whenever Floyd was on call. No one questioned it, and no one openly was turned off by it. They just let the paranoid boy do as he wished. That’s what triggered it. Paranoia. He knew Floyd was a police officer and helped people, arrested bad people, the lot. But he never considered the risks. Once this was brought to his attention, he was almost always terrified whenever Floyd went to work. But, a compromise was found and he was given the privilege of listening to a police scanner.

He always sat at the table, not moving the entire shift no matter what, downing cups of juice    seeing as he didn’t drink anything caffeinated that most adults drank. He’d begun to learn the terms and knew what was going on before the public. Usually things were quiet and he was lucky to hear anything about Floyd. However, something big was happening. Very, very big. A hostage situation with a mental captor. Floyd was on shift. Things where going to book, nothing was major, until he was instructed to try and get a hostage out.

"Marshall’s been gunned down. EMTs, move in.”

The speed it took for Tristen to bolt from his chair, out of the complex, and down the street had to have been record time. He didn’t stop to put on a jacket, assess his surroundings, or do something as much of a nervous tick for him as pulling his sleeves down.

He was to the scene before more gunshots were heard, which was right when a hand collided with his chest, an official preventing him from moving forward. Growing up on pain, this was nothing but a flick to him, though it was a full force blow. He said something about safety and respecting the barrier, but Tristen tuned him out. He was too busy searching desperately over his shoulder. He inched forward, which earned a shove from the officer. "Sir, you have to step back or you will be evacua   ”

“Gdzie jest Ojciec? Muszę zobaczyć Ojca!" Tristen shouts in the man’s face, voice desperate. In the panic, his mind hadn’t bothered to translate from his native language, and he didn’t have the time to repeat himself again.

The hand pushes him back again lightly. "Sir, I’m asking y    ”

The officer is cut off by another yell from Tristen. The EMTs were rushing a stretcher off the site. “Ojciec!" the strangled voice shouts before swiftly ducking under the police tape and darting passed him. He’s no longer stopped, and he can only assume it’s because they knew of his relationship with Floyd. Besides, by the time he’d gotten to him they were far enough where Tristen wasn’t in danger, as much as it was compromising and not of routine.

Tristen slows and stops at Floyd’s side, tracing every detail of the gruesome sight. There was blood all over his torso, covering his suit. Shot in the arm and leg, probably hitting an artery in at least one from the amount of blood that was gushing out. The boy stayed firmly where he was, even if he was pushed by the workers. A trembling hand came out and squeezed Tristen’s tightly, the wet grip belonging to Floyd Marshall. Tristen stared into his piercing eyes, which were usually full of light but were not fogged up in pain. His mouth moves to say something and he hears a croak of his voice, before his fingers loosen and his face relaxes.

Floyd was dead.

From that moment on, Tristen was gone. Jakub was gone. All that was left was Liddie. And she was hellbent on revenge. She no longer cared about her past. She wanted to avenge this… Man she had a connection to, whatever it was. She squeezed his hand and leaned over to kiss his forehead goodbye, while her hand reached down and coiled around the pistol that lay in his lap from the quick cleanup. She slithered away, unnoticed by others, and once the coast was clear, she sprinted into the building.

Once inside, Liddie hears the muffled cries of the hostages and a few more dominant voices. This wasn’t a once man job. There were many people involved in the plans, and this was a great challenge against whoever those people were outside. She ducks down quickly and crawls around, knowing how to avoid being seen. Quickly, Liddie learned to load the gun and wrapped her finger around the trigger, hearing a gruff, demanding voice right around the corner. Taking a deep, steady breath in, she stands up and turns the corner, gun pointed at the first face she sees. However, the first face lead to another. And another. Until she realized there were eleven faces    and eleven gun barrels    glaring back at her. Still, Liddie didn’t know fear. She was trained to fight, not to fear. She secured the other hand around her own, focusing in on her shot, and takes a sharp breath in to let out a yell.

Before her voice could unleash, before she could pull the trigger, all eleven masked men pulled their own, opening fire on her. Her body lurched back and forth from the bullets, until she collapsed, her blood pooling around her. Her brown eyes fixed on nothing, vision black.

Nineteen people died that day.Thirteen hostages. Three officers. One Floyd, one Tristen, one Jakub, and one Liddie.

[salemfanfics]

Updated!

Greetings my darlings! I have finally finished fully updating the fanfic blog. The navi is completely caught up with ships, canon ones and ones that have been sent. We have some new pages now. We have a page for past word inspiration and one for past prompt inspiration. so if you miss one, don’t worry. I have also updated the plot help page (which could help you with current plots for canon as well). We also now have a FAQ page and a Rules page. Please make sure you do look those over. We don’t have any restrictions, it’s more so there is no confusion. Please feel free to ask me any questions you have. Now, I am happy for some more stories and I know you all have creative minds, so I can’t wait to see what you all come up with! Happy writing and remember our main goal is to have fun.

[salemfanfics]

Rattled | Jellie

(Prepregnancy Ellie and before Jenette moved away)

It rattled violently, the rain against the window. The wind was unbearable. The storm was getting worse. Ellie jumped in the bed Jenette had been kind enough to provide for her. She opened her eyes as the tree banged into the window. Suddenly there was a loud crash as thunder hit and lightening lit up her room. Ellie screamed at a weird shadow in the corner. Jenette came bursting in.

"Ellie!" She said softly, sitting on the scared girls bed. "Are you alright?" She rubbed the young girls back.

"Ye-yeah." Ellie stammered out. "I just- there’s something over there." She pointed over to the corner. Jenette furrowed her eyebrows and looked at where she was pointing. Getting up she pulled the coat off the hook.

"Ellie. It’s a coat and a walking stick." She said with a laugh. Ellie poked her head out, her face flush with embarrassment. "How about this idea, lets go camping in the living room." Jenette tapped the bed. "Come on. Lets go." Ellie smiled and grabbed the comforter as the storm rattled the window violently again.

[salemfanfics]

No one believed | Breston

No one had believed her, of course. Bridgette knew why. Who would believe anyone about zombies, especially a girl who suffered from her best friend haunting her after being dead for six years. But she had seen it happen. Graves lifted, Mausoleums opened. It was weird. People, who had been dead for centuries looked like they had just died yesterday. Bridgette didn’t even full believe it herself until Preston had felt the cold touch of Jessie’s hands, which were oddly all two familiar to Bridgette. It seemed that they only wanted to continue the lives they were living, for  the first few months. Then it started, the riots and fighting. Nothing killed these being, since they were already dead. It was something like out of a horror movie and Bridgette didn’t want to watch as mayhem ensue. She hid in her closet until Preston came and rescued her. He now sat with her, behind the couch, in the abandoned and ruined house. He was look out and she was to keep listen. They had always made a good team. When the coast was clear, the two made a run for his bike and sped out of town. They stopped in the woods and made a make-shift hut for the night with a fire.

"I’m sorry." He told her. Bridgette simply nodded and kissed his cheek. "If anyone should have believed you, it should have been me. That will never happen again. I will always believe you." Bridgette quickly shook her head. She understood.

"It’s ok." She smiled. Preston smiled back and leaned and kissed her. Bridgette sighed happily. At least she knew that no matter what, Preston would always believe her, even if no one else did.

[salemfanfics]

Hey! So I just wanted to say that the inbox is emptied and that the navigation has been updated for current characters ships, past and present! If you do not see your ship on the page, it’s simply because I do not know the name of it and it wasn’t on the mains relationship page. Also, finally, We have a new theme! With it, We now offer a weekly inspiration word and sentence prompt. You don’t have to use it, but It’d be cool to get some using it. With all of that said, I am accepting fics and would love to see more!!!

[salemfanfics]

Please Not Now | Marshiano

(If not obvious from the gif, it gets a little saucy)

Floyd had been neglecting his duties as a boyfriend—it was actually more common than he’d like to admit. It was just his job. It sucked you in like a vortex. It always demanded more of you than you could really give. And yet you’d still try. Anyone who’d ever gone into police work or criminal justice knew how it was. It felt like the burden of protecting the world was on you and you alone. One mistake, one miscalculation and a killer escapes. A drug lord still rules. A child gets taken. You fail. And every time that you fail you realize how you can’t save everyone and you can’t fix everything. On really bad days it was more like you can save anyone and you can’t fix anything. But most tried not to think about those days.

Try as other outside of the work might, but they can never quite grasp the mindset of a cop or agent. They certainly were a breed all their own. Yevette was one of the more understanding ones. At least in Floyd’s experience. But some days she just wouldn’t have it. Usually Floyd could tell when those days were coming. It was always near the end of a very stressful, all day and all night case. She’d first just get irked and constantly try to pull him away from work, then she’d get a bit snappy, until finally she’ll claim she’s had enough and Floyd would, of course, chase after her.

This time, however, he’d been just too wrapped up in a disturbing case of a child pornography ring to notice all the tell-tale signs. So, when Floyd didn’t chase after her after she’d had just about enough she came up with an idea. A wonderful, awful idea.

Floyd was putting all his papers together in his office for a briefing when Yevette strode on in in her black trench coat. Floyd paused, a bit confused. It wasn’t exactly coat-weather outside, but, his mind too focused on the case, brushed it off, “Have a briefing to do,” he mutter quickly to her before moving to brush past her. Yevette stuck her hand out to stop him. She didn’t actually make contact, but the gesture alone caused Floyd to pause, “What? I’m in a bit of a hurry…”

"I had a better idea, though," Yevette smirked and opened her trench coat to reveal what little clothing she was wearing. Just some frilly undergarments.

Floyd stiffened and his eyes darted around wildly even though he knew that there were no window from the station into his office and the blinds were drawn on the windows looking outside, “Yevette…not here…” he told her under his breath and hurried past him, knowing he really didn’t have that much resolve around situations of that nature. He just caught Yevette pouting out of the corner of his eye before making it out of the office.

Floyd started up the briefing, gathering everyone on the entire force into the briefing room. Most of the large windows had their blinds drawn. The only section that didn’t was the large window directly in Floyd’s line of view. It was his surveillance tactic. Floyd was ten minutes into the briefing when Yevette appeared in that very same window with a look that clearly said he had been asking for it. As her trench coat dropped to the floor Floyd’s focus only wavered slightly—not enough to actually raise alarm among anyone. He continued on, trying not to watch as Yevette put her arms behind her back to accentuate her chest, swinging back and forth lightly, and looking like she was innocent. She wasn’t. Not to Floyd at least. Clearing his mind of everything but the case, he moved on. Yevette turned around, as if to leave—Floyd would’ve been very grateful for that—but she didn’t.

Her hands gently reached up her back and unhooked her bra. And Floyd’s first thought was "Hey, that’s my job,” before losing complete focus. Everyone, confused by his sudden stop, turned to where he had been staring. Yevette, clever girl she was, moved out of the view in time so that no one saw her. Floyd regained his focus and everyone looked back to him. The moment he felt back in control Yevette stepped back into view. Her bra straps had slipped down her arms and she was just holding up the bra cups to her chest—and she looked just about ready to drop that as well. Floyd, flustered and unfocused quickly wrapped up the briefing—making sure to give Yevette a look that said get out of here—before directing everyone’s attention to McVerden, who had the paperwork.

Floyd excused himself from the room. Thinking that he’d be so mad with Yevette in that moment if he didn’t love her so much.

[salemfanfics]

Hey! So I just wanted to say that the inbox is emptied and that the navigation has been updated for current characters ships, past and present! If you do not see your ship on the page, it’s simply because I do not know the name of it and it wasn’t on the mains relationship page. Also, finally, We have a new theme! With it, We now offer a weekly inspiration word and sentence prompt. You don’t have to use it, but It’d be cool to get some using it. With all of that said, I am accepting fics and would love to see more!!!

[salemfanfics]

Unfair | Marshiano

(kinda angsty. Might be slightly OOC)

Frustration. That was the best word to describe Yevette's range of emotions at this current moment. It was the best way to sum them up. If you wanted to nip pick though, she was three parts understanding, five parts annoyed, two parts sad, and ten parts lonely. She looked at the clock, yet again, and sighed. An hour. She had had dinner waiting for over an hour.She sighed at the now cold dinner. It wasn't much... And she debated on throwing them away. But the steaks were cooked perfectly. Sighing, she decided, one last time. She would try one last time to get Floyd into the kitchen.

She had originally gone in there when she was finished cooking, giving him a ten minute warning so she could pull the table together and he could finish up. Once it was set, she went in there. He said give him an minute. A minute turned to five, which ultimately meant ten. So she gave him the time. Going in at a half hour. Again he said one minute. She had sighed and went back to the kitchen. Now it was an hour and she was well past her understanding point.

She knew he was on a case. it was adding alot of pressure to him. And she understood how important his job was to him. What he sacrificed. She did what she could, listening to him when needed, whether it be to distress about a case or to talk things out to understand what was going on better. It wasn't like she actually understood half of what he was saying, but she tried to help the best she could.

But she was still a woman who wanted some attention, like most women do. She didn't mind coming in second to his job sometimes. But only sometimes. In all reality, she was one of the most understanding women out there.She didn't mind the late hours usually. And while the phone calls pulling him away from her either during dinner or a date or, even worse, in the middle of the night, were annoying, she lived with them and put up with them. Why? For the simple fact she loved him. But this... This was the third date in a row. Yevette went up to his office door and knocked before poking her head in.

"Dinners getting cold, if it isn't already." She said to Floyd, softly. He didn't even look up from his papers, just muttering a bit. She stepped all the way in and leaned on the door frame. "It's been over an hour. I could reheat it... Or i could package it up, save it for.. whenever.." She was trying her hardest to be polite about the entire situation. But her patience were wearing thin.

"No. I'll be there in a minute." He said, again not looking up. Yevette just stood there. She hadn't eaten yet and he knew it. After a moment, he paused and looked up at her. She was looking down at her feet. "Why don't you go ahead and get started. I'll meet you in there in a moment." He said before looking back down at his paperwork and case files. He didn't see her shake her head.

"No. I was waiting for you. We're supposed to be eating dinner as a couple. And a moment with you could be whenever. Last time you told me one moment, it was an hour ago. An hour, Floyd." She said, harsher than she wanted. Floyd looked up at her with a raised eyebrow. "It's been so long the food went cold."

"Yevette." He said when she had stopped talking. "I'm in the middle of a case. You know how important it is that i solve it and get it done right, the best I can. I need to have all my attention on the case." He stood up and walked around from behind his desk only to lean on the front end, looking at her. "You know how important it is." Yevette looked at him. she took a couple steps into the room.

"Yeah. I know. You're job is important. I get it. Okay? haven't you figured it out, all the interrupted dinners, all the dates you've had to hastily run away from and I had to awkwardly pick up the check? All the cold nights of being woken up when you get called in and the later rolling over onto your cold side of the bed? I never once complained because I know how important your job is to you. But," She sighed and looked down at her shoes. "I want to feel important too. It's not fair to me, to us." She looked up, anger now being to show in her voice and face. "This is now the third date, THIRD, Where I was pushed to the side. Because of this same case. Tonight was supposed to be our night." There was silence between the two for a moment.

"I'm sorry." Floyd found himself saying. "I'm sorry you having been feeling unimportant f like you're second rate. I don't mean to make you feel that. You are important. It's just..." Floyd trailed off, searching for the right words. The only thing is, there were no right words, but the silence was enough. Yevette bit her lip and looked down. "Yevette..." He said softly, taking a step towards her. Yevette shook he head and backed away. She looked up at anger.

"I get it. I'm not as important as that case. Or any case. It'll always come first." Then something inside Yevette snapped, it was evident on her face. "Well fine. So sorry I made Tin Man Marshall actually start to have a heart! Just go back to being that cold and caluse man you were before!" And with that, Yevette rushed out of the room, grabbing her coat and her purse, out of the house. Floyd sighed and sat dow, looking again at the case files on the desk. But he couldn't concentrate. It wasn't fair to her.

Getting up, he moved into the living room, but, as he heard from the front door slamming, Yevette was no longer here. He looked out the window to see that her car was still here. She probably didn't want to chance him coming out and stopping her. But that meant she was walking home in the snow. He grabbed his own coat and ran out the door. Thankful that, not only had it been a quiet night, but that his girlfriend wore heels practically non-stop, he followed her shoe prints in the new fallen snow. Soon he saw her figure down the street.

"Yevette!" He called rushing down the street. The woman froze. He caught up to her and grabbed her arm. Spinning her, he kissed her softly. "You're right." He said. "You're right about everything. It's not fair that i rush out of our dates or our dinners. Its not fair I'm forced to leave the warmth of one of our beds in the middle of the night and need to leave you alone. It's not fair I don't get to always give you the attention you deserve. And It's certainly not fair that I've been putting this case above you. It's not a murder or a kidnapping. It's a robbery! I am so grateful that you've always been so understand about my job. And you're right, tonight was your night." Yevette was listening to him as the snow fell softly around them, making her black hair the negative of the dress under her jacket. He placed his hands on her shoulders. "When you said that, about who I was, I realized I was doing it again. I don't want to become Cold and caluse again. I don't want to be seen as heartless ever again." Floyd looked down at his feet. "I don't want to lose you to the job. I... I can't." Yevette swallowed hard and bit her lip.

"I'm...." She started to choke out, feeling tears well up in her eyes. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to snap. That wasn't fair of me." Floyd looked at her, into her eyes, and shook his head.

"No, you had every right to snap at me." He said to her. "I'm sorry I haven't been attentive lately. i'm sorry I made you feel like second best. You're not. I get to come home to the most beautiful woman in Salem who keeps my bed warm at night." there was a flicker of a smile on her face. Floyd slid his hands down her arms to her hands and held them. "Now. I do believe I owe you a dinner." He said, taking her hand and leading her back to his place.

[salemfanfics]

The Best Kind Of Love │ Dosa

(Future fic. Takes place 14 years in the future)

DJ felt a shift in the blankets next to him and he looked over to see Rosa sitting up in bed playing with her wedding ring looking out at the thunder storm outside.

"What is it?" He asked with a yawn. "You scared by the storm or something?" He asked wiping his eyes. He rested a hand on his wifes back and sat up slightly.

"Do you think the kids are ok? I haven’t heard any of them cry once" She told him, running her hand through her red locks. DJ sighed and wiped his face with his hand before getting up. "I’ll go check on them, you go back to sleep" He told her slipping a pair of boxers onto his naked frame and leaving the room. He was walking toward the stairs, so he could check on their youngest, when he noticed a glow coming from Beths room.

"Did she leave that stupid tv on again?" He groaned slugging over to her room. He opened the door with a roll of his eyes and what he saw stopped him in his tracks.

In the middle of the queen sized bed was a sleeping Beth with her legs slightly parted and her hair flown across the pillow, a smile on her face. Sleeping snuggly in between her legs was their three year old daughter Kylie. She was using one thigh as a pillow, her bright red hair flowing down the leg like a waterfall, and the other thigh as a foot rest. DJ then saw a tiny head on Beths stomach and smiled brightly. The baby of the family, one year old Graham, had his small head on his big sisters stomach and his body curled up against her hip. The last of their children, six year old twins Bristol and Colleen, were each on opposite sides of Beth. Bristol had her head tucked in the crook of Beths neck with an arm across her chest, while Colleen was on her stomach with her head snuggled into Grahams small body and one of her legs intertwined with Beths arm.

DJ tore his eyes away from the sleeping children to look around the messy room. The tv screen flashed with the title screen for Beauty and The Beast while all over the bed and floor were half drunk sippy cups filled with apple juice. DJ looked down and saw an overturned bowl of popcorn all over the floor, and judging from Bristols outstretched arm toward the edge of the bed, he could tell who had dropped the bowl. Suddenly he felt a small hand on his shoulder and looked over to see Rosa standing next to him with a smile on her face. She had the family camera in her hand a snapped a few photos on there, as well as on her phone before looking up at DJ.

"Are you going to yell at her tomorrow morning for the mess?" She asked him as he wrapped a strong arm around her shoulder.

"No" He said softly with a small smile. He looked down and rubbed her tiny, yet growing stomach, before looking back at the bed. "How could I yell at someone who showed me, once again, what lucky and blessed man I am to have five, almost six, wonderful children." He said softy before turning off the tv and going back to bed with his wife, thinking only about how lucky he truly was.

[salemfanfics]

Anyone but Her | Marren

Darren rushes into the hospital at full speed, not only because he knew he was late but because he heard something on the radio that he dreaded. He was hoping it wasn’t the same in his head that it was in real life. On the radio while he was in traffic the news was on a story about a blonde young woman about twenty five years old who had gotten transported to the hospital after a hit and run accident downtown with a pedestrian.

Part of him knew her older brother, and His best friend, Mason would never let her walk ever, nor would she ever really have a reason to but that never stops Darren from panicking. As soon as the doors slam open full force, Darren slams both of his hands at the counter of the check in desk and demands to know what happened and if that was indeed Maebelle.

The woman at the front desk just laughed very loudly as if this wasn’t the first time he’s assumed when he was in traffic, while she took an inventory of all the current patients. Her one smug disposition and amusement quickly disappeared as she stared at the bright screen in front of her face, and then at Darren, and back. Her smile quickly turned to worry as Darren began to freak out.

“Dr. Crawford, Your girlfriend is in room 2109. I’m afraid that was her, or she was at least there.” Darren doesn’t even take any time to respond before he’s bolting down the hallway towards the stairs. As he rounds the corner he sees the last name Anderson and His best friend crouched on the floor hiding his head in the hallway. Darren rustles Mason’s hair before opening the door without permission.

Finding Maebelle with her eyes closed lying on a bed, he quickly takes in account how injured she looked before taking her hand in his. He does for her what she did for him many months ago, and rests his head on her shoulder before whispering in her ear.

“You have nothing to fear my love, no one will ever lay a finger on you but me, and I will do everything in my power to keep you here. If you need surgery, Only I will do it.” Upon hearing this Maebelle squeezes his hand as hard as she could right now in a way of saying “I trust you.”

[salemfanfics]

Hey guys! I want to get people back to sending stuff in so I was thinking i could do a whole thing where We have a word of the week thing or like every two weeks, and that word has to inspire a fanfiction. Or something like that. If you have any other ideas or you like this idea, let me know here. 

[salemfanfics]

Everything || Fanny

Triggers: Violence, abuse, swearing

Huddled near some alleyway, head between her knees, Faith was trying to recover from one of her fathers more violent attacks. She didn't even know what she'd done wrong, but whatever it was had been enough to make him angry. She couldn't help but think about it and then overthink about it until she heard someone stop in front of her. "Faith..?" She looked up slightly, just enough to see who it was, then put her head back on her knees. Danny sighed slightly and crouched beside the girl, which made her flinch slightly even though she knew it was him. "Faith, whats wrong?" He said quietly, gently putting a hand on her shoulder. Faith shook her head and pulled away slightly. "Faith, look at me." He said, moving onto his knees. Faith shook her head again. "Fucks sake." He sighed, putting two fingers under her chin and forcing her to lift her head. Faith avoided eye contact as he stared at her for a moment. Her jaw was turning purple, as was her eye. To Faith, the bruising wasn't that bad, but it seemed Danny thought otherwise. "What the fuck?" He asked, not bothering to be gentle. "I mean- what happened? Who hit you?" For a moment Faith was silent, debating what she should say. She sighed and leant her head against the wall behind her. Then she told him. She told him everything; about the abuse, his drinking issues, the hidden bruises, the time she died. Everything.

Danny just sat there, listening. He didn't know what to say, it was a lot to take in all of a sudden. She just looked up at him as he thought, eyes wide with worry. She'd never told anyone before, she almost expected him to get angry at her. "Shit, Faith I " It was obvious he didn't know what to say, and almost more obvious he was almost feeling guilty. "I didn't know, I If I knew I woulda done something. I woulda " He went silent again, staring at Faiths jaw for a moment before pulling her into a hug. "I'm sorry. Fuck, I'm so sorry." He whispered. A loud bang made Faith flinch and Danny hold her tighter. Her father emerged from the alleyway and stared down at the two. "Of course you're with him." Micah said with a grunt. Danny stood up and stepped in front of Faith. "You need to leave." He said angrily, the softness he'd earlier had in his voice gone. "Now, why would I leave my injured daughter?" Micah asked with a small head tilt. Danny stepped closer to the man. "She told me everything, you asshole." Danny said with a growl. Micah looked down at Faith, who was curled up again with her head on her knees. Danny paused for a moment, looking back at Faith. Anger boiled inside him as he realised how long it had been going on. He pulled his fist back and hit Micah in the face, making the man stumble into the alleyway. Danny followed him in and went for another punch, but Micah grabbed his hand and kneed him in the stomach. Danny fell to the ground as Micah took a step back. Faith came out slowly from around the corner. When she saw what was going on she quickly ran in and stood between Danny and her father, though almost as soon as she'd gotten between them her fathers fist connected to her face, sending her tumbling sideways. That's when Danny stood up strong and Micah pulled out a pocket knife. Normally Danny would've said something sarcastic or rude, but he was doing what he could to keep Faith safe, even if that meant being totally silent. Faith managed to get to her feet in time to see her father take a swing with the knife, cutting Danny across the cheek. Faith's eyes widened and she moved forward at full force, tackling her father from the side. Danny pulled her off of him and kicked him in the head, knocking him out.

Faith walked Danny back to his place, her hand hidden behind the sleeve of her cardigan pushing down on his cut, trying to stop the bleeding. When they got back to Danny's place Faith led him to the couch and sat him down, finally putting her arm back to her side. She looked at the wound and sighed, then quickly ran and got his first aid kit and some cloth. She went back to him and gently attempted to clean the wound, though he kept flinching. "I know it hurts Danny, but if you don't let me do this its only gonna get infected and hurt more." She said softly. Danny just groaned and sat still, closing his eyes and hoping for it to be over soon.

[salemfanfics]

If He Lived || Emerden (Featuring Oswald)

Sameness.

The most accurate word in the English language to describe Emerson’s day-to-day life. Ever since Byron had been locked away for taking him a year ago, life was like this: same house, same experiences, same conversations, same questions, same responses, same preparing for taking over the company, same routine of make-out and retreat. Same everything. Other than the one-year anniversary of his sister, Noella’s, death approaching, he had come to a stand still and while Emerson would never ever wish for Byron back and he loved having Remy around, he did wish for something more. Something outside of his sameness.

His father would have defiantly agreed.

This was made obvious when he received a call from him one afternoon, the day before Noella’s deathiversary and the anniversary of the fight between him and Cassie that caused a rift between them forever. Emerson picked up, hardly listening as he father rattled on about wanting him to join him and his mother in New York for the opening of some new up-and-coming ballet. His father started listing off names Emerson didn’t recognize nor care about. It was all just white noise in the approaching sadness. Emerson was never particularly into ballet. It seemed more girl-ish and he wasn’t entirely sure how he was supposed to get a story line out of the dancing. Though, to be honest, he never quite cared to try. Though…the alternative would be to spend the day in this sameness and, besides, if Emerson didn’t show up he’d have his father to deal with and he didn’t want to  go through that. Emerson packed his bags with what he could find, told Remy he was off, and took a plane ride to New York, making back to his parents house just in time to pass out for the day tomorrow. Emerson woke up early the next day, slowly getting ready for the day. It felt like the funk that had settled upon him in Salem had followed him to New York. His parents came and got him not too long after he’d finished getting ready. As his father began to talk, his mother fixed his appearance. The whole way to the ballet, his father kept talking. Having nothing better to concentrate on—his thoughts wouldn’t occupy him when they were only about his dead sister—he tuned his father in.

"—Scott Karamakov…brand-new choreographer. Wrote the ballet with the help from his father, who’s a seasoned choreographer and writer. Normally I wouldn’t dare try to fiance someone new—" which alerted Emerson as to why they were taking the trip in the first place. He wanted to make more money for the company by working for this Scott-person, "—youngest principle dancer ever. Just got finished with the Moulin Rouge in France. I hear that her and her partner, Oswald Lloyd, are completely phenomenal. And both so young. You know you could learn a thing from Miss Atwell’s example. She’s only twenty and look at her. Accomplished so much and has her life all figured out. And here is my son…sitting as if he hasn’t got a clue about anything," he scoffed and opened his mouth again to speak. That was Emerson’s cue to tune him out. He didn’t think his father cared to hear that it wasn’t like Emerson didn’t have a clue. He just straight up didn’t. That would’ve started a whole new lash of criticisms, so instead Emerson just pretended to listen.

The seats to the ballet were great—front row, of course—but from the moment he sat down and the lights dimmed, Emerson was checked out. He didn’t know exactly where his mind went, just that it wasn’t focused on any of the dancers. He couldn’t stomach another one of these sappy, girly-frufru ballets. They were all the same—at least from what he could tell. There’s a boy, there’s a girl. Said boy and said girl can’t be together because it’s inappropriate because of a) their parents don’t like each other or b) they’re from “different worlds”. And that’s all he ever got out of the stories, not being one to ever pay attention much to ballets. He got away with just staring off into the distance for about thirty minutes until his mother delivered a small jab into his side, a sign that he should watch what was happening on stage. Emerson straightened his posture and prepared himself to watch one dance before checking out again.

Emerson looked up and saw a lone dancer on stage. At the moment she was still, waiting for her cue. She was probably the female lead—which he thought he recalled aa being the principle dancer—and was getting ready for her big solo dance. Emerson rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. He didn’t want to be here, watching some girl dancing all delicate and about how she was falling apart without her true love. 

Then the music started and the second it did, Emerson was taken aback. This wasn’t some delicate, damsel-in-distress dance. As Emerson watched the girl dance, he saw anger. He actually thought it was kind of messed up and, for some reason, he loved it. The tanned girl on stage drew him in with her passion and fierceness. Needless to say, Emerson watched the whole rest of the ballet, his gaze mostly concentrated on the girl onstage. He search back into his mind, trying to figure out her name. Atwell came back to him, but the first name wasn’t coming, however. He reached over, taking the program that his mother had on her lap. He flipped it open and quickly found her name to the side of her picture. Auden Atwell. Underneath her name was a description of the girl. Emerson scanned it briefly. It was a glowing view of the young girl’s achievements. Her and her partner, Oswald Lloyd, along with the director were all Australian and had all gone to the same academy of dance in Sydney. Then it talked about her in Moulin Rouge and how she was the youngest principle dancer to ever preform the show. Emerson began to think that his father had been right. This girl had accomplished a lot in her time—certainly a lot more legal things as well. 

After the play ended and him and his parents had done the appropriate amount of clapping, his parents rushed off towards backstage. Emerson followed shortly behind. Being people of high power in New York meant that they could get in anywhere, so it was no difficult feat to locate the one named Scott and start talking business. Emerson, although he was to take over the company, found the conversation uninteresting. So, when he saw Auden and Oswald walking out the back doors, he quickly excused himself and followed them out, jogging lightly to catch-up to them. They seemed to be having some sort of debate.

"Oswald, I swear on my life that if—"

"And I swear on my life this isn’t like last time—"

"That’s what you say every time and what happens? It’s always like last time,” 

"Auden, you’re being ridiculous," 

"Am I though? Am I really?" 

Emerson cleared his throat and the two faced him, eyebrows raised, “Sorry, didn’t really mean to interrupt. I’m Emerson,” he said, the two glanced at each other, “Emerson Gallagher,” 

There was a moment before Oswald nodded, "Ah, yeah, yeah. I heard of ya, mate. Well…ya family," he leaned a little towards Auden, "His family is some high-ranking economics/finance something or other," he told her. Auden nodded and glanced away, adjusting her bag as if she didn’t care. Which, to be fair, she probably didn’t, "Ya here to come and get some sorta…deal with us or somethin’?"

"Uh…no. Actually I just…" he looked towards Auden, "came to say that was…just…stunning. You guys were phenomenal," he said, echoing his father’s words.

"And by you guys, you really just mean her," Oswald said, nodding his head towards Auden.

"No, I meant—"

"You meant her," he insisted, causing Emerson to pause. Oswald sighed, "Another adoring fan for you. And a gutsy one at that," he looked to Auden, "Why is it always you? How come I never get any cute guys trying to hit on me?" he pouted towards Auden, who just raised an eyebrow, like she was used to this type of behavior from him, "After all I’m hot, I’m strong, I’m brilliant, I’m—"

"The cockiest cock ever?" Auden supplied.

"Yes, exactly. Confidence in spade. I really should have more fans trying to ravish me than I do," Oswald then looked Emerson up and down, "Can I have this one? I rather like the look he’s got going on," he smirked and leaned in a little, "delicious," 

Auden rolled her eyes and Emerson leaned away, “Uhm…”

"Oh, leave him be. You’re doing that creepy thing again," she scolded Oswald, then turned and began to walk off. 

Oswald followed her, "I am not creepy," 

Emerson, for some reason, followed Oswald, quickly matching their speed. Oswald was standing between him and Auden, but he didn’t care, “Well, I was just thinking—”

"I’m sure you were," she said, not even looking at him.

"I mean, if you wanted—" he didn’t know why he was insisting on this. He wasn’t really one for relationships, hadn’t been in the slightest of one for over a year and a half. Just teased the girls before backing out. She, should she agree on joining him for dinner or something of the like, would surely be the same. He could’ve just let her go, found someone else, anywhere else, who would take hardly the effort. 

"I probably don’t,"

"You didn’t even—"  he kept going, remembering the passion of her dancing. The way she drew him in.

"I don’t have to,"

"But—" he was cut off from Oswald pushing him straight into the long fountain they’d been walking by. Emerson was immediately drenched, "What the hell!?" he said.

At the same moment Auden gasped, “Oswald!” she said in a scolding tone.

"What?" he shrugged, "He was irritating you,"

"You’ve got to stop doing that to every guy I meet,” Auden rolled her eyes and walked over, helping Emerson up and out of the fountain. Her skin was soft. She sighed, “Forgive him. He obviously,” she said, shooting a look at Oswald, “is mentally unstable. I just can’t prove it. Yet,” she looked back at Emerson after Oswald shrugged.

Emerson swallowed, feeling a bit of want for revenge on the man, “…No harm,” he said. Then Emerson took her soft hand and took out a pen, “But if you really did want…say..maybe dinner…?” he put the pen to her skin, “then just call—”

She took her hand out of his, messing up the digit he’d been writing, “Uh-uh. I don’t do the you-call-me thing,” she turned and started to walk away.

A short pause before, “What about if I called you?"  was called out to her. Auden stopped, then turned and looked at him. She looked to Oswald and they exchanged a look.

Auden walked back, snatched his pen and wrote some digits down on a piece a paper she’d taken out, “Fine. If you can work up the guts to call me…maybe I’ll squeeze you in,” she finished the number, slid her arm through Oswald’s, and they walked off together. 

Emerson looked down at the number, wondering if he really would call her. Of course he would. He knew he could do that.

What he didn’t know, however, was that Auden was going to be the one to pull him out of that sameness he’d been feeling.