#Jim Bickerman x Reader

[slashingdisneypasta]

Horror Villains x Fem!Reader || Excerpts

Plot: Receiving a message from him specially for you.

Includes: Erik Destler, Inkubus, Jim Bickerman, Mayor Buckman and Stuart Lloyd. Obligatory pattern?? What pattern?

Warnings: Inkubus' is kindof sinister but what for you expect (side note- any guesses to whats inside the box? XD ) and Stuart's, reader is in university (I'm thinking around the 25 mark though). Also I wrote these in the notes app on my phone so I'm sorry if their are typos 😅

Tagging: @marinerainbow , @masqueradeball , @thecourtofgraywaves , and @your-mxnd-is-mxne .

Erik Destler

You felt the note be tucked into the palm of your hand when everyone was panicking because the lights switched off suddenly (of course, you had an inkling who was behind that fiasco immediately. Everyone did) and everyone was plunged into darkness. You breath had hitched, but then the lights turned on and there was no one next you- just your friends asking if you were okay and saying that it was the phantom.

You kept the piece of parchment in your fist hidden until you were able to slip away, say you needed some fresh air, and step out of the theatre to stand under a street light and open Erik's note for you; doing your best to flatten out the paper from its squished state with your hands.

His scrawl is a little smudged, and two of the corners are burnt, but you manage to make out his words. He's got lovely handwriting you think, a giddy smile twinging at your mouth.

_____

My dear,

After the show is over, I wish for you to meet me in my quarters.

There will be candles lit to lead you there, you only need to slip away from your frivolous companions and sneak down into the depths of the Opera house, if you're brave enough. I'm tired of the cat and mouse game you've been playing with me. Every flirtatious wink and pretty smile you send to my loge, every flash of your skin when you know I'm hidden there in your dressing room, every kind word you speak of me when others curse me... If your efforts are coming from a genuine desire to meet, I'll be waiting tonight. If not, I'll desist my watching. My listening. My attention.

That's my promise, and my offer- please consider it.

I hope to see you later, tonight. Enjoy the show.

- The Phantom

_____

A broader grin spreads across your lips as you finish the note and flick through it again, the important bits (the fact that he noticed your attempts to garner his attention at all, his offer, his hope). You've always been intrigued by the Palais de Garnier, and especially by its phantom~ There was truly something irresistibly fascinating about it- almost sexy. You can feel the excitement literally fluttering inside you like the wings of butterflies as you go back into the theatre and eagerly away the end of the show.

Inkubus

When you got home and pressed messages on your answering machine and heard that voice, you remember it clearly because it was so distinctive, and ardent, and sure, and so thick with something equally threatening, and... licentious, you immediately felt your blood run cold. The man at the busy coffee shop. Who sat with you at your table when their were no seats left and smelled like blood and looked at you like prey.

You didn't give him your phone number. You didn't even give him your name.

"Y/N... if you thought you would just brush me off and forget me like a random passerby, a footnote in your little life, you were mistaken. I told you, I have a few tricks up my sleeve~ "

You click to the next message numbly.

"In case you haven't deduced already, I also know where you live. And in case you think that I'm bluffing," the sound of a dark, soft chuckle revibrates from the speaker. "I left a small gift for you in your lovely bedroom. I'll give you a moment to go have a look."

Without a thought, you drop your bag and rush to your room after the click, stopping when you get there and cautiously pushing open the door. There you find a small box left in the mess of pillows and unmade blankets that is your bed that definitely wasn't there when you left in the morning, placed perfectly in the middle atop the covers, which you pick up carefully in one hand and take with you back to your answering machine; assessing it warily while you walk. It's wood but painted a terrible charcoal black, the paint coming off like soot on your fingers, and theirs a lock. You try to lift the lid, but without a key you won't be able to open it.

You press next on your answering machine, once again; eyes on the box.

"You'll get the key to what's inside next time we meet- and I promise, we will.

Y/N you have my full attention, and when I want something I generally get it. This is but a warning- by the months end, you'll want me just as deeply as I want you."

Jim Bickerman

He doesn't own a phone (he used to, but the telemarketers drove him up a wall and the old flip phone ended up in a lake somewhere) so when you get to his place, using the spare key tucked away under a little daffy duck figure on the porch, you see a tape recorder with a note taped to the front on the kitchen bench. "Hm," You hum, leaning your forearms on the bench and carefully unrolling the tape off the little beat-up machine and the note that says 'Read me' in thick permanent marker scrawl. Throwing away the tape, you press play and leave the tape recorder on the bench as you open up the freezer and pull out a pack of frozen potato gems. As you practically live here, even when Jim's not there too, you feel perfectly comfortable making yourself up and after work snack.

"Hey there, pumpkin. I'm off on a spontaneous job, got approached by a fella at the bar wantin' a couple protected deer off his property in Massachusetts. So I'll be off for about a week. Wish me luck I dont get in some trouble with fish and wildlife, eh?... " Sighing, you kneel by the oven and preheat according to the instructions on the bag. A week?? Crazy old man doesn't even have an email to contact him at! "but hey, pay-out promises to be good, the kid's got that new money look in his eye, so if all goes well when I get back I'll take ya out somewhere without a funky smell hm? You can wear something real pretty, and I'll pay. Course, you know the dress I like best." A grin quirks at the corners of your mouth, shaking your head. You do, you got it while shopping with him one day. "House-sit for me while I'm gone, won't ya?" Is that even a question?? He knows you love this place, it's off the beaten track and the lake's a quick walk from here. Not the lake he grew up next to, thank goodness; a really pretty one you love to read by while he fishes. Or just sit next to alone. "I tried to tidy up a bit but as we speak I'm in a rush, here. There's chocolate in the fridge and it's all yours. I'll miss ya, pumpkin, love ya. See you in a week."

After putting the potato gems away in the freezer to wait for the oven to preheat you pick up the tape recorder and take it with you to the livingroom, opening up a window to let in the fresh woodsy air before getting comfy on the couch and rewinding the tape.

Mayor Buckman

The note with your name on it folded neatly and left on your make up table beside a perfect sunflower when you got to your dressingroom after a show wasn't a surprise. There was always a note. Buckman never missed an opportunity to remind you that you're on his mind.

Pulling one side of your shawl over one of your bare shoulders, you take a seat in your dressing room chair with all other beautiful shawls and dresses and skirts of myriad materials and styles and colours strewn and hanging over the back, fold on leg over the other and lift up the flower, first; smiling and holding it delicately to your nose, feeling the soft petals on your cheeks.

You're approached plenty gentlemen in your line of work, being an actress on the stage. They find you beautiful, they love your voice, they think you're sweet. They want to add you to their collection of lovely things they've touched, or had.

But none of them were like Buckman, which is why you chose him.

He didn't look at you like you were a thing to have had. Not something to charm once and then never put anymore effort into; he always looks at you the same way with the same cheer and interest. He genuinely likes you, he likes talking to you, and he continues to prove it.

Next you pick up the note and flick it open for to read it slowly, feeling your heart flutter in your chest like no man's ever did before him- or ever have since.

_____

Steller performance as always sweetheart! Lord, I had the worst, most obnoxious boy next to me talking all the way through the show but I swear- I barely heard a word he said when you were on stage. How on earth could a fella notice anything else?

You were just magical, darling.

Anyway, I got a couple of boring mayor things to do get done quickly now while everyone's still milling about the theatre, I just wanted to tell you privately how amazing you were, in case none of the other idiots around here convinced you. I'll see ya at home later tonight. I'll make you something tasty for dinner. I love you.

- George

_____

Taking a deep breath, pause for a moment. You try to retain your graceful, sober togetherness because you're acclaimed actor and you don't get worked up over a silly man's sweet words... and fail; using the note and cover your goofy grin and closing your eyes shut, shaking your head.

Stuart Lloyd:

Finally at the bus stop, you open your phone for the first time and check notifications after a long, long day of work. God, that cinema is driving you up a wall. You can't wait to get that Masters, get a good job and get the hell out. 2 months to go.

Noticing an audio message amongst all the school emails, personal emails, and tumblr notifications, you think how odd that is- who leaves phone messages? Why wouldn't they just text you? A gentle humorous grin spreads across your mouth when you realise that it's from Stuart.

Of course, you think. Stuart's not terrible with technology, not at all, but it still just seems very him to leave a voice message rather then type out a text to you. He would never use emojis, either, you think. He's more likely to spend an hour composing you a short poem then quickly tap a small 'dimwitted' image to express his feelings.

After pressing play, you hold your phone to your ear and look out for the bus; blowing air out of your cheeks in exhaustion.

"Hello, uh, Y/N. I hope you're well, and um... you don't mind, that I uh- that I found your phone number in the employee files. I was unsure how to reach you, and I wasn't sure that our shifts were going to match up at all before um... before you left." You should mind, you think, but you don't. Stuart is always overstepping boundaries in that odd half nervous half holier then thou way and yet you... never mind. It's hysterical and you like him. "Um- for a better job I mean. I remember you saying you were going to leave, because well- because your course is ending, right? Congratulations, by the way. I don't think I said that. You must be... you must be very proud. Um- anyway- the reason for my calling, yes. I- " abruptly the tone beeps and Stuart's voice clips away, having taken way too long and been cut off. Pouting, you take your phone away from your ear and look for another message- and there is.

"Thank goodness, Stuart." Pressing the phone once again to your ear with an exasperated, fond grin, you shake your head. "Good grief."

"Right, um, I was too slow. My bad. What I was saying is I... I was wondering, if b-before you leave and I... miss my chance, if you wanted... " He clears his throat, and you start to feel anxious, heartbeat getting faster in your chest. You chew on the inside of your cheek. Where is he going with this? Why does he sound so nervous? "If you wished to a- accompany me on a... a date? I- look, I'm sorry if you feel that this is coming out of left field but I have not met a more pleasant person to be around for a long time, and I- " Stuart's voice clicks away from you again and you curse, quickly pressing the next audio message. There is 1 more message after this.

"It happened again. I apologise. What I'm saying is I appreciate you. And I'm not looking forward to working without you again in 2 months. And you're a- a very pretty young woman. If this comes off as... creepy... due- due to my age, or something, I apologise. I only thought that I would- that I should, give it a try. Thank you."

You start the final message.

"Oh!! I'll be working the next couple of days eight am to four pm- In case you wish to call me back whilst I'm available. Or not. Um, yes that's all. Have a lovely evening."

... for a few moments you remain holding the phone to your ear, head just rolling.

You never thought about Stuart romantically until this moment, he made your insides flutter but you never dared to go there. You pushed it down, you put the butterflies away in a box as best you could. But now they're out again and the fluttering is hard to ignore.

Before you can think anymore, you're calling him back.

"Yes? Hello?"

"Where do you wanna take me on our date?"

[slxsherwriter]

You and I May Never Get This Right

Fandom: Lake Placid

Pairing: Jim Bickerman x reader

Word count: 4,479

Warning: Hospitalization, mention of serious injuries (loss of limbs), ptsd, panic attacks, age gap relationships,

Author's Note: Don't hate me for how I ended this. There may be more in the future. As always, not beta read. Mistakes are mine. Likes are always appreciated, but reblogs and comments are cherished and feed the brain.

Tagging: @slashingdisneypasta & @tinalbion

The ringing of the phone interrupted the quiet peace. The sound was wholly unexpected and caused you to jolt. The mindless haze that you had fallen in going through the familiar motions of fishing. After the hellish week that you had at work, a trip out into the woods for a few days on your own consisting of fishing and camping had been just what you needed. You had thought for sure that you wouldn't have service out here but apparently, that had been a mistake. 

There was an instance where you debated ignoring it entirely. If it was your place of employment, you might just throw the phone into the pond. Despite how much it would cost to replace. Something in your gut told you that you had to pick it up. Groaning, you pushed up from your chair, carefully setting aside your fishing pole so it didn't end up in the water if something did bite in the absence, and moved back towards your camp and your tent. 

Rummaging around, it had stopped ringing only to start up again. Whoever was calling clearly needed to speak with you. Finally, you freed the object from the bag but didn't recognize the number at all. No business was coming up. 

“Hello?” Whoever was on the other end of the line sounded professional. One of those scripted sorts of voices. They wanted to confirm that you were you before saying anything else. Frowning, you did as asked and confirmed who you were before more information came. It was a hospital calling about James Bickerman. There had been some sort of incident? Something about him being brought to the hospital in bad shape and there needing to be someone there that could make decisions. Your number was the only thing listed. 

“Um, uh, yeah. Yeah. I gotta grab a flight. I can be there within the day, though, hopefully no more than a few hours, but I don't know when I'll be able to get a flight out. Did you need me to do anything before that? I will have my phone on me the entire time.” They asked about blood transfusions and life-saving measures such as intubation and CPR. Jesus Christ, what the hell had Jim managed to get into? 

Jim Bickerman was a name that you hadn't heard in several long years. He had been your older brother's best friend. You had been the accident, with your brother close to twenty-five years older than you. The two were as thick as thieves, always getting into trouble and mischief. By the time that you were a teenager, you were sucked into that sort of trouble. With a smaller stature, you could slip into places that they couldn't. An innocent face that most people believed when you lied for them. A look out that could actually be trusted to do the job. You fit all those sort of roles for them. Of course, it was cliche, but you had a crush on the man. Not that you had expected anything to come to fruition in regards to it, keeping the fact to yourself the best that you could. A drunken night in your mid twenties resulted in a closeness that had developed further into what could have been considered a relationship. Was your brother thrilled with it? He went back and forth. He liked the fact that he knew the man that you were with, but at the same time, he was a bit freaked out and disturbed that it was his best friend. 

Things had been really good for quite a while. There were a few bumps in the road in terms of getting in trouble with the law, but nothing that major or that you couldn't get over. After all, while you were in constant mischief and trouble, it wasn't the major sort that would see any of you going away to prison for any sort of extended time. All the local bars and police officers knew you all by first name.

Life had a way of happening, though. While you had all come from relatively nothing, being poor and scraping and scrapping in order to get by, Jim had this sort of intense and overwhelming drive for money. Enough so that it started to cause the two of you to clash every now and then. The passing of your mother and then followed by your brother in seemingly rapid succession had seemed to be the final nail in the coffin. You had to get out of Maine, get away from the mess that had taken over your life. The fact hadn't been taken well by Jim, who refused to leave. He was supposed to be getting the cabin that he had grown up in. The cabin was something that he was not willing to give up on. Things had quickly devolved from there for you both, to the point that it made it easy to walk away. Well, easier than it had been at first. Even if you had hoped something more would have come from the man. It had hurt and had been hard, even if his behavior made the decision more justified. He has tried to get you to stay but the cabin had been more important.

That had been close to ten years ago. A part of your life that you had left in the past. A fresh start had done wonders for you. Trouble with the law had vanished from your life. You had gotten a stable job, one that you didn't exactly enjoy, but it paid the bills well enough and allowed you the ability to have weekends to yourself. That allowed plenty of fishing and camping trips, with the occasional interruption. 

Now, that peace had been thoroughly shattered. You had never expected for Jim to still have your name down as an emergency contact. That heavy feeling that had invaded your chest during that first call remained, growing worse the longer things went on. A few more phone calls came from the doctors. Assurance that he was alive, but it seemed like he needed multiple surgeries, and they had to start to be able to save what they could. 

When the plane landed, you felt fully sick to your stomach. Renting a car felt like it took far too long. The familiar paths hadn't changed all that much since you had been awhile. Land a little more developed here and there, but that was barely acknowledged. Arriving at the hospital, your only thought was laying eyes on Jim. The picture that had been painted had not been pretty, and there was only so much that could be done to brace yourself for it. Sitting behind the wheel, finally parked at the hospital, your hands shook, and it felt like you couldn't breathe. Could you do this again? Was it going to be a repeat of your brother all over? Sweat trickled down your neck, and your vision blurred for a moment. Fumbling for the handle of the door, you managed to throw it open, leaning out and gasping. Thankfully, no one was around to see the near breakdown. 

It took several long minutes for you to be able to calm down and regain control of your breathing so it didn't seem like you had run here instead of drove. Ending up in a bed next to Jim wouldn't do any good for either of you. Counting each breath, inhaling for a few seconds, holding, and then exhaling for the same amount of time. 

Feeling just slightly more put together, you headed inside. The lady at the desk was hardly helpful, but the security guard was someone that you recognized. A man that you had gone to school with, and he was kind enough to lead you to the right floor, where the doctors had taken over from there. Now that you were there in person, you were able to get far more information than what they had provided over the phone. The accident? A crocodile attack. Jim had lost his left arm and his left leg. There had been internal bleeding that had been difficult to stop, a laceration to his liver the cause. His left eye had been damaged to the point that it had to be removed, a rock having lodged into the orbital socket as a result of the attack. 

He had just gotten out of surgery by the time that you had managed to get through. They didn't expect him to wake for several hours, if that. With the blood loss, trauma, and surgery, he was alive, but that didn't guarantee anything. While you weren't prepared to go to the room, there was little choice in the matter. No one would make you, but you were there and had to go see him. 

The sight of the man in the bed caused your knees to go weak. The nurse that had brought you to the room attempted to soothe you by placing a hand on your back. 

“It's okay.” No. No, it wasn't. The body in the bed was almost unrecognizable. Pale, bandaged, and hooked up to a load of machines. Hell, his face looked a little sunken in even. He hardly looked like the Jim you knew. Even if that Jim was several years younger than the Jim in the bed. Crossing your arms to give your fingers something to grasp, you moved forward and took a seat in the chair beside the bed. 

“Thank you.” A brief utterance to the nurse. The only other noise in the room was the beat of the heart rate monitor and the hiss of the supplemental oxygen that they had him on. Closing your eyes, you tried to ignore the rush of blood in your ears, trying to grasp onto the machine generated beep. Steady. It wasn't too fast or too slow. It helped give you something to focus on and bring yourself down. If you weren't so worried at the moment, you would have been cursing up a storm and yelling at him. Unconsciously or not. They said that people in comas and such could hear what was being said to them after all. For now, though, all you could do was sit there and let the worry eat you alive. The steady rise and fall of his chest, on his own without mechanical intervention, wasn't enough to ease it. 

*****************

At some point, you must have nodded off, sleep pulling you under without warning. You remembered staring off out the window while hoping Jim would wake up. The next thing you knew, you were cracking your eyes open against the bright light of the morning and a nurse standing over the bed, doing a vitals check. 

“The least ya can do for an old man is get him a drink.” His voice was rough, but there was no mistaking it for anyone else. He was alive and awake. 

“The last thing you need right now is a drink, you old bastard,” you replied before the nurse could, standing up out of the seat and shifting to the edge of the bed. Jim's eye wandered the room for a moment before finally settling on you. It took a second for the light of recognition to appear, and somehow, he managed a smile. 

“Well, hey there, dumpling.” You couldn't help the roll of your eyes at the pet name. But right then, there would be no calling him out on it. “What are you doing here?” It was actually a viable question. His faculties, what little he started with, seemed to be intact. Which was a good sign. A low sigh escaped from you, and his brow furrowed. 

“Apparently, I'm still listed as your emergency contact. And since you went off on some suicide mission, I got the call.” A pause. Swallow. Stay composed. Don't let him know how deeply affected you were by this. “And as much as I wanted to stay fishing, I couldn't let your dumb ass die.” Something indescribable passed over his face. Nothing that you could place. All before that familiar smirk had appeared once more. 

“Maybe I should get myself chewed on a little more often if it's gonna be bringing you around.” The nurse excused herself, giving you two a little time. Even if you tried desperately to keep her presence in the room for the sake of your sanity. Being alone with the man and this out of control of your emotions was not a good combination. 

“You're an absolute ass. I see that a near death experience hasn't changed that.”

“Aww, come on. Ya gotta be nice to me, dumpling. I'm a cripple now.” The tease about his condition fell just a little flat. At least he seemed to be taking it in stride. You weren't sure you would be able to manage even snark if you were lying in bed like that. The comment managed to bring a smile, one that you hadn't thought would come. Maybe it was tinged with relief that he was himself and that familiarity felt good under the circumstances. You hadn't had this chance with your brother. 

“Cripple or not, you're still a grumpy bastard.” He has the audacity to wink playfully or make the attempt, and there was no stifling the small laugh that just broadened his own smile. Jim would always be Jim. And as much as you had tried to put it all behind you, you had missed the man. His hand had found yours in those quiet seconds and gave it a small squeeze. Not begrudging him the comfort, if that was what he needed, you returned the gesture and kept your fingers laced with his. 

“Maybe so, but it never bothered ya before. If anything, think it's what attracted ya in the first place.” Pulling your chair closer, you shook your head. Might as well get settled in since it was going to be a bit before you got out of here. You couldn't bring yourself to be annoyed about the fact either. He was alive and the relief that came with that fact was near overwhelming. 

*****************

“For fuck sakes….” The phrase might as well have been tattooed on you somewhere with how often it was uttered up into the air. As if some twisted prayer. A desperate cry for strength to tolerate the horrible patient that was before you. 

“Ah, just in time. Come on over here and help me with this, sweetheart.” 

“Jim….” You paused and took a slow breath. How the nurses hadn't entirely lost it on him was beyond comprehension. Or maybe they were just drawing straws on rotation to see who was dealing with him next. “Get your ass back in bed! You aren't going anywhere.”

“Aww, come on. You don't have to be like that. We’re just going on a short walk.” He used we, as in plural, including you in whatever plan he had in mind. “Can't stare at these walls anymore. And like hell I'm being pushed around in that chair.” The words stirred up a sense of sympathy. He couldn't be blamed for going stir crazy stuck in the room for three weeks now while healing and starting rehab. His prosthetics had been in early in the week, and while he was still learning to walk with the new leg, he wasn't keen on waiting before pushing himself, it seemed. 

Jim was hopping on his one leg, trying to get the pants that you had brought him in a change of clothes at the beginning of the week, settled on his waist. 

“I know you are going stir crazy. Hell, I am at this point just visiting you, and I get to leave. But you can't be pushing yourself too much, or you are just going to be stuck here longer than necessary. Such a thing as setting back your own recovery.”

“Sweetheart, I'm fixing to jump out that window if I don't get out of this room for something other than rehab. So, you can help me or head out so you don't get in trouble.” Groaning, you glanced towards the ceiling, counting back from ten before moving forward to help him finish getting dressed. The closeness allowed him to get a few cheeky touches in, all under the guise of keeping his balance and such. You knew better but were unbothered by it. Being here had brought all those feelings right back to the surface and damn it if you still didn't love the man. 

“Since you can't be trusted to keep yourself in one piece or not to do something foolish, guess I'm stuck helping you. See, this is how I ended up in trouble when we were younger. All your damn fault.” He laughed. 

“Way I remember it you were all too eager to help.” How could this man still make you feel like a teenager with a silly crush. 

“Young, impressionable, and dumb. That's what I'm calling it.” You gave him a little push to get him back on the bed, causing him to chuckle, all before helping him make sure the prosthetic was in place. Him hopping around would attract too much attention. You winced at the still raw looking around. The surgeons had done a fantastic job. “You sure? This still looks like it's not gonna feel great, Jim.”

“Oh, I'm more than sure.” You nodded and got him settled. He kept an arm around your shoulders, both as an excuse to hold you and an extra support as he moved along. 

“Come on then, let's get you moving a bit. We are only going for a short walk, okay? Then it's back in bed.”

“Yes, ma'am.” He laughed, and you rolled your eyes but smiled nonetheless. Glancing out into the hall, none of the nurses seemed to be paying attention. A few tentative steps were taken before you both realized no one was going to stop you. “You uh, you didn't bring anything to drink this time, didcha?” The man was impossible. But, he had broken you down with the requests. 

“Just keep walking for a bit here, okay.”

“Ya did. Knew I could count on you.”

“As if that would ever change?” The comment slipped before you could think about it. Out in the open now, and he would take it as he pleased. Getting into the elevator, you hit the button to lead you down to the cafeteria. There was a coffee shop close to it where you could at least get a decent dose of caffeine. He could mix his alcohol with it to hide it from the nurses. The minimal amount that you had gotten in. 

“Easy there, buttercup. Give me a second.” The strain to the words told you that he was hurting more than he let on, and you instantly pulled to a stop, allowing him to lean against the wall and gain his breath back. 

“Better than I thought we would do, actually. Let's get you to the chairs up there, and I'll get us some coffee.” He nodded, giving it another minute before pushing himself off of the wall and bracing himself further against you. It was no more than twenty feet. Once he was settled into the chair, you moved off to get the promised coffee. 

Since you couldn't juggle both coffees and get the alcohol into his, you had to settle for carrying both of them back and plopping down into the seat beside him. 

“Here, hold mine for a second…” You passed him the cup that you knew for a fact was yours before reaching into the pocket of your jacket and pulling out a small flask. One that Jim had actually gifted you, though that wasn't anywhere near the forefront of your mind. 

“That the one I got you for your twenty-first?” The question didn't register at first as you poured a little bit of the liquor into the cup before a hum came from him, attempting to catch your attention. 

“I'm sorry, what?” You looked up as you finished, putting the cap back on the small flask and taking your coffee back, holding his out to him. He repeated the question, causing you to blink for a second and look down at the pocket that you had safely tucked the flask in. “Uh, yeah, yeah, it is.” A sound came from him, something that you couldn’t entirely identify and didn't really want to right then as he decided to take a sip of his drink instead. 

Once the cups were empty and the coffee was finished, you had felt that he had been out of his room long enough. The nurses were going to ream you for having him out this long, but it had helped him and would hopefully keep him feeling a little less ornery for the next day or so. 

“All right, let's get you back to your room.” The walk was a little slower, with him feeling the effects of the walk on his still healing body. It was wholly unsurprising if anyone were to ask your opinion. Getting him back to bed, he was wincing and unable to hide it. It made you feel just a bit bad, though you knew that he would say it was worth it. 

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he murmured softly, so softly that you almost missed it. His eyes were closed as he reclined back in the bed, clearly spent from the small outing. Smiling to yourself, you settled down in the chair, deciding to spend the rest of the afternoon with the man, even if he slept through it. 

***************************************

“Ya know….” Jim was drawing out his words, which meant that he was waiting for you to turn your attention in his direction. Some things never changed. You finally turned to look at him after stuffing the last shirt into the bag. “You don't have to leave.” He was leaning against the doorframe, not quite looking at you. This had the beginnings of a conversation that you really didn't want to have. It hadn't gone well for you before. 

“I've used up all my time off. And then some. I have to get back before I don't have a job to go back to. You're home, Jim. Able to be independent. You are back on your feet and don't need me around anymore.” You almost said that you didn't have a reason to stay. Because technically, it was true. You didn't have a reason to stay. Your feelings weren't enough. At least, that was what you kept telling yourself in hopes of making this entire thing easier. It hadn't really worked. That ache that had happened when you had left the first time all those years ago was just as strong now as it had been then. It made the most sense to leave. Just as it had back then. You had a nice little life set up for yourself. Being here? Well, it would be a hard decision.

“You don’t have to go. You're back here. It’s where you should be.” He was going to make this difficult. Apparently, time did not heal all wounds. He was standing in the doorway and refusing to move out of the way. Maybe this whole incident had given him a slightly new perspective on life. “I know you don't want to go back either. So, why are you going to do what you don't want to do? Not like you had ever done something you didn't want to do before, Why with this?” There wasn’t a good answer there. Because everything felt far too convoluted and messy. There were reasons to stay and reasons to leave. His gaze had finally turned to you and felt heavy, practically pinning you in your place. 

“Because it is not a smart idea, Jim. Staying around. It's better for me to leave.”

“That's bullshit. You can't bullshit a bullshitter, dumpling.” Yeah, that was hard to argue with. 

“Jim, please can we not…” He huffed, though he had clearly decided that he wasn't going to let go of this issue. If there was one thing that Jim Bickerman could be called without a doubt, it was stubborn. 

“You coulda left my old ass to die. But you didn't. You still came out and stayed. You coulda made those decisions and left.” He was right. Why did he have to be right? It made any argument that you made to leave that much more difficult. Slowly, his lips turned upwards slightly, as if he knew he had won this part of the argument. You sighed and rubbed your eyes. 

“What do you want me to say?” He had worked around every single phrase besides I want you to stay the first time that you had left. It was his turn to show his frustrations over the entire thing. His hand and hook waved in the air for a moment, though the words didn't come. 

“I want you to say that I'm right and that you want to stay.” He wasn't going to let this go. Could you say that you didn't want to? Could you say that you wanted to? The words were stuck in your throat. Why did he have to make this so damn difficult? The treacherous voice in the back of your mind whispered that it wasn't him that was making it difficult. He had tried the first time around, maybe not as hard as you had hoped somewhere deep within, but he had certainly tried. This was him trying again. Maybe you had foolishly hoped he had moved on, that things had changed. Yet, it was the same scenario all over again. Except, it felt more serious than it had last time. 

Looking at him should have reminded you why you decided it was better to distance yourself. He made stupid decisions in chasing after money and whatever big payday that he thought was next. But Jim was loyal and underneath it all there was some part of him that was good-hearted. Even if it took a few layers to get through. Others often didn't get to see it. 

You weren't able to get a response out, apparently taking too long for his liking. Because the next thing you knew, he was stepping forward, invading your space like he used to do all those years ago. Guess the old man wasn't feeling all that old at that moment. No words came. Instead, he hooked a hand around the back of your neck and pulled you into a kiss. One last desperate attempt to get you to agree to stay. 

“Say you want to stay.” The words came out far softer this time, almost a plea. Almost. 

“Jim…” You forced yourself to meet his gaze, decision made. 

[slut--for-love]

Jim bickerman edit

it's my first edit so please be nice and any advice would be nice

[marinerainbow]

I hope you dont mind me bothering you about Jim 😅😅 I have a thought and I have to share!! XD

Headcanon- the nurses working in the emergency room all know him. Why?? Because he is always there. Like, he should get frequent emergency points or a card with the words 'Every five visits your medical treatment is free!' on it XD

Because he doesn't just put his life on the line where crocodiles are concerned, no no. Crazy old nutbag thinks he's invincible (Which is a possibility honestly). Some dumb things he has done:

Put Christmas lights up in rainy, snowy, stormy weather causing him to get electrocuted (This is seasonal occurrence. He has burns)

Attempted to step from his roof to the next door neighbours roof. Its close, and they wouldn't shut up so he wanted to give them a scare. Well... he misjudged the distance. (Was hobbling around with crutches for a long time)

Climbed onto the roof to try and trap a racoon (Needed to get his rabies shot+a sling)

Tried cultivating a bush of some very dangerous plant (To sell for Big Bucks, obviously), saying he'll be fine as long as he keeps his mask on and doesn't breath it in!... but took the mask off to talk to a neighbour who was asking what the hell he's doing. (Poison control had a field day)

etc

His neighbours are also quite familiar with the local emergency services operator XD Constantly calling them like 'Hi Ted. How're your studies?... uhuh... oh good... yeah... yeah... Oh, yeah, its Jim. See you in 10' and then just going back inside Jim can waive them down himself, from the ground. His arm is fine.

Oh you don't need to worry at all!! I love it when you get excited about your favorite characters, and I'm more than happy to see your thoughts/headcannons/imagines/whatever about them! (This applies to everyone else too ^^)

And all of this? All of this is canon. No I will not take any other answer. No one can beat perfection XD

All this AND THEN SOME has happened. Jim is the ultimate menace; being a chaotic little shit not just to others but to himself XD

Also yes. He is immortal. He survived getting mauled by one of those alligators, and every other accident he's gotten himself into thus far. At this rate, Jim is an immortal cryptid in his own right.

[slashingdisneypasta]

Horror Villains x Reader || Headcanons

Topic: Types of Kisses. Just a quick something to balance out my personal bullshit posts and actual content ratio 😅

Characters Included: Dr Andover, Erik Destler, Freddy Krueger, Inkubus, Jim Bickerman, Mayor Buckman and Stuart Lloyd. Once again, if you see a pattern... no you don't.

Warnings: Kissing

~

Dr Andover:

Cheek kisses that tell you no, he hasn't forgotten about you and you're still on his mind, he's just busy ^^

Erik Destler:

Selfish kisses; All about what he can steal from you before you come to your senses and realise he's just a freak, and leave him. Maybe he tries to be gentle with you but it usually ends up with your neck craned back and your mouth smothered with his and probably his hand around your neck. Possibly a muttering of the word 'stay' in a pleading tone if he gets too carried away with it.

Freddy Krueger:

There's a... loootta tongue involved here. Yeah. Okay so: kisses where he takes full advantage of someone willingly allowing him to kiss them. Like, holding-your-jaw-still, tongue-down-your-throat, take-a-breath-when-you-can kinda kisses.

Inkubus:

The kind of magical supernatural kiss that makes you feel tingly all the way from the tips of your ears to your toes. The kinda kisses that make you feel special and important, like a heroine in a book.

I don't know if this is pure skill, practise, or what- but it sure is not god given talent. Nothing about that man is god given.

Jim Bickerman:

Enthusiastic, handsy kisses where he's excited to have managed to win a hot piece of ass like you and just can't possibly keep his damn hands (/hook) to himself with you.

Mayor Buckman:

Big dramatic cartoon kisses that leave you love-drunk and heart-eyed. This man will take you in front of the whole town and dip you if he gets excited enough.

Stuart Lloyd:

Surprise kisses where he's innerly pumping himself up to actually do it for a few minutes, while you have no idea, then he actually finally does it and you savour it because it doesn't happen all that often ^^

[slashingdisneypasta]

You want old men thoughts?? Hmm.... Right now I can't think of much, but I'll give you the little things I got XD

- Imagine in the Norman and Inkubus imagine you made, it's actually Norman that gets you first. You two have an established relationship before Inkubus came along, and started trying to seduce you. You insist to Norman that this new guy is 'just a friend', but even blind he can see that this guy has no good intentions towards his little wife.

- Imagine that you were the one victim of the Fireflies that managed to escape, and now Otis is obsessed with 'finishing what he started' with you. At first, it was with the intention to kill, but he just can't stop thinking about you lately (I'm not sure how in character this is, but I hope you still enjoy it XD)

- Ok this isn't sexual, but imagine you and Jim share a bed together, and in the middle of the night, you at first feel your husband shaking. You look over your shoulder to see his still sleeping face, and it looks scared. Pained. And you hear him muttering... You know what he's dreaming about. It's the same dream he's had ever since that God forsaken poaching trip he went on that almost killed him.

It's not much, but I hope you enjoy these imagines! ^^

OLD MEN-

Norman Nordstrom x Reader x Inkubus-

I loveee this prompt XDD Its like:

Y/N: *Introducing their husband and their nice new friend 'Klaus'* And like I said Norm, we're just goin' to the shops for a bit. Norman, getting bad vibes off of this... 'Klaus': I don't want you goin anywhere with him. Y/N: ... :D *w h a t... * Y/N: *Eyeroll* Don't worry Norm!, I love you, Klaus is just a friend ^^ Inkubus, who has been quiet up until that moment.: ... excuse me I'm what-

OR

Y/N, explaining to Norman who's at the door (You're lovely new friend obviously XD ) and that you two are just going out shopping: Don't worry Norm!, I love you, Klaus is just a friend ^^ He doesn't have any weird intentions, don't be possessive. Norman: Hmm... I gues- Inkubus: *'Absentmindedly' tapping his foot on the porch outside- you cant hear it but Norman with his exceptional senses sure can. And why is it significant?... its Morse code for 'OH YES. I DO.' *

Otis B Driftwood x Reader-

Its totally in character!! I can absolutely see Otis being pissed and obsessing until, like, Baby mentions that she swears he has a crush~~ And he obviously curses at her and the fight because no way in hell does he have a fucken crush, but then when Baby skips off- he has an epiphany~ Like hm... (: Maybe I do have a thing on the slippery little fuck-cunt... Oh, heh heh, even better.

CUZ HE KNOWS, he KNOWS, being in a relationship with him is the worse sentence he could have ever dreamt up even on the purest of LSD.

Warnings; Capture, restraints, (Light) non-con touching/sexual assault and heavy allusions to rape. Just because I wrote this under your ask, does not mean you have to read it if you are uncomfortable. Technically all this can be sub-categorised under Otis' name, but I want to be clear XD My head goes to a darkkk place when I write Otis, okay? I'm sorry-

The old fucker's huge hand was tight over your mouth and nose as he leant in and grinned with dirty teeth at you. "... congrats, for what its worth. Its never taken me this long to find someone. Heheh, you're a good runner, gingerbread. Too bad you're not so good at hiding."

In responce you struggle once again against the restraints keeping you down on your knees; bare skin digging into the gravel parking lot beneath you. The tag ties around your wrists keep your arms stuck painfully behind your back as well as your ankles rubbing raw against each other.

"... lemme explain to you why you don't wanna fight me, alright?... " His hand squeezes you jaw, and you just wonder why he seems in such good spirits. The last time you saw him you were in the bed of a truck racing away from his crazy ass Texas chainsaw-style and he looked about ready to rip your throat out with his gross teeth. What changed? Why is he smiling, now? "... you see, uh... oh shit, I'm a little nervous!" there is not a single sign of nervousness in his eyes; Just a cruel amusement. "Okay, here we go- I like you." Immediately you try to struggle again but his other hand clamps around your arm and holds you still- and close. "Yeah. And well I usually don't take so well to, um... you know, little fucken bitches like you gettin' away... ehhhhh, I'm mellowing out in my old age, I guess. So! Here's the deal,

"I'll play nice. You know, I wont uh... hurt you, I guess. I promise, okay? Scouts honour, or whatever. But you... you gotta play nice too, k? You gotta... " Otis eyes flicker, moving purposefully from where they had been steadfast to yours for the past few minutes... down your body. The hand on your arm moves and ever so gently his knuckles graze against your chest. You jaw would drop if it wasn't restrained. You would shiver. You would hit him. With another creepy chuckle, Otis gives a grimy smirk to you. "You gotta be realll nice, to old Otis. Yeah?

"That's the only way yer gettin' outta this alive, sweet thing. Take it or leave it; its up to you. See? I'm nice!"

Jim Bickerman x Reader-

That's okay, it doesn't need to be sexual! We also love old men XD

We have had the comedy, we have had the horror... now we get the angst and the fluff XD Here we go-

You're slowly roused from sleep by the cold, Jim assumedly hogging the blanket (Though that's not a thing he does, he usually doesn't even care about the blanket) so you sit up turn your head to look down at him; And immediately you wince.

"Oh, no... "

With his good hand clamped over his own mouth and his skin looking pale, its obvious exactly what he's dreaming about. His eyebrows are furrowed in his sleep and the lines in his forehead and the bridge of his nose are deep, his breathing is haggard and you know it has to be a nightmare.

This has happened before, ever since that trip back to Blackwater you wish he hadn't taken, and every time seems even worse then the one before. And they change him; The bags under his eyes haven't ever been deeper then they are these days; at least not as long as you've known him.

The worst part is knowing you cant wake him up, you can just be useless there beside him wondering what he's seeing. What part of him the teeth are ripping apart this time. Whether he's getting out alive, this time.

Taking a deep breath yourself, you carefully peel his fingers off his mouth so he can breath properly, holding it tight in your own hand instead. And then you just sit there, in the dark (The only light in the room being what the moon creates, coming in through the window Jim broke a couple days ago.), squeezing his hand and hoping he'll wake up soon. That he'll wake up.

When finally he lurches up beside you, breathing heavily as he wakes up and crushing your fingers so hard his knuckles go white and so do yours, you just let him calm down on his own. Just hold his hand and try to give him space while not giving him space at all; wanting him to have room, but not wanting him to feel alone. You're right here and you're not going anywhere. You feel absolutely useless, but... you're not going anywhere.

A few heavy moments pass where he just breaths, and you just watch him with worry-filled eyes, until the pulse you can feel in his wrist returns to close-to-normal, and you give his hand one final, hard squeeze before letting it go. Instead you silently enfold enfold him in your arms, him immediately dissolving into you; wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face into your shoulder, slowly taking some more relaxed breaths.

"Heh... not a fan of those nightmares peanut but I gotta say I like the service I get afterwards."

"... are you okay?... "

"I'm fine." He always says he's fine, but fine would mean no more nightmares. Jim says that he's fine when he has shrapnel in his knuckles, Jim said he was fine the other day after he fell off the roof- you do not trust his fine, at all. Crazy bastard that he is; His 'fine' is completely without basis in reality.

"... you're fine?" You ask, an obviously-dubious look on your face as you lean back and tilt your head at him.

Jim smirks, something you can just see in the dim-lit room. "With my flask and possibly a little under-the-covers action sweetheart I could be better then fine." The smirk transforms into a whole grin and you cant help but roll your eyes; Grinning yourself a little, despite yourself.

He's nuts, but you kinda love him for it. "How about water, and some ice cream?"

Eyes hardening, Jim gives you a 'you cant fix my liver' kind of look. You're very familiar with it; It makes you want to laugh. "How about homebrew and ice cream?- and, also, where the hell are we gettin' this ice cream from missy?? I didn't think we had any more. Either you're makin' empty promises to an old cripple with ptsd or you've been holdin' out on me."

-oh damn. Quickly you let go of him and hop outta bed. "... uh... well no we dont have ice cream... not that you know of, anyway." Avoiding eye contact, you busy yourself collecting the half-empty cups of water off of both of your night stands. "So you- uh- wanted moonshine?? Great, sounds fantastic, lets go- "

He's not to be deterred, an amused glint in his eye as he watches you. "Where are you keeping this ice cream, dumpling? I know theirs none in our freezer."

"Uhhhm... "

"Hmm?"

"... fine I have a secret mini freezer in the back. You kept stealing my Ben & Jerries, I had no other choice! Now, do you want some or not? Because if not, I'll just go eat it myself!" With that, you grab a discarded flannel off the floor for the chill and rush out of the bedroom- but its not long before you hear the sound of his prosthetic leg hit the ground.

... Its not long later after that when Jim has you backed up against the cold brick wall just outside the back door; Leant in close and with one hand and one hook on your waist. As well as a devils look in his eye that makes you grin under its scrutiny.

"I believe we made a vow, sweetheart, somethin' like what's mine is yours??... "

[slashingdisneypasta]

Jim Bickerman x Reader || Drabble

Plot: After a long week all you wanna do is soak up affection from Jim.

Warnings: Sexual references maybe.

You've only been kissing for a couple minutes; you wouldn't even call it making out, yet. But of course, just as you're easing your way into his lap and ramping up- the phone rings.

"Oh, you don't sound happy." Reba answers, chuckling.

A groan slips out of him and you sigh, backing up. "Oh fucks sake," He grumbles. The look on Jim's face is as frustrated as you feel, as the phone continues to ring. Groaning, you get up and swipe the thing off the coffee table and press answer; flopping back down on the couch almost as soon as you had gotten up, just next to Jim this time, though you do chuck your legs over his lap and get comfortable against his shoulder while he grumbles to himself some more. With another heavy sigh, you press the receiver to your ear.

"Hey."

"It's Friday night. What do you want."

"So???"

"So??" You repeat, huffing, exasperated. Lifting your head off his shoulder, you flash Jim your exasperated look and he rolls his eyes back; solidarity. "So- I-- I've had a long week. I wanna be alone with my g- Oh, whatever. What do you want?"

"Was just callin' to let you know there's been breach at Blackwater. Wondered if your beaux had anything to do with it."

Your eyebrows shoot up immediately. "... oh. Um." It's so nice, being able to say no to that question for once- refreshing. Jim's been here for hours, now. But maybe you shouldn't get the honour, you think, and offer the phone to Jim. "Breach at Blackwater. Reba wants to know what you know."

"Oh. Heh, gimmie." A cheerful grin suddenly slips across his face, and he happily takes the phone. "Hell-lo, Sheriff! How can I help you this fine night, hm?"

While they talk, you get comfortable; ducking your head again and letting it rest on Jim's shoulder, and closing your eyes. What you told Reba was the truth- it has been a long week, and you're exhausted. And you're not usually this girl, but right now all you want to do is soak up the company of your Old Man.

While he talks to Reba Jim notices your cuddliness, which is out-of-character for you but not at all unwelcome, and slips his arm around you- you happily curl in under his arm, yawning and burying your face in his shoulder. He gives you a kiss on the head, and you just about melt.

The conversation goes on for another few minutes, Reba interrogating Jim through the phone until she's happy with his answers. When she's finally done you can tell she asks to talk to you again, to say bye, because Jim glances down at you and does an 'uhhhhh, yeah sorry she's fallen asleep already.' when you yawn, again. Then he hangs up, turns the phone all the way off this time, and tucks it deep in the couch cushions; hidden for the night and probably much of tomorrow when you both inevidably forget where he put it. Then he looks down at you again, and a little frown spreads across his face.

"Whats gotten into you, huh sweetheart?"

"Nothin'," You hum back, folding one leg over the other restlessly and crossing your arms over your chest cosily; eyes still closed. "... just tired."

"Huh."

At that testy tone in his voice, you open your eyes and tilt your head back a tad to peer at him. "I'm fine." You assure, when he looks deeply uncertain. He's so cute, though, you can't help the tiny grin that tugs at the corners of your lips. "I just... " Carefully, you move up and settle yourself back comfortably in his lap; drawing your arms around his neck and resting your forehead against his. "I'm just feeling particularly affectionate towards you, is all~ " You tease, lightening the mood.

Jim does not seem fully convinced, but he switches to a sharp, vulgar smirk. Wicked. His shoulders roll, relaxing himself, before he speaks. "Oh really, darlin'?"

"Mhmm."

"I mean, I can't tell ya I don't appreciate that- " The grin turns cautious; a focused look in his eyes momentarily. "... but you're just tired, right? Nothin' is going on that I can do somethin' about? If someone's messing with you, sugar, I'll- "

Quickly you shake your head. "No, really, I'm just tired. Exhausting week."

"... alright then."

For a moment then you just rest there against him, your eyes flickering once to his eyes, before you take a deep breath in and raise up straight again. "... anyway." With sleeve mittens covering most of the skin of your hands you tuck them on either side of Jim's face, your fingertips slipping into his hair. "Were we doing something before? I feel like we were doing something."

A wry grin creeps across his mouth. "... I think we were- but I think you're gonna haveta jog the old memory, darlin'. It isn't what it used to be."

You give quiet giggle, and nod. "I can do that."

[slashingdisneypasta]

Sheriff Hank Keough x NaiveFemDeputy!Reader x Jim Bickerman || Drabble

Plot: What if Hank was still the Sheriff by the time Jim came to town? What if you were his Deputy? What if you were so focused on your job that you came off... a little naive 😅 What would happen if you two visited Jim in the hospital afterwards to site him with fines for trespass, illegal poaching, and theft?

This is just a short thing but I am filled with idea for this triangle XD I think Hank's crankiness and hesitancy to fall for reader paired with Jim's sleazy shamelessness is such a fun combination XD

Warnings: Mention of Jim's grievous injuries after Final Chapter (Loss of eye, hand, and leg), hospital setting, minor nudity (Pantsless Jim), and unedited/i wrote this on my phone.

Tagging: @marinerainbow , @masqueradeball and @slxsherwriter.

The nurse was hesitant to give you the room number when you nervously asked since you aren't family, but Sheriff Keough just sighs in frustration and shows his badge. That gets the nurse to move- and you make a little note of his confidence in your little notebook; you're learning everything you can from him!

When you get to the room, you're expecting to find a quiet Bickerman. Maybe even an unconscious one (The nurse said he was recovering from a serious crocodile attack, afterall. And you saw those monsters- surviving that had to leave terrible scars), but when Sheriff Keough pulls the curtain open you instead catch Mr Bickerman up and out of bed! He's only got one leg and onr hand, but he's focused and hopping into his jeans.

Immediately you go 'oh!', embarrassed, and throw a hand over your eyes. "We're so sorry!!" You exclaim, turning around.

Sheriff Keough sighs next to you, and you don't sense him turning around at all. You do hear Mr Bickerman say 'she's real cute' in a tone thick with an accent and smugness, and feel even more mortified, though.

Thankfully, your boss does not respond to that comment, just addressed Mr Bickerman with an exasperated and thoroughly exhausted tone. "Jim, get back into your bed. The nice lady at the front desk told us already that you're not cleared to leave the hospital yet."

"Iiii- uh, well, I feel fine actually. So, I'm discharging myself- agh," The pained sound makes you feel bad. Should you help him??

You would- but you think he's probably still indecent and you don't want to make him feel uncomfortable.

"Sit. Down." Sheriff Keough growls, and the very next thing you hear is a few sniffles and the abrupt squeak of the hospital mattress like Mr Bickerman tripped onto it more then sat down on it. Your boss sighs in what sounds like your direction, then. "And for gods sake pull your blanket on so my Deputy can take her hand off her eyes and do her job."

You feel a tad guilty as you lower your hand and turn to the Sheriff, hearing Mr Bickerman's sheets shift. Keough gives you a half pittying, almost... almost amused look, that confuses you a little bit (a flutter erupts in your belly. You figure thats just some more guilt), before he shakes his head and looks back to the perp. You dutifully follow suit.

There's a teasing sleazy smirk on Mr Bickerman's old face and his eyes are on you, making you immediately straighten up stock straight like they engrained in you in the academy. Out of discomfort. "All better sweetheart?~ "

"Uh, yes sir."

"Don't call him sir, he's not a sir." Sheriff Keough rolls his eyes, before pulling out his own notepad. As he blows air out his cheeks, you can tell he wants to get this over with quickly and get lunch. "Anyway, Mr Bickerman- "

While the Sheriff reads out the list of fines Mr Bickerman is facing for his activities and Mr Bickerman sighs, rolling his eyes at the entire list, you wander to the end of the bed and pick up the clip board there. Most of it is medical jargon that you definitely do not understand, but there are some words (notes, probably written by a student) that stand out in the margins. Your eyebrows pull together in concern seeing things like 'internal bleeding' and 'motor skills classes- 2 weeks'. After glancing at Mr Bickerman, seeing the stump where his hand used to be and remembering the matching one where his leg used to be (the glance of it you saw before you slapped a hand over your eyes and whipped around), you figure that must mean 'in two weeks'- because it is certainly going to take longer to learn how to live with half as many limbs.

"- and finally, once you are actually discharged from the hospital, you are expected to attend a mandatory hearing at the courts in order to discuss your apparent claims to that Blackwater cabin." Sheriff Keough sighs one final time, lowering his notepad. "Though hell if I know why you would want that shithole."

Mr Bickerman's face darkens immediately, surprising you- he seemed so wry a moment ago. "It's rightfully mine, Officer."

"Yeah, whatever. Would you like me to read the the requirements again?" You know that if he wasn't meant to ask that, he wouldn't, because Sheriff Keough is staring so hard at Mr Bickerman that you're sure if that look was aimed at you you would just be able to shake your head in responce. Mr Bickerman opens his mouth to respond, but your Sheriff beats him. "No? Great. Deputy, I need a coffee." He puts his notepad away and adjusts his pants. "On me."

The Sheriff leaves the room promptly, his broad shoulders nearly filling the doorway (A fact you always pretend you dont notice), and you're about to quickly follow him- but you have to be polite. You flash Mr Bickerman an awkward smile as you put down the clip board. "Thank you, Mr Bickerman. Have a nice day! Fast recovery- "

Ypu're about to yurn and leave, but the dark clouds that had crossed his face clear up surprisingly quickly as his gaze slides over to you again; that sleazy smirk spreading across his mouth once again, and you stop still again caught in his sights like a deer in headlights. "Hey, why don't you come visit me again sometime? Sure would cheer me up and uh, make the old recovery race by a lot speedier- huh, honey?"

Your jaw drops. Did he just- is this man flirting with- No. No. Nervously, you give a little fluttering laugh. Surely not. He's just a lonely old man! The nurse said no one else had even called. "Oh- well maybe. If I have time. See you, Mr Bickerman!"

"You can call me Jim, y'know."

"Oh... no no no, no I couldn't, sir!" Oh shit, Sheriff Keough told you not to call him that! You peer back to the door, to make sure you're boss isn't watching you. When he's not, your shoulders relax and you waive a very amused Mr Bickerman goodbye. "Anyway- feel better!"

You walk out but you can feel the old man's gaze stuck on you until you round the corner. When you see Sheriff Keough waiting down the hall, he's got a coffee for you already, out of a hospital machine (a precursor to the proper stuff, he says.) which you take quickly; filled with gratitude for your secretly sweet boss and how... for some reason... you're the only one who ever really sees that?

Oh well. Back to work.

[slashingdisneypasta]

You've been sending me perfect asks on my blog... So now I shall retaliate >:) (I know you probably know who this is, but I got too embarrassed to send this from my normal blog and I couldn't figure out how to switch blogs for asks 😅)

- Freddy lightly dragging his blades over your shoulders and back to get a reaction out of you. He can use his dream magic to control how sharp the blades are (I hope) so it can be completely safe texture play.

- (im mot sure exactly how you feel about Audrey... But i do know you like their voice~) Audrey II crooning and sweet talking to you while you're trying to do your work. They can't exactly sneak up behind you and whisper in your ear, but that doesn't mean they don't can't make you flustered with what they say.

- You're on a hunting trip with Jim Bickerman and whoever else is with him. You all settle down for the night, but there seems to not be enough tents for all of you. There's only one tent left, and you and Jim are the only ones who don't have one yet... And that old man is looking at you with that damn smirk of his, "Well, ain't this quite the predicament sweetheart~?"

- Being in a relationship with Wheezy and Greasy... And they both get ~in the mood~ at the same time. How would you go about this?

- Cruella designing specific outfits she wants to see you in, just for you... Including clothes to wear when you're supposed to be waiting for her~

I wanted to add more... But I ran out of ideas XD I hope you like these 😏 XD

AHHH! Yes!! I am so glad you have been enjoying my asks!! Their will be more!! And thankkkk you so much for these <3<3 I HAD to write some of them XDD Just like, excerpts ^^

Includes/Warnings:

Audrey II x Reader- Voice kink, sexual references, human/plant relations, manhandling, and someeee... touching. 🙃🙃🙃😅 (Not explicit)

Cruella De Vil x AFAB!Reader- ... you must know at this point I cannot hold myself back with Cruella XD 😅 So this one is explicit... It describes pictures she has drawn of you in those outifts... and in some particular positions.

Greasy Weasel x AFAB!Fem!Reader x Wheezy Weasel- Threesome!! Cunt eating (Greasy) and dirty talk/teasing (Wheezy). Also I think reader is in some sorta space. Tiny bit of a sharp teeth kink. R e a l l y explicit.

Jim Bickerman x Fem!Reader- Established relationship, semi-public sexual shenanigans, getting caught (Semi-explicit)

Audrey II:

"Y/N... " A vine moseys over to your desk after a short amount of silence and prods the squishy area of skin at your middle, and you respond by wrapping your arm around your tummy; Not looking over at the overgrown Venus fly trap. Not paying them any of the attention they crave. "baby... doll... watcha doin'?"

"Working, Audrey, shush." You keep your voice even, which you know will drive them crazy, and continue writing.

"Shu- Me?? Oh no, darlin', I don't think so!~ " The vine that poked at your tummy fat lifts towards your desk instead, then- but you push it away before he can snatch your homework away. They gasp. "Excuse me??"

"I'm really busy right now, I'll entertain you later."

For a moment they manage to stay quiet, but you can practically feel the cogs turning in their brain. You know your study time is not going to last long. "... Hmmm... " He hums, the sound sending a little shameful tingle all the way through you; Making you squeeze your eyes closed for a moment and cross one leg over the other, before refocusing on your work. No, no. The damn plant will not distract you today. You have got to get this essay done!! "I gotta say baby... I have to disagree with you~ "

"Good thing you don't get a say- " You're cut off when 4 vines wrap around the legs of your chair and suddenly tear you around to face him; dragging you closer and closer in the chair towards the corner Audrey lives in. Theirs a big smirk on the horrible fauna's huge mouth, and you know you have to get out now. Quickly you hop off the chair and rush back to your desk, gathering up your things in your arms. "Audrey, I'm just gonna go study at the library. I'll be back later toni- "

"Oh no no sweetheart~ Not so fast~ " Oh god, the way they call you sweetheart has you freezing totally still for a moment-

-And that, was all the time Audrey needed to wrap one of their thicker vines around your middle and slowly drag your body towards them this time; Causing you to drop some things, along the way. "Oh!- My stu- "

"Don't worry about it, baby! We're doin' something else, now~ Now c'mon... I wanna see you writhe... "Fuck. "... so go ahead and let go a' those books for me. Let go, baby... " You get the feeling he must mean to let go of more then just your books when he says it like that, but you refuse to let go of anything.

"Audrey, this is important." You beg, holding your books tight against your chest even as he tugs at them from the bottom. "I- "

"Don't you want me to be nice to you??... Y/N, I can be so goddamn nice... You don't know how nice~ I can be to you, yet... But I'll show ya!~ I'll show ya the ropes~ " At that, the vine around your waist shifts upwards a little bit, pulling up your shirt with it, and another vine curls into the waistband of your bottoms. "I can be your best friend, baby!"

Eyes wide, surprised at how this night is progressing and even more horrified that you don't want it to stop- not with Audrey talking to you like this- you let them steal your books and take them away. The huge, inhuman grin on Audrey's 'face' broadens, and that same vine comes back to wrap around your hair and hold it back from your face- and take control over your head. "Ah- "

"Don't worry baby. We're gonna have some fun tonight... just you and me... "

Cruella De Vil:

You hadn't seen this book, before. Which was odd, because Cruella often used the same brand for her sketches- always the same sleek, black leather binding and impossibly crisp paper you're cutting yourself on.

This one was no different. And she dropped it on your desk just the same as she always did, with enough force to send any loose papers flying so she could roll her eyes at you and complain that your desk is a disgusting mess as always. She even told you what you were to do with it, like you hadn't done it a million times before. Like you were unaware of the drill, even at this point. Because apparently you're an idiot.

It was all quite normal.

That is, until you opened the book so you could make copies of the sketches for manufacturing to keep. Until you looked at the new sketches.

Immediately you thrust the pages hard against your chest as fast as you can, dreading anyone else seeing what you just saw and looking around to make sure that you're alone in the room. Because- porn.

It was porn. There was no other way to describe it, from the... graphic positions the women were in, to the almost lack of clothes entirely. Being Cruella's assistant, you had seen plenty of lingerie sketches before, but they were usually tasteful! These... from what you saw before you hid them, they were just...

Obnoxiously horny.

Eyes wide and nervous, you slowly pull the book away from your chest to look again, so so curious despite your embarrassment and hot cheeks, and- yep. Definitely. Still porn. Cruella De Vil had sat in her glass office today looking oh so professional, and drawn porn.

... You cant stop looking at them. They're great, actually. You can feel your pussy throb, as your thumb runs over the center of a particularly well-done sketch; One where the woman is sat down with her knees spread wide and her head tuned away, eyes closed. Her cunt's open and shaded red, the only colour Cruella has added to the sharp, black-and-white pages.

You're so unbelievably hot at these pictures, just looking at them - distracted by particular parts of them, - , that at first you don't read the labelling at all. Cruella's handwriting in this book is all in cursive, and you have to focus to read it, but when you do begin to go through the notes... you feel yourself get even hotter.

Your name is all over the pages. Y/N in fur, written on top of a woman stood terribly naked, wearing just a fur hat and fur boots. Y/N in silk, written beside the woman with her beautiful red pussy bare on the page and a very shiny silk chemise bunched up around her hips. Y/N in chiffon, written beside a woman wearing just a long chiffon skirt and arms raised away from her confidently bare chest. Y/N in satin, written beside a woman with her hands on her hips, holding a long satin robe back from hiding her body- at all.

Y/N in- Y/N in- Y/N in-

After a while, and your eyes are the size of saucers while your underwear is absolutely soiled, you plop down finally in a chair by the photo copier and turn to the last page. Theirs a sticky note on it, but you peel it off in order to see the final picture, and give a choke gasp at the image Cruella's drawn for you.

An absolutely tasteless picture of a woman - you, - bent over a familiar desk, with your feet spread wide so your ass and cunt are on full display to anyone looking. The angle is from just above, as if you're standing just behind the woman - you, - and she's preparing to take you in. God, you can feel yourself clenching at the sight- the thought- the idea-

Is this what Cruella wants? Does she want you like this? Does she want to fuck you this badly??

As if as an after thought, you look at the sticky note.

Y/N,

My Office. Later tonight after everyone leaves.

Cruella De Vil

Greasy Weasel x Reader x Wheezy Weasel:

You were already with Greasy when Wheezy walked into the room, and he knew damn well what the two of you were up to- he always knew- he just doesn't always want to do it too. He doesn't have as big a drive as the two of you do.

But evidently today is one of the days where he does want to fuck, he is in the mood. This is evident when he walks in and locks the door behind him; not taking his cool eyes, dark with lust, on you with Greasy's mouth moving on- against- around your cunt.

Wheezy's eyes flicker up to your face, raising his brows- as if asking, if theirs room for one more.

You open your mouth to tell him yes, of course, but its Greasy who responds. He didn't see the question Wheezy silently posed, but he can tell since you're not freaking out that someone has come in right now, that it has to be your other boyfriend. He pops his mouth off of you, though he doesn't take his eyes off of it at all, mesmerised by what is definitely one of his favourite things in the world, and instead just moves to rub his thumb against your clit. "Welcome in, el fumador... help yourself~ we're just beginning here... "

... Wheezy smirks, rolling his sleeves up more securely and strolling over to the bed, leaning over you as you move your head to see him. He gives you a little hello kiss when you crane your neck back because he's right beside the bed now, and strokes your hair for a moment.... Then his eyes slide right back down to Greasy and what he's doing to you, and how slick you are, and a mischievous look that makes you even hornier flickers in his eyes. "Really, Grease? Looks like you've been workin' her for- damn. Hours, now. She looks like she's ready to pop."

"I'm just that good, I guess!~ "

"Mhm... "

Needy and non-verbal, you just reach for Wheezy's shirt collar and drag him back down to you and your parted lips as Greasy connects his mouth to you once again; Slipping your tongue immediately into his mouth while your other boyfriend devours your cunt like his favourite meal. You kiss Wheezy with all the want you're feeling, meshing your mouths together slowly but licking his tongue so dirty you would feel embarrassed, if you weren't so close. He reciprocates, easily giving you what you want, taking care of his needy, desperate girl without even touching you anywhere inappropriate.

He pulls away too soon, and you let out a sad little whine, as he brushes a thumb over your lips and gives a smokey chuckle. He's still so close! Why is he doing this?- "Its okay, baby, its alright... we're gonna take care of you... "

"Please- "

"Y'feel Grease down there?? Does that feel good?" Quickly you nod, your fingers still curled around Wheezy's collar. It feels really, really good- his tongue is so deep- "Make sure y'tell him how good he's doing, cutie, he deserves some praise dontcha think??"

Eyes wide, you nod again. Greasy does deserve it. "Its so- so good- "

"Hear that Grease?? So, so good... "

Greasy moans and nods into your most private place and it has you bucking, slapping a hand over your mouth to keep from making a terribly load sound- which just makes him chuckle against you, sharp teeth brushing against your delicate skin.

"Now... lay down, baby. I need a little something, too today. Its been a hard week... " Your eyes slip downwards towards Wheezy's hands as he unbuckles his belt, causing your mouth to actually water. "... and you wanna help me out, dontcha? Yeahhh, I know you do... you're a good baby... " As you nod once again, eager to please, Wheezy gives another smirk; looking down to Greasy. "Isn't she, Grease?"

In responce, Greasy shows you both as he shoves his hand down in his own pants.

Jim Bickerman x Reader:

To your credit, you did try to keep it to a goodnight kiss tonight.

... The key word being try. When you noticed him watching you in that way that reminds you he's a hunter while you were just getting comfy in your sleeping bag, you had asked him what? And when he had acted all innocent like he hadn't been practically licking his chops at you, you explained that you were not having sex in this tent tonight because a. the tent is not sound proof and b. it was inappropriate. The poor men you're camping with did not need to experience that.

And you didn't need to be looking them in the eyes the next day knowing that they are now privy the sound you make when the creepy old man hits that particular spot deep inside you, to be frank.

You even said goodnight, and held the sleeping bag over your head.

But fuckkkkkkkkk you cant help yourself. You're almost as bad as Jim is- actually, scratch that almost. You are as bad. That's why he's so perfect.

All of 2 minutes later, you were giving a groan at your own lack of self control (You've really got to work on that), crawling out of your sleeping bag (Pulling the flannel Jim leant you, or you stole from him, tight around you to shield you from the cold), and finding yourself straddling him. From below he gives a smirk, about to say something like I told you so, or I thought so, or ha ha- but you just silently shake your head at him and lean down to kiss him. Like no- nope. No gloating. If you gloat sir, you die.

For a while its just kissing, his beard rubbing against your face and the brim of his hat grinding into your forehead until you take it off him- chucking to an unknown corner of the tent. This makes him chuckle, as you release his mouth to breath and give him a bemused grin, nose scrunched up slightly at him, before pressing a quick kiss to his cheek and then his clothed shoulder.

He curls his fingers into the loops in your jeans - you hadn't bothered to get changed to go to sleep, it was way too cold, - and tugged your hips against his. "Mmm... I can feel you all hot and throbbing, sweetheart... somethin' you wanna tell me? Maybe you don't think this is so inappropriate??... " When you lift yourself up to give him a deadpanned look, his eyes light up very purposefully and he makes 'oh' sound. "Orr, maybe you like that... "

You just hold up a finger, like quiet, before kissing him again. This time he doesn't let that be it, disconnecting his mouth from yours way too soon in favour of leaning up a little whispering in your ear. "Your mess in your pants is distractin' me. I'm gonna need you to take them off... "

"Hm~" You hum, leaving him and standing up the best you can in the small tent to wriggle out of your jeans, kicking them off into the same corner his hat went so you're left in your shirt and Jim's blue flannel. Jim eagerly undoes his own pants then, too, so when you lower yourself back onto him you can easily access the poor man's painfully hard cock, sitting hot and impatient underneath you, behind cotton boxers. Wow, you think vaguely. He can sure hold himself together well- you didn't think he needed you this badly!! You might have taken mercy on him sooner if you'd known... Well- "... Do you have- "

Before you can even finish the sentence, he's offering you a condom from who-knows-where. It makes you snort as you accept it. "What a gentleman... "

"I do try, pumpkin."

"Okay," You grin, shaking your head and trying to go back to that quiet, purposeful mood from before despite Jim making you smile. "Okay- we doing this?" You're still giggling a little, the heat of the moment and the middle-of-the-night sillies getting to you now. "G'head then, whip it out- "

Suddenly you're cut off- and its not by Jim, or your own giggling. Its by someone outside the tent- "PLEASE, don't!!" They yell suddenly, followed by a couple of others voicing their agreement with grunts and pleases and one particularly pained jesus christ jim, let us sleep!! He sounded like he was in the tent right next door.

"... Oh god- " You start, face heated up like a stove as you pull part of the flannel up to cover your face some, half laughing still from the night-time hysteria and this ridiculous situation, and looking down to connect eyes with Jim.

He looks like he's about to lose his composure, too, and then someone's shoe gets thrown at the side of your tent and you both burst out laughing.

(Annnnnd thank goodness this is finally done- I can go read your Scroop Headcanons now XD)

[slashingdisneypasta]

Sheriff!Jim Bickerman x Younger!Reader || Oneshot

I did it!! Oh my God, I love it so much XD

Plot: Sheriff Jim is called to break up a party you're at and finds a guy trying to heavily pressure you into drinking (when Jim knows you don't really like it- you only drink a little when you're with him cuz you feel safe) and threatens the guy with his gun of course. His career may change but his willingness to threaten people with firearms does not.

Warnings: Peer pressure, sexual references, inappropriate age difference (25/66).

Tagging: @marinerainbow , @masqueradeball and @slxsherwriter.

When the sound of sirens started blaring out on the lawn and some guy yelled out 'COPS', you felt your eyes widen. Oh no.

You've only got one police station in town and the Sheriff is now-

Shit! Quickly you throw your legs off the couch and get to your feet, rushing through the gaggle of people also trying to get out before 'Officer Bickerman' got in the building and started arresting people. Honestly, everyone knew the irony of that man arresting others-- but when a man has a badge and a gun you aren't really in any position to argue with him.

You in particular have added incentive to get away, though. You don't want people to know your actual relationship with Jim- and, neither does he, now that he's sheriff, but you just have a feeling if you're seen together in public (in any capacity), it will get out. You don't know how, maybe you're paranoid, but you don't want to risk it.

So you get to the back door and slip out, barely noticing you're being followed by a guy you were talking to (well, trying not to talk to) during the party until you took a breath of fresh air and managed to relax; out of the house, now.

"Hey, Y/N wait up!"

Oh, fuck.

"Owen, I think I'm gonna head home."

"Okay well, here. I managed to grab your drink before crazy old Jimmy Bickerman got in there." You turn around on the back deck, looking uncomfortable at the sight of the red cup. Owen got it for you about 2 hours ago, some rum and coke mixture (more rum then coke you're guessing) and you've been subtly ignoring it. Haven't taken a sip. It's not that you think Owen will drug you or anything, it's just that... you don't really drink. The only times you do drink a tiny bit is when you're with Jim, because you feel safe. And you already told him that-- he just disregarded it. Said it's okay, you're with friends, and it'll just help you have fun! You told him you were already having fun, but he didn't catch the hint. Or refused to.

While other party-goers stream out the door after the two of you, around you and into the woods behind the house, you politely shake your head. "No thanks, Owen. It's all yours if you want it." Hopefully he hears the tone of finality in your voice.

You do not want that damn drink!

"C'mon- I wanna see you drink it." He goes on playfully, approaching you close and raising the cup to your face. Theirs an annoying smirk on his lips and the sound of your heartbeat in your ears is loud and hot. "Show me you're not a goody-goody, Y/N- "

"No, Owen, I said I don't like- "

"C'moooooon- "

"Hey." The bark of a greeting makes you jump, eyes round peering past Owen's broad shoulder to see Jim at the back door. And he's got that dark pissed-off look in his eye- and a gun in his hand.

Oh shit.

A few more people disappear into the woods as Owen quickly chucks the fucking drink over the railing and shrugs, holding up his hands on either side of his head like he got caught with cocaine or something. Most everyone else is gone from the party now, scattered into the woods and their cars and disappeared. "Sir! I wasn't- we weren't- "

"Nah, I know y'all, weren't." Emphasis on the 'y'all'. Theirs a very dangerous look in Jim's eye as it flickers momentarily from Owen to you, and ordinarily, you'd try your best to calm him down- tug his arm, tell him its okay, you're fine; but Owen's right there, and... you can't. So you just stand there, silent, partly relieved Jim is here, though. ... then the barrel of a gun ends up in the skin of Owen's throat. "How aboutcha don't force a little girl to somethin' she don't wanna do, huh?"

Your lips part immediately- to say what?? You don't know. Maybe a defence against that 'little girl' comment, but the words die in your throat seeing the dead serious, borderline unstable look in Jim's eye again. Maybe not now.

Then an inexplicable smirk grows across Owen's face. It's obnoxious, and you're afraid for him seeing it. Owen!! Owen stop that! He will shoot you- "Little girl?" He chuckles dryly, shaking his head and lowering his arms.

"Mhm... "

"So she's too young to drink a little with me but you can fuck her, Sheriff?"

... I m m e d i a t e l y your heart plummets. You must look horrified, too, your face falling. "What???"

"C'mon, Y/N," Owen nudges your arm, before you step back away from him; face hot as coals. "Everyone knows."

"... i- i- but I've never- " Voice quiet as a mouse, hollow and filled with shame, you try to stand up for yourself but can't get the words out. You're full of guilt and shame and you feel worse because you know you shouldn't be. You and Jim have never fucked- you aren't ready for that. You're twenty five. He's over sixty. You've fooled around but that's i t, but even if you had done it then you shouldn't feel a s h a m e d like Owen is making you feel right now.

A clicking sound alerts you that Jim still has a shot gun tucked under Owen's chin and now it's ready to blow. Your head snaps his way at the sound, eyes wider then ever. And he looks more unstable then ever, the blue in his eye a few shades darker and his jaw set tight in a deep scowl. The barrel of the gun presses in deeper to Owen's skin, and a look of nervousness breaks the cockiness in his face. "Watch your mouth, boy... " Jim looks like he's two seconds from either shooting Owen, or just going ahead and cracking him over the head with it.

Owen raises his arms again. "L-look, sir, I'm sorry. M-maybe I was wrong, I dunno man- its a rumour- " There's a rumour going around about this??? You don't say anything, just stand there with your eyes on the ground thinking about this, shocked and horrified. No-

"Maybe you were." The gun barrel presses even further, making the indentation in Owen's neck even deeper.

"... p- please don't shoot me, Officer." Owen begs, pathetic.

A growl escapes Jim, sounding like it's coming directly from his chest, and he looks like he's just mad enough to pull the trigger on this guy. You look up to see his finger tense. You have to say something.

"Sheriff."

"-hm?" As soon as he hears the tone in your voice Jim snaps out of his pissed off trance and turns his head to look at you, eyes clearing up quickly though the tone in his voice remains gruff. After a moment he looks slowly back to Owen, and lowers the gun thank god- "get outta here."

With that Owen backs up, trips, turns around and scatters. You release a relieved breath, shoulders actually dropping heavily. Still, though, there's a weighty, cold stone-like feeling in the pit of your stomach thinking about what Owen said. You hope to god this is not really a Thing people are talking about- you couldn't handle it right now. "Oh fuck."

"Oh fuck is right, sweetheart." Everyone in the house is long gone by now, sans anyone unconscious (which you should go check on soon), so Jim relaxes; tucking the gun back into the holder on his belt. When he sees the crestfallen on look on you face, his own expression drops and he immediately goes to say something. Starting with- "Hang on, there- "

But you're too far gone, overthinking. "I- I had no idea that... that people were saying that... Did someone see us?? I thought we were careful!... " You're mostly talking to yourself, searching nervously for answers with your eyes still downcast and your arms crossed uncomfortably. "I didn't tell anyone, and I don't think you told anyone, so- "

"Y/N,"

"- So how did Owen know?? Oh god what if he heard me on the phone?- " Could you have used Jim's name on a call?? You don't remember doing that, but maybe...-

"Peach,"

"I'm so sorry," Finally you lift your eyes, meeting Jim's filled with embarrassment and guilt inside your own. You start to try and memorise him, because you really liked him- how could you have fucked it up so badly?? "I'm so so sorry! Fuck- I messed it up. It's my fault. I should have been more careful. I'll just go home, and- "

"Sweetheart! Damn, fuck- calm down a notch, huh?" An amused smirk flickers at the corners of his mouth, raising his hand and his hook as if in surrender, as if to calm a dangerous wild animal. "And- who says you fucked up anything??" There's a familiar mischievous twinkle in his eye and it gives you pause.

Shoulders dropping, you look at him all-confused; Lost. "... huh?" You peep, dumbfounded.

Scratching his beard, Jim gives a smug half-shrug. "Sweet thing I'm the Sheriff in this town, and there are some pretty sweet benefits to the job. I'll figure this out. I'll make it go away, promise."

... that does make sense. There's a myriad of things he can do to bury this- and as far as you know, it may only be Owen who even thinks it. Slowly your heartbeat slows down from its erratic panic a moment ago, thinking. "... oh."

"Yeah, oh." He grins broadly, looking at you like you're just the fucken sweetest little thing. Then he shrugs again, wiping under his nose quickly with one finger. "'Sides, I dunno about you-- but I'd be perfectly okay with people knowin'. Cuz hey look, we're both adults... " Here he steps forward, thinking he's some kind of smooth, and draws you in against him. "Eh?" Still after months of this you have to curb a gasp, breathing in deeply and suddenly through your nose, your skin heating up at the contact. "One of us a teeeeeeny tiny bit older, sure, but... still grown-ass adults!" He winks. "And I'd just love to brag at the pub that I got you, you know?"

Finally you crack a smile, a slow one that grows warmer and lights up your whole face. "Yeah, I know." You roll your eyes, though admittedly flustered. The gross old man would just love to tell everyone within earshot he bagged a 25 year old. But-

"-but you're worried about the consequences, I know." His one eye rolls upwards, exasperated but putting up with it. Like, *huff* fine. Not what I woulda picked but fine!~ "S' don't worry, I got this for ya, button. Now- " The cheeky grin is back, and the mischievous twinkle. "How about a little sugar for your old man huh?"

You jump and lean back quickly, covering your mouth when he leans in for a kiss; letting out an 'eep' sound. "Oy! But someone might see!!"

Jim gives a 'pshh' sound back, blowing it off. "I scared everyone off already."

"You're not that scary." Scary when he's mad, like before with Owen- yes. But otherwise, Scary is not exactly a word you personally would really use to describe Him. Intimidating maybe... but goofy money-hungry Jimmy Bickerman is no Jason. Or Michael. Or-

"... sweetheart, I should show you how scary I am." -Fuck!, you think, staring with wide eyes.

That's hot-

"... hm." Keeping your hands over your mouth still, you switch to give a half-sneaky look of your own; looking upwards, thoughtful. "... kinda curious about that... " A smirk curls at the corners of your lips, which Jim can see as you lower your hands a little bit. "Care to prove it?"

"Care to turn around and face the wall there, Y/N?"

That makes you laugh, your face hot from the implications. Tension slips free of your body as you move to cover your whole face, this time, with Jim watching your adorable reaction carefully; drinking it up. "Noooooo... "

"-Hm, also," You hear him sniff, and look up to him again to see a serious look on his face. "Do I smell pot, here??"

Pausing, you smell the air too. Yes, it is, but why does he care all of a sudden?? What? This is abrupt. "Um, probably?"

"... hm."

"What is it?"

"Last time I checked," Peering down, you see Jim put his hand around your upper arm; giving you space suddenly. Being oddly... professional? In uniform??- "Thats illegal, ain't it doll?"

... "Yes." Something about his very serious responce to this makes you... actually, mildly nervous. "I didn't have any, though- "

"Really?" He frowns, stern. "Think I'm gonna haveta take you in for testing, still. Be sure."

"-What!?" You blurt, eyes wide and horrified. He knows you wouldn't get high!-

"And, actually," Tapping his chin thoughtfully with his hook, Jim looks serious and frowns a little deeper. "I'm pretty sure just being around people gettin' high is some kinda crime. By extension, or somethin'. You're a lil accessory, huh?"

"Hold on- Jim- "

When he guides you forward til you're back against the wall, and a smirk finally slithers across his mouth, you know he was joking - proving he's fucken scary, which you get now, - and give a groan; an annoyingly broad grin on your face. Oh come on, now-

"As much as I'd loveta take good and thorough advantage of this and arrest your pretty little ass, sweetheart, imma let ya go. Ain't I nice?"

[slxsherwriter]

Make Bad Decisions With Me

Fandom: Lake Placid

Pairings: None. Hinted at potential Jim Bickerman x Reader

Word Count: 5,248

Warnings: Injuries, death, blood, animal death, crocodiles, poaching

Author's Note: Apparently, I've been possessed by the muse, and this man's characters are just letting it all flow. If wanted, there could be a follow-up to this. I liked the way it ended up even if it's longer than expected. Tagging: @slashingdisneypasta Hope this one is just as good as the last one.

A warm shower. Scratch that. Scalding. A scalding shower was the only thing that you wanted out of life right now. Wash away the dirt, the blood, the guilt that pierce you in the gut over the lives that had been lost. How the hell did you get here?

*****

Dennis was an old colleague of yours, and when he had asked for help up in Maine on his study of the giant crocodiles of Black Lake, you agreed with some trepidation. There was a difference between doing work with dangerous animals and doing work with things that might as well have been prehistoric creatures. Experiences with crocodiles and alligators in your past could not have prepared you for seeing the massive, monstrous reptiles that resided in the lake.

What he had failed to tell you were the regulations and background checks and restrictions to be able to even get on site. The offense wasn't the most serious. It was more of an annoyance than anything else. Something that you would have dealt with as you collected the samples. Five foot? Not all that unusual. Manageable when it came to a croc. Hell, you were used to handling snakes now that were far larger. The EPA and police escort? Not the most common place but not exactly something brand new. All things that you could work around in an effort to help him out and give an idea of what these crocodiles actually were, if they were truly crocodiles or another species that was somehow an offshoot. Nothing occurred that you couldn't handle. Right up to the point of the twenty foot giant chased you all as you headed out. Now, that? That really got the heart rate going.

It was what happened after that threw you for a loop. You understood the need for additional samples and data. It was a commonplace problem that most researchers faced at one point or another at least once in their careers. Hiring poachers in exchange to collect that needed data and sneaking into a secured government site? That was not something that you could say you had ever come up against.

Yet, you had agreed to it. Even after being in there during the day and seeing what the crocs could do. Not without giving Dennis a dressing down over it all and dragging you into it. Because while you had agreed, even if you hadn't, it would have been too late to get yourself out of it. And, well, you didn't want to see him dead. Dennis was a good man.

The group of men that Dennis had hired looked pretty much as anticipated and expected. Maybe a little stereotypical, but if they could hold their own and were decent shots, then so be it. Hopefully, they were decent shots.

“I have the code to get in the gate. There shouldn't be any workers around the fence by now, so we should be in the clear.” Too many shoulds to instill a great sense of confidence. The men were arming themselves, and you waited for a rifle of your own. As much as you didn't want to kill an endangered and protected species, you weren't about to walk in there just armed with tranquilizers. There wasn't enough sedation in the world that could be jammed into these to stop a twenty foot croc. Not that a handgun would do the job either, but it would at least slow it down or cause it to second guess an attack if you could manage to hit the mark.

“Before we head in, what's the plan exactly here?” You spoke up, having joined in late, after everything had been sorted out. The men with you and Dennis were after the animals and animal parts while you and Dennis had the idea to collect data. One of the men shoved a gun in your hand without a word. Taking the rifle, you quickly shifted to shoulder it and check out the scope. Getting a feel for the sight was important if you wanted to actually be able to hit whatever you were aiming at.

“We aren't taking any more crocodiles. But we need eggs. And they are going to take what they want.” Multiple felonies. Good. That was great. The rifle dropped, and you let out a small sigh. Nothing about this was a good idea, but the turn back point had long passed you by.

“You aim that at something, you best be willing to shoot it.” Your eyes shot to the older man who seemed to be leading the group of poachers. A hat pulled low over his head and his rifle against his shoulder. He seemed fully relaxed. Far too relaxed for what was about to happen. Confidently, you chambered a bullet without looking. The safety was still on, but you didn't bother pointing it at any of them like there was an urge to do. There was no need for any accidents before you even got in there. Though it would have been amusing to see rheir reactions.

“If I'm aiming this at anything, I'm intending to kill it.” A wide smile appeared on his face at the comment before he was laughing.

“Well, shit. Don't think I've met a tree hugger like you before.” You rolled your eyes, deciding not to comment.

“Let's get this done.” The sooner you could get in there, the sooner you got out and were able to head back home. Rid your mind of all of this and try to get back to normal.

Getting in the gate had been far too easy. The lack of security was astounding. Maybe that was because they didn't expect anyone to be stupid enough to break into the site. It was meant to contain. Though with people like Jim, the older man's name was Jim, and his ragtag band of money hungry hunters, it really should have been a consideration.

Apparently, there was a cabin on the property that was going to be a rendezvous point after the group split a little bit later. You didn't know the land all that well, but Dennis had a decent idea, having worked here longer. For now, the group was sticking together. As you reached the edge of the water, the hair on the back of your neck stood. Immediately, you paid attention to the feeling and lifted your rifle. The men followed shortly after as you inched forward.

Jim called out to the thing like it was a damn cat. Both one of the most ridiculous and hysterical moments that you had ever bore witness to, admittedly. But, the thought was wiped away when a hissing sound came from your right. The crocodile that came crawling through the rocks had to be close to ten feet. The men all shot off rounds. A few hit but not enough to kill it before you squeezed the trigger and quickly fired off two rounds into the skull of the animal. That was abysmal and destroyed any sense of confidence that you had in any of them to actually make it through this. Or yourself for that matter if this was who you were with. At least Theresa and Reba had been good shots. Really damn good shots.

You stepped back and glanced at the men who were all looking at you, slightly wide-eyed. Yep, they definitely needed to get out more.

“Did you want anything from that, or are we leaving it for the other crocs?” It took a second for a response, but one stepped forward and began to harvest whatever was wanted from the animal. Guilt curled, but you pushed it back. Survival from this place meant this, and you had to be complicit.

“Gotta say, that's some impressive aiming, sweetheart.” You turned your attention from the sight before you to Jim. The smile held a hint of sleaze, not something that surprised you after spending three hours with the man.

“Just because I'm a scientist doesn't mean I don't have other skills….”

“Maybe you would like to show me some of those other skills.” That went from zero to sixty real fast. While there was a certain charm, if that was the word to actually use, about the man, there wasn't a chance that you were going to entertain such comments. Even more so because of the other men in the group. No need to be fighting them all off.

“You aren't even lucky enough for me to entertain that in your dreams.” His eyes seemingly brightened at the snap back. As if it was an invitation itself. You could have groaned.

“Oh, I don't have a doubt. I'll be dreaming about you.” Without a comeback ready, you simply opted to roll your eyes and walk off. Seems that he could get the best of you on occasion. That was twice now.

“I say we set up camp and then start on what we need to do.” That wasn't a bad idea. Though the one that had you rest on ground level with these crocodiles around wasn't all that comforting.

“We should start moving. Made a lot of noise there.”

***

Setting up camp proved to be a fairly quiet and mundane activity. As if you were all really out here just camping and hunting. Funny how going through the motions was like that. Dennis wanted to break off into your groups so that you could accomplish what he needed done. Making sure your backpack was ready, you grabbed some extra ammo when the men weren't looking. They had brought plenty. Though, with the way that they had shot, maybe not. Frankly, either way, if it was just you and Dennis, you weren't going out there without extra protection.

The day went fairly smoothly from there. No more run-ins with the crocs and a rather peaceful existence between you and the rest of the group. With camp set up, you were all led towards the older Bickerman cabin to know where it was since it was the decided meet point for when you split up. Jim and Dennis stayed behind for something as the rest of you made your way back to camp. That was not something that you were going to touch with a ten foot pole. Already, you were neck deep in this shit. The less you knew about whatever was going on between them. Some deniability would be nice.

Nighttime came, and straws were pulled to figure out a guard duty rotation. All of you sleeping at once was not the smartest of ideas unless you wanted to end up in a croc's belly. You had drawn the first shift, which was fine by you. You weren't entirely sure that you were going to sleep at all, trust lacking in everyone around you.

The fire crackled and kept any sounds from making you too paranoid as you settled down in the seat, rifle resting in your lap. The quiet of the area around you was settling and familiar, even if the threats out there were not. It gave you time by yourself to think through everything that was happening and where it was going to ultimately land you if you got caught. Not in a regretful sort of way but in that way of preparation so you wouldn't be thrown off or blindsided.

It was only about three hours before you were relieved of your duties. Sleep didn't come easily, and when it did, it was interrupted and not all that restful. You maybe got two good hours by the time the sun rose. Up and moving around, you grabbed your bag and tossed it over your shoulder, ready to get moving and get this all over with.

“We'll meet at the Bickerman cabin as planned.” Dennis agreed. “Try not to let yourself become a snack for the crocs kids.”

“Yeah, yeah. We'll see you there tomorrow.”

“Don't try to miss me too much, darling.”

“Dennis, let's go before I end up shooting an old man….” Dennis actually laughed at that and motioned for you to follow.

“Aww, no need to get that violent, darling.” His laugh followed the both of you out of camp.

“This was a really god damn stupid idea.” Dennis sighed.

“I know. I'm sorry I drug you into this. I just knew they wouldn't let me back in to get what I needed.”

“For good reason here, Dennis.” You rubbed your eyes. The sound of a branch breaking caught your attention, and simultaneously, you both raised your guns in the direction it came from. Nothing stood out or moved. You checked behind you just in case, trying to make sure that nothing snuck up on you. When no crocs appeared, there was a matching sigh of relief before you could continue onward. “It's dangerous. And I'm sure some liability with the town and the government. You know how they feel about that. Not to mention, the risk of death for the sake of research isn't worth it to the Sheriff's Department nor the EPA. They have other things that they could allow their officers to work on.”

“You're right.” He glanced back towards you as you worked your way down closer to the water. The search for a nest had begun. If you had guessed how badly things were going to hell from there, you would have hightailed it back to the fence.

It happened fast, far faster than you would have expected it. You were barely able to get out of the way of the crocodile that came lashing out of the water, while Denni wasn't so lucky. Thrown back, you came crashing down hard on the rocks, sending a jagged stone deep into your forearm. Dennis was struggling with the croc, and from the screams, he was not doing well.

“Fuck!” Doing your best to ignore your own pain, you scrambled to your feet and fired off a round. It missed and with the tingling in your left arm, it was hard to keep the injured arm lifted and aiming the rifle properly. The fumbling few seconds was long enough for Dennis to lose a few fingers. The second shot hit true and at least got the croc to back off into the water for now. “Shit…” Adrenaline kept you moving, quickly swinging your pack off of your back. You had to get his wounds bandaged before he potentially lost too much blood.

“Oh, god…”

“Dennis, look at me.” He was focused on his hand, the right missing all but his thumb and index finger now. “Stop and look at me. It's going to be okay.” The numbness and tingling were extending down to your fingers now. Something was damaged, and it wasn't good, but you could deal with your own wound after his had been bandaged, at least. You would need to use the tourniquet for his arm. It wasn't going to feel good, and as much as you attempted to relay that to him, he was too caught up in the moment.

You worked as quickly as you could, thankful for that class that you had taken all those years ago when you first started going into the field. He had passed out at some point, and you couldn't tell if it had been from the sight of his own blood or the shock and blood loss. It hadn't seemed like enough, but what did you know? There wasn't a chance that you would be able to carry him, and leaving him sounded like a horrific idea, but you weren’t sure what else you could do.

“Shit, shit, shit.” You groaned and worked the best that you could to wrap your own arm. Waiting here didn't seem like the smartest idea. Leaving him made you feel sick, but the best chance of getting help was moving. You agnozied over the decision for a few minutes, moving back from the water so that you were ready for another potential attack.

Ultimately, the best chance for survival for the both of you would be to get help. Hopefully, he would wake up soon and be able to get himself moved more. You had dragged him back the best that you could.

Picking your way through the woods towards where you had found the cabin yesterday took a little work and some second guessing of the direction, but luck seemed to be on your side. The clearing came into view, as did the dilapidated cabin.

“Thank god…” You murmured to yourself. Bodies were moving around, you could see that much. There wasn't mistaking Jim as he came into view.

“Dennis?” He called out before his eyes landed on you. it didn't take him any time to recognize the fact that you were alone. “What the hell happened?”

“Could ask you the same thing.” You had noticed the limp and the blood on his lower pant leg. It looked old and dried though.

“Shit, you're bleeding.” Glancing down, it was easy to see that he was right; blood was dripping off of your fingers, but you couldn't quite feel it.

“Not the easiest to wrap it myself.”

“Sit down.” He motioned towards the edge of the platform that had been built around the cabin. “Ya got any more bandage left?”

“Think a little.” Carefully, you shrugged off the bag, trying not to grimace as the motion brought about a lot of pain, fire burning in your upper arm. “Big pocket.”

“Where's Dennis?” Jim didn't bother asking and used a knife to tear the rest of your sleeve off of your shirt to get better access to the wound.

“He was worse off than I was and passed out. Couldn't carry his dead weight, so I had to leave him, figuring it was better to find help than wait for it to find us.” Not that you thought he would come looking for you at all. Finding help had really been Bickerman and his group first and getting to the fence second.

“Ah, shit.”

“Seems to be the theme of the day,” you offered, trying to use the conversation as a distraction from the pain as he used some of the bandage that you had already placed and the remaining that you had in the bag to properly wrap up the wound on your arm the best that he could. “Where are the rest of your guys?” He simply shook his head. No words were needed for that. Blowing out a slow breath, you felt like crying, but that wouldn't do any good right now. A breakdown could come after. So, instead, you bit down hard on the inside of your cheek and looked out towards the water.

“I'm going to look for eggs.” It shouldn't have been a surprise that he was still focused on getting something out of this. Money seemed to be his biggest driving force.

“Fuck that. I wanna get the fuck away from this lake.” He shook his head.

“I ain't letting this be a waste of a trip. That out there is a damn jackpot, big payday that I’m not walking away from.”

“Wouldn't expect you to.” It wasn't mean spirited when you spoke. It was simply one of those "of course" sort of statements. He blinked, eyeing you almost as if he was trying to make the determination if he was offended or not. “Just go on.” A quick wave indicated that he should get moving. Dennis was waiting for you to come back, and the sooner he got what he wanted, the sooner you would be able to go back for your fallen friend. He nodded, grabbing his own bag and headed off.

Sitting there in relative peace, something that couldn’t be trusted to remain, you felt the weight of everything come crashing down on you. It was a bad thing to be sitting there in the quiet. Your hand was shaky, something that was impossible not to notice, as you raised it to run it through your hair and then down your face.

A warm shower. Scratch that. Scalding. A scalding shower was the only thing that you wanted out of life right now. Wash away the dirt, the blood, the guilt that pierce you in the gut over the lives that had been lost. How the hell did you get here?

Before much more thought could be given to it, there was a lot of shouting. Far too many voices or it to be Jim. Jumping to your feet, you quickly made your way towards the front of the cabin to see a group of four teens running towards the dock. Their shouting was mingling with that of the group of people coming from the dock. You immediately recognized the three adults. Ryan, Reba, and Theresa. You weren't sure that you had ever felt any sort of relief close to what coursed through you at that moment. There was a chance of getting out of here.

The loud hissing roar came, signaling that another crocodile was going to make itself known. Quickly, you raised your gun and fired at the beast that came flying out of the water at the same time as Reba did. As difficult as it was with the barely functioning arm. At least you could lift it and have it act as a bit of a brace for the rifle.

You joined the group.

“I would ask what the hell you are doing here, but I'm going to guess you came back with Dennis.” Reba glanced towards you.

“Might have been the worst decision of my life.”

“Wouldn't argue with that.” Theresa was hugging what you assumed was her daughter while one of the other girls seemed injured, chomped on by a crocodile given the blood coming from her abdomen. How she was standing was beyond you, but adrenaline was a wonderful thing.

“I just want to get the hell out of here and never see another crocodile again.”

“You and me both.”

“We'll find a way out.” One of the boys that was with Ryan turned and spotted Jim.

“Did you find Dennis?” Now that was odd. Had he said he had been looking for Dennis? You hadn't seen him with the teens when you had found him here.

“Dennis is dead.” The comment sent your stomach plummeting through your feet and bile rising in your throat.

“Who the hell is this?” Before you could offer any information, Theresa's daughter, Chloe, was speaking.

“He's a poacher. Jim Bickerman.” Well, she had that information correct. “I saw the picture of you with your mother. “Delores and Jimmy, 1960.” That was news to you. Though, it made sense then. Jim limped forward, rifle shoulders, but he still hadn't said a word. That was unusual, at least from what you had learned from him over the last day and a half.

“Oh, you're the nutbag cousin.” The comment from Reba brought a small snort from you before you could help it, too amused after everything. It sort of fit now, didn't it? Jim shot you a glare before responding.

“With all due respect, Miss Fish and Game, I'm the son of a bitch that saved these brats. Nutbag…” That comment had really irritated him. Though, you supposed if you were in his place, you would feel pretty irritated with it as well. “Is that what they're calling me back in town now?”

“No, that's what I'm calling you.” All right, maybe you liked Reba. She didn't take shit. First impressions weren’t always correct. Jim didn't seem to know how to take that right away. He didn't have a response. “Nathan Bickerman owned this cabin and before he skipped town, he told me that his cousin was suing him for it.” He probably hadn't been suing for sentimental reasons. You glanced at Jim and tried to determine where his mind was at but it was hard. Reba continued on, this time addressing Jim once more after she had explained what she knew.

“You’re not honestly pissed because you didn't inherit this shit house? Jimmy….can I call you Jimmy?” His shoulders relaxed, and lips twitched into a smile. You rolled your eyes, something that was commonplace it seemed when this man was around.

“Yeah…” The word was barely whispered, but the permission was there.

“Jimmy, the way I see it, not leaving you this place is about the nicest thing anyone could do for your crazy ass.” The hair on the back of your neck stood once more, and the hissing sound of the crocodile sounded out once more. You swung your gun towards the water, ignoring whatever else was going on once more.

“You tie that thing up?” Looking back, you realized that the crocodile was indeed chained to the dock. How the fuck did that happen?” Jim hesitated for a second.

“Um, Dennis did. I sorta helped.” Christ, this entire thing was going to sound utterly insane to an outsider. It sounded insane to you, and you had lived through it.

“Seriously?” He gave you a shrug, as if it hadn't been a big deal.

“Yeah, whatcha do that for?”

“Whatever, let's just get out of here.” Theresa was right. It really didn’t matter. What was done was done. There was nothing to do about it now, and considering that Dennis was dead, the reasoning behind it was rather moot. Getting out of there alive should be the focus of everyone here.

“You don’t want a full confession? Maybe you have changed.”

“It doesn't really matter much now, does it? It's done, and Dennis is dead. We should be getting out of here.” You still had your gun trained on it, but everyone suddenly did when the crocodile let out a roar and began to thrash around. The chain around its neck made a horrible sound as the movement tested the strength of the metal. But it wasn't able to get free just yet. Jim began to laugh, the first to lower his rifle. Old man really was crazy.

“Well, well, well. Now, that was some kind of fun, huh folks?” The tone of his voice had changed, like when he had been flirting with you. He was trying to get something. And as suspicious as it made you, you weren't comfortable moving your gun off of the bigger threat. “Listen, I’d love to just, huh, hang out here and chat with y'all but…Max!” He lunged forward and grabbed a hold of one of the teens. Was this really what we were doing? The muzzle of the rifle was settled just shy of Max's neck. Ryan immediately shifted forward but wasn't able to do anything about it right away. Now, with the gun trained on his son.

“You're coming with me.” Ryan demanded to have the boy let go, but you knew that Jim wasn't going to do that. “Excuse me, Daddy. I'm not going to get very far with just one wheel here. I need this tough guy to help me along the way.” Ryan drew his gun, but Jim promised that Max would be dead before he pulled the trigger. Finally, you forced yourself to turn your gun away from the crocodile, training it on Jim.

“You too, sweetheart? I'm hurt.”

“You want someone, take me. Not the kid.” Slowly, you inched forward, though not stepping close enough to appear a threat. Testing that line was something that you were not willing to do. Enough death had occurred because of stupid decisions that you had made. The kids needed to get out of here. The gun was carefully lowered before you set it down and held up your hands. Jim seemed intrigued for a moment. But he was still backpedaling. Max was trying to assure his dad that he was going to be fine. Just as you made one more attempt, the chain and the wood that it was attached to made the sort of sound that had you all turning your attention back to the massive crocodile that was letting it's displeasure at being chained known. Everyone was unloading their weapon onto and into it. It snapped off its anchor in the wood and snagged one of the boats that was just off shore. When everyone turned their attention back, Jim and Max were gone.

“I'll go after them. You get the other kids back to safety.” Though it seemed like panic was on their minds, one of the kids decided that he could outswim the croc, launching himself into the water like an idiot. “Get the hell out of the water, kid!” Max and Jim hadn't gotten that far away as you heard Max's voice shout out, asking the same damn thing.

Everything from there happened in a blur. Drew, the young man that had thrown himself into the water, ended up dead. Ryan knocked out Jim, got Max out of the water himself, and everyone was ready to move on.

“Are we really going to just leave him there?” You looked between Ryan, Theresa, and Reba. None of them seemed to have any issue with leaving Jim behind. As much as you wanted to leave, the idea of leaving the man to die didn't sit well. “There's been enough death hasn't there?” That seemed to catch their conscious, and Ryan groaned before turning around and heading back to where you had left the man. You would figure out how to get him out while Theresa and Reba got the kids back to the fence.

What you found when you arrived made you a little queasy. Jim was lying on the beach, bleeding severely. Son of a bitch. Quickly, you rushed forward. His left arm and left leg were mangled beyond recognition and something had happened to his left eye. You weren’t sure how that even happened.

“Can you get an evac out here?” You looked up at Ryan as you began to pull off your flannel, reaching for the knife that Jim had kept so that you could try and dress the wounds. The man was going to die of blood loss before you could get him out, likely, but guilt was going to make you try to get him out of there.

“It won't be quick enough.”

“I know he threatened your son, but we left him here.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll try. You're going to have to stay with him.”

“I got it. Just enough ammo to hopefully keep us safe. Go.” He nodded, giving you one more hard look and a chance to back out of it, but you were steadfast in your decision. Carefully, you pulled Jim as far away from the water as you could while Ryan took off running back in the direction of freedom.

“You're going to end up getting me killed, you crazy old bastard.”

“I knew you liked me…” He wheezed out with a laugh. If he kept talking, even if it was painful to listen to, it meant that he was alive. So you would take it.

“Yeah, I'll let you run with that right now because you look like utter shit.”

“Way to make a man feel good, sweetheart.” A small laugh left you, something you couldn't help as you settled his head in your lap, a small concession to try and offer some comfort. You just had to keep him conscious and talking until Ryan showed back up with an evac team.

[slxsherwriter]

Habits Explained

Fandom: Lake Placid

Pairings: Jim Bickerman x reader

Word Count: 2,080

Warning: Mention of missing limbs/fallout of a crocodile attack

Author's Note: Manage to make it through the two Lake Placid movies for this man. And oh boy, was it not a disappointment. With his habits and the way he occasionally talks, it immediately jumped to mind that Jim had a military background. Idea fostered so kindly by @slashingdisneypasta . Hope you like this! More Jim content will be in the works for ya!

Huffing, you nearly dropped the box in your arms. A mild annoyance ran through you. How in the hell did he have this much junk piled around? The man rarely was home, either trying to do something that aired on the side of illegal or at the bar, hating his liver. Still, it ebbed away as you reminded yourself why you were cleaning up his mess of a small home. The man was lying in a hospital bed, beyond lucky to be alive, missing a few parts of his body that he had gone to Blackwater Lake with, on one of those activities that aired on the side of illegal. It was one hell of a consequence to have to face.

Setting the box down, you tried to push away the exhaustion that you felt. Between cleaning up so that there was a room ready for him on the bottom floor of the home and visiting him at the hospital, sleep was a rare thing. All of the running around, stress, and high emotions were finally starting to catch up to you. While you had only been with Jim for about a year, you did deeply care for the man, and this whole incident had been the craziest thing that had happened. Not just in your relationship but probably your life.

“Just get through this box, and you can take a small break.” A nap on the couch, as questionable as the fabric may have been, sounded like heaven right now. Leaving the house seemed pointless, and you had already stripped the bed to get the sheets washed while you worked on getting the bed itself down the stairs. That was the next job now that you had made space in the room that had clearly functioned as a storage unit. Settling down beside the box, you opened it up and carefully tried to sort out if it was trash or if it was something to keep. The action felt a little like a violation of privacy since Jim hadn't been all that forthcoming with some of his past or his home. Most of the time, when you were together, you spent time at your house or in the outdoors. A boundary that you had done your best to respect. But, the task that you had been faced with required a little bit of a push around that.

Most of the boxes had been easy enough to distinguish between junk that could go and things that should be kept. Surprisingly, there wasn't a whole lot to throw out, so you had been lugging boxes upstairs all day. You did your best to rifle through it without paying too close attention to what was inside. This box, though? It shot all of that careful consideration and attention out of the water. Your fingers brushed over the glass of the picture frame as you pulled it out of the box for a better look. It was a bit hard to comprehend what was in the frame with the man that you had grown to know. A young Jim was looking back at you from the picture, dressed in a formal military uniform. Army from the looks of it. You had a little familiarity with that sort of thing thanks to your family. Your grandfather, father, and both uncles had served in their life times.

A laugh bubbled up before you could help it. The man that you knew, who hated authority and basically said fuck off to society whenever he got the chance was not one that fit the stereotypical model of a military man that you knew. Then again, drinking problem, issue with authority, and knowledge of survival and outdoor skills? He did have a few phrases that he used that probably should have tipped you off as well. Shaking your head, you set the picture aside and found that you had to sate your curiosity about what else was in the box.

“Makes sense, I guess, for the time. Could have been a way out of trouble...." You spoke aloud to yourself, thinking through what you knew of his age and when he was likely enlisted. Enlisted. That thought stuck. Maybe he hadn't enlisted. If he had been in his twenties, which looked about the right age range in the picture, then he had to have been drafted. That was how most who served in the sixties ended up in the service. Vietnam was a nightmare of a military debacle. That made far more sense than seeing Jim Bickerman enlist.

Some more paperwork was held in the box. Part of you was a little thrown that he had kept this at all. It wasn’t like it held any good memories for him. At least so you thought. Most of it didn't mean much to you as you shuffled through the papers, little important information held. Then you found it. Legal paperwork outlining several charges that had been brought against the man and the evidence of a bad conduct discharge.

If you were honest, none of that really came as a shock if the man you knew hadn't changed all that much over the years. The understanding from the town was that the entire family was a bit out of it and difficult. Which was putting it kindly. Shaking your head, you carefully put the stuff back into the box, deciding if it was worth bringing up to Jim just to hear about it from him. Or would it upset him? The box had to be kept, so you trudged it up the stairs and tucked it away into the room that you had chosen for storage. The picture was left out for the time being. You wanted to look at it a bit more. The blond curls that framed his head had you laughing softly.

After your nap, you decided to do a little research. Money was always tight, and the hospital bill that was going to come from this was going to be an issue. Maybe he could apply for some VA benefits. Trying to make sense of it was difficult, and you had to go back to the box to grab the paperwork because it looked like it was dependent on the type of court-martial that he received. You thought that you had it after a few hours. The alarm on your watch indicated that it was time to visit the hospital and bring the man some decent food. Maybe you would have to bring the whole thing up and ask him. He would have to be the one to apply for the benefits.

****

“Hey there, sweetheart.” It was good to see him in a decent mood, causing you to smile as you moved towards the bed. A gentle hum from the TV filled the background, and the evidence of the two meals that he hadn't touched remained at the bedside.

“Hi, Jim.” You leaned over and kissed his cheek before his hand shot out to snag your waist and pull you down next to him. Insatiable, ridiculous old man. “I see you were really hungry today.” A grunt was the initial response that you got, and you saw him eyeing the food as if it had personally offended him. Not that he could be blamed. Holding up the bag, you laughed and shook it a little. As if to say, don't worry, I got you.

“Oh, thank god.” He moved his arm to reach for the bag. Instead of withholding it, you handed it over. The freshly baked brownies were an added treat that you hadn't told him were happening. “What would I do without ya? Ya bring a drink?” You rolled your eyes, knowing that the question was coming. Sneaking in alcohol was not something that you were willing to do while he was healing. Maybe once he was fitted with his prosthetics and got his ass up and moving about properly. But right now? There was not a chance that you were risking that.

“No alcohol.”

“But…”

“No. Listen, when they have you up and moving about, I’ll think about it. No promises.”

“I'm dying here, sweetheart.”

“No, we got beyond that part already. Seems you aren't capable of that….” You couldn't help but joke a little. That was generally his attitude about things, but the approach had helped you handle the fact that Jim had actually nearly died. That seemed to at least catch him for a second, though the groan that followed told you that he wasn't going to let up on the issue. Not that you really expected him to, but hopefully, that would be it for this visit. “I at least brought a different favorite treat of yours.” Before he could make a single comment to twist it and make it perverse, you grabbed the brownies out of the bag.

The distraction worked wonders. A low laugh escaped the man beside you as you shifted to get a little more comfortable on the side of his bed. There wasn't any use in getting up since he would complain about it, and frankly, it was nice to be relaxing next to him, feel his body heat and his breathing. A reminder that he was really alive.

“These the ones with that chocolate from…ah shit, what's the name? You know what I'm talking about.”

“Yeah I do, and yes it is.”

“Spoiling me here.” You figured that not only was it deserved for actually being a good patient, but it might soften the discussion that needed to come next.

“Just eat,” you laughed and grabbed the rest of the food from the bag. All things that he could manage with one hand. It came as no surprise that he started to eat with gusto. It was a perfect time for you to bring up the idea. “I just about cleared the room out, so you have a bedroom to get to when you get home.”

“You didn't need to be doing all that work.” A discussion that you had with him a few times since he had been lucid enough to realize what was going on and understand the plan moving forward.

“Not the point right now.” Your eyes flitted to the TV, finding it easier to bring up without looking directly at him for one reason or another. Maybe it was to avoid seeing any anger directed at you. “Been tossing some junk, keeping most things, so don't go panicking. But, came across this box…”

“Yeah…”

“Well, have you thought about applying for some VA benefits? See if they will foot the cost of some of this?” There was silence, and you winced, forcing yourself to look back at Jim. He had stopped eating but wasn't looking at you either.

“I ain't doing that.” Stubborn ass of a man. Of course. There were a few things that he completely shut down on, like not even jokingly playing it off. This happened to be one of them, and you realized you were wandering into territory that was probably best to leave alone.

“It was just a thought to help with things. Not saying that you have to.” The sigh that came was drawn out and heavy. Not pained but something close to it. You should have figured that this might be a little more sensitive of a subject. Hell, you had seen how your grandfather had reacted to some questions. “I'm sorry, Jim. Just forget that I brought it up at all.” You reached for his hand, fingers lightly playing over the knuckles, an act that often soothed him. It was obvious it still worked when his body slumped a little further into the bed.

“I can't…” He finally huffed out. “Ain't got any benefits thanks to the discharge. It's not shit I'm ashamed of, but can't use it for anything good.” Well, that explained it. That and now, there was a reminder of the massive bill that would be faced for the care that had kept him alive. Now, you could use a little drink yourself.

“We'll get it figured out. Always do.” It would be done without him risking life and limb again. As long as you could prevent it. Bringing his hand up, you kissed his knuckles and heard a gentle huff of a laugh come from him. That was better. “Long as it doesn't involve crocs this time.”

“Making no promises…”

“You're an ass.”

“Ya love me anyway.”

[slashingdisneypasta]

Mrs Bickerman meeting Jim's S/O Vs Wayne's S/O.

*Bickerman Twins AU

Jim's:

Y/N: Well it was nice meeting you! Bye ^^ Mrs B: Bye, dear. Mrs B: Son? A word?? Mrs B: ... marry her quickly before she realises you're an idiot.

Wayne's:

Mrs B: You're such a lovely girl, here, let me find you a nice boy. The women in my reading group have some lovely sons- Y/N: Um- ma'am- I'm kinda with your son. Mrs B: Mhm. Yes. I know dear. Mrs B: You can do better.

[slashingdisneypasta]

...

:)

Otis Driftwood

"Hold still, will 'ya?" The mean bastard said- or rather ordered- as he roughly pinned your hips down and still, pushing his cock further inside you. As far as he could go at least; he was already so deep inside you, "The point 'a this is that you don't get to move 'til I'm done. Got it?"

~

Jim Bickerman

His beard scratched at the skin of your cheek, though you could also feel that amused smirk on his face even while he pressed kisses to your cheek. His calloused hands traveled down to your currently bare hips and thighs, letting out a chuckle when you tried to subtly roll your hips on his dick, "Ah, c'mon sugar, just a little longer? I think you need this as much as I do anyway~"

~

Jafar

You let out a content moan as you leaned back against the vizier's chest. It had been such a long and unforgiving day, and now, you two were relaxing with each other; his cock buried balls deep inside your warm cunt, and you were all too happy to enjoy this perfectly full feeling. The sinful purr Jafar let out was enough to make you clench more around him, but then he spoke, "When I am sultan, my first order will be to set aside more time to enjoy my servant more often~"

~

Greasy Weasel

"Mi vida~" His husky voice was laced with lust- more so than usual, he loved it when you were in this state- as he took a break from sucking on your neck to breath in your ear. Not once did he stop rubbing your clit or loosen his grip on the leg he was propping up for you. You could tell with the occasional rocking of his hips that he desperately wanted to start thrusting and chase his own pleasure. But he wouldn't. He knew you needed this right now, "Relax, mi amor~ Just let me take care of you tonight~"

(You probably already know who this is, but I felt like going on anon tonight XD I hope you enjoyed these! ^^)

I... THANK YOU! These hit the exact spot I needed!! I see that cheeky little smile but these genuinely helped so much!! Omg, I was just sitting there reading them and rereading them for like 20 minutes, I swear XD

I had to write more for them!! &lt;;3<3<3<3 I hope that’s okay !

Warnings for, obviously, cockwarming and smutty themes- and also, periods. Also because this is very self-indulgent the reader is an afab female.

Otis B Driftwood:

"Hold still, will 'ya?" The mean bastard said- or rather ordered- as he roughly pinned your hips down and still, pushing his cock further inside you. As far as he could go at least; he was already so deep inside you, "The point 'a this is that you don't get to move 'til I'm done. Got it?"

~

Feeling sleepy, warm and fulfilled, you stretch your arms up and arch your back like a cat before sighing, dropping your arms onto Otis’ shoulders, and nodding. “Yeah,” You yawn, shifting only enough to press your pelvis against his. “I got it… “

“Hmm, lookit that… “He grins cruelly. Being too tired to be scared of him right now, and feeling too lovely and full because the bastard actually has the perfect cock for you besides, you just blink at him; a hazy look on your face.

“Hm?”

“You couldn’t even last 2 seconds keeping fucken still. You’re that dumb.”

Rolling your eyes gently and sighing quickly, you give a sad little pout. “Sorry, Otis… I just… wanted to be closer to you… “

Looking at you like this, so weak and dumb in his lap painting his hard dick red with your cunt-blood, Otis - for once, - gives you a pass. You’re just too fucking cute like this, and feeling so good and hot around him, that he cant bring himself to push you off even for a goddamn second. No. He wouldn’t even let you go if someone walked in and shot at him. You’re gonna sit and squeeze his cock until you’re crying and begging for him to move, and then… well, he probably still won’t. Ha. Sucks to be her.

“… Okay, baby doll,” He smirks, leaning back slowly until he’s lying down, and gestures for you to follow and lay on his chest- which you’re all-too-happy to do, snuggling into him like a hot water bottle. His beard tickles your nose but that just make you smile into his neck, nuzzling into him more and giving him a little kiss. “Stay still okay? Gonna take a nap. Don’t fucken wake me.”

“Okay Otis… love you… “

Jim Bickerman:

His beard scratched at the skin of your cheek, though you could also feel that amused smirk on his face even while he pressed kisses to your cheek. His calloused hands traveled down to your currently bare hips and thighs, letting out a chuckle when you tried to subtly roll your hips on his dick, "Ah, c'mon sugar, just a little longer? I think you need this as much as I do anyway~"

~

Giving a heavy groan, full of exhaustion and frustration, you settle more closely into Jim’s lap with your legs draped around his hips, and wrap your arms around his neck; Hugging him close and burying your head in his shoulder. You nod. “You’re right about that… “

“Relax, honey, I’ll take care a’ you.” Not that its going to be easy at all, he thinks, shifting uncomfortably at the feeling of your sweet little cunt bleeding and throbbin’ round him. He’s gonna try, though. For you. You just looked so damn worn out when you came home, complaining about the people you work with and your cramps, and the smile you gave him was so tired- he just wanted to cheer you up.

You laughed at his jokes when he tried to do it that way, but you were still so exhausted and droopy- so, plan B.

He loved plan B, but goddamn was it torture.

“… knew I kept you around for a reason… “You mumble, grinning into his flannel.

“Yeah, happy to remind you.” That rouses a chuckle out of you, before you take in a sharp, deep breath, and sit up straight again. Jim’s eyebrows furrow, and he’s about to reach out for you again to relax- but you’re just reaching back to unclip your bra and slip it out of the bottom of your shirt. You chuck it off to the corner of the room, flashing him a side eye afterwards.

“… don’t get any ideas.” You joke, your grin already becoming lighter and less frustrated.

Giving a shrug back and a wide-eyed ‘innocent’ look, Jim shakes his head. “Wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart.”

You lean forward and rest yourself against him again, curling into him and burying your nose in his shoulder once more; Closing your eyes and giving a pleased sigh when he slips his hands under the back of your shirt.

Jafar:

You let out a content moan as you leaned back against the vizier's chest. It had been such a long and unforgiving day, and now, you two were relaxing with each other; his cock buried balls deep inside your warm cunt, and you were all too happy to enjoy this perfectly full feeling. The sinful purr Jafar let out was enough to make you clench more around him, but then he spoke, "When I am sultan, my first order will be to set aside more time to enjoy my servant more often~"

~

“Perhaps we’ll stow away every month for an entire week… “He goes on, smirking hotly against the side of your head. “… I do love it when you bleed… “

“Yeah, fucking really helps with cramps… I feel so much better already… “Turning your head, you give Jafar a little kiss on the corner of his mouth; Twisting his beard around your fingers.

At this, Jafar pauses. “… well, that’s obviously a bonus.”

“Ha.” You say, rolling your eyes and letting go of his beard, resting back against his chest again; His body heat amazing against your lower back. Your eyes slowly fall closed, your head resting back against one of his broad shoulders. It feels so good…

With your knees bent and pointed towards the ceiling, your pussy - stretched around Jafar’s cock, coating it in slick and heavy flow, - is bare and Jafar takes this as an opportunity to reach around and use two fingers to stroke your sensitive lips around his length- just as a ‘bonus’.

Immediately your lips fall open and breathy moans start to slip from you while he grins and watches you writhe. You are beautiful, especially in this state - a mess from such a long, terrible day and all his, -, in your rightful place spread across his regal lap. Keeping him hot and wet, filling his ears with your sweet sounds… completely exposed and practically belonging to him.

… You were born a lowly servant… but it’s obvious you were meant to be his Sultana. And he will get you there.

Greasy Weasel:

"Mi vida~" His husky voice was laced with lust- more so than usual, he loved it when you were in this state- as he took a break from sucking on your neck to breath in your ear. Not once did he stop rubbing your clit or loosen his grip on the leg he was propping up for you. You could tell with the occasional rocking of his hips that he desperately wanted to start thrusting and chase his own pleasure. But he wouldn't. He knew you needed this right now, "Relax, mi amor~ Just let me take care of you tonight~"

~

“Greas-yyy… “

“I know, I know… “Tilting his head and focusing in on your pretty little cunt, all pink and spread around him, his thumb skilfully keeping you at just the right place without making you cum. He may not have as much experience with the ladies that he would like, but he does know you and your body… He could play you like a fiddle if he wished to. And usually, he does. “I’ve got you, mi amore… “

But tonight is about you. You’ve had such a long couple of days, Smartass has pushed you too hard in his opinion, especially in your current state~… you just need a little bedroom time with him, though, and you’ll feel so much better. He’s sure.

“I-… I love you… This feels so good… “Your fingers curl into the fabric of his suit jacket, pulling him adorably closer- god, mierda… you really are irresistible in this state~ So needy, and whiny… It’s taking all he has to not ravage you. Screw you, until you’re a shaking mess and the other boys can all hear you shamelessly begging for him~... “Thank… you… “

“Of course, Y/N… “Greasy looks up, then, at your beautiful face, and can’t help leaning in to give you a kiss on the corner of your mouth. You just look so sweet, and pliant… God, he loves you. He has it so bad. Do you even know what you’ve done to him?? “Any time.”

You pull him back, then, to kiss you properly and fuck- mierda- damnit- you kiss him right now just as needily as you sound; Your lips warm and perfect, sucking against his as your tongue licks greedily along his. He allows himself to kiss you back as nastily as he wants to fuck you, swallowing your cute moans and feeling his cock twitch inside you.

Oh no no no! Immediately Greasy rips his mouth away from you, pressing his forehead against yours, breathing heavily and focusing for a moment on just bringing himself back from the brink; Getting a hold of himself. No, no. No cumming yet.

Not until you do.

[slashingdisneypasta]

Jim Bickerman x Reader || Excerpt

Plot: Its too hot to sleep so you have ice cream ^^ 🍦🍦🍦

Warnings: Like one sexual reference.

After an hour of painstakingly trying to find a good position to sleep in, and failing miserably because it's so damn hot, you give up with a huff and sit up straight. Hair a mess from the tossing and turning and a totally unimpressed look on your face, you look over to see if Jim is having any better luck- you would have to kill him if he was. It would be a crime of envy.

"... I can't sleep. Too hot."

With his arm thrown over his eyes you can't tell whether he's awake or not but when he grunts in responce you figure he must be having trouble with the heat tonight, too. You should have noticed the grimace on his mouth, honestly.

"Ice cream." You say, thinking of the big tub of neapolitan in the freezer.

He immediately sits up and moves to get out of bed with all the speed a 66 year old man may posess. "Let's go."

~

It's early in the morning, well earlier than you need to be up for work and it's still dark outside but you open up the kitchen windows to let in the breeze while Jim elbows the light switch and gets the ice cream and spoons out. You meet back up at the table, sitting down heavily from sleepiness and taking a spoon when it's offered.

The first touch of ice cream to your tongue is a huge relief and you start to come back to life, straightening up in your seat and going for another spoonful with a hum. Jim takes a deep breath and starts to wake up in front of you. Now that you're coming to your senses, you give him a scrutinising look. "... why are you wearing pants and a long-sleeve shirt?"

With a cheeky grin at your scepticism, he shakes his head. You feel a kick under the table, and jump and gasp; gaping. "What?!?"

"You workin' blue on me sweetheart??"

"Wh- No- I'm just saying you must be boiling!" Its a hundred and ten degrees! You have concern for him- You are most certainly not working blue-

"Suree... " He nods at you, eyes wide and sarcastic as he spoons a scoop of chocolate ice cream into his mouth. He's clearly making fun of you so you close your gaping mouth and scrunch up your nose back at him.

Rolling your eyes, you shake your head. "Oh shut up." There's a grin on your face, though, as you dig back into the ice cream tub.

[slashingdisneypasta]

Oh yeah, about that Sheriff!Jim Bickerman idea I had. This is all I have for that so far 😅