Ever since playing farewell my turnabout I've been getting a potential idea... So do y'all think Shelly would still kill a hostage if his client got convicted of a different crime or is the whole deal a “for this thing only” situation, assuming Shelly doesn't have any involvement with any other crime his client is being accused of.
Like if he was holding a hostage to motivate a defense for his client and his client got away with the murder they hired him for but got a guilty verdict in that same trial for a different murder they committed a couple years back or something, would he still kill the hostage or would he just be like “okay. not my business” and let them go?
in which a captain is finally captured by a siren...
I recently commissioned my dear friend, @imrowanartist to create a wonderful piece to really capture this moment in my Pirate/COD AU. Rowan did *such* a wonderful job I was completely awestruck by the final image. Absolutely breathtaking and beautiful.
So, without further adieu, here is an excerpt from my upcoming long-fic, Half a Creature from the Sea.
Stormy blue eyes find brown with flecks of gold and Price is not sure if it is desire or desperation fueling his veins. His heart is already threatening to burst out of his chest. He can feel the hard pounding of it against his ribs. It aches and burns in such a way he's half-tempted to cut it from his chest and present it at Kyle's feet as a sacrifice.
Perhaps that would satisfy him long enough where these feelings, these desires, would finally leave him.
How one man, a siren, managed to seduce him in just a few short weeks baffles him. He’s not entirely sure when it changed. When the lines blurred and he found himself wanting Kyle in a way he doesn’t deserve. But now, even as his eyes search for answers in Kyle’s golden eyes, he finds none. In fact, there are no answers to his question. He supposes that it just happened.
His arm starts to give way, and he no longer has the strength to maintain his composure. He’s lost this battle.
The siren has him. Kyle has him.
And like a shark smelling blood in the water, Kyle strikes, surging forward and crashing their lips together in a messy tangle of teeth and tongues, and John finds himself sinking under the waves and into the abyss.
He responds to the aggressive nature of the kiss with a quick nip of teeth on Kyle’s bottom lip. Kyle’s answering gasp adds more fuel to the growing fire between them. The air is already thick with tension and now it threatens to crack. He licks into Kyle’s mouth, tasting every inch he’s allowed until his lungs object. He ends the first of many kisses and drops his mouth to Kyle’s exposed collarbone, panting and aching for air.
"Christ, Kyle," he rasps. He noses at Kyle's collarbone, inhaling the young man's scent again, committing it to memory. "I’m not going to be gentle with you."
His hands, wrought with so much sin, grip Kyle’s hips, tight like a vice. He presses closer, unable to let the other man go. A hand rests at the back of his neck, steadying, grounding. It squeezes once and he almost sinks to his knees. He takes a breath to right himself. "I’m not–" He hesitates again. Words fail him. He forces himself to look at Kyle despite the gnawing feeling of guilt that curls inside his stomach.
"I’m not a good man, Kyle," is what he manages to choke out.
Kyle nods, so easily and accepting. He shouldn't want him, not with all the red in his ledger. "I know."
"I’m a killer too."
"I’ve seen you in action, Captain. Quite attractive."
John licks his lips in an effort to hide the smile that threatens to spread. "You deserve a better man than me."
Kyle’s long fingers drift to grasp him by the chin and holds him steady, forcing him to really look at him. "Let me be the judge of that, John."
For a moment, John is unsure if he heard Kyle correctly. In just a few simple words, Kyle has laid his heart out. Baring his intentions, his desires. He is unfazed by the killer standing in his boots.
He knows what he is. He has always known.
Ferocious. Ruthless. Dangerous.
He should be soft with Kyle. Gentle. Kind. Kyle deserves that and more. He deserves a better man, but it is clear that the man wants none of that. He’s not afraid of sharp claws and teeth. John briefly forgets that Kyle is a siren too. A creature of legend, and one with a reputation just as deadly as his own.
A thought looms in the darkest parts of his mind as he draws his eyes to Kyle’s unblemished neck where the faint lines of his gills grace his skin. The marks he is going to leave on this man will be a symbol of his prize. His victory. They will not become a bad memory. He refuses to let that happen.
John surges forward, capturing Kyle’s lips again, mirroring their first kiss. He crowds the younger man into the door, pinning him there. Teeth clashing, tongues wrestling, and hands seeking out skin. One hand abandons Kyle’s hip, opting to grasp at the back of his neck while the other slides under his loose shirt, grazing against skin. His fingers dig into the meat of Kyle’s neck, just shy of that pressure point he knows will have the other man on his knees for him. Kyle’s hand slips from his chin to fumble at his neck. Those long fingers he’s fantasized about for far too long curl around his neck while the other is clutching his shirt sleeve.
"Alright there, Gaz?" John asks against Kyle’s lips. He draws back to provide Kyle a reprieve and take in the bewildered and wild look in the siren’s gold eyes.
Kyle nods, lips swollen from the kisses and bites. "Yeah. I can handle myself. Don’t worry about me, sir."
John shakes his head briefly before leaning back in and kissing Kyle again, softer this time. "I think you can drop the ‘sir’, now."
"And I-" Kyle punctuates with another kiss of his own. "Think you like it."
Billy didn’t do well with big changes. It made him stressed out, highly strung, angry, easily upset (and tearful, but no one saw that). So the news that Neil was relocating their “family” to almost the other goddamn side of the country was not well recieved.
He didn’t think about the cause of these kinds of emotions too much, instead learning from his father and society to push down these difficult feelings. Hold them in. Ignore them. But it probably all started with his mom leaving. It was horrible. Despite the years gone by, never hearing anything from her, his throat still tightens and his heart aches when he thinks about the weeks, the months, of calling her number, begging the voice machine down the line to please come back, please come back to him. Please come get him, take him away with her. That he loved her - did she not love him?
He decided she didn’t. How could she of, if she left him without so much as a single call, a single visit? Just a tearful quiet goodbye in the night - he was just a little kid, not understanding what was going on, wrapped up in his bed covers, bleary-eyed as he was woken in the early hours by his mother, whispering her love and apologies for him. He was confused, was she going out? Thinking back he wished he screamed and cried, begged her to stay, yelled at her how selfish she was, a sick part of him sometimes fantasised about his shouting waking Neil up - she couldn’t have left then. Not that night at least.
Of course he knew why she left. He knew he should understand, be sympathetic, she was escaping her bastard of a husband. But did she never think that all the suffering she beared would instead be passed on to only Billy? She was a smart woman, so he found it hard to convince himself she didn’t know what would happen. An uglier part of him hated her for it - she chose Neil, Billy didn’t ask for him to be his father! He had no choice in the matter. And he had no choice a second time when she left in the night, leaving little Billy all alone with the abusive man she ran away from. No choice a third time when Neil whisked the two of them out of the house they could no longer afford without his wife’s income into a small dingy apartment. No choice a fourth time when he was moved all over again - this time into a bigger house, but with the addition of a step-mom and a little girl following him around everywhere, calling him her brother. And now, no choice a fifth time, with Neil moving them from his home - San Diego, the place he belonged, the only place that held memories of the woman his mind couldn’t decide whether he loved or hated. Moving him impossibly far from his home, almost to the other side of the country.
Just realized I have a fic I wrote a while ago and have been debating releasing ever since that would have been PERFECT for yesterday's Shingou week prompt but it's already too late to post it now auuuughhhh fuck my stupid baka life
Sometimes I reread my older stuff and I'm like jealous. Like who gave previous me the right to be a better writer than current me??? Why do I suck at it now?
