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taechaos · 3 years

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Your Boy, No?

pairing: bully!Jungkook x nerdy!fem!Reader

genre: drabble, smut, college au

synopsis: You can't stand seeing Jungkook with another girl, so you give him a piece of your mind in a stranger's bedroom by becoming his outlet of sexual frustration.

warnings: losing virginity, riding, degradation

a/n: jungkook's character is not exactly submissive, so i added my own twists to this request. i hope you don't mind @madygswich c:

word count: 2.5k

You can't stop pouting. Holding back tears when seeing a woman perched up on Jungkook's lap while they make out has proven to be difficult, but you're trying. It hurts your heart; hell, you're aching everywhere. It doesn't take a genius to know he's doing it to get a reaction out of you when his eyes are throwing daggers at you with his tongue down another girl's throat.

Following Jungkook around like a lost puppy isn't ideal, especially at a frat party. He never gives you the time of the day if it's not out of menace, but you aren't willing to give up on him. It's just not possible when you are so in love with him, and so fucking jealous.

More than Jungkook, you're mad at the girl. You want to rip her heart out, make her suffer for ever touching the love of your life. You're becoming irrational, mentally cussing her out for being a whore while you stop yourself from breaking down in a house filled with horny young adults. You don't know a single person here, and you have to deal with your pent up emotions all by yourself.

You choke out a sob when Jungkook starts kneading the girl's ass shamelessly with her skirt hiked up to her back. They're being so inappropriate in the kitchen of a stranger's house, while you can't even take a sip from your spiked drink in the bustling living room. You abruptly stand up and throw away your plastic cup when Jungkook's hand disappears elsewhere, and you have an idea of what he's about to do. You march over to him, looking absolutely tiny next to the overbearing college students and you don't notice Jungkook's sinister smile as he watches you fume.

"Let go," you sound hoarse, and not at all intimidating when you push the girl off of his lap. She stumbles at the force, but you pay no mind to her confusion as you pull Jungkook up by his arm to drag him away. You think it's the anger and adrenaline giving you so much strength, but it's Jungkook amusing himself by allowing you to take him upstairs.

"This isn't a therapy session, little girl," he yells over the music, "I didn't come here to listen to you cry."

You huff and let a single tear slip before harshly wiping it away. When you reach the hallway, you enter the first bedroom you find. It's occupied by a foreplaying couple, but you're driven as you hiss, "Out!"

They leave at your demand, and you're confusing a lot of people tonight. Jungkook is surprised by your sudden aggression, but he doesn't stop with his remarks, "the chihuahua's gone mad."

"Shut up, Jungkook!" you whirl around angrily to face him. "How could you do that to me?!"

He quirks a brow. "Do what to you? I'm sorry, am I the one who forcefully brought you here? Am I tripping or are you?"

You push at his chest, "you're a fucking whore! Tonguing a girl in front of everyone, in front of me?"

His shoulders shake in silent laughter and you cross your arms when he starts cackling loudly. The music is drowned out and muffled behind the door, but it's nothing compared to how hysterically Jungkook is laughing.

"What's so funny?" you ask lamely. He throws his head back as he clutches his stomach, and you're starting to get annoyed. You push him on the bed, but he's still laughing. "Quit it already," your voice wavers, but you don't back down as you smack his chest. You place your knees on both sides of his hips to limit his movement and cover his mouth to shut him up.

His crescent eyes turn intense instantly as he glares at you under his hooded lids. He exerts only a tiny bit of his energy into pushing your hand away and you weakly collapse on him. It's foul play to compete with his muscles, and you realize he can snap you in half if he wanted to regardless of your rush of adrenaline.

You sit back up as he lowly speaks, "The fuck's it to you? I wanted to fuck her, and I was going to until you stepped in as if you're my girlfriend. Tell me why I shouldn't go back to her right now." He clasps his hands under his head, making himself comfortable with your weight pressing against his crotch.

"You know why," you huff with a frown, and you look so cute in the dim lighting with your baggy knitted sweater bunching up on the sleeves, sitting on his bulge with so much innocence in your expression. He's smitten, but it doesn't show in his cold stare. "I'm your girl, and I won't tolerate you messing around with other women. It's slutty!" You slightly bounce for emphasis, but your knee-length skirt hides your actions. Jungkook feels it with you, and his eyes trail down to your lower region.

"My girl?" he parrots with a raised brow. He gazes back into your eyes. "You do my homework."

"I don't care. I love you," you plead pathetically, "please say you love me back."

"Wasn't I a whore just a second ago?"

"You were! Apologize to me," you harshly yank his head back by his hair. He doesn't react in the slightest, so you softly add, "please."

"Oh little girl," he sighs, "are you really trying to dominate me right now?"

"I am dominating you. Promise me you won't kiss another girl like that again. I won't forgive you a second time."

"Yeah? What's my loss?"

"Well, you're lazy in school," you bluntly state, "and no one loves you like I do. No one would try to cater to you like I do. I'd do anything for you, Kookie." You tug down your skirt to take it off and plop back down on him before saying, "Including sex. You can only use me for your sexual needs."

He's enamored by your words, but he doesn't dare share it with you. Instead, he thrusts upwards and you yelp when you jump. "Go on then," he says nonchalantly. "Show me how much of a slut you are."

"U-Um, okay," you stutter and start unzipping his black denim jeans. You've seen a lot of porn videos to make sure you were prepared for the next step with Jungkook, but you have no experience with penetration.

And he realizes that rather quickly when you're so meek with your actions. With a groan, he asks, "You're not a fucking virgin, are you?"

"I've been saving it for the right guy," you answer with offence. This is a special occasion, and you want him to take it as seriously as you do. But it's definitely not a good idea to be snarky with him when you can barely remember the steps for safe sex. "Do you have a condom?"

"It's in my pocket," he grumbles and points at his front without taking it out himself. You're excited and nervous as you tear the wrapper and take out the preservative. You have no idea how to put it on, but you're topping so you clumsily push down his briefs. Jungkook is surprisingly throbbing under you, and you blush at the sight of his erection.

He stops himself from teasing you and saying that the girl from earlier gave him this boner, but he doesn't want to be cruel yet. It's your first time, and truthfully, he jacks off to thought of you too often anyway. He can handle being somewhat nice by staying quiet, but that doesn't mean he would teach you how to put on a condom.

You slip it on with little struggle, and don't waste any time in positioning his cock in your entrance. Before he can stop you, you sink down on his length with a painful moan. He wants to tell you that losing your virginity in this position is the most painful, but instead he groans, "Holy shit, how are you so fucking tight?"

It hurts so fucking bad. Your tear ducts are like clockwork as they water instantly, but you lower yourself down to the hilt anyway. You're quite literally sitting on his cock as you try to catch your breath because God, you're in so much pain.

"Fuck, are you okay?" he asks, but he's more worried about controlling himself from fucking into you before you can adjust. It's difficult, but he's trying.

"Jungkook," you whimper quietly with your eyes screwed shut, "it hurts."

"You're so fucking dumb for doing this, but you feel so fucking good," he pants as he holds your hips.

"Thank you," you muster out in a breath. A few seconds pass until the pain starts to numb, and you move against him very slowly. Your walls are stinging, but it feels like Heaven for Jungkook who you clench down on.

"Go up and down," he instructs with a bit lip. He tries to move your hips, but you're resisting in fear of another shock of pain. "Come on!"

"Can you wait?" you hiss through clenched teeth.

He's trying to rile you up when he says, "Sana wouldn't take this fucking long."

And it works, because you bounce once. "Don't say her name!"

He groans at your tightness, and he can't believe how wet you are. You're dripping on him, and he curses himself for holding back because of your hopeless romance. He can't entertain your conservative way of going on about this any longer, so he continues, "She would have made me cum by now, but this prissy princess can't even get a move on."

It's almost pathetic how one push from Jungkook makes you start moving, and it feels less uncomfortable to hop up and down against his pelvis. The filthy sound of slapping skin mixing with the generic radio music is making you feel so slutty because it's so stereotypical, but when Jungkook moans, it brings heat all over your body. You take your sweater off when sweat begins to cumulate on your temples, and he commands, "Take off your bra too."

He's thrusting into you as you unclasp the black material, freeing your breasts as he finds his new eyecandies. You are so pretty, your nipples are so hard, and your cunt sucks him in so perfectly. It almost upsets him when he realizes how much pleasure he's deprived himself of; the amount only you seem to be able to provide, because it's beyond physical intimacy.

"Good girl," he exhales and gently slams into you with his hands fondling your tits. You smile coyly through your tears, and he asks, "Does it still hurt?"

You contemplate for a second, because you don't feel the best yet, but you don't want to disappoint Jungkook either. "I-It doesn't," you lie.

Jungkook mentally rolls his eyes; he really wants to believe you so he can chase his high, but he sees right through you. He slaps your tit without mercy and chastises you, "don't lie. I thought this was your little moment of control."

"I'm sorry," you pout as you slowly ride him.

"Another lie," he slaps your other tit more harshly and you yelp.

"I'm not lying!" you plead and hasten your pace, desperate to sell your lie. It's working, because you're starting to feel a knot in your stomach the more you adjust.

He moans with you, and you lose yourself when he stills your hips and begins to fuck you himself. It's rough, loud, and the pain is your pleasure. His balls slap against your skin as he easily slides in and out of you with the help of your arousal. Your love dawns on him when you're so turned on for him without any foreplay, and he's on cloud nine because nothing can compare to being inside you.

The setting is so unlike you, fucking in someone's bedroom with a bunch of people behind the unlocked door who can barge in at any given moment, but he finds it so sexy. You only care about being with him, and you really do look like his slut now.

His hands start holding onto your ass, kneading it until it turns red with his fingerprints, and he demands you to kiss him. You're out of it, your ears are ringing and you can only moan out his name, but you can't bear to ignore him. Your lips fall on his, and the kiss is sloppy with his tongue all over your mouth. You can't keep up, but your chest swells with pride when you realize how needy he is for you. He goes as far as to spit in your mouth, and you swallow it without hesitation.

"You want me to play with your clit?" he murmurs against your lips, and his voice sounds so airy and melodic to your ears. "Hm? Want me to make you feel good, little slut?"

You whine without a clear response because his lips feel so soft and wet, and that's the only thing you can focus on. All you want to do is kiss him and he doesn't stop you from doing so, but you're even more overwhelmed when he starts touching you while penetrating you. "No," you whimper, "I'll cum."

"A slut can take it," he grunts and rubs your clit faster, and you come undone all too soon. You moan loudly as you tremble, shaking as he rides out your high with a pinch to your clit. You're numb when you collapse on top of him, but he's relentless with his thrusts. He's using your body as you intended, and he's vocal with his pleasure and teasing climax. It's remarkable how he holds you up when you've gone limp and still fucks you just as hard.

You want to record his voice when he starts to whine pathetically, but you have no energy left within. He's panting in your ear, and it's not long before his hips fall on the mattress with a sigh. He's surprised by how powerful his orgasm was, as he fills the condom with his release instantly. His cock is still nestled inside you as both of you recover from your climax.

"Get off," he taps your thigh, and he pushes you off when you don't obey immediately. Your spell has worn off as he starts to dress himself. "I'm going back to the dorms." You listen to him with your mind in a haze. "Unless you want to get raped on your way without me, get the fuck up now."

"Can you carry me please?"

He shrugs and swings your arm over his shoulder, picking up your body with ease. He collects your clothes in his hand, but doesn't hand them to you as he steps out of the room.

"W-Wait, Jungkook, I'm naked-"

"You're my girl, no? Be a good slut and shut the fuck up."

Dangling off his shoulder with your bare tits pressed against his back, you close your eyes and drift off on the way to campus.

Boyfriends typically drop their girlfriends off anyway, right?

#bts scenarios #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts imagines #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #bts smut #jungkook smut #jjk smut #jungkook imagines

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stressed-anime-girl · 3 years

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MCC family dynamics because I want to. What are you gonna do? stop me?

Pretty self explanatory. Very pog.

TEAM 1: Red Rabbits!

Mother Nihachu, nurturer of all.

Honorary best friends: Tubbo and Tommy

the cool older cousin: Vikkstar

TEAM 2: Orange Ocelots!

Cool Parent Eret

Cool Parent's friend who the kids like but is kinda hesitant about them KaraCorvus

The favorite child Shubble

Parents best friend from highschool Quig

TEAM 3: Yellow Yaks!

Mother Sylvee, my beloved.

Mother's brother who tries to relate to the kids DanTDM

Everyones favorite cousin Krtzyy

the kids neighbor friend who shows up a little too often SB737

TEAM 4: Lime LLamas!

father fruitberries, willing to kick a child

Perfect child FalseSymmetry

the cousin who everyone forgets they have untill they have a family reunion ReNDoG

the parents cool friend who brings candy cubfan135er

TEAM 5: Green Gaurdians!

the dadTM, Captain Sparklez

the oldest child Georgenotfound

the annoying younger brother Quackity

the oldests boyfriend Dream

TEAM 6: Cyan Creepers!

The couple goals Skeppy and BBH

lovechild TapL

Parents friend who makes too many adult jokes Captain Puffy

TEAM 7: Aqua Axolotls!

Flamboyant father HBomb

grill dad Solidarity

successful oldest child Smajor

Chaotic youngest child Wisp

TEAM 8: Blue Bats!

other grill dad Seapeekay

Child Sapnap Ft. best friend Punz

youngest sister who has the best grades Kathrine Elizabeth

TEAM 9: Purple Pandas!

oldest Grian

the younger sibling who follows the oldest around TheOrionSound

the youngers best friends who also follow the oldest around Petezahutt and InTheLittleWood

TEAM 10: Pink Parrots!

of course, grandfather Philza

bad cool parent Wilbur Soot

chaotic child Jack Manifold

child's friend who's worried about the family because what the absolute fuck Fundy

#mcc #mcyt #mcc 14 #wilbur soot #jack manifold #fundy #grian #sapnap #skeppy #eret #tubbo #tommyinnit #vikkstar

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winterscaptain · 4 years

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arrangements.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader

a/n: i LOVED writing this one, and i’ll have you know that the kitchen scene was taken directly from my life - when my yiayia passed, my theo came to stay with us and did the exact same routine my yiayia and i used to do in the morning so my mom could sleep in. when my mom woke up in a panic, she heard us in the kitchen and knew she could go back to sleep :’)

words: 1.8k warnings: food mention

summary: “so long as we love we serve; so long as we are loved by others, i would almost say that we are indispensable; and no man is useless while he has a friend.” ― robert louis stevenson, lay morals

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | requests closed!

You pad down the hallway, fingertips gently pushing the cracked door to what was formerly Jack and Haley’s room when they lived with Jess. Now, Aaron and Jack take the room while you take the couch.

Nobody wants to be alone.

Jack’s awake, his eyes tracing the patterns in the glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling.

When he sees you, he smiles and opens his mouth. You press a finger to your lips before pointing at Aaron, still sleeping. Be quiet, baby.

You step further into the room, leaving the door open, and gingerly pull the covers away from Jack so you can pick him up. He immediately latches onto you and you straighten, leaving the door cracked as you leave the hallway.

When you’re down the hall and past the arch of the kitchen, you can finally talk. “Alright, Jack. What do you want for breakfast?” You set him on the counter in Jess’s kitchen, ruffling his hair.

You’re exhausted, having barely slept last night, but Jess and Aaron have a whole day of planning and funeral arrangements ahead of them. Jack’s breakfast and morning routines are the last things they need to worry about.

He thinks for a minute. “Cereal.”

“Alright, bud.” You open the cabinet, displaying the options. “Do we want Cheerios, Frosted Flakes, or Kix? I think your dad has Chex in here, but -“

You make matching yuck faces.

“Yeah, I thought so. So what’ll it be?”

“Cheerios.”

+++

Down the hall, Aaron wakes in the guest room with a start, finding Jack’s side of the bed empty. He throws himself out of bed and only stops when he hears your voices in the kitchen.

“...Cheerios it is, then. Do you want to use your monkey bowl, or do you want to use a big bowl and we can share?”

He heaves a sigh of relief.

“Big bowl.”

You laugh a little, and it almost brings a smile to his face. “You sure? That’s pretty ambitious.” Nevertheless, he hears a light clink of ceramic as you pull one of the deep bowls from the cabinet by the sink.

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

He sounds exceedingly confident for someone who eats like a bird.

“Alright. Breakfast will be a team effort, then.”

Aaron creeps forward, surprisingly light on his feet, knowing there’s a place in the hall where he can see into the kitchen without getting caught.

You’re still in your pajamas and so is Jack. The boy watches as you pour a decently-sized bowl of cereal - just about enough for a four-year-old and a late twenty-something to share. Aaron’s eyes follow the casual touches you bestow as you set up, pressing your palms to the sides of his face and kissing the top of his head, running your hand over his shoulders as you pass him for a pair of spoons, helping him settle on your hip with one arm while you grab the cereal with your other hand.

They’re alright.

Without thinking too much more about it, he turns around and goes back to bed, flopping down like a bag of rocks and falling right back to sleep on top of the covers.

He’s too tired to do much else.

+++

You’re with Jack most of the morning, and you’re almost surprised Aaron hasn’t already been running around in a panic to find him.

After breakfast, it’s cartoons and then reading. He helps you fold the blankets from your makeshift bed on the couch - you make a game out of it before you settle down.

Aaron rises again to hear you reading The Giving Tree, and he does his best to swallow his tears. If he thinks hard enough, he can remember what that book sounds like in Haley’s voice.

It’s already harder than it should be. More than half his life knowing her, and he’s terrified of forgetting what her voice sounds like, what her laugh feels like in his arms, the exact color of her eyes.

“‘Then one day the boy came to the tree and the tree said, ‘Come, Boy, come and climb up my trunk and swing from my branches and eat apples and play in my shade and be happy.’

“‘I am too big to climb and play,’ said the boy…”

Aaron sits in the hallway, against the wall and out of your sight, and closes his eyes, listening to you read.

He took a shaky breath as you reached the end of the story. There were tears pressing in at your voice, but you did an excellent job of remaining steady as you continued to read.

“...’I don’t need very much now,’ said the boy. ‘Just a quiet place to sit and rest. I am very tired.’

“‘Well,’ said the tree, straightening herself up as much as she could, ‘well, an old stump is good for sitting and resting. Come, Boy, sit down. Sit down and rest.’

“And the boy did.” You pause, turning the final page. “And the tree was happy.”

There’s quiet for a moment.

“Why are you sad?” Jack asks.

“That story always makes me feel so much that sometimes the feelings come out of my eyes, but I’m not sad, bud. I’m alright.”

“Oh. Does that happen?”

You hum. “Does what happen?”

Aaron can almost see the thoughts working across Jack’s face. “Do sometimes you not know what you’re feeling when you’re crying?”

“Yeah, that happens, sometimes.” There’s a shift, and Aaron’s fairly sure you set the book down and brought him further into your arms. “The more words you know, though, the easier it is to figure out what you’re feeling.”

“How many words do you know?”

You huff a laugh. It almost makes Aaron smile. “I know a lot of words. Between me, your dad, and Uncle Spencer, we probably know all the words.”

Then, Jack screeches a laugh and Aaron knows you’re tickling him within an inch of his life.

That’s a good enough excuse as any to ‘wake up,’ I suppose.

He rises and wipes his tears away, mindful of his double black eyes and the cut across his nose. He probably looks a fright, but he can’t bring himself to care.

You look up as he rounds the corner and you offer him a small smile. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

You push Jack off your lap and he easily scrambles toward Aaron, who picks him up with only the smallest twinge of protest.

“Oh, be careful with Dad, honey.” You remind him, leaning over the couch.

Aaron kisses Jack’s temple. “You’re alright, bud. Just no jumping on me for a couple of days, okay?”

Jack nods, tucking under his chin. “We had breakfast.”

“Did you?” He asks, looking at you like he doesn’t know.

You nod. “I can put something together for you, if you’d like.”

“We’ve got to get going. We’ve got -” He stops for a second. “We’ve got things to take care of today, so we need to get Jack ready to go.”

Standing, you stretch and level him with an unamused look. “Nope. Not having that. I’m making you and Jess breakfast and taking Jack for the day so you can do what you need to do without worrying about anything. Just let me know when you’re done so I can have what I assume will be dinner ready when you get back.”

He raises an eyebrow, but it’s not as animated as his dubious looks have been in the past. Is it worth arguing with you?

You mirror his look. Is it ever?

He sighs and looks at Jack again, telling him that he’ll stay here with you while, “Aunt Jess and I run some errands. Does that sound okay?”

Jack looks over at you and you nod encouragingly.

“That sounds okay.”

His parroting draws the smallest smiles from Aaron, who kisses Jack’s temple again, breathing him in. You can’t even imagine what’s going through Aaron’s head right now. If it were you, you’d never want to let him out of your sight ever again.

When he sets Jack back on his feet, Aaron turns back, headed for the hall bathroom. You get Jack settled with the second round of cartoons for the morning, and make your way down the hallway.

Aaron’s leaning with his hands braced on the edge of the sink, staring straight down. “Hi.”

“Hey.” You stay put in the doorway, giving him some space.

He takes a shaky breath and lets it out heavily through his mouth. “I don’t know how to do this.”

“It would be absolutely batshit if you did, Aaron. You’re supposed to feel that way.”

He’s quiet, still.

“But you’re not alone. I’m here as long as you want, Aaron. I’m not going anywhere.” You step forward, slowly and deliberately so he knows you’re coming.

He loves you so much. Even though Jack’s in the other room, you’re the only one keeping his feet on the floor. He’d have let himself waste away without you here.

Jess does her best, but she’s trying to bury her sister. That, of course, comes with its own nightmarish baggage.

You wait for him, standing at his side until he can finally straighten up and open his eyes. They’re so tired. You wonder if the sleep he’s had has been any sort of useful.

He opens one of his arms, and you wrap yourself around him, your hands flat against his abdomen.

“I wish I could do more for you. For Jack.”

You can feel him shake his head. “You have no idea what it means to us to have you here.”

“I miss her.”

He heaves a sigh, and you’re glad to hear it’s deeper than a few days ago. He is, after all, still healing. “Me too.”

“Take your time today. I can always delegate tasks if you run out of energy and need to call it.” You stare at a random spot on the wall as you talk, your cheek pressed against him.

“What would I do without you?”

You shake your head. “I dunno. You’d probably spend less of your time annoyed at work, but the rest of it would be pretty boring.” You pause. “Your TMJ would probably be a lot worse, too.”

There’s no laugh, but you think maybe he thought about it. After a moment, “Thank you.”

I love you.

“Anytime.”

I love you.

+++

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#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #hotch #tali writes fanfiction #tali talks cm #aaron hotchner fanfiction #shut up tali #a joyful future fanfic

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breanime · 5 years

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Helpless

Part One of the Billy Russo bodyguard AU that nobody asked for... haha, but I figured, since I finished Yellow Diamonds, it was time to start another Billy series. Let me know what you think! This first part is setting up the tension.

Warning: Descriptions of violence

*gif by @benbarnestongue*

You weren’t looking for anything when you’d gone out that night. Really, you just wanted to have a few drinks, maybe dance a little, and go home—alone. It had been a hard week, work was rough, you were behind on your bills, and your landlord had threatened to kick you out again, so you were just looking for a distraction, something to take your mind off of the chaos that was your life. Your goal was to find something cheap and strong to drink, which is what brought you to the dive bar in the first place, and you sat at the bar, ignoring everyone else around you, determined to get in, get buzzed, and get out.

Instead, what you got was Billy Russo.

“This seat taken?” He’d asked you, New York accent oddly pleasing to your ears. You turned to look at him to discover his face was even more pleasing than his voice was. He was tall, thin and lean, with dark hair and darker eyes. He was wearing a black T-shirt and jeans, but he wore them well. He was easily the best-looking guy in the place, and he wanted to sit next to you.

You glanced around the bar, noting several empty seats and tables he could have gone to instead, some of which were in the direct vicinity of girls better looking than you were, yet he chose to come up to you. You looked back at him before turning away, feigning disinterest. “Nah man,” you’d said, bringing your lips to your almost-empty glass, “It’s all yours.”

“Thanks.” He sat beside you, and he was almost close enough to touch. You noticed his biceps as he put his elbows on the bar, clocking the muscles in his toned arms. He signaled the bartender and ordered a drink: Jack and Coke, before turning to you. “Can I buy you a drink?” He asked. “You’re looking kind of empty.”

“Sure,” you put your drink down, “Thanks.”

“One more for the lady,” he ordered, making you smile. “What?” He asked, smiling back. He had a great smile.

“It’s not often I’m called a lady,” you said back.

“I’d settle for your name,” he said easily.

“Y/N,” you stuck out your hand.

“Billy,” he shook your hand, and you liked the way he gripped it, “Billy Russo. So,” he leaned back, eyes appraising you in a way that was surprisingly pleasant, “if you’re not a lady, what kind of girl are you?”

You grinned. That was a loaded question. The bartender slid your drinks over to the two of you, and you took a sip before you answered. “Why don’t you take a guess,” you challenged him.

He smirked, leaning in a bit closer. You turned in your seat so that you were fully facing him as well. His eyes washed over you, traveling down your body slowly, leaving goosebumps without even touching you. You felt your heart speed up when he looked back up at you, eyes staring into yours with a sense of confidence and intimacy that was startlingly appealing. “You’re here alone,” he started, “but you’re not trying to pick anyone up, even though you easily could,” he licked his lips, voice dropping a bit, “Lookin’ like that…” He eyed you up again, clearly liking what he was seeing. “I get the sense that you don’t take shit from anyone,” he went on, “and if you didn’t want me here next to you, I wouldn’t be.”

“Well, you did ask nicely,” you’d said back.

“Not that nice,” his grin was really starting to win you over; it was hypnotizing, “You came in alone,” he said, and you wondered how long he had been there to know that. You’d thought that you’d have noticed a man like him watching you, and you were usually pretty aware of eyes on you. Hm. “And I’m guessing your plan was to leave here alone too, right?”

“That was the plan,” you answered, fully aware of what you were implying.

“You’re a take-no-shit, leave-no-prisoners kind of girl,” he surmised, leaning back in his seat with a smirk, “You’re my kind of girl.”

Four hours later, you were lying naked on your back in his bed, sweaty and breathless. Billy was next to you, grinning at the ceiling. You turned your head and looked at him; he really was a beautiful man—and VERY talented in the sheets. Billy looked back at you, giving you a smile that was all teeth.

“So,” he asked, rolling onto his side and putting a warm hand on your thigh, “What are the chances we can do this again sometime?”

You grinned back, legs still tingling from his attentions. “I dunno,” you said, “what are the chances you make me cum again?”

“Three times wasn’t enough?” He asked, already leaning over you for a kiss. You closed your eyes, letting yourself get lost in the kiss. It was like he had been created in a lab for you, exceeding all of your expectations and touching you with the clarity of a long-time lover, even though you’d just met. His tongue slipped in your mouth at the same time his fingers slipped inside of you, making you gasp into his mouth. “It wasn’t enough for me, either.”

You saw him again the next night, and the night after that as well. Every time you were with Billy, you felt your fondness for him grow. He didn’t tell you much about himself or what he did for a living, but then again, neither did you. The two of you were effortlessly compatible, a fact that even he couldn’t deny, and so it was an easy task to be with him. Before you knew it, you were at Billy’s apartment for five days in a row, leaving in the morning as he got ready for work, trading kisses and dirty promises on your way out the door. He was an ex-Marine; he’d told you, shown you a photo of him and his unit in Afghanistan. You didn’t know exactly what he was doing now, because he told you he was no longer on active duty, but he still went to work—or somewhere—every day. You didn’t ask. It was none of your business. You two liked each other, obviously, but there was an unspoken understanding between the two of you: this, whatever it was, was just for fun. It meant nothing, and there didn’t need to be any feelings involved.

Which is why you didn’t cry when one day Billy stopped returning your calls, and why it wasn’t hard at all to move to a different city once you got prompted at your job. You told yourself it was for the best, and it was fun while it lasted—which it was. You ignored the random pangs of longing that came out of nowhere every now and again, telling yourself it was just because you needed to get laid; you missed the sex, not the man, after all. After the first few months went by, it hardly hurt at all, thinking about Billy.

You were pretty much over it by the time a year rolled by…

…more or less.

You woke up in a bad mood. You’d dreamt of Billy Russo, of his kiss and smile, his long fingers trialing up and down your skin, and you woke up irritated, at both yourself for even having the dream, and at Billy for not being there to soothe you. Your mood hadn’t improved as the day went on; you were annoyed with your co-workers, who were nervous and twitchy as you got ready for your next job, annoyed with the wait, the jitters and what-ifs that came before the rush, and annoyed with your boss for being the insufferable asshole he always was.

“Listen up, ladies,” he said, even though you were the only woman there, “This job is a two-parter,” he was standing in the middle of the room, hands on his hips, “Tonight we go for the driver; he’s gonna have the routes, passwords, and plans on him. With that, we’ll be able to get in and get out before anyone even knows we’re there.” He looked over at you, eyes hard. “I’m counting on you for this one, Y/N,” he said, “You fuck it up, and we’re all going to prison.”

You didn’t react, just gave him a bored stare. This was common, the pressure he put on you before a job. But you could take it—you always could.

He stepped over to you, boots slamming against the concrete floor. He was armed, you knew, because he was always armed, but you didn’t budge, just watched as he stomped over to you, looking up calmly as he towered over you. “This is where you tell us all that you’ve got it covered,” he growled.

You looked past him and saw the others looking at you. Alex, the tech guy, was at his computer, hacking into something, you guessed. Justin was standing next to Jamal, both of them cleaning and checking guns. Ronnie was supposed to be listening to the police scanner, but his eyes were on you. The new kid, Khalil, was openly staring. This was his first major job, so he hadn’t seen this display before. You looked back up at your boss, Big Joe, and knew what it was he wanted you to say. “I’ve got it covered,” you parroted, “Dad.”

He nodded, stalking off to try to intimidate one of the others, pent up energy going where it always went with him: outward. Newly irritated, you got up and went over to Khalil. He was prepping the bags, making sure the zippers all worked and the handles were sewn on tight. It was grunt work, to be honest, but…the kid was a grunt.

“Are you nervous, Y/N?” He asked.

You liked Khalil. He hooked up with you guys to make some money to pay for his mother’s medical bills. He was a good kid. “Nah,” you answered, taking a bag and helping him check it, “I’ve been doing this too long to be nervous.”

“Yeah…” He looked away before glancing back up at you. It occurred to you then that he was probably just in his teens. He shouldn’t be here. “I, uh… Didn’t know Big Joe was your dad…”

“He’s not,” you put the bag down and grabbed another, “He adopted me when I was a kid, Ronnie, too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” you shrugged, “Ronnie’s my adopted brother.” You looked down at Khalil; he was captivated. “Joe’s been having me help him on cons since I was 11,” you went on, feeling unusually talkative, “It started out as just some soft shoplifting, dine-and-dashes, stuff like that. Then we graduated to pulling scams on white collar guys, blackmailing them for a briefcase full of cash,” you hated those days, hated having to even be around those stuck-up assholes, have to let them look down on you the way they did, “Ronnie started robbing corner stores and stuff, turns out he had a talent for it, so Big Joe let him in on his big jobs. I wanted in, so I convinced him to let me drive the getaway car,” you smiled, tossing the last bag back to Khalil, “And here we are.”

“I’ve seen you drive,” he said, awe clear in his voice, “Alex showed me some footage from the job you did in Miami, you’re incredible.”

“Thanks.”

“Like, that’s what I want to do,” he went on, “I want to be like you, so badass, make that crazy cash—”

“Listen,” you stopped him, “From someone who’s been doing this for most of her life, let me tell you: it ain’t shit. Robbing trucks on the highway, having to look over your shoulder all the time, never being able to settle down or be completely honest with someone…” Your mind provided a picture for you then, a flash of dark eyes and a shining smile. You pushed it away. “…It sucks, man. It’s shit.” You leaned down so that only Khalil could hear you. “After this job,” you whispered, “you need to take the money, take your mom, and get as far away from Joe as you can.” You stood up, looking him in the eye to make sure he heard you. Then you walked away. It was almost time for the job. And after this two-parter, as Joe called it, you’d take your own advice, grab your money and your brother, and get the hell away from that man as fast as you could.

The plan was simple, repetitive even; you drove the crew up to the target’s truck—an armored truck transporting fresh new bills to a bank, as well as the copy of the next delivery, route, and access codes to several of the company’s ATMs—and Joe led the guys, Justin, Jamal, and Ronnie, onto the top of the truck where they cut a hole in the ceiling. Justin and Jamal were charged with collecting the money, packing it into the bags Khalil had prepared earlier, while Joe and Ronnie handled the driver. Ronnie kept the driver occupied with threats (and violence) if need be, and Joe—communicating with Alex, who was in the back of your van—hacked into the locked case and got the codes and plans. After that, it was all you. The guys would get back in the van with you, and you’d make sure you all got back to the safehouse without having to deal with the cops. From then on, it was only a matter of checking the plans and routes and whatnot, making some plans of your own, and doing one last job. Easy peasy.

But then the driver had a gun, and he was shooting and yelling, and you could barely hear anything in your headset beyond the sound of bullets and screaming. You swerved, moving the truck to the right sharply when the armored truck nearly ran into you.

“What the fuck is going on?” You asked into the headset, trying to keep the van as close to the truck as you could.

“Get ready,” Joe huffed into the receiver, sounding out of breath, “We’re getting the fuck out of here!”

You did as he said, bringing the van right next to the truck, despite the haphazard driving and swerving, and reached up, opening the sunroof for the guys.

“The fuck is up with this driver?” Alex asked, shifting as you had to swerve once again to avoid being run over.

You didn’t know, and so you didn’t answer. You jumped, as you always did, when you heard the crash of a body hitting the van—the boys were coming back. Joe dropped in first, breathing hard. He pulled Ronnie in next, then Justin.

“Go, go, go!” He shouted, climbing into the passenger seat beside you.

“Where’s Jamal?” You asked, looking up at the truck, expecting to see him standing on the roof, ready to jump.

“He’s dead, let’s go!” Joe answered.

You looked into the rearview mirror and locked eyes with Ronnie. His eyes were wide and watery, and you noticed blood on his face and shirt.

“Drive!” Joe’s voice brought you back to earth, and you hit the gas hard. When you looked back at the road behind you, you saw the truck veer off to the shoulder and crash, and you knew why the driver had been driving like that before: he was dead.

No one spoke all the way home, there was complete silence all the way until you pulled in. Khalil was waiting for you all in the garage, ready to go through the bags of cash for any dye-packs or unmarked bills. He froze when Ronnie stepped out. “Wh—what happened?” He asked, voice shaking. He blinked. “Where’s Jamal?”

“Dead,” Joe answered, grabbing one of the bags and tossing it on the ground, “We need to go through these.”

“How did he die?” You asked, voice hollow.

Joe threw another bag on the crowd, back to you. “Driver had a gun. Shot him in the chest.”

“W—we should have taken him with us,” Justin said, eyes overflowing with tears, “We just left him…” He looked up at you and Ronnie. “I didn’t see him die, he could still be…”

“He’s dead,” Ronnie said. You looked over at him. You’d ever heard his voice like that before, so full of anger. His eyes were on Joe’s back, but Joe was still clearing the car out. “Joe shot him,” he went on. Your blood went cold. “He killed the driver, and then walked over to Jamal and shot him in the head.”

Joe stopped moving, but didn’t turn around. He just stood there, his back to his crew, as this revelation came out.

Justin was shaking, and Alex moved away from Joe, as if he could catch ruthlessness from the other man like a disease. Khalil moved closer to you, and you would have felt sorrier for the boy if you weren’t so disgusted by Joe. “You killed him?” Justin asked, tears streaming down his face.

“He was already dying,” Joe said without turning around, “I had to make sure he wouldn’t talk. He was dying anyway.”

“We don’t do this,” Ronnie said, shaking his head. His hands were balled at his side, and you could practically feel the rage coming off of him. “We don’t kill people; we don’t kill our own people…”

“We rob,” you agreed, staring at Joe’s broad back, “And sometimes—sometimes, someone gets hurt, but we don’t kill. We never have.”

“You never have,” Joe twirled around, eyes wide and wild, “I did what I had to do—and I’d do it all over again if it meant I get my money and my life!” His voice echoed in the silent room. “That’s why I’m in charge,” he went on, “cause I make the hard decisions, I keep this operation running! I’m the one who took you off the streets,” he snarled at Ronnie, “saved you from your crack fiend mama and taught you how to thrive,” he glared over at you now, “And I’m the one who took you in when your parents died, brought you up from nothing. So all you bitches can shut the fuck up, dry your damn eyes, and start clearing these bags!”

No one moved.

“You killed Jamal,” Justin whispered, soft and slowly like he was testing the words, “You killed him.”

“That’s manslaughter,” Ronnie said, “Two counts, life in prison.” He shook his head again, disgusted, “You’re done, Joe.”

“How dare you talk to me like that,” Joe hissed, “I’m your father—”

“—You’re not my father,” Ronnie snapped back, “or hers! You’re an old man who’s gonna spend the rest of his life in prison—”

“—How?” Joe asked. “No prints, no evidence—I didn’t leave shit behind!”

“I’m not going down for you,” Ronnie said, taking a step back, “I’m out.”

You opened your mouth, ready to say the words as well, when you were interrupted by a loud bang. You blinked, feeling something warm and wet erupt on your face, and the next thing you knew, you were staring down at your brother Ronnie…

…with a hole in his head.

Everything happened in kind of a blur after that. You vaguely remembered screaming, and you must have touched Ronnie, because later you noticed how bloody your clothes were. You had never felt so helpless in your life as you had as you held Ronnie in your arms, watching him take his last breaths. There was nothing that could have been done, even you could tell that the shot was fatal, and once he finally stopped moving and you felt him go limb, you knew he was dead.

Joe had made some kind of speech then about betraying him, gesturing with his gun and yelling and cursing, but you hadn’t heard it. All you could hear was the pounding of your heart in your ears. The boys all went back to work, grabbing the bags and going through them, but you didn’t move. Even when everything was packed up, you stayed on the ground with Ronnie, staring down at his lifeless body. You vaguely registered movement from your peripheral and saw Alex and Justin leave. Khalil said your name above you, but you didn’t look up. You heard his soft “I’m sorry” before he left, too. A few minutes later, you felt a hand on your shoulder.

You looked up to see Joe. He didn’t look at Ronnie, made an effort to avoid him, actually, as he stared down at you, feigning regret. “I had to,” he said lowly, “I had to… He was my own son,” he shook his head, closing his eyes as if he was just so hurt, “and he was gonna betray me, gonna rat…” He opened his eyes again. “I had to…and I’ll do the same to you if I have to.”

You watched him walk away. Then you got up, knees wobbling and hands shaking, and got in your car.

By the time you made it to the police station, you were all out of tears to cry.

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

Let me know what you think! Thanks for reading! I have the next part ready to go if anyone is interested in this plotline.

Helpless Taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added or removed): @accioromancff @funerals-with-cake @700teacups @thesumofmychoices

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#billy russo x reader #billy russo imagine #the punisher #helpless fic

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beatrice-otter · 4 years

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Yuletide Recs 2019

Happy Yuletide, everyone! First, I got a delightful little fic written for me: promenade. My Fair Lady, Eliza Doolittle and Mrs. Higgins. Wonderful story. Mrs. Higgins was superb, and Eliza's reactions to the English upper class abroad are perfect. Here are some other fics I have enjoyed: 4'33"--John Cage The Sound Of A Yuletide Fic Not Being Written. There sure are a lot of cars going by. Great meta look at writing, and 4'33" The Addams Family (movies) An Addams Family Contract (Written in Secret, Signed in Blood). “I’m an Addams,” Debbie protests indignantly. Immediately after making this statement, Debbie realized that it was true. (Or, Wednesday wants to exorcise Debbie. Debbie wants to kill Wednesday. A negotiation begins.) This is AMAZING and hysterically funny, and the thought of Debbie and Wednesday working together is TERRIFYING. Don't I Deserve Love (and Jewelry). The plan to win Wednesday’s friendship did not start well. She shared her admiration for the girl’s blowtorch, then hinted about her own childhood affinity for matchsticks and fire accelerants, but Wednesday was unimpressed. Do better,” she said before lowering her hockey mask and stalking after Pubert. Honeymoon in Transylvania. Ahahahaha, this is wonderful. Gomez and Morticia vs. the TSA! Alien Series A Room with a Crappy View. 17k of Ripley and Hicks awesomeness post-Aliens. This is an absolutely AMAZEBALLS fic, and I LOVE it. I love that they deal with their trauma. I love how they wrote the Colonel, doing the best she could on the evidence she had and how frustrating that was and yet, when you look at it from her POV, what better way could she have handled it? The action is great, the relationships between Ripley and Hicks and Bishop were awesome, this is an absolute treat. All About Eve Getting Back to Being a Woman. Karen knew enough not to go to New Haven. Never let it be said that Margo Channing doesn't know how to take care of her friends. I love this. I could just hear Bette Davis and the others saying their lines, and the ending is perfect--I think Karen and Lloyd will be able to have a much better relationship after this, if he's willing to accept and live into the changed relationship. Till I have the possession of everything she touches. Addison DeWitt/Eve Harrington and their daughter. VERY well done Addison perspective. Aubrey-Maturin series. Vent de Boulet. Jack & Aubrey, Teen. The aftermath of Stephen's escape from the French interrogators at Port Mahon. Wonderful portrayal of the relationship between them and natural consequences of their trauma-filled lives. Babette's Feast Body and Soul. After the French dinner, a new normal established itself among the faithful. Ballet Shoes A Long Way from the Cromwell Road. Petrova visits Pauline in Hollywood after the war ends. Bletchley Circle Logical Recovery. After the showdown with Marta Magro at the warehouses, Jean, Millie, and Lucy embark for Glasgow to find Eliška. Archival research, an extended stay with Jean's cousin, undercover rescue missions, and much emotional processing of past events ensue. Cabaret Infinite Variety. London, 1950. Clifford has coming looking for Sally. Instead he finds a girl who may or may not be her – or their – daughter, the reclusive former Master of Ceremonies, and an annoying parrot. He becomes part of their strange household, full of love and bickering; sorrow, pain and music. No-one will tell him where Sally is, or even whether she’s alive. No-one will tell him anything. Except the parrot, who tells him that life is a Cabaret. Oh, wow, this is painful but SO GOOD and the ending is perfect. DC Teen Titans From Cold to Fire. "Do you want to go out with me?" "What?" Young Justice Getting Stupid in your area. Hang-time includes considerations of evil clones and taking down a newly raised lich lord. Love the banter. Die Hard Your Answers Please. “Come on, kid,” McClane said gruffly. “This place is fucking depressing. You’re coming to stay with me.” Enchanted Forrest Chronicles Best Served Cold. In which Antorell causes trouble in the Enchanted Forest, and Cimorene and Alianora make an amphibious new friend. Hilarious, I love Ribbita! Ghostbusters Better Than Roses. Janine dates. It's...something. The Goblin Emperor Imperial (non) Immunity. Csevet doesn't get sick. Maia's not so confident. Light a Mourner's Candle. The Archprelate finds a chaplain for Maia. Against a Sure Winter. When the opportunity arose to become one of the four ceremonial bodyguards for the new Emperor, Cala Athmaza volunteered. He didn't fully realize what he was letting himself in for, but he knew in his heart he had made the right choice. Sugar Lumps. Maia spends some time with his horse. Greek Mythology beauty, her artificers. Shortly after their wedding, Aphrodite sustains a small wound. Really great Aphrodite/Hephaestus dynamic. a thing of beauty, golden. Olympus’ one-century wonder appears in Hephaestus’ workshop between one strike on his anvil and the next.. Another really great Aphrodite/Hephaestus fic. Hancock yeah I know the shortcut, rather take the long way. Ray daydreams a New York that looks a lot like something out of an old Daredevil comic - towers looming over the city like cragged, jaded sentries, impartial to the neon kaleidoscope of chaos churning along below them. Hancock roosts on the tallest, craggiest one of course, brooding as he watches the slow pulsing heartbeat of the city below him. Ready to dive off his perch and into action with the first cry of distress, and there’s probably lots of those in a city like New York. Lots of zooming around, saving people, saving the world. Hopefully with slightly less metaphorical middle fingers to the world. And less alcohol. Ray’s not an idiot though, and one sparkly life-changing month doesn’t just fix people. History RPF 15th Century. these late eclipses. Anne Neville, like others of her line, is born with a gift. I LOVE the way magic is brought into this, it melds so well with the history. 19th Century/German folklore The Bargain. Bettina finds a secret door at her grandmother's house, one that leads to something very unexpected. The things she learns as a result change her life in small but important ways. Imperial Radch Still Left in Want of Mercy. The Republic of Two Systems is about a month old. Seivarden is having yet another crisis - can Mercy of Kalr get her through it? Maybe, with the crew's and Fleet Captain's help. Interesting Ship perspective. high above the trees. An unexpected embassy. Really excellent, probably the best way I've ever seen "Awn Lives" done. The Incredibles Life of a Superhero, Junior Grade. Fortunately, this was Tuesday night training, not a real villain-chasing experience. Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell The Magicians of Starecross Hall. Being a series of interludes in the life of John Segundus, newly practical magician, in the year following the disappearances of Messrs. Strange and Norrell. Including: a new school for young magicians, explorations of the King’s Roads, Lady Pole’s alarming needle-work, unanticipated trips to Faerie, and John Childermass. I love this story! How the school got started, and 'Miss Wintertowne' (although I do think she would style herself 'Mrs' Wintertowne, because she is married and up through the 18th Century 'Mistress/Mrs' vs. 'Miss' had as much to do with age and experience and such as it did with marital status) and how she uses embroidery as a kind of art therapy. I love the slow burn, and I love the stuff about exploring the King's Roads and Faerie. It is excellent and awesome. Lilo & Stitch The Dance. Lilo peeked out from behind the curtains and looked over the stage. A Little Princess Discipulae. "I just realized," Sara said. "Becky, I could have a tutor now. I could hire someone to teach me anything I wanted. All the things that are hard to learn alone from books — Greek and Latin, Sanskrit, algebra, anything I wanted. What would you learn, Becky, if you could?" Really great look at what their lives could be like post-canon. Marvel Captain Marvel Take my hand (and we'll march to the front lines). There's a dream Vers has sometimes. this youthful heart can love you. Carol waited a week before she left with the Skrulls. Space Cases. Monica tried many other times to win her mother over to a pet. A rabbit, a pony, a parakeet. This is not any of those stories. This is the story of Monica Rambeau and a Flerken named Goose. Or: Why Nick Fury is never allowed to babysit ever again. The Tesseract's Wife. A straight line is not the shortest distance between two points: non-linear snapshots of a love story. Fly Me To The Moon. "It's a vacation. Like spring break," Carol says. Monica's eyes widen. "Really? So we can hang out? What are we going to do?" "Well," Carol says, leaning back in her chair and flashing that old, familiar smirk. "I thought we could go to the moon." Into the Spiderverse i got you. Miles thinks he's hiding the truth about Spider-Man, but one unfortunate night, it comes to light. one last leap. Telling his parents he's Spider-Man is a leap of faith Miles can't bring himself to take. My Life to Liv. Liv survived her encounters with her interdimensional Spider-nemeses, of course. So what's next for her? Interdimensional Phone Pals. Gwen Stacy is many things, but open to friendships isn’t really one of them. Or, Five rules Gwen makes for herself, and how Peter B. makes her question them. Into the Spiderverse/Murder, She Wrote Spider, She Wrote. Miles and May visit her old friend Jessica in Cabot Cove. Mulan (1998) the proper order of things. Great outsider perspective. The Mummy After the Mummy. London was becoming Rick's least favourite place, and not just because of all the rain. Loving Evy was one thing: figuring out whether she loved him back after the Egyptian heat faded away was something else. Where's a good rising of the undead when you need one? Don't worry, Jonathan found one. Lovely fun adventure. Course Correction. Jonathan really is serious about staying away from tombs and mummies this time (except trouble always seems to find him). Good thing Ardeth is there to help him stay on-track. Travelers by Night. Very quickly, Jonathan weighed the odds. On one hand, potential death, whether by armed bandits, a mummy’s curse, or people who looked like bandits and who were very angry about someone unleashing a mummy’s curse. On the other hand, potential riches, home ground, and topics of conversation other than what happened at school fifteen years ago and who got it in the neck where. Murderbot How I Spent My Vacation Between Survey Missions. What happens when ART reunites with Murderbot during another break between research survey missions? Media gets viewed, of course, but there might also be some bad news for more shady corporations. Situation Normal. Hi, I said, along with amusement sigil 159 = wave. It seemed a little inadequate, but what do you say to the ship that radically altered your appearance, helped you figure out your past, and also threatened you with terrifying weapons? Amusement sigils seemed like my best bet. My Fair Lady Here We Are Together. Eliza and Freddy are working together. Henry isn't happy, and makes sure everyone knows it. One Day at a Time what they say about the young. Without the kids around, it feels like everything has changed, except for all the other things about Penelope's life that could change, too. a return to normal. Penelope and Schneider's Friday night plans fall through, so they have a movie night instead. Very sweet. Persuasion. The Pen in Their Hands. Five letters that were written, but were never sent, aboard H.M.S. Laconia. (And one that was.) Smooth Water. “If I wanted easy comfort, I should not have become a captain’s wife.” Wonderful Austen voice. A Step Not Taken. What if that day at Lyme had gone just a little differently? Peter Wimsey The Duke's Parlormaid. A story in correspondence, with detective interruptions. Really captured the feel of the books and all the character voices. Poirot The Mice Will Play. When Poirot returns unexpectedly from a case, he finds out something new about Miss Lemon. RED The One Bathtub. “I did have dinner plans,” Han said, grudgingly, and so Victoria kicked the door in and graciously allowed Han to be the first into the bathroom. She understood the pain of missed reservations. Rivers of London Through All the Years, This Is My Home. At night, when the rest of the staff and most, if not all, of the masters were asleep, Molly would wander the moonlit halls and remember what fresh air felt like on her skin. Of Molly, of Thomas, and of the years they've spent together - and of the Folly, strong and everlasting. Lovely Molly perspective. Peelian Principles. "You're very calm about this," Seawoll said on the fifth day. Nightingale's perspective on Peter's time as a hostage, and REALLY AWESOME. UXB. When one the deadliest weapons of the Blitz threatens London once again, Peter finds himself on the front line. Wonderful casefic, just perfect. Saved! Conversation Starters. Cassandra and Roland have five important conversations. Sense and Sensibility Realization and Renewal. As Marianne recovers, Elinor and Colonel Brandon find themselves drawn to one another. Sense8 Blue and Gold. Wolfgang comes home with Kala and Rajan after Paris. Finding a place with them. Star Trek: Rihannsu Day Comes Up New. "I have done something spectacularly stupid," Arrhae said. This is a wonderful extension and meditation on what might happen past canon. Ever since I first read The Romulan Way as a teen, I've wondered what happened to Arrhae in the end, and the subsequent books were great but didn't answer the ultimate question. This doesn't either, but it suggests something further, which I appreciate. Terminator Movies A Fistful of Sarahs. The sky cracks open, and Sarah watches herself tumble out of a rift in the space time continuum. She’s older than she is now, and she’s got a lot more scars, and she’s carrying the biggest and weirdest looking gun Sarah’s ever seen. with all the hope in my heart (and doubt in my mind). Sarah Connor has done this before. Dani has not. Post-Terminator: Dark Fate. Fate, the Future, and Other Sons of Bitches. Sarah and Dani hit the road. Winnie the Pooh In Which Pooh Hunts for the Meaning of Christmas. Pooh finds a mysterious envelope pinned to the door of his house. In Which Eeyore Loses His Tail Again, Or At Least Plans To. It's a bright, sunny day, and Eeyore has a plan to make it tolerable. Now if only his friends will cooperate.

#fic rec #fanfiction #fanfic #yuletide

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gem-quest · 4 years

Text

[QUEST o2. - E N T H R O N E D]

(written by @bebemoon)

mentions: @ayzrules @elissastillstands & @armadasneon

. . . Quest 2 .

A few days passed without word from Inferna, and Neddy was beginning to think she'd been forgotten.

A pair of players were marrying in the gardens the week following the meadow fair. And Neddy made an appearance out of sheer curiosity-

The ceremony was within a tumble of pale pink blossoms beneath a flowering tree, and the fae—and even all who were stuck on the level—were in attendance, surrounding the couple of Moonstone players. Neddy recognised the groom as the gleaming Moonstone jouster from the fair. The bride was a tiny Healer with hair matching the blossoms overhead and a veil of glimmering chain mail set with white crystals. They seemed blissful- so much so that Neddy wondered about them.

Besides, was this a binding union in the real world? Probably not since Finvarra was the one to marry them, and Neddy rather doubted the Prince was ordained for such an affair. He wasn't even real.

Maybe it didn't matter to them- at any moment, any of them could be skewered with a sword and die at once in two worlds. Might as well live happily and love when possible.

Neddy shook her head. What an outlandish situation they all found themselves in . . .

There was a celebration afterwards, but in Yue City. Understandably, the happy couple wanted to be able to eat together as well as remain free of the fae.

Neddy stayed behind to put her feet up on the feast table alongside some of Finvarra's tittering wives to watch the dancing for a while. The feeling of isolation began to creep up on her once again.

Suddenly, there was a familiar trilling from her rucksack at her feet, barely audible over the fairy music. It was the sound the Plexus' messaging function made when a new message was received.

Excitedly, Neddy dug into the rucksack and drew the Plexus out. She swiped the screen, and the new message appeared. It was from Inferna- "Jack's Girlfriend" [fire emoji] in the Plexus.

The message read: WYD ???

Neddy replied with a long message detailing the wedding she'd just witnessed, overseen by the Prince himself.

To which the redhead pithily replied, "Bruh xD".

Neddy grinned at her screen.

Inferna went on to ask Neddy if she was ready to take on Aydina, and when Neddy indicated that she was "ready as she would ever be", the other girl sent back:

“Btw I invited 2 other ppl to join us for dodgeball- Morningstar and Balestra if u wanted to look them up! Hope that’s okay 💖💖💖 say hi to jack 4 me!!!!”

Attached to this was a selfie of the candy-redhead eating the apricot tartlets Neddy had paid her with.

Morningstar wasn't a name that Neddy recognised- but Balestra, she knew immediately. She was another Moonstone player- a celestial knight- with a griffin mount. If Neddy wasn't very much mistaken, the griffin ate some of the garden's fae NPCs. And Finvarra still recounted the incident like some sort of disastrous Biblical tale.

Maybe it would be good to have someone like that on her side? If Balestra's griffin ate Aydina, would that be an automatic win?

Neddy replied simply to Inferna with a thumbs-up emoji, but she couldn't help feeling a twinge of doubt.

I C T U I U M . to . M E R M A I D . C O V E .

Inferna and her two companions were already waiting in the level 30 foyer—a wide glass room looking into the beachy landscape beyond with huge, flat screens showing players already in action on the level—when Neddy blinked in.

Seeing the sparkling sea spread out to her left, Neddy's first inclination was to start singing “La mer”.

Inferna's disappointment that Neddy had shown up sans Jack was instantly perceptible. The redhead pushed her lip out and raised one hand to her hip.

“Where’s Jack?” she said, pouting dramatically. “I even brought him a huge thing of sugar cubes! And a fresh batch of sauce.”

Neddy pulled an apologetic face. "Sorry, he's been M.I.A. for a couple of days," she told her. "He does that, I'm finding."

A slip of a girl with a crown of curls and a longsword on her hip was leaned up against one of the glass walls. She nodded at Neddy by way of a greeting.

Inferna jerked her chin at her. "That's Balestra," she said, grinning. "Moonstone rider like yourself. Maybe you know her?"

Neddy didn't want to bring up the gardens fiasco in case it was a sore spot with Balestra, and so she lied. "Oh, er, no- I-I don't believe we've met, actually," she stammered. "I'm Neddy. I swear I'm a real rider- my mount is just . . . I don't think he'd be much good at dodgeball anyway."

Three pairs of eyes regarded Neddy. She didn't know why she was so nervous, but she knew everyone could tell that she was.

At least Inferna seemed to be enjoying herself, as usual. She snorted in the silence. "And that's Morningstar over there," she said, thumbing the other player in the foyer.

The third pair of eyes were almost too haunting to properly look into. They belonged to a ribbon of white slashed with violent red- a crown of berries, Neddy realised. Intimidatingly, a crystal scythe lay across her shoulders and her arms were draped over either side of the polearm. She looked a bit crucified.

The phantom made no move to acknowledge Neddy. However, her strange golden eyes stayed pinned to her.

Neddy merely raised her hand in a meek wave. "Hello."

Morningstar said nothing.

Inferna clapped her hands to break the bizarre tension between the four of them. "Well, let's go kick some ass!" she declared and punched the air. “I just confirmed with the other seven people who agreed to join our party. Three Ammolite, two Obsidian, two Moonstone.”

Neddy was impressed. Inferna was certainly on top of things. Perhaps more apricot tartlets were in order.

Inferna flashed them a cheeky grin. “Let’s go down to the beach?”

Neddy considered herself fortunate to have gotten some intimidating figures on her side for this dodgeball match- especially considering the others Inferna had rounded up. Not an inspiring bunch. But Inferna had only been looking to fill out the team.

Mermaid Cove was beautiful. The beach was blush and the sky was bright. The harbour was bustling at one end of the shore and magnificent pirate ships bobbed in the offing. Up the beach, giant pink conch shells were set upright in the sand and hollowed out into stalls that sold necessities like medi-elixirs, pep potions, and replacement gear. An old one-eyed woman with a blue parrot on her shoulder was selling fried octopus tentacles in shell-shaped baskets. A length of fishing net was draped over the market area and all manner of scavenged sea treasures and seashells were strung up, dangling over the customers as they browsed.

Neddy wanted to roam the market area for a while, but Inferna was all business.

Inferna led them through the intro ordeal, having one of the other players activate the in-game event with the NPC shopkeeper, since Inferna herself had already completed the level and therefore could not activate it again.

Inferna tapped her foot impatiently as the NPC ran through her whole sob story about how the mermaids had created Angel’s Breath to revive drowned humans, how the pirate queen Aydina and her eleven crew members had killed off all the mermaids to keep Angel’s Breath for herself-

Finally, the NPC said, “If you get the pirates to leave the town, I’ll show you where the last Angel’s Breath is hidden.”

“Great, let’s go,” said Inferna, then she directed the rest of the group to the shoreline.

As they stood on the beach, she threw her finger in the direction of the sea where a massive dome was rising slowly out of the water.

"Look, look!" Inferna shouted. "There it is!"

The others crowded around to watch in awe as the dome continued to surface, throwing off water and a terrible mechanical noise that scraped the ears.

"We're going into that thing?" Neddy asked, her stomach flipping.

Meanwhile, a pirate ship-complete with a skull and crossbone flag-sailed into view. Inferna rolled her eyes. “Yeah, in a sec,” she replied. “Aydina has some dialogue that we have to sit through. God fucking damn, but the NPC shit in this game gets so tedious.”

It wasn’t much longer before Aydina, the pirate queen, sauntered up over to them, her crew right behind her. With an unruly mane of fiery red curls, fierce eyes, and dressed in sheer black chiffon that billowed dramatically in the breeze, with lacy black gloves that went up to her elbows and a pair of badass black boots to match.

Inferna cut to the chase. Apparently, sometimes you could skip the intro dialogue if you talked faster than the NPCs. “Yo, Aydina! Get the fuck out of here.”

The NPC gave Inferna a disparaging look. “How are you going to make me?”

“I challenge you to a dodgeball game,” she replied tightly, and Aydina nodded her agreement.

“Time to go!” Inferna crowed, evidently pleased that she’d successfully gotten Aydina to skip through most of the annoying dialogue.

A narrow walkway of roped-together driftwood began to rise out of the sea. It did not look the least bit steady, and Neddy was ready to forego the whole thing just at the sight of it.

The sea is beautiful, yes. But it is also crushing and fathomless. And Neddy had always had a fear of it. The prospect of going beneath the ocean's surface was almost debilitatingly frightening.

She hated herself for wishing Callum was there to hold her hand.

But no sooner had the thought of him crossed her mind that Inferna was taking her hand and pulling her towards the rickety walkway.

“Come on, move your ass,” Inferna said, shooting her a playful look as she tugged her along. “Be careful during the actual game, though. Aydina can randomly let water into the court and drain it out whenever she wants. It’s the biggest pain ever.”

Neddy wanted to sink inside herself at that, but- it felt almost as if Inferna was passing some of her chaotic strength through her fingers into Neddy’s. And her feet moved to follow after the redhead.

They marched into the dome, and the door sealed off behind them, metal clanging as the dome sank back under the sea to rest on the sea floor. The dome itself was made out of some kind of transparent material, allowing them to see the various sea creatures and coral formations surrounding the place.

Inferna paused, causing Neddy to pause too. The redhead seemed to have noticed a throng of excited players making their way back to the foyer, where they’d be able to watch the game on the screens.

“What?” Neddy wondered, dividing a look between the Inferna’s face and the other players.

“If we win-” Inferna cut herself off and then winked at Neddy. “When we win, those players will be swarming all over us the second we get back to land- for the Angel’s Breath. Best to have a few ictuium potions on hand.”

Inferna said as much to Balestra and Morningstar as well. Then, Aydina was explaining the rules of the game to them.

“If the ball-” and here she summoned the “dodgeball” out of thin air, which was an enchanted turtle shell- “hits you, and then hits the ground, you’re out. If you catch the ball, you’re safe. If the ball bounces off of you and one of your teammates catches it, you’re both safe. But, if the ball bounces off of you and someone on the other team catches it, you’re out.”

Inferna cast Neddy a sideways glance. “Don’t get hit,” she advised. “That thing packs a punch on its own, but depending on her mood, Aydina can make it stab you with barnacles, shock you, or spray disgusting gross poisonous stuff that’ll kill you before the time is up.”

Aydina rolled the ball over to where Inferna was standing. “I’ll let you guys have the first go,” she said, smirking confidently at them, looking directly at Inferna. “Since I feel sorry for you. How many brain cells do you have, to be wearing such an atrocious hat?”

“Fuck you!” Inferna shot back as she picked up the ball. “You’re such a fucking cunt.”

The pissed-off redhead gave the other eleven people a questioning look. “Well, should I go for it? Or do one of you guys want to do the honors?”

[ You can pick up here or back up a bit or do as you like if you end up taking this quest up ! No instructions for Neddy (but keep in mind she’s not a strong player), just do as you like and make sure they win ! ^^ And, if you need any help at all, just ask either Ayz or me~ ]

#enthroned #selah #moonstone #written by fanfan #q2 #MASSIVE THANKS TO ALLY FOR ALL THE ACTUAL GAMEPLAY INFO (she wrote some of this herself !!!) and of course for inferna's dialogue~#C O M P L E T E #once again MASSIVE MASSIVE THANKS TO AYZ that whole last bit in the dome was basically her writing askjhfskjm #writing #neddy

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restless-one · 5 years

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A little something I wish someone had told me when I started Minecraft.

Watching Jack noobing his way through one of my favourite games has made me quite happy. Also I realized how much info I’m so used to, I just take it for garanted.

I’ve been mining & crafting since update aquatic so my noob days are not that long ago, so here a little something I wish someone had told me on my first mining sessions:

1) F3 & Screenshot because nothing is more annoying than exploring and not finding your way back or finding something interesting and than not finding it again. Coordinates are your friends. (Nobody told me, so I had to swandive off a mountain to respawn in my base)

2) Beds, learn to craft them, learn to love them. They keep the night away, they help you set your spawn, let you sleep through thunderstorms... Beds are great. Just don’t use them in the nether (the explosion really is spectacular and you are really truly dead.)

3) Pets. A small army of loyal dogs can be an absolute gamechanger. They attack mobs for you and it counts as playerkills. So smash a few skellies, grab their bones and convert a few wolves to the doggie side of life. Even better in my oppinion are cats. They scare away the most annoying mobs (creeper & phantoms) before they can come too close to you (they also can bring you “gifts” and at night they sleep on your chest). They are also a bit harder to get. You need a fishing rod to fish (and fishing is boooooring) for raw cod, then you need to find a village and have to try and convert one of the stray cats there to love you. Parrots on the other hand,are the most unnerving pets, because they immitate mobsounds (I lost count how manny times I’ve searched for mr zombie beause of them...)

4) 1.14 tip: Unless you are geared for war, avoid the pillager patrols. They often have a vindicator mob and well.... “Here’s Johnny!” should say it all. He will smash you to bits if you are not prepared. The Patrols are easy to recognize, just stay away from the greyskinned, big- nosed, humungous eyebrow-having, crossbow toting groups of humanoid mobs any you will be all fine.

5) Light. Just light. From the humble torch and campfire to the jack-o'-lantern and the lantern, there are quite a few early game ways to light it all up and light is your friend. It keeps many hostile mobs from spawning if bright enough (unfortunately the pillagers don’t care about how bright your lantern shine, they will ruin your day regardles)

#therealjacksepticeye #minecraft #tips from an ex-noob

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myfearless-love · 6 years

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A Trip to Your Heart

Summary: Emma Swan is forging a devious plan to save the sanity of her best friend, Mary Margaret, or at least to stop her form quoting those stupid swashbuckling pirate tales. The core of her plan is to hunt down and neutralize the internet famous writer, dashingpiratecaptain aka Killian Jones. But soon her ideas go down the drain, because she certainly hasn’t counted on developing feelings for the man whose entire writing career she is about to destroy.

Rating: M

Word count: ~8.2k

Also on: FF.net and AO3

A/N: I’m so excited to finally share this little story with all of you!! It’s my first time participating in something like this so I’m hoping you’ll like the fic I created for this wonderful event. A huge thanks to @captainswanbigbang for organizing all of this and bringing us fans all together!

A big ass thanks to my my beta @1handedpiratewithadrinkingprob for helping me throughout creating this story and making sure that what I wrote is actually making sense and is presentable for all of you to read!

And an enormous thanks to @katie-dub who created ths kick-ass and beautiful art for my fic! Check out her art HERE And if you’re there, check out her other works because she’s super talented!

A Trip to Your Heart

Why is it that people always want the things they don't actually need?

This is the million dollar question Emma is pondering on as she sits down on one of the beach chairs with a rum-based cocktail in hand, christened as Salty Dog for some reason. She feasts her eyes on the open water and endless white sand as the wind is playing with the ends of her hair and the salt water is gently spraying her face – it's something she's absolutely not used to in the crowded and hectic city of New York.

She's aware that people must be giving her strange looks as they pass by her and she can hardly blame them. Her attire practically screams she's not really dressed for the beach: the frame of her big, red sunglasses almost cut a hole through her straw hat, her upper body is wrapped in a thin yellow blouse (its shade is so vivid that Emma is sure the material would glow in the dark) and her long legs are covered with a long, black summer skirt. The largest surface on her skin that remains uncovered are her feet, and not intentionally. She fell asleep on the ferry here, and in her hurry to get off the vessel she forgot to put her sandals back on.

Walking all the way here on the hot pavement and sand was quite a pain in the ass but what could she have done? She wanted her drink more.

Despite her looks, her brain is functioning quite well, but as it happens, she needs to make a certain someone believe otherwise. This person is called dashingpiratecaptain and she's been working on hunting him down for over a year now.

She's incredibly annoyed it took her this long to finally find him, considering she does this for a living on a daily basis.

The first time dashingpiratecaptain, or in short, KJ (as he usually signs his thank you comments) appeared on her radar was last June. He is considered a veteran writer in the world of online writing and his stories are a favorite of her best friend. Such original works emerged from his keyboard like The Crimson Flag, Isle of the Black Sand, Give No Quarter. If the titles and his username didn't make it clear, he specializes in pirate stories spiced with black humor.

Like really bloody pirate stories.

Mary Margaret is completely hooked on them. After a while, she just started vomiting quotes from his works, even during breakfast, which very nearly made Emma climb the walls of their shared apartment in annoyance and exasperation.

(She really can't wait for her brother to finally pop the question and have the flat all to herself).

Now imagine a twenty-something woman with a pixie haircut as she jabs her fork into her scrambled eggs and shouts "Avast ye, landlubbers! 'Tis cackle fruit is for me liking!"

Of course, Emma's first thought was to find a shrink as soon as possible (and the second to look up what the hell Mary Margaret said).

Her acquaintance, Archie Hopper, who is actually a therapist, said that there's nothing wrong with the brunette – her fanaticism, while a little intense, is still normal. Emma would beg to differ though, and she doesn't really want to imagine then what counts as 'not-normal' in Hopper's dictionary.

So the whole parade with the stupid pirate stories and references just went on. Just before the end of summer and the start of their last year in college, Emma's least favorite writer published his newest creation named 'Honor Among Thieves' which is about a brunette bandit woman who tries to seek passage on a pirate ship to escape being hanged by the authorities.

Let's just say that Mary Margaret felt a strong connection with this character pretty quickly. By November, almost her entire wardrobe was replaced with white (it's the character's favorite color apparently) and medieval looking clothes, and she all but stopped hanging out with others (except with her boyfriend and Emma obviously).

Nice words, threatening, stealing her laptop – none of that worked.

Emma felt like her friend was slowly withdrawing from reality, the only thing she wanted to talk about were these stupid swashbuckling tales.

So Emma decided she needed to single-handedly remove the source of the problem – alias dashingpiratecaptain.

But how?

First, know your enemy. The most effective way of getting close to a writer, she suspected, is through his works. So she read. A lot.

KJ got one or two brownie points from her – she found his jokes original, the mood of the stories were enjoyably twisted, the ratings were fairly correct.

In truth, there was not much she could hold against him except what he did to her best friend. But that alone demanded retribution.

In the next step, she started adding comments to a few of his chapters, then after a bunch of praise, she decided it was time to bring in the big guns and composed a fan letter to him.

But soon their exchanging of emails turned into a regular thing. In the end, she found herself quite frequently enjoying their correspondence.

And what had she found out?

The following things in a nutshell:

He graduated in Natural Resource Recreation and Tourism (she didn't even know they teach these kinds of things).

He was born in a small town in England and moved to the States a few years ago (he didn't specify the reason).

He wanted to take tourists on his ship and sail the high seas but an accident (again, he didn't specify) had thrown a wrench in his plans.

He has an older brother.

He's the proud owner of three dogs - adopted from three different places (how admirable).

Besides writing, he likes hiking and playing his guitar.

The question then arises; what did he manage to learn about her in turn?

Well, only the fact that she is completely nuts.

In the midst of midterms and getting her degree in Criminal Justice, she didn't have the energy to keep up with all of her lies. So, she fed him a different tale each time. Eventually, she got tired of it and went absolutely bananas.

She thinks he enjoyed it.

Because why else would he continue to reply to her emails and agree to meet with her?

That is why she's spending her downtime under the burning sun and among an endless number of squealing children running free whilst trying to enjoy her alcoholic beverage. Apparently, KJ (or one of his relatives) owns a vacation home near this beach and he's currently spending the last days of July here with his brother and sister-in-law.

And so on impulse, Emma thought she could visit him. Because crazy people are supposed to be spontaneous, aren't they?

Her phone shows ten o'clock - exactly when their little 'date' is supposed to happen. For guidance, she described her huge sunglasses and glow-in-the-dark blouse. He said he would wear his favorite leather jacket - probably no one would be stupid enough to run around the beach in that kind of clothing except him.

She peeps around.

She has the image of the leather jacket in her mind down to its every thread, but the rest is shrouded in mystery. She hasn't the faintest idea of how he looks. Usually, she pictures him somewhere between Calico Jack and Jack Sparrow, with tanned skin and scars, maybe even with a parrot on his shoulder.

As she continues to wait for her target, she wills the last remaining ice cube from the bottom of her glass and pops it in her mouth.

"Warriorprincess?" a deep voice echoes behind her suddenly.

She throws her head back on the chair, and the straw hat she's been wearing flops down to the sand. A pair of insanely gorgeous blue eyes are blinking down at her, and she has to do a double take. She's so stunned that it takes her half a minute to realize that this freakishly good-looking man just called her by her own username.

Warriorprincess.

It sounded quite catchy when she first thought of it.

She leans her head back a little more to take a better look at the notorious dashingpiratecaptain, but the movement causes the ice cube in her mouth to slide backward on her tongue. She quickly turns on her side, gasping and choking, trying to overcome her shortness of breath. After she succeeds, she pushes herself up and accepts his hand when he gives it to her to help her stand up from the beach chair.

And that's when she realizes his other hand, covered in something that looks a lot like a black glove. Which is odd, because his right hand is bare, except a ring on his thumb.

Then she remembers something he wrote in one of his letters - a sailing accident.

Oh.

So, that must be a prosthesis.

"You okay, lass?"

She nods, embarrassed, both at almost choking on a stupid ice cube and because she was practically ogling his fake hand.

If he noticed, he doesn't comment.

"Killian Jones," he introduces himself instead.

She can barely force back the groan that is threatening to escape her mouth. It's not enough that he's freaking handsome with his perfectly disheveled midnight hair and dark scruff along his sharp jawline, he, of course, has to have an accent like that.

And she didn't even mention the glorious chest hair peeking out of his half unbuttoned shirt.

She forces a crazy smile onto her face. "Anna Clarke," Her favorite but unfortunately very much deceased tutor in the foster home probably doesn't mind if she borrows her name for a few hours. Taking on the personality of the woman who she always thought was dancing on the verge of craziness but was the friendliest and gentlest human being she met in her life was probably what Emma needs right now to pull off this entire scheme.

He removes his sweaty hand from hers. "I'll soon perish in this jacket…" he explains, adorably scratching a spot behind his ear and gracefully shrugs the leather off.

For a brief moment, she thinks he's going to get rid of his dark blue shirt too, mentally preparing for that eyegasm she's just sure she will be getting - but he only pops two more buttons.

He snatches her stuff from the sand and nods toward the buffets and other booths along the beach. "Shall we go?"

Although she doesn't have any clue where he's taking her, she follows as quickly as possible. She thinks she can actually hear her feet sizzling atop the hot sand and pavement as they reach the stores and stands selling souvenirs and other useless things.

Killian comes to a halt beside her. "Where are your shoes?"

"I have none. I'm experimenting with the hippie lifestyle."

"And how's that working out for you so far?"

"Pretty great."

He watches her with amusement in his eyes as she shifts from one foot to the other. Eventually, the heat gets unbearable and she's forced to flee into the coolness of a nearby store.

Killian marches after her and targets the sandal collection in the middle of the place.

"I'm good without shoes," she insists, pulling him back by the elbow before he can pick up a footwear.

She's about to sabotage his online writing career, she doesn't need the additional guilt in the mix.

"Then what will it be? Should I carry you on my back?" he gives her a once-over and in a low and teasing tone he adds: "Though, a herniotomy might be a tad more expensive than a new pair of sandals."

She huffs and snatches off her sunglasses, giving him her best fake death-glare. "Hah, I'll have you know I'm as light as a feather."

She's really tempted to call his bluff though, she would really like to test out his back muscles.

God, it has been far too long since she got laid. It makes her mind quite one-sided and distracts her from her main task and the reason she's actually here.

"The cheapest, then?" he bargains, pointing at a green one with an ugly ribbon on top. It's really repulsive and not at all her style, but his intense blue gaze and the fact that she very much prefers to have skin on the bottom of her feet decides for her.

She fishes out her wallet and completes her purchase so quick that even The Flash would get jealous, just so it wouldn't even cross Killian's mind to buy it for her.

Somehow she knows he would.

He only shakes his head and smiles as she slips her now empty purse back to its previous place. Her life, consisting of constantly running away and living on the streets had taught her to be thrifty, which means, beyond her travel cost she gave herself a $10 limit.

Looks like now she has to reach that five o'clock train, or else she can walk all the way back to her apartment.

She walks silently beside him and notices a deep frown across his forehead as he probably broods over something. They're strolling through the walkway alongside the beach. On their left, a multitude of vacation homes and a huge forest stretches out. The air is mixed with the scent of pine and the ocean and Emma inhales, closing her eyes in the process.

Only to open them when her stomach decides to play the sound of a dying whale. She feels her face heat up.

"Are you hungry?" Killian asks, a child-like enthusiasm hiding in his voice.

"You could say that." Clearly, that one grilled cheese she had in the morning wasn't enough to get her through the day.

"My sister-in-law likes to play Martha Stewart and usually makes enough food to feed an entire army, even if it's just the three of us now," he informs her, rambling. "They already know about you, so ah, they insisted I invite you… if you want that is." He finds that same spot behind his ear and Emma thinks it's a sure sign of his nervousness.

But his invitation kind of leaves her like a living statue, probably looking very much like the figure from the painting called The Scream. He watches her reaction and lets out a hearty laugh.

She doesn't join him in his fun.

Horror is taking residence on her face. Emma only prepared to spend a few hours with him alone - emphasis on alone. During that time she would somehow get her hands on his phone, delete all of his stories in secret, and change his password for good measure. She already knew he was kind of a lazy shit when it comes to his phone, always using the "remember me" function - and besides, it's his fetish to answer every critic as soon as humanly possible, so he checks each story on his phone twice a day.

Her plan would've been perfect. But she didn't count in the brother and in-law. How the hell is she supposed to screw over a great guy while his family is around?

He puts a tentative but encouraging hand on her shoulder. "Relax, love, they won't eat you alive."

Mary Margaret - she reminds herself. Her best friend's common sense and social life are on the table.

She will deal with her conscience later.

To keep her gloomy thoughts at bay, she inquires about the menu.

"Tomato soup, the good old Spaghetti Carbonara and ice cream for desserts," her stomach gives an appreciative gurgle at that line-up. "I wasn't sure about that particular type of pasta though because up until last month you were vegetarian," he considers. Fortunately for Emma, her sunglasses and hat are able to somewhat cover her grimace. Where the hell did these brilliant ideas of hers come from? "But last week you shared your experience about a new diner and their heavenly Buffalo wings, so…"

She flashes him a cryptic and maniacal smile. She thinks he's satisfied with her answer.

They come to a halt before a lovely, two-story house. On the other side of the fence, there are three dogs, currently playing the "who can bark louder" game. The smallest is a Bichon Bolognese, its fur all white like the snow, the middle - quite the chubby thing - is a light brown terrier of some sort (or so Emma guesses, not that she knows much about dogs, though, but one of her foster families had a similar looking one). And the last one - the biggest - is a three-legged mixed breed with beautiful dark fur. Killian mentioned that this one is the closest to his heart and now she can see why.

While Killian slips through the entrance to try and tame the wild beasts, Emma attempts to match the names with the dogs from his emails. She remembers rolling her eyes when she got to know what they are called - he clearly loves Peter Pan too.

She crouches down and the pudgy one tries to reach her with its tongue through the bars, wagging its tail in the process. "Jolly?" she guesses.

Its mate, the one that looks like a living cotton candy, goes absolutely ballistic by her presence, pacing anxiously up and down in front of her. "Smee?" At that. the dog stops and leaps, bouncing off the fence as it prevents the wild thing from attacking her.

"Smee!" Killian scolds, and the dog cowers at his commanding tone. Emma can actually imagine him as the persona he so likes to write about in his stories, the dashing pirate captain standing on the deck of his ship in all black ordering his crew around.

She shakes her head. Now is not the time for fantasies.

The other two mutts seem friendly enough - Roger, the black one, even glares at her with loving doe eyes. Emma decides to venture inside, and to her relief, none of them bite into her ankles.

"You were right. They didn't eat me alive," she nods.

"Yet. The worst is yet to come, love."

He lays his hand on the small of her back lightly as he guides her further on to the house. She can see a nicely set table on the veranda peeking through the many plants and flowers decorating the front of the house.

It looks quite cozy.

She takes a deep breath and starts taking off her accessories.

As she reaches up to remove her hat, her one size too small blouse rides up slightly at the movement, exposing a sliver of skin by her hip bones. Killian's attention is immediately drawn to the bared area.

"Stairs," she warns him.

But it's too late.

He trips, and in order to not land face first on the ground, he somehow leaps to the table and grabs onto it, pushing it away a good half meters in the process.

Emma looks up and there's a man, probably in his late thirties, standing in the doorway, shaking his head. From his expression, Emma assumes he's been standing there since the beginning of Killian's little stunt. "Now, now, little brother. I don't remember asking you to redecorate. That table was exactly in the right place."

Emma can see as two red spots appear on Killian's cheeks as he finds that spot behind his ear with his finger. "I'm going to help Elsa…" he grumbles and stumbles into the house.

Emma and the man shares an amused and conspiratorial glance. He puts down a bowl full of soup next to the vase on the table and shakes hands with her. "Liam Jones."

"Anna Clarke," she continues to promote her dead tutor's name further with her ever-growing shame. Lying to only Killian didn't seem like such a serious crime, but doing it to his family is another thing. "Thank you for the invitation and sorry for barging in on your vacation."

"Nonsense!" his blue eyes, a deeper shade than Killian's, are glowing with warmth and a smile stretches onto his face, peppered with light brown scruff. "My git of a brother was practically counting down the days and it's always good to see a fresh face around the house," The words leave his mouth like a jingling serenity, accent very much the same as his brother's, and she immediately feels welcome.

It certainly is a first.

From inside, light rock music starts to filter through. Liam whirls around just as Killian appears by the doorstep again and waves a black phone in front of his face. "Your mate, Robin, was calling you."

And suddenly like thunderbolt, the sight of the dark device reminds her of the reason for her visit: to remove all of KJ's writing from the cyberspace and change his password.

The thought sends a wave of nausea through her. She doesn't even realize as Liam's wife approaches her. "Are you alright?"

"Of course!" she almost yells, forcing a huge smile onto her face. She quickly thrusts out her hand. "I'm Anna Clarke."

"Elsa Arendelle-Jones," she gives Emma a smile and suddenly Elsa has her in a firm and friendly hug. Emma is so stunned that at first, she doesn't know what to do, but then her arms tentatively snake around the woman's shoulder. The gentle squeeze ended with the other woman's thorough examination of Emma's attire. "I like your style."

Emma feels a strong need of correcting her – not hers, it's Anna Clarke's, her evil and crazy side.

"My dearest sister-in-law," Killian growls beside them, though there's no heat behind his words. "Can you do me a favor and stop harassing our guest?"

Elsa elbows him in the ribs gently and Killian lets out a laugh. She really likes his deep melodic laugh, Emma decides, while the two continues to bicker like little siblings.

"Now," Liam claps his hands together. "Let's eat," he practically shoves her towards his brother and he graciously pulls out the chair for her next to him. "Eat as much as you like," he urges. "Don't be shy!"

Liam only seems satisfied when her plate is full to the brim with all kinds of food (Elsa really overdid herself). He's such a mother hen, Emma thinks. And also, the fact that she hasn't had a good home cooked meal since she could remember is probably written all over her face.

When the dessert is served, she draws whipped cream circles vigorously on her plate until the strawberry ice cream is completely lost under the white colored foam. Killian is quietly chuckling next to her and when his knee accidentally bumps with hers under the table, her hand jolts at the sudden body contact and a small amount of whipped cream lands on his face.

"Oops," she puts her hand theatrically to her mouth. Killian blinks at her in surprise and his family lets out a laugh simultaneously.

After his face is clean again and declares that he intends to get even with her, the topic of their conversation drifts to everyday life, especially where it concerns her. She would even enjoy the special attention if she wasn't burdened with forging lies upon lies. They are half-lies, in fact. She's really attending a university in New York, but instead of dorms, she's renting a decent apartment with her best friend. And although she did want to study law and become a lawyer, her scholarship was only enough to go through with criminal justice instead.

Emma is more and more certain that she must be one of the best at being undercover, if her current situation is any indication.

Or not.

By the time they are finished with the whole three-course meal and Killian showed her around the house, she is all fidgety – all the lies she created has piled up inside her and every time she recalls them, guilt cuts through her like a sharp blade.

She starts chanting her best friend's name in her head, willing her determination to find its way back to her.

It doesn't work, goddamnit.

Her stomach shrinks with fear – her resolve is nowhere to be found.

What the freaking hell is she doing here?

She's jolted out of her thoughts by a light touch on her forearm. A soft smile is dancing at the corner of Killian's lips as he looks at her and all she wants to do is fling herself into his arms and confess her sins.

"Did you bring swimming suit?" he inquires and she nods. "Then let's go back to the beach!"

After she stutters her gratitude for the invitation to his brother and sister-in-law, Killian links their arms and drags her out of the house.

All the way to the seashore she's studying her blood red toenails as Killian walks beside her silently, his hand occasionally brushing hers in the process.

She doesn't mind the close proximity.

She's gradually becoming very aware of how much she's grown to like him, way before they met a few hours ago; and in parallel, a recognition takes root in her – she's in a hopeless situation. Her brilliant 'Operation: Save Mary Margaret's sanity' project is officially doomed as well as any kind of fantasy about Killian.

In the end, the only one she double-crossed is herself.

Congratulation, Emma, you did it!

She's hoping she can blame all of this on the nuisances and headaches that her graduation had caused her. Until then, if Emma can't get out of this game victoriously, Anna Clarke can still have some fun, right?

Killian turns his impossibly blue gaze on her, and when he notices her grin, he breathes out in relief. "I was beginning to be afraid my family has upset you with something."

"Of course not," she protests. "But if you don't mind I'm gonna go and change." With a graceful movement, she seizes her bag from his hold (he had insisted on carrying it for her, and while she typically wouldn't like this, she couldn't resist his intense gaze and the I'm a gentleman, love dripping from his lips) and slips in the nearest dressing room.

After a while, Killian emerges from the men's room and fuck, she's absolutely certain that happy trail goes beyond his waistline. They're trying to disguise their mutual ogling by doing mundane tasks in the process; Killian by neatly folding his clothes and Emma by searching for something in her bag. With a raised eyebrow, she removes a sponge ball from under her water bottle and holds it up to him.

His eyes brighten and the sight knocks the wind out of her lungs. Again. The contrast of his blue eyes and the darkness of his hair are in perfect harmony.

As she takes all of him in, she realizes he removed his prosthetic hand and even with the scars and angry marks at the end of his wrist he's still a freaking walking-talking genetic wonder. He glances back at her sheepishly when he notices where her gaze has wandered to, but when he doesn't find disdain or revolt or whatever he's assuming on her expression, he visibly relaxes and takes off towards the water faster than superhuman Usain Bolt. He dives into the sea when he's at knee depth, and laughing at his antics, Emma drops her bag into the sand and joins him. The salty water hits her heated skin and she doesn't even care that she forgot to apply sunscreen. It wouldn't be the first time she has to deal with a little sunburn.

"Baywatching to the deep water?" he offers and she approves his suggestion.

The scene, where she gallops forward in slow motion fits perfectly into her 'nutty as fruitcake' profile. They glance at each other occasionally and mouth silent and overly articulated words to each other. The people in their area are trying to avoid them and all the splashing water they're leaving in their wake - except the children. Emma reads something like this from their expressions: So we'll behave exactly like we do now when we're adults, only dumber and no one will scold us for it? Yay!

The deep water, in this case, reaches a little above Killian's navel and for Emma, the surface grazes her breasts. They're backing away from each other unhurriedly and she holds the ball in her hand ready to throw. Killian estimates the distance between and takes a couple more steps backward. He clearly thinks he can outwit her with a few more added feet.

"Let it fly, love!"

She swings her arm and the ball lands with a splash directly in front of him. He stares at her skeptically as if sensing some trickery in the air. "You've been working on this all summer, haven't you?" It's his turn to toss the ball, but he somehow miscalculates the gap between them and his fling turns out too short.

"And you clearly haven't been working out all summer, have you?" she taunts.

He purses his lips into a thin line; his man pride demands retribution. The next throw isn't directed at her, but rather at another freaking continent. She snorts resignedly because really, she can barely see that damn ball now it flew so far away. "Are you serious?"

"You were doubting my competence."

"What competence?"

"You seriously wound me, love," he feigns offense. She waves in a sign of surrender and dives in the water.

The last time she pulled off such a distance in freestyle swimming was probably in grade school, so it's not really a surprise when her urge to brag is overcome by weariness as she reaches her target.

But she decides, no matter how stupid it would seem, that she will inch back on her feet. She lowers her legs and sinks immediately. She thrashes until she's below surface again and attempts to scramble forward. Then a horrible thought flashes through her mind - what if one of her limbs starts cramping?

She only had to wish it.

Her calf twitches with a dull ache as if this is the first time it's used after months. Her brain is suddenly clouded by sheer panic.

Oh, my God. Oh, my God. - she repeats to herself over and over again. The land doesn't seem to be getting any closer, her toes are groping for the ground in vain. It's like the sea is tugging her inwards, right into its belly. She can already envision with vivid clarity the news article about her death: Deceased young woman was masquerading as somebody else; her friends are standing astonished by her double life.

She's flailing without any consideration or co-ordination - her only goal is to somehow remain above surface and get air into her lungs.

"Anna, it's alright!" Killian's voice is coming from afar, even though she senses he's somewhere close to her. She continues to thrash uncontrollably.

"Clarke!" he shouts. She doesn't fully realize what is happening; she's busy fighting for survival. She clings desperately to the first solid thing her hands can reach. And at some point, freaking finally, her feet burrow into sand again. Her traitor of a calf starting to regain consciousness again.

"Bloody hell," he puffs out. She's still clinging to his neck like her life depends on it, and fuck, it was. His wet raven black hair is bundled with her blonde curls, creating an exquisite contrast. She untangles herself from his body, quite reluctantly, she might add.

He turns his gaze at her and their eyes lock. After a few silent moments of staring at the other, they both let out a laugh at the situation and can't seem to stop for several moments. When their amusement subsides, they straighten and look into each other's eyes. She swallows at the intensity of his gaze, but is unable to glance away. She holds her breath as his hand reaches under her wet hair below her ear, his thumb caresses lightly on her cheek.

His eyes search hers, silently asking for permission and she should pull away and run back to the beach and then to New York, but because she's a weak idiot, she stays. He leans into her, his lips drawing near and hers open in anticipation. He stops inches away, his blue eyes drift down to her mouth as though he's savoring the moment. Her heart beats faster than ever when he finally presses his lips to hers in a long kiss. It's gentle and slow first, she feels her hands begin to slide up his naked chest and encircle around his neck as the kiss begins to grow heavy. She exhales through her nose when his hand slips off her cheek and tightens around her waist. She doesn't want this moment to end. Her entire body has been taken over by the overwhelming feeling of relief (because she finally got a taste of those luscious lips), combined with a good deal of panic (because she likes him and she should be deleting his stories and getting the hell out of dodge) and lust (for obvious reasons).

But soon her tense nerves begin to relax and her troubling thoughts are melting away, their surroundings disappear, leaving only her and Killian.

This feels true. And good. And right.

She draws her tongue over his teeth and swallows his groan of pleasure as they slid closer to each other, no visible gap between them. She's about to get completely lost in him when a bunch of shrieking kids run by them, spattering their bodies with a great amount of salty water, breaking their moment.

(Stupid summer camps).

As they part, she sees his eyes sparkle and lips curve up into a gleeful smile and she can't help but smile back. As her heart calms down and starts beating at a normal speed again, she contemplates him. His hair is a complete mop of mess atop his head, locks of hair clinging to his forehead and his cheeks are slightly red from joy and the hot summer weather. All of this and the last couple of minutes don't even remotely fit into the notion she formed about him based on his writings. He looks so young and innocent.

She voices her thoughts to him too.

"Writing helps to let off some steam," he explains. "Otherwise I wouldn't be such a gentleman," he winks and she doesn't argue. She couldn't really find a fault in his manners since they met.

At the same time, an incredible idea strikes her - if they find him an alternative solution for managing stress and tension, then maybe… "Have you ever thought about athletics? Maybe running?"

"It wouldn't work," he dashes her hopes. "It would only tire me in the long run, thus making me more tense. Who the bloody hell loves being sweaty all the time and waking up the next day with muscle strains?" She couldn't agree more, if she's being completely honest. Besides running after jerks who skip their bail, she's lazing on her couch with a bag of chips all day, watching Jeopardy and screaming at her TV.

Forget it. She sighs to herself. A day late and a dollar short. Water under the bridge. She's full of idioms now for her stupid situation because she screwed up. It's time to face the music.

"I saw a park nearby. Let's walk there," she suggests after they make their way back to the beach.

Killian pulls on his shirt and Emma does the same with her flashy yellow blouse. He watches her with worried eyes, one eyebrow high on his forehead. "Are you sure? It sounds quite dangerous. You could trip on a pebble, or catch some disease from the birds there. You could bump your knee against a bench," he lists. "Based on previous events, I say you would do better in a meadow with nothing but a water bottle."

She presents him her best poker face. "I could get an allergic attack from the flowers," she argues. "Or choke on the water, as you saw earlier."

He looked on with no change of expression. "Aye, you are right. There's danger lurking out there at every corner."

"It's hanging over me," she agrees. "But lucky for me, you're here to get my back," she inches closer to him. She laces their fingers together and he gives her a brilliant smile.

On their way, they're discussing which one of them has the most embarrassing and downright weird stories under their belts. In Killian's anecdote, he, his brother and Elsa went to a restaurant one evening to celebrate the couple's engagement. A bearded, slightly chubby old man ate his dinner at the neighboring table and was peeping at them every now and then. Elsa and his brother paid no mind to him, only Killian noticed it; the man made his flesh crawl with his creepy glances. But after paying the bill, he left and Killian thanked his lucky stars.

"Half an hour later we, too, finished our meals. We were walking down the streets peacefully and when we turned at the corner he was there. The guy was just standing there, one of his hands fumbling for something in his pocket," he goes silent, intentionally increasing the tension, like the great storyteller he is.

"Gun? Knife?" she urges.

"Oh, no. A pack of cigarettes and a lighter," her face turns into a disappointed grimace. "When we got closer he smirked and spoke up for the first time. I'd wished he would have shot me instead."

"What did he say?"

Killian temporarily holds off the storytelling when they get to the cocktail bar because the girl behind the counter is shouting at them loudly. "Wait!" she yells. "You left this here!"

When they pass the stand, he continues his tale. "He said: Killian Jones! How you've grown!" he glances at her with a gloomy look.

In the background, the cocktail Girl is yelling out a name. "Emma! Emma Swan!"

Emma glances back over her shoulder, the bartender is waving a black card holder at her.

Killian reaches the end of his story. "He was my P.E. teacher in grade school. Every year he tried to fail me."

Emma freezes, her eyes are on the cocktail girl's hand, more precisely on her papers she is holding. I.D., Social Security card, etc. The girl can't really bring it to Emma, at least five customers are waiting in line to get a drink, one of them drumming his fingers on the counter impatiently.

"Anna?" Killian asks, puzzled.

"Emma!" the girl yells again, now happy that Emma finally noticed her.

Emma swallows hard and trudges towards the beach bar, only mumbling "My papers," at Killian's still confused expression.

She walks back to him with bowed head and a racing heart, the plastic card holder almost breaks in her vice-like grip.

Killian asks the dreaded question. "What the bloody hell was that?"

My march to eternal humiliation, my journey through shattered plans, Anna Clarke's last mission - she would have answered, but no sound comes out of her mouth. She needs to make a grandiose gesture. Something honest. She awkwardly extends her arm, like she's introducing herself for the first time.

She watches her slightly shaking fingers, the seconds tick by slowly, her embarrassment growing like weed. Then her gaze falls to his long fingers as they encircle her hand. She snaps her head up in disbelief. An army of emotions are battling on his handsome face: forgiveness sits at the corners of his lips, puzzlement rests on his forehead and hurt is swimming in his eyes.

Since her vocal cords decided to not work, he is forced to take the first step. "Killian Jones, still."

"Emma Swan, now."

The ceremony is extremely awkward. Killian runs his hand through his half wet hair and slumps on the edge of the bench nearest to them. Emma sits down on the other end.

"I was aware that you lied about plenty of things in your emails," he watches the sea with slumped shoulders. "Not that it bothered me that much. It wasn't your lies that I loved, but the way you presented them. After a while I just sensed when you were being truthful," he pauses. Shrieking children and chatting parents sound in the background. The gleeful noises are driving her crazy. "Or at least I thought I sensed it," his voice goes at least an octave deeper and he turns to her with a scowl on his face. "Why did you do this?"

She confesses to him the real reasons. It can't really make her seem worse in his eyes than it already is. "My best friend went completely nuts, because of your stories. I thought if they were gone, everything will be alright with her again."

He gives her a condescending glance. "Have you never thought about talking with her and trying to understanding her?"

Oh yeah, it did occur to her. Unfortunately for her, a few weeks too late. But it wasn't Killian that made her realize this. By the time they met she was already aware where she took the wrong turn.

This whole thing wasn't in the interest of Mary Margaret for a while now. She was led by her curiosity and adventurousness. She orchestrated a play for herself and without his knowledge, Emma forced Killian to play a role in it.

Why? Because she liked the character that she created: the heroic best friend, the witty pen pal, the dorky Anna Clarke.

But really, why is it that people always want the things they don't actually need?

She's mulling over this question yet again while fiddling with the hem of her ridiculous yellow blouse, the salty summer breeze hitting her face lightly.

Killian asked for some time, said he needed to sort his head out. He promised he would be back in an hour and they agreed to meet at their original meeting point. Her phone shows that she's quite ahead of time. She places her ugly sandals on the beach chair she occupied just a few hours ago and attaches a piece of paper between its straps with her goodbye scribbled on it: Thank you for everything. And I'm sorry. For everything. - Emma

That is the extent of her lyrical talent.

She's reflecting on the day's events for two hours as she waits for her ferry, and as the vessel arrives to take her back to the mainland, she realizes there's nothing to think over.

She screwed up.

End of story.

She was so caught up in her mission to fix her best friend that she didn't realize there's nothing to fix. Emma saw an opportunity in her best friend's obsession; an opportunity to break free of her monotonous life and be someone else. Someone who is spontaneous and trusting, who is the complete opposite of her. She wanted an adventure and now she got it: she was so far gone in her play that she hurt two people in the process without even realizing it: Mary Margaret, who did nothing wrong but love a few pirate stories, and Killian, who only wrote said pirate stories.

Emma made herself the villain in this tale.

She's learned from her mistake (or at least she hopes so) and as soon as she gets home she's going to squeeze the life out of Mary Margaret - metaphorically, of course, because she'll give her best friend the biggest of hugs. They will have a girls night and talk about what is really going on in her head. It will be great.

But there's hardly anything she can do to make it up to Killian. She owes him another apology in case her note doesn't get to him, but her options end here. She's not even sure if he will even open her emails, let alone answer them.

The farther she gets from the beach, the gloomier her mood becomes; a feeling of sad resignation takes over her. She pulls her legs up on the seat and flips through her card folder in boredom. Stupid papers; they were all against her today.

And at the top of everything, a damned mosquito is about to have a feast on her elbow. She strikes down hard and her green folder flies away, sliding on the dirty floor until the black hole underneath a seat swallows it up. She squats down to try and fish it out, but her fingers touch something completely different: the straps of a faux leather sandal.

She lets out a laugh and ceremoniously buckles her previously lost shoes back on her feet. She regards them as a sign from above. As if it was life's way to say that "She's wrong, the fates are on her side".

She grabs her notebook and a pen from her bag and writes her very first (and probably last) short novel about how much of a moron she has been. She finishes just as she arrives back home, the two-hour train ride goes by in a blur.

She types it into her laptop as soon as she arrives at her apartment, publishes it under the name 'Warriorprincess' and waits for the miracle.

After only a week, she gets it.

"Emma!" Mary Margaret bursts into her room, balancing her laptop in one hand. "You wrote this, didn't you?" she shows her the "masterpiece" of Warriorprincess.

"Yes," Emma admits.

"I can't believe it!" she jumps up and down like a kid on a sugar high, her voice several octaves higher than normal. "You're highlighted! You're among the recommended writers! Just under KJ's story! Oh my God!" she places her laptop down on her nightstand and starts pacing in front of the bed in pure ecstasy. "Do you know how much I love you?"

"What?" she's taken aback.

"My friends will die of envy if I tell them what a crazy genius my best friend and future sister-in-law is. You're even friends with KJ!"

Emma buries the urge to correct her on that, instead, she focuses on the first part of her sentence. "Your friends?" she repeats.

"From the site."

Since her little adventure, she's been fighting to restore their friendship to the way it was before Killian's stories, and now Warriorprincess had reached that breakthrough.

She steps closer to Mary Margaret. "Will you tell me about them?"

And words are flowing out of the brunette's mouth, because Emma is finally there to listen to them without judging her favorite stories and claiming her best friend went insane. Mary Margaret doesn't have any mental diseases, she proves to be a thousand times healthier than Emma and furthermore, she doesn't lack in friends or rationality. The only thing she's short of is the tolerance for boring people and, sadly, her colleagues at the preschool are included in this category.

Emma's best friend inhabits the large group of misunderstood artists and dreamers. Case closed.

"I'm happy we could talk this through," Emma grins at her when Mary Margaret is out of breath from talking for thirty minutes straight.

"Me too," she smiles at Emma. "So the next time KJ posts a story, you won't call our provider and have them shut off the internet, will you?"

"Don't worry. I'd probably break my own arms first before I would do that."

Mary Margaret appreciated her lame joke, she's still swimming in the waves of hyperactivity. She hugs Emma and grabs her laptop from the nightstand, clicking and typing in it a few times.

"Kj didn't write a comment on your story," she reports. "But someone else did," she turns the device toward Emma so she can look at the screen. She starts reading the review and when she gets to the middle she snatches the laptop from Mary Margaret's possession.

Dear Warriorprincess,

Stylistically, there is still room for improvement, and I advise you read the story over again; you left a few typos in it.

Moving to the content of the story: the heroine's motivations are absurd, as well as her actions. The storyline, partly as a result of this, is messy. Also, I could not take delight in the emotional background you have outlined. If your main character is inspired by a real human, I suggest she visit a specialist.

You did not let the male character's story to properly unfold, although I saw a great amount of potential in him. And huge competence. In addition, I missed the further demonstration of the characters' external features. Why did you not mention the heroine's big, aquamarine eyes and her shapely legs?

The ending is simply terrible.

Nevertheless, I enjoyed it. Congratulations on being highlighted!

P.S.: Would you be interested in exchanging some letters, which could help me fill your head with nonsense and turn your head? Then we could perhaps meet in person. I would introduce myself under a fake name, bewitch you even more, get caught red handed and vanish into thin air – of course, I would leave a dramatic goodbye note behind. So what do you say, love? I can tell you from experience, it works quite well.

Above her shoulder, Mary Margaret is trying to make out the name of the user. "Warriorcaptain...Do you know each other?"

"Not enough. But we can remedy that right away," Emma grins and clicks on the sign in button.

fin.

#cslb #captain swan little bang #cs ff #cs fic #captain swan #one shot #cs oneshot #ouat #ouat ff #ouat fic #once upon a time #Emma x Killian #emma swan #killian jones #captain hook

80 notes · View notes

pinkamour1588 · 6 years

Note

Do Jacks and Alex!!!

Our precious babies…

1. Who can’t stop smilingwhen they are getting kissed?

It depends on the day.They both get pretty smiley with when they are getting kissed. Jacks isprobably a little more inclined to get all smiley when he’s kissed, but Alexcan’t help but smile at Jacks.

2. Who brings the otherperson home something small but sweet when they know their partner is having abad day?

Alex. He owns and worksin a bakery/cafe. It’s pretty easy for him to bring a little something home forJacks. Lemon scones are usually the “go to” when Jacks has called or textedsomething about having a bad day or something that makes Alex think Jacks hashad a bad day. Usually it’s when an animal from the local shelter had to be putdown. Those are Jackson’s most common and worst days.

3. Do they have anynicknames for one another? If so, what are they?

Of course they do. Alexcalls Jackson: Jacks (to the point that’s just what Jackson goes by), babe,baby, and sweetheart. Jackson calls Alex: Honey, hon, babe, and sweetheart.

4. Who is the one whousually makes the first move?

Alex is the one whomakes the first move in regards to asking Jacks out on a date. When it comes tophysical contact (holding hands, cuddling, kissing, sex), Alex greatlyrestrains himself and lets Jacks make the first move and initiate it 9 timesout of ten. And when Alex is initiating it, he always asks. Like, asks “can Ihold your hand?” “Can I kiss your cheek?” “Can I put my arm around you?” Thingslike that. Eventually, Jacks speaks up and tells him to stop asking beforeholding his hand every time or kiss his cheek or put his arm around him. Alexis still hesitant before initiating physical contact but as they get more of afeel for each other and each other’s body language, a lot of it starts goingmore unspoken. (Obviously they both get full affirmative consent before sex andif one of them isn’t into kissing right then or doesn’t want to be held, theycan pull away and say so and it will be left at that.)

5. Who stays up late andasks the other really random sleep deprived questions?

They both do, to behonest. Jacks probably does it more than Alex does, but Alex definitely does itsometimes.

6. What is one thingthey love about each other?

Only one? Alex loves howcaring Jacks is, both with people and with animals. Jacks loves how patientAlex is. As “annoyed” as he got with Alex constantly asking before initiatingany physical contact early on, he really did appreciate it. It was clear that Jackswas allowed to say no without a bit of judgement anytime. If he wanted to holdoff on kissing, that was perfectly fine.

7. What is somethingthey love to do together?

Take Baby and Belle(their two dogs) to the dog park or on walks; watch movies and cuddle in bed oron the couch; Alex attempting to teach Jacks how to cook/bake.

8. What type of petwould they own together? How would they treat the pet?

If Jacks had his way, all the pets. Except snakes (because Alex is terrified ofthem) or spiders (Jim would never enter their home if Jacks and Alex had a petspider). Before they got together, Jacks already had an English Mastiff namedBaby, a cockatiel named Yoshi, a box turtle named Reggie, and a Maine Coonnamed Sunny. Once they got together, they got a kitten (well, Alex got Jacks akitten) named Puff. After they moved in together, they added to the family anAfrican grey parrot named Mario and a Yorkie mix named Belle.

All of the pets, withthe exception of Reggie, came from the animal shelter or were rescues. Baby wasa dog who was on the list to be euthanized because no one was showing theslightest bit of interest in adopting her. Yoshi was rescued and had pulled outmost of his feathers out of stress. Sunny came from the shelter. Puff came froma litter of kittens that had been found and taken to the shelter. Mario was asimilar situation to Yoshi. And Belle was from a litter of puppies a dog whohad been surrendered had. All of them except for Puff and Belle (and Reggie)were adults when adopted.

As for how their pets are treated, dear god, are they spoiled.Every last one of their pets is spoiled. Homemade treats. Only the best food ispurchased. Their pets are their children.

9. Who starts the sillystring fight?

They both totally wouldstart one…and regret it afterwards when they have to clean it up.

10. Who pulls the otherback to bed in the morning?

Jacks often pulls Alexback into bed. Jacks is like a lizard and is almost perpetually cold so heconstantly steals Alex’s body heat. Alex is Jackson’s heat rock. After gettingto the bakery a little later than he should, Alex invested in getting Jacks anelectric blanket he can put over him when he gets out of bed to go to work. Itworks most of the time.

(I’m also gonna tag @captainsbabysitter-blog cause these are also her OCs)

#oc #omc #m/m #amanda writes

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awed-frog · 6 years

Text

catching up with s13

“This life - hunting, monsters - there's no joy in it. There's nothing but pain, horror, and death.”

So, okay. I finally got an afternoon free and forced myself to start S13. I don’t know how I feel about it. I’m happy I had to wait and I got to watch four episodes in one go, because Supernatural has this habit of improving a lot when you watch it as a true story happening somewhere and not one hour every week, but still - mixed feelings here. Although, I’m happy enough that I sort of guessed a few things and included them in my S13 fic - maybe they weren’t that hard to anticipate, but still - yay me.

(Just as a self-serving exercise, here is a list: Dean and Sam not being on the same page about Jack, Dean shooting Jack, the two of them wondering if Jack can fly in E01, Sam wanting Jack alive and hoping he can be good, Jack being a sort of mindless parrot in the beginning and mimicking Dean, Dean snapping at Sam for putting Jody in danger, Dean starting to sound like John and Sam calling him out on it, Dean and Jody alone together - and I want to hope they had some sort of Conversation, like they did in my fic, but I wouldn’t put money on it - and, finally, the word shedim, something I was using as an insult, like, two years ago and now it’s here and I really want those things to come out and do stuff ‘cause I’m evil like that.)

Otherwise, here’s what I learned so far.

1) Dean’s acceptance of himself was closely tied to Cas’ presence

We all know how hard Dean’s had to fight against the mold he’d found himself stuck into, and we basically spend our time tracking his attempts at breaking it down, so I won’t sit here and make lists or anything; however, what these episodes confirmed, for me, is how important Cas was in this process.

And surely it’s a combination of things - that Cas knew Dean inside and out and just accepted him, that Dean feels awkward about sharing that side of himself with Sam (and let’s be honest, he’s not wrong in fearing Sam’s reaction), that as long as Cas was with them, Dean had a reason to hope his own future wouldn’t be so bleak, that it was worth it, in a way, to work on himself and become the man he wanted to be all along - and, of course, that Dean was in love with Cas, a being that wasn’t a man but looked like a man, and once Dean started to accept that (and he did), then what was the point about trying so hard to deny anything else? And now Cas is gone, all of that is also gone. Dean’s safety net burned to the ground, and so he reverts to being that person he hated and despised and never wanted to be again - the man’s man, the alcoholic, the drill sergeant, the one who thinks men should be men and women are something else, ‘cause there’s things a man wouldn’t do, like journaling (“Not since I was a little girl.”). And the tragedy is, of course, that a) this doesn’t work, because it doesn’t help Dean at all, it just makes him more miserable, and b) people can still see his real self - not Sam, because apparently he doesn’t care enough to look, but as for everyone else - yeah. Hence the angel mocking him, for instance, growling at him in a deep voice and smirking, So macho.

(And, yeah, there are other people who love Dean, I’m not arguing otherwise, but also - these last four episodes did not exactly make them shine, now, did they? From Sam’s cold shoulder to Jody completely ignoring how utterly not alright Dean was and then dismissing his advice to Patience, all the way to how Missouri talked to him (“You don’t have to like it, you just have to do it,” and since she was a clear Mary parallel, I’m going to keep not liking Mary, thank you very much) - is it really surprising Dean finds it easier to be the drunk asshole when Cas is not around? Who is currently caring enough about him to break those walls down, exactly? No one, that’s who.)

2) Sam doesn’t get Dean and shows little interest in trying

As for Sam - look, I like Sam - he’s the character that sucked me inside this story, and I always try to give him something interesting to do in my fics, but Jesus - they’re making it very hard for me to like him at the moment. In fact, I think that Sam snapping at Dean in that therapist office and walking out of her office - that was the first time I’d seen the real Sam in years. Because after S5, Sam - stopped to exist as a character? He never has any interesting roles to play, and he’s mostly there to showcase and contrast Dean’s emotions and Dean’s tough choices. And at the beginning, it made sense Sam would be wary of himself (see the whole Ruby mess), but now this good guy act is getting old, because the thing is - to me, it doesn’t read like the show is even aware that Sam’s faking it. To them, it’s what’s actually happening. Dean is volatile and hot-headed, the script goes, and Sam more rational and wants to help people and do the right thing. Except - that’s not really how it is, is it?

One of the problems is, of course, that they’re working so hard to stay away from all the gay subtext they themselves created (for no good reason, because either you do something with it or it’s queerbaiting, and we should do well to remember that) that Sam is growing into someone we have no incentive to like. Because on the one hand, Sam needs to not grieve for Cas at all so that Dean’s pain will shine through more clearly, and on the other, he needs not to bring up Lucifer at all because we know Lucifer abused him and had sex with him pretending to be Jess, and that’s another thick layer of gay (sub)text right there. So the result is that Sam comes off like a complete arse, and what frustrates me to no end is that I want to like him, and I know he’s not actually like that. Like - I’m sure I’m not the only one, come on - these first four episodes - Sam was an asshole to Dean, and an asshole in general. He completely disregarded both Cas’ death and Crowley’s death, never pushed Dean to discuss how he felt about it even though Dean spent more than a week sulking and drinking in his room and being completely miserable and isolating himself (when he drove out to meet Missouri, his hand had healed, so there’s where I get the time frame) - and that’s not only an asshole move - it’s out of character. Sam’s always been concerned about Dean drinking excessively, for instance, and we’ve seen as much n the show before. But now, suddenly, Sam’s not allowed to grieve for Cas because TPTB want us to see Dean grieving for Cas so that *wink wink, nudge nudge* we’ll guess there’s something different there. But what could that be? they want us to wonder, as if we’d be shocked and surprised by the answer, and every time I feel like -

- because that’s the other problem with this gay subtext bullshit - that it’s not worth it, because this is not the damn ‘40s anymore. It’s simply not such an interesting thing to bet your entire narrative on, and grow up, show.

And another thing: since they won’t let Sam deal with the Lucifer business, and they want to maintain the codependency because that’s apparently why half their audience is watching, Sam is stuck as the teenager to Dean’s adult. Because Dean is the one backing down and apologizing for his bad behaviour at the end of E04, and Sam - Sam just sits there and accepts the apology, without acknowledging he was kind of a dick too. Furthermore, Sam blames Dean for his own inability to bond with Mary, Sam tries to look after Jack because a) Jack reminds him of himself and b) Jack can help him (when Dean accuses him of wanting to use Jack, Sam never denies that), Sam suddenly sends other hunters to do the job because he’s otherwise occupied, and Sam - this really annoyed me - finally admits everything Dean did for him not by thanking him, or anything, but by insisting Dean should now do the same for someone else. That’s some low emotional blackmail and, again, very out of character. Because Sam must realize that being there for him basically ruined Dean’s life -

(We know that’s not true - we know that looking after baby Sam is what kept Dean soft and profoundly himself - but Sam doesn’t.)

- and if he stops and thinks about it, which he hasn’t yet, he should realize as much - that Dean risked everything, gave up everything, renounced everything - for Sam. And to casually ask him to do the same for someone they don’t even know - someone who’s also directly responsible for Cas’ death - that was really something. Plus, Sam - the champion of free will - isn’t really interested in allowing others a free choice. Even leaving aside how he behaves with Dean, what he’s doing with Jack is appalling and not that different from what Asmodeus wanted with Jack. And yeah, so Asmodeus wanted Jack to free the Shedim, and Sam tried to have him move a pencil, but the essence is the same: it’s not about allowing Jack to grow up and discover who he wants to be, but about shaping him into an instrument that can be used.

(See also: Sam not giving a damn when it was Cas stuck in his room all day, watching TV and refusing to go out - but suddenly when Jack does it it’s cause for concern and ‘he needs fresh air, Dean’, and Sam’s ‘he’s messed up because of you’, which - Jesus Christ - and ‘if there’s one thing Dean respects it’s effort’ and mostly ‘you’re starting to sound like Dad - his drill sergeant act worked with you, but it didn't work with me’ - I hope I wasn’t the only one staring at that point, because what the actual fuck? And what annoys me the most here is that, as I said, the show is not doing this on purpose, working some secret angle - this, to them, is objective reality. What Sam is doing is coded as alright - as compassionated and Good. It’s Dean who apologizes, and it’s Dean who’s told to his face ‘You upset your brother so much he had to leave the room’ and ‘he’s terrified of you’. Honestly, this is their childhood and that clown place and the Striga all over again.)

3) There are plot holes that are impossible to fix, but that’s not new

Look, it’s not even worth it to go into this, but just - if God has no power in the Empty, how did he resurrect Cas the first whatever times? And if Jack is a mindless idiot, how could he manipulate Cas and Kelly from the womb? And what about that other Nephilim? Did no one notice her existence? And the Antichrist boy? Will we ever see him again? And how come it’s suddenly safe for Jack to go on hunts with them? Isn’t everyone and their cat looking for him? And how does Lucifer need Mary, exactly? He’s not human - he doesn’t need to make a hostage negotiation - he just has to find his way back and burn Sam and Dean into the damn floor.

4) Gay subtext ruins everything

I talked about this already, but just - as usual, there was a lot of Destiel subtext, enough to keep us happy - from angels seeing right through Dean and saying it’s ‘sweet’ how he thinks Jack can bring Cas back to Dean’s control slipping (“We lost everything and now you’re going to bring him back” - and, like, whoa) and that ‘moving on’ comment, not to mention the ‘I know who you love’ line in the Empty. But, again, the problem is that they’re not going anywhere with this (if they were, they’ve had about six years’ worth of openings), which means this is damaging the story more than it is helping it (narratively, of course; financially speaking, it’s a different matter). It’s turning Sam into a complete asshole, it’s stopping him from dealing with Lucifer, and it’s making Dean into this weird person who does things without rhyme or reason. For instance - the fact he decided to burn Kelly but not Cas, not until they could find Jack - how does that say good things about him? The implication is, he didn’t give a damn about Kelly. She could die the true death, because he wasn’t interested in the possibility Jack could bring her back, but Cas - for Cas, he had to wait. And that’s something which becomes understandable, even forgivable, if Dean is in love with Cas. But if they’re just random bros - Dean never reacted like that - not when Charlie died, not when Benny died, not even when Bobby died. It’s only after Cas dies that he becomes the worst version of himself - that he drinks too much and he snaps at people and he doesn’t care what happens, as long as they get to kill something. And if Cas is - whatever - just another guy, then Dean’s behaviour is really not okay. So, you know - people have been saying it for years, but just - either stop it or make it textual. Enough is enough.

Random thoughts

I liked that the Empty functions like the Hell in Greek religion - that you wake up when you’re called, and otherwise don’t exist at all. An elegant compromise. I’m still not clear what those ‘cosmic consequences’ were. And still not happy that Death died and that was - okay? Also, how careful are they around Crowley? Will we ever know what happened between Mark and Dabb? Buttshake kid was a good kid. ‘You have an angel watching over you’ - yeah, no. That’s doublespeak, and I can do without it. Oh, and Buckleming only included an attempted rape and not an actual rape in their latest episode, so I guess there’s hope for everyone?

#spn meta #spn 13x01 #spn 13x02 #spn 13x03 #spn 13x04 #destiel #i repeat #i do not hate sam #they're writing him weird is all #also sorry if i'm repeating stuff #i've been trying to avoid spoilers #so i haven't checked other metas yet

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theloudmute-deadaccountwheee · 6 years

Text

Meet Marv!

*Anti stood outside his local shop, texting Dark that he’d be home soon. Snow gracefully floated from the sky and melted as soon as it hit the concrete and asphalt. With plastic grocery sack in hand, he made his way to the crosswalk. He wasn’t too far from home. And Anti loved walking in this weather. The snow was a small distraction from his task at hand; finding some way to bring Mute back.

He came upon a crosswalk, just a few blocks from home. He looked to the sky and let the snow fall on his face; it always made him feel like he was traveling amongst the stars. His gaze return to the road ahead. He looked left. No cars. He looked right. No cars...but atop the brick fence next to him perched a short haired white cat, licking it’s paw*

Anti: Well hey little guy!

*the cat’s ears fell*

Anti: Oh. What’s wrong?

*Anti examined the cat further. on it’s forehead, in a diamond shape, were the four symbols associated with a deck of cards; heart, spade, club, and diamond*

Anti: Woah! That’s really neat, kitty!

*the cat perked up, lifting it’s chin. Anti extended his hand, gingerly. the cat sniffed Anti’s hand...sniffed again...and then pushed it’s head into Anti’s hand. Anti rubbed the cat’s hand and scratched under it’s chin*

Anti: You’re just precious. Whatchya doin’ out in the cold, kitty? *it dawns on Anti that this cat has no collar* ...do you have a home?

*the cat notices that Anti quit petting and rubs it’s cheeks on Anti’s hand. Anti continues to pet the cat. He knows he and Dark have never talked about having any animals...but he had to bring this cat in. at least for the night*

Anti: Hey you uh...you wanna come home with me?

*the cat delightedly hops onto Anti’s shoulder and perches, almost like a parrot*

Anti: Well, alright then!!!

Anti and Dark’s Home

*Anti walks through the door, ducking so he wouldn’t hit the cat’s head on the doorway. Dark is sitting on the couch with one of the many plates of cookies given to them by various tumblr users, watching an episode of The Game Grumps playing Doki Doki Literature Club. Anti takes off his scarf and places it on a coat hanger*

Anti: Heeeeyyy Daaaark.

Dark: *Dark munches on a cookie and turns to face Anti* Hey, man. *he looks back at the TV...then slowly turns his head back to Anti* ...is that a cat?

Anti: *Anti holds out his hands and the cat hops into Anti’s arms, allowing itself to be cradled* Okay, so, we never talked about having pets, I know, but it’s cold and--

Dark: Dude, calm down. I don’t care what you bring into this house- as long as it doesn’t bother me.

*the cat leaps from Anti’s arms and lands on the couch, then crawls onto Dark’s lap and exposes it’s belly, wriggling around*

Dark: ...hello...cat...*Dark notices the symbols on the cat’s forehead* Woah. Did this cat get branded or something?

*Suddenly, the cat begins to glow. in the blink of an eye, the white cat transforms into a young girl with dark green hair and big, blue eyes, wearing a blue v-neck cardigan and black undershirt, along with a navy blue pencil skirt, knee high socks, and mary jane’s. her hair was cut similar to Jack’s. her white cat ears still remained*

Dark: *instinctively, Dark pushes the girl off him to the other end of the couch, and he scoots the the opposite end* WH-WHOA WHOA WHOA WHAT THE FUCK?!

Anti: Oh...my god.

Cat Girl: Oh thank god! I didn’t think I was ever going to turn back. *she lifts her hands to her head and feels her ears* Oh damnit, those are still there.

Dark: CAN WE GO ONE DAY? CAN WE GO ONE FUCKING DAY WITHOUT CONTACT WITH SOME MAGICAL BULLSHIT?!

Cat Girl: I’m sorry!!! I didn’t mean to make you angry!!! I was just so happy someone found me and--

Dark: ONE FUCKING DAAAAY.

Anti: *Anti steps forward, setting down his grocery sack* You can understand why he’s freaking out though, right? I bring a cat home and...it transforms into a person?

Cat Girl: You’re right, it’s such a long story and, and, I didn’t think I’d turn back so quickly!

Anti: If you don’t mind, I’d like you to start explaining yourself.

Dark: *Dark jumps to his feet and heads to the kitchen* OF COURSE there’s a cat girl in our living room- of fucking course *his voice begins to trail off* there’s not a single day we can’t go without some magical maguffin popping up...

Anti: ...you gonna be okay Dark?

Dark: *from the kitchen* OH YEAH. CAT GIRL, WANT ANYTHING TO DRINK?

Cat Girl: A, um, a water, please.

Anti: So. What’s your story? Well, first off, what’s your name?

Marv: You can call me Marv, if you like. I haven’t really come up with a proper name for myself yet.

Anti: You don’t have a name?

Marv: Well, my dead name is Marvin. Okay, lemme back up. I didn’t always have the ears and I wasn’t always a cat. For a really long time I’ve been struggling with my identity, you know? And um...a couple of days ago...I just accepted it, you know? I’m a girl. I always have been. And I...um...my sister, see, she let me borrow one of her outfits. And I put it on...and walked down stairs...to my parents. They were already furious. I came out to them...and they kicked me out.

Anti: Oh, Marv...*Anti sits beside her and holds her hand* I’m so sorry.

Marv: ...thank you. And um...I just...I left. And I walked about half a mile away from my house. Then I saw this bright light! The bright light turned into a little creature- like a little fairy! She was so pretty and so excited to see me. She told me that I was a magical girl! Apparently, she had been waiting for me to come out for a long time. She touched my wrist and these appeared! *she showed Anti her wrist to reveal the same symbols that were on her forehead as a cat*

Anti: So she gifted you magic?

Marv: I guess so. She said she would be my guide. It was all so confusing and this was just, like, an HOUR after my parents kicked me out of the house!

Dark: *Dark returned from the kitchen and threw a bottle of water at Marv; she caught it. He sat beside Anti and sunk into the couch* Of course magical girls are a thing. Of course. Why not?

Anti: Let her finish.

Marv: Right, so, um...I don’t really know what happened, right? She was explaining magic to me and I sneezed and then all of a sudden I was a cat? And she hadn’t even told me her name-- everything was happening so quickly!!! She freaked out and said she could fix it and floated away.

Anti: Seriously? That’s messed up.

Marv: Right?! And why just GIVE me magic when I have no idea how to use it?!

Anti: So how did you end up at that crosswalk?

Marv: I just walked around, hoping someone would find me. Everyone who saw me would just play with me and pet me but you’re the only one that took me home.

Dark: How did you JUST NOW turn back into a human?

Marv: I have NO idea. I’m so confused...I miss my sister...I miss...*sniffle* I miss my parents. But they don’t love me anymore.

Anti: They’re bound to still love you. They can’t just stop loving their child.

Marv: My dad told me I was dead to him...

*they sit in silence, not sure of what to say*

Dark: ...stay here for a while, kid.

Marv: *Marv’s ears perk up* R-really?

Dark: For a while. ‘till you can find a friend’s house or something. Or ‘till that fairy comes back.

Marv: Th-thank you! Thank you! Thank you!!!

Dark: So we’ve got a demon that can’t control his powers and a magical girl that can’t either. I can’t believe I’m saying this but I’m the most put together one in this house.

Anti: Hey! But yeah, stay as long as you need.

Marv: I promise, I’ll get back on my feet, I won’t be here for long.

Dark: Start contacting your friends now. While you have hands that can type and not paws. Computer’s upstairs.

Marv: I will! Thank you, thank you!!! *Marv runs upstairs*

Anti: Thank you, for that.

Dark: Yeah, yeah. Do you think that fairy was just a trickster or something? The fae are pretty annoying like that.

Anti: I’m not sure. Maybe we’ll find out soon?

Dark: Can’t things be quiet around here? Just once?

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imagineclaireandjamie · 7 years

Note

Imagine showverse Claire teaching a hesitant and insecure Jamie that its okay for him to initiate lovemaking and amorous activities with her and that she won't rebuff him, in the early days of their marriage.

Persuasion: A Show!Verse Alternative Wedding: Part 1.

If Jamie had wed me for any other reason other than as protection, it was certainly becoming less and less prevalent.

I watched as he ran his hand along the side of the filly, waiting to see if she would accept his touch. When she did he continued along her legs, lifting her feet to check her hocks.

Tilting my head to the side, I took him in as he bent over, his back arching as he picked at the young horses’ filthy feet.

There it was again, that little burst of fire that lit within me whenever Jamie did anything vaguely provocative. He hadn’t touched me since our wedding night. I knew he was apprehensive about making a move on me but after we’d delved into intimacy that night, I was of the opinion that he wouldn’t resist the occasion to try it again as soon as we were given privacy once more.

But he hadn’t.

Instead he’d shied away from the act. Abashed, he’d tucked me up the previous night and made some ridiculous excuse about needing Murtagh to attend to something. He hadn’t returned to bed and, subsequently, I’d woken alone.

Viewing him now, he didn’t seem to be ill and I began to wonder whether something I’d said or done come morning had put it off.

“Ye’ll stare a hole int’ the back of his head if ye keep glaring like that, lass.” Murtagh broke in, startling me as he leaned back on his heels looking quite proud of himself. “Is there something amiss?”

“Amiss?” Was there? Well, of course. Two days and nights and - although some small part of my subconscious castigated my lascivious side for wanting to bed Jamie again and again (and again) - I was secretly yearning for his touch. My cheeks must have turned a glorious shade of puce as Murtagh chuckled lowly. It was only the second time I’d seen the surly Scot crack a smile. His beard, as thick as it was, hid most of his facial expressions to an almost annoying degree.

“Can I ask you something, honestly?” I pressed, needing no further encouragement to broach this -delicate- subject with Jamie’s assertive godfather. He’d told me of his discussions with Murtagh prior to our nuptials so I felt little to no guilt or embarrassment for bringing up the subject with him too.

“Aye, mistress. O’ course. Shall we go back into the tap room, that way we can be alone?”

Following slowly behind, I hiked my skirts. Taking one last glance behind me at Jamie, I left my new husband to his task without disrupting his duties. Whether he’d known I was there, I wasn’t sure. Since his ability to evade me was A grade, I didn’t doubt his capability to completely disregard my immediate presence.

Helping himself to the liquor behind the bar, Murtagh poured two drams of whisky on our arrival in the main bar area. With a quick look around to ensure our privacy, I sat next to the window, my eyes still drawn to Jamie as if his aura was constantly goading me.

“So then, what is it?” Murtagh interrupted, causing me to blink and turn back to him.

“Urm...well,”

“It’s a delicate matter?”

“Sort of,” suddenly the words wouldn’t come, although the intense fervour hadn’t abated. “It’s just, I-”

“Jamie, aye?”

“Yes.” Licking my lips, I swilled the whisky around in the bottom of the glass and took a tiny sip - just enough for the amber liquid to seer my tongue and warm my mouth. “He hasn’t...approached me since that night, our wedding night. Have I done something, do you know?”

Wanting to put this to bed - quite literally actually - I gave up on discretion, airing my concerns openly. If anyone would know, it would be Murtagh.

“He seemed-” Stopping, I wasn’t quite sure how much I should share, and how much might be considered too much information.

“Content on the night, Claire?” Murtagh finished for me, having no such qualms himself.

“Content,” I parroted, quirking my head to the side, “that’s certainly one word for it.”

Shuffling my knees against the underside of the table I brought my joined hands to rest on the gouged wooden top, wrapping both of my hands around the warm goblet once more.

My rings tapped against the worn glass and Murtagh’s eyes immediately hardened. Looking down, his gaze told me all I needed to know.

“Ah.”

Frank’s ring.

After finding it buried deep in the linens of my dress and then fishing it from between the two pesky - crooked - floorboards, I’d put it on again with a heavy heart. I hadn’t even thought what meaning this might convey to Jamie.

Stupid, I scolded. To have done so without at least taking him aside and explaining my need for it.

Unaware, Jamie - who had obviously opted for caution even before our short engagement - had heeded the timeless metals unconscious message. Its residence on my finger had solidified the notion that I was only bound to him by my merciless beating at the hands of Jack Randall.

Murtagh, who’d remained silent all this time nodded, slugging back the last of his drink. “So ye see, Claire. He doesna wish to disrespect ye. The marriage is consummated. You’ve done your part, and he’s done his. Now,” pausing, he gave me a scathing look before continuing, “if, as I am to believe, he is wrong on that notion. Ye might just ha’ to enlighten him. Gently, mind,” he gently scolded, as if I were an errant child, “Jamie isna any ordinary man. He’s loyal, sensitive and caring. Anything ye want to *convey* to him, ye must do so wi’ careful consideration.”

I swallowed. The impact of Murtagh’s words froze the warmth of the whisky in my belly, turing the liquid to ice. It was subtle, but it was a warning.

Whatever I chose to do now, it was make or break.

If I bid him back into my bed I was sending him a clear message.

*No turning back, Beauchamp*, my brain whispered as I nodded pensively.

“Treat him well, Mrs Fraser.” Murtagh finished, scraping the chair back. His use of my new married name caused my heart to pound out of time and my mouth dried in an instant.

Was I so transparent?

Laughing loudly now, Murtagh didn’t even turn back as he headed for the door of the tavern, back to his own menial tasks. “So easy, mistress.”

The click of the door closing trapped his words as they echoed around me.

Easy, indeed.

*Just like falling for Jamie* the tiny voice at the back of my mind sing-songed. Shuddering in pleasure at the thought of the sweet, compassionate, companionship Jamie had shown me in the few short days we’d been bound, I chugged back the remaining whisky.

Too late now to back out, I realised, slamming the empty tumbler back against the uneven table and laying my head briefly over my arms. Way, way too late.

#anonymous #;mod mbd #shy Jamie #Persuasion #Alt Wedding Aftermath AU

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airoasis · 5 years

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'Good Luck, Father Ted' | Father Ted | Series 1 Episode 1 | Dead Parrot

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'Good Luck, Father Ted' | Father Ted | Series 1 Episode 1 | Dead Parrot

Proper that is a Tuesday dealt with let’s take a seem at Wednesday no half of 7:00 mass i can take that and possibly would you are taking the eight o’clock in any respect proper i will be able to take that as good no um the half 6 evening Mass on Sunday night mass too early no challenge i will be able to take as well I just make a note mornin Ted Barney Google Google there’s a there’s some shaving cream simply there no there’s now not that no your gran no on you oh where exactly Ted simply there under your ear here yes and there is a there’s a little more long past no there may be nonetheless only a contact two minutes it’s everywhere the situation Oh God how on this planet did all that get there I didn’t even shave this morning so what are we doing today Ted confessions and mass and things like that I suppose sure to colossal matters like that it is first-class being a priest is not it Ted god it’s beautiful out oh wait let L you Ted enjoyable lands come to craggy Island it will be here Saturday oh yes this is the fairground factor oh i’d no longer a lot curiosity in that form of factor myself to be sincere they’ve bought a spider baby what a spider baby you are aware of it’s style of a freak show factor you are aware of it’s acquired the body of a spider nevertheless it’s in reality a little one how is that this a little one does it have a nappy on us or something no when does it have the top of a baby no well if it looks like a spider and it would not virtually gurgle at your whatever how do you comprehend it’s simply a youngster to hold it in a pram Dugan are you obviously certain about this you’re not confusing us with a dream your head or some thing no actually I saw it on the information honestly oh oh wait no virtually no did you say it it was once a dream yeah have you ever been finding out identical to I told you Bob Ted i’ve yeah yeah sorry about that but we will have to go anyway Ted come on it’ll be nice last yr I needed to go with the horse-driving and it was once simply superb I did not comprehend you would experience horses well it wasn’t a real horse Ted find it irresistible it was once this ancient fella with a saddle on him go it ought to’ve been about eighty you understand of direction he couldn’t go very quick like I was once sort of lashing him with the weapon all could not get a lot of a response out of him you realize and the way lengthy had been you up on them i might say it was about but an hour so that you were upon an eight-year-historic man driving him round and deciding upon him for 60 minutes you understand that photo will stick with me for the leisure of my life I all mentioned yeah it is great isn’t it come on we will have to go no i don’t think I might take the excitement to be sincere consider I just say if there is whatever on the tv cleaning soap a form of jumper is essentially but they’re just going learn the old diagram hey father Ted Kelly speakme hi there father sorry to disturb you my identify is Terry McNamee i’m producing the program religion of our fathers for small screen television Aaron at the second doing a particular on clergymen who work in isolated communities and that i was wondering for those who’d be enthusiastic about speakme to us good that’s that is very um that is an extraordinarily interesting fifth of Our Fathers is my favourite software you understand good you we’re the first man or woman we thought of deal with that I could come over and we might give you a small cost in your predicament help a unwell okay nobody no have to be anyone Ted only a second Oh rapid question how precisely do you get to craggy Island father it would not look to be on any Maps no what wouldn’t be on any Maps no Terry we’re now not precisely big apple now the satisfactory option to to find it’s normally to move out from Garlin or quite north till you see the English boats with the nuclear symbol on the side even very practically the island when they may be dumping the historic glow-in-the-darkish one thing are there any other priests residing there with you our researcher does not mention anyone else um well no there is no one else here i will see what Saturday then i will give you a name when I get there I the answer again Ted by no means activate the tv when father Jack’s asleep you know the way he’s but he’s always asleep sure well someone who served the church as long as he has deserves a relaxation just fairly an honor for us to guard in his historical age yeah appear at him dreaming of prior glories indubitably ladies pay concentration we have acquired a distinctive treat at present it is very kindly volunteered to take him all via volleyball practice and he’s just jogged my memory that it is very warm today so there’ll be no need to your tracksuit tops whats up father Dougal McGuire right here and welcome to this week’s top of the Pops after which at number forty five this week is father Ted Crilley after I’ve bought the power and the quantity 15 for the sixteenth week in a row his father Jack Hackett with IMS Sleepy breeze how does that cup shake get on the television is the tv damaged again father yes we’ve got an hindrance way there may be nothing mistaken with that that can’t be fixed with the visible you understand snigger in the head to park and now then who’s pretty me please mrs.Doyle T sec I to find mr. Doyle you want to have a cop i know thanks mrs. Doyle truthfully i want have a cop are you sure an hour tart no i’m not within the mood types all right so like a while but you are no longer have a drop oh thank you mrs. Owen oh i’m first-class Noorie they take aside father and seriously no and what do you say to a cup take off cup this cup of tea take off oh gosh there was a mobile name prior from a Terry McNamee all right who’s that Ted I’ve by no means heard of him anything to do with there wasn’t on the television yes he is coming to Vic’s tv yeah good you’d be right here the next day or 12 grand yeah that’s good you called any one Ted still no longer working you are without difficulty the exceptional doo-doo-doo-doo higher than all the rest penis god Ted you worried the life out of me they’re doing the historical pop star thing bear dougela I was Ted yeah it was first-class being on television in these days I suppose I’ve caught the historic telly ebook with the mattress canine get some sleep you do not get overtired do you ever need to get into television you’re sad Ted annoy i wouldn’t mean to send that style of factor relatively yeah yeah i don’t think you would be a lot just right at it surely why not well you are a little serious don’t seem to be you and your eyes are bit crossed yeah they’re a little bit wonky tag the cameras can decide on that up you know i’m not pass eyed Dugan you’re somewhat no Ted sure half the time I have no idea if you’re speakme to me your father Jack dude why do not you just get some sleep correct simply have to say the historical prayers our Father who artwork in heaven hallowed hallowed be thy identify Papa do not preach doodle you understand which you can praise God with sleep turn your head a vegan for a tiring day God there may be tons of ways that you can praise God isn’t that head like that time you instructed me to praise Him by using just leaving the room that was a just right one sure Ted mmm Ted yes knock-knock who’s there father Dugan McGuire goodnight Doga right here you bit higher than others that is it you made it then I suppose so there isn’t any indication that it’s craggy Island there is no indicators or something it’s there a person looking at you with the t-shirt saying I shot junior ahh you are right here so what the line is very unhealthy father you’re a enormous muffled i’m on a transportable cellphone you caught me by way of surprise when you phoned me you know the way i am on the toilet so the place will we meet at any place we can get a number of good shots any nearby landmarks no what no there aren’t any landmarks right here now Terry no not all comprehend although the island itself is a type of landmark quite the general rule is that if you are heading away from it you’re going within the right course correct there’s the discipline feeling good that sounds good it’s not a area really however it has less rocks in it than most places father i’m going to meet you on the subject now how do I get there ask Tom there he’ll support you out proper father Thanks Holy Mary mother of God content material i’m so sorry it was only a joke attempt to hinder doing that once more dougela hi proposal was once really herself it’s the last factor i need you’re correct there Ted anyway it can be time for Jax stroll time to your walk father Jack the clips am i able to bring up the mobilephone land head he’d love that no he would not take him around the cliffs and this time if you’re going near the brink put on the brakes he used to be most effective simply fortunate the last time and you are not coming yourself i do know I think i’m going to stay right here and pray for a whilst Oh what are you after Ted i am no longer after something dude it’s no longer unknown for participants of the clergy to wish on occasion it likes greater than to get out the recent air that’s it now to your go is that invoice however man this is given every single some thing once he’s out thirty is a high-quality time he knows they is not going to kiss once I’d be half that father what you up to yourself good I feel i’ll just keep here and have slightly of an old pray all correct fill within the pressure it’s to the weekend patrons are reminded that our facilities are at a reminder of the unavailability I do not even used to be on here hello fatter whats up Tom tell your nuts and did you get them listed here are made it EJ i’d prefer to movie a seek advice from the island Faust I mean high-quality proper so I simply wait in the area noticed her Farah this time I’ve killed him in newcomer i’d need to speak to about that later i’m doing an interview for the tv keep your arms on the sides what’s quite cows database you have a face like a parrot it well is he is received some unfair between us ah no fatherhood hey John Oh Paquito his father your thanks I’ve bought to satisfy someone now clearly i’m going to be interviewed for a television software particularly are that’s notable father i will kill you notable on tv well thank you I say you’ll be able to be greater than a match for a gay Borden or Terri Morgan or any of them supply me a couple of weeks to get to their level I need to go now i am looking to monitor down this movie you’ll be able to and so they often want to do a number of shut-united states of americaof grasp pictures and Nadi’s and that such factor we’re going to be late onset get a repute is the variety of Marilyn Monroe type see you quickly don’t hassle Ted get them i could not run cheese out of it over here in these days come right here seem at me oh good day Ken what are you doing here anyway Ricky was in this kind of thing you are supposed to be taking Jack for his walk good i’m are the cliffs have been closed today i would kiss be close doodle hope you comprehend it wasn’t that they had been long past you kissed forgot how might they simply disappear corrosion come on off that me straight to the children with you there is simply an additional cop returns to move with him you are straight residence to you right here i might need to hear any longer nonsense all people else is here do just right you are a priest you’re presupposed to exhibit some decorum this wasn’t a priest don’t you say that so he instructed me one time he does not even suppose in God take all the credit score at head however what the crater dying it’s known as out given that it was a younger fella killed on it final 12 months come on i am ailing and worn out York dead seem there is a fortune-teller come on we’ll have one go in there do not rest your money on that stuff – we will take you on no account be aware of there possibly something in it it’s rubbish how might any one consider any of that variety of nonsense just no extra ordinary than that stuff we realized within the cemetery heaven and hell and everlasting life bitch take it critically Ted well you are so two men to take it severely oh yeah yes having had an eternal lifestyles sure of course I can help you go in you go residence straight after that good i will I promise that all right whats up let’s go Ted cuts on one scared off preferred i’m going to do it and which you can watch whats up there take a seat you ought to pass my palm with silver silver i do not raise large luggage of it around give me a pound now i’m going to interpret one card at a time please I wasn’t concentrating and might be it would choose one other no no it is a common misunderstanding the Grim Reaper doesn’t suggest loss of life in a literal experience alternatively it will mean the dying of an historic subculture and the opening of a new one i do know what that is it’s regularly about a new lamp i am getting for my bicycle good it is going to now not come to be clear on the subsequent car that is rather weird there may be best purported to be one in each and every percent whats up Tom it can be alternatively Crilley around yet he’s yeah he is in Dale that’s a bad scar you could have acquired there tongue where did you get that it was once a in an argument oh i am hoping you won’t say something II did Lester I’ve had worse than that i can weed past anteed that to me appear like a deer pretend thanks my father jacket electing some house it’s almost 5:00 in time for his consuming goodbye that is where I bought this okay Shema Israel has back to me come on no father we higher be off come on there you might be father we got right here at final yet another father’s dead to the sector do you don’t know what’s going on gende but it’s time Kiran come on yeah you heard from from from the television good sure we just requested you a few questions Wow am I going to be on the small screen television well sure we will off with a history of the island after which move on to how existence has converted for the Islanders economically and socially father how would you say the individuals’s devout beliefs right here on craggy Island have been affected by the arrival of television and higher entry on the whole god no they may be speaking to generate great there i am it’s me look i am on the television tube no God does he particularly exist I imply little I don’t know i do not even consider in organized faith spiderbaby it can be obtained the physique of a spider however the mind of a little one it wouldn’t quite chew you uh on SN gotten older no I can’t suppose it both i am on the television yup shaking in the air a baby has been lodged within the tunnel of gods if that if we are able to have a nurse please to the tunnel of gods thanks a goat and youngster have now turn out to be abilities collectively and the North has grow to be worried in the within the immediate and one other Norse is required to release the Norse we asked for earlier thanks you

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