Cool Your Jets- Ch. 4: Out And About (Riff x newcomer)
As I make my way home, I keep kicking myself for ever think’n that Riff was anyth’n but a stubborn, insensitive jerk! How can he say that about the Puerto Ricans? Why does he wanna fight just because of some dumb turf? There’s more to life than-
I stop, and I remember what Riff had said about losing his family.
Maybe the Jets is all he has.
He’s in the same spot I’m in, except he has a family-a sorts to back him up. I’m just… me.
I keep walk’n, and then come to terms that I’ve got no clue where I am. Gee, brilliant move Marilyn. Foist night in the city and I’m already lost. I keep walk’n down alley after alley, and all-a them look the same-
“Maria…” I hear someone sing.
Huh?
I poke my head out and see Tony waltz’n through a basketball court.
“Say it loud and there's music playing!
Say it soft and it's almost like praying!
Maria...
I'll never stop saying Maria!”
His face shows a look of awestruck luv sickness. Aw, I hope he and Maria get together- they seem like a cute couple, if only Bernardo wasn’t so harsh on Maria. At least Tony has someone…
“Hola, señorita.” A dark voice calls from behind me.
I turn around and find a ragged-look’n guy hold’n a beer bottle. He’s obviously drunk, and I can tell from his gaze that he’s got more than friendship on his mind.
Ignoring his drunken rambling, I swiftly walk away towards a street sign in hopes of find’n my way home-
“Hey!” The drunk comes up behind me and tries to grab me. “I was talk’n to ya, bitch!”
“Get away, creep!” I punch his lights out and sprint off, look’n for anywhere to hide-
“Over here!” I turn and spot Riff in another alley. I’m still mad at him, but I’ll take my chances compared to the guy behind me! When I get closer I notice he’s alone.
“Hey chica. ‘S that bastard bother’n you?”
I lean against the brick wall to catch my breath. “Yeah… but- but I don’t think he’s gonna catch me.”
Riff chuckles. “Yeah, I saw that guy go down for the count. Nice punch! So, them PRs finally leave ya alone?” His smile fades and he seems to be sulking.
My jaw tightens. “They’re not bad people, Riff. They’re my friends. And if you all weren’t always fighting then maybe you’d like them too.”
Riff just grunts. “So where’d Tony head off to?”
I pause. Maria trusts me with her secret, and I’d be lying to myself if I said I wasn’t worried for my new friend. Tony seems like a nice guy, much nicer than Riff, but I still have my doubts.
“No clue. Last I saw he was headed to a place called Doc’s.”
“Hm. So… ya got any evening plans?”
I huff. “Uh, yeah. They ended up ruined after a jerk and his gang decided to fight my friends,” I say dryly.
“Aw, I’m sorry.” Riff walks up closer and puts a hand on my shoulder. “Could the jerk make it up to ya by taking you out?”
My eyes widen. “Like a… a…”
“Marilyn, I’d like to take you on a date,” Riff confirms, a smile spread’n across his face.
“Won’t Grazi be a little upset?” I give him a pointed look.
“I think you saw up close and personal that she don’t noth’n to do with me anymore.”
“Ah, I get it. Done with one dame and onto the next!” I put my hands on my hips. “You sure work fast, Jet Boy. But I ain’t gonna be just anodda goil for you to parade around with and then toss away.”
“Hey, it ain’t like that! Honest! I’ve been ‘round Grazi ‘cause Tony was gone, but now that he’s back he don’t want her back. But…” He sighs nervously and scratches his neck. “I donno… When I met you ya seemed like a nice gal, and I really wanna get to know you bedda. Please, just gimme a chance?” He begs.
I stare at the wall. Could he really be a nice guy? Could I get him to stop all this violence? Even if I don’t like him at foist, it’d be a smart move to be on good terms with both gang leaders, for Maria and Tony’s sake.
“Ok,” I face Riff and give him a nod. “I’ll let you take me out. But, no rumbles or any talk-a fighting during a date!”
Riff’s uneasy eyes widen and he smiles as he takes my hand. “You won’t regret this, Marilyn. I promise.”
“I bedda not,” I smirk.
“Can I call ya Lynnie?”
“Absolutely not.”
“I still will.”
“You’re insufferable!” I groan.
I take Riff’s arm and let him lead me down the dimly-lit streets, unsure about how to make city small-talk. Instead I busy myself by look’n at all the giant buildings.
I hear Riff snicker. “Impressed?”
“Say what you want, Jet Boy. I ain’t used to noth’n like this! In the country the tallest tree hold noth’n up to these skyscrapers!”
He smirks. “Just wait, beautiful. I’ll show you someth’n so big that you’ll never wanna leave.”
I stiffen up and look at Riff with wide eyes. “Um… and what does that mean?”
“You’ll see.”
Riff walks me to a part of town that’s in the middle between the newer and crumbling buildings. He points to a ladder leaned against a 4-story brick building. “Follow me up, but don’t open your eyes ‘till I say so.”
He starts up, leaving me flabbergasted.
“So I’m just supposed to blindly climb a ladder? Why don’t I just fall now and break my neck?” I outburst sarcastically.
“Just climb up, Lynnie!” Riff calls from the roof.
Against my better judgment, I begin my ascent up the ladder. When I get to the middle I look out and all I can see is dusty, crumbling buildings surrounded by smoke. Also- yikes it’s high up here!
“Um… Riff…”
“What’s the matter, sweetheart? Afraid-a heights?” Riff laughs above me.
“I’m used to climbing trees, Jet Boy! Not this!”
“What’s the difference?”
“Trees have limbs to grab. If I fall here I’m just a splat on the pavement!” I keep climb’n, and when I go to look down again I feel a hand grab mine.
“C’mon, Lynnie. Almost there!” Riff says encouragingly.
I reach the top and Riff takes my other hand to pull me up, and in do’n so I stumble into him. We both stagger back and go to lean against a wall, with me lean’n on Riff’s back. I look up at him, only to find him look’n down at me with a goofy smirk on his face.
“Bit eager, are we?”
I groan and push away. “You wish, Jet boy.”
“Now hold on a sec!” He grabs my hand again and puts another over my eyes. “I wanna show you the best part.”
“You mean there’s more than just rubble?” I jab at him.
“You’ll see.”
I do my best to navigate blindly without tripping again, but eventually my patience grows thin.
“Riff I swear to God if you’re take’n me on some wild goose chase-!”
“Here we are,” I feel Riff take his hand away from my eyes and put both hands on my hips, which causes heat to rush into my face. Thankfully it’s too dark for Riff to see my embarrassing blush.
But what I can see is the city, and it’s gorgeous! We’re at the back of the roof, and up so high that I can see the magnificent, gleaming skyscrapers dotted throughout the blooming city. The clear sky allows for bright stars to provide the astonishing structures with an incredible background.
My jaz drops and all I can do is stare. “Wow…”
“This place is the only spot left without any construction. I go here to think, ya know? Just… forget everyth’n.”
I nod. “Back home, I’d always go to the river near our house. It was so loud I’d just let my thoughts melt away into the noise. I guess by be’n in tha city ya don’t need to worry ‘bout noise.”
Riff chuckles. “Yeah it’s a mess out there.”
“One day it’ll all be behind me, and I can forget about everyth’n,” I whisper.
Riff’s tone immediately changes. “What? You’re leave’n? Ya just got here!”
I scoff. “I never wanted to come here in the foist place, Jet boy.”
“What about it? Ya got to meet me,” he smirks.
I roll my eyes and dramatically spread my arms. “Oh, yes. I’ve met Riff, the rough ‘nd tough Jet leader! My life is complete!”
“Hey!”
“Sorry Riff, but to me life’s worth more than territory. I just wanna go someplace where nobody can hurt me or tell me what to do.”
“New York could be that place,” Riff says with a hint of hope.
I chuckle.
“They say folks is dyin' to get here
Me, I'm dyin' to get away
To a little town out west
That's spankin' new.
And while I ain't never been there
I can see it clear as day
If you want, I bet'cha you could see it, too.”
Riff’s eyebrows shoot up and I can’t help but laugh.
“What? Ya never thought I could sing, didja?” I inch closer and hold up 2 fingers to close Riff’s eyes.
“What the Hell-?” He grunts in surprise.
“Close your eyes,
Come with me.
Where it's clean and green and pretty.
And they went and made a city outta clay.
Why, the minute that ya get there
Folks'll walk right up and say
"Welcome home, son
Welcome home to Santa Fe!"
Plantin' crops,
Splittin' rails,
Swappin' tales around the fire.
'Cept for Sunday when you lie around all day…
Soon your friends are more like family,
And they's beggin' you to stay!
Ain't that neat? Livin' sweet
In Santa Fe.” I sing sadly.
Riff looks confused. “Lynnie, the Jets are a family. And your family, if you’ll let us.” Riff takes my hand and looks deep at me. “We’s so used to be’n unwanted so we made our own family- just say the word and you can be in that family too.”
“Or… You could all move west,” I suggest.
“What?” Riff’s face scrunches.
“Think ‘bout it! Lots-a territory, nobody press’n up against you. If you ain’t got sturdy roots here than what’s the point-a stay’n?
“Santa Fe,
You can bet!
We won't let them bastards beat us.
We won't beg no one to treat us fair and square.
There's a life that's worth the livin',
And I'm gonna do my share!
Work the land, chase the sun,
Swim the whole Rio Grande just for fun!
Watch me stand!
Watch me run…” I trail off and stand up to look at the sunset, and wonder if it looks any bedda out west. Meanwhile Riff still has a somber look on his face.
“I… I do got roots here, Marilyn. Or at least remains of ‘em. My…” He trails off, then seems to rethink. “Never mind.”
I frown and go to sit next to him. “It’s ok, Riff. If you don’t wanna tell me I understand, ‘s just that I never thought you had a family since ya always boast ‘bout the Jets ‘nd all.”
Riff nods. “Yeah, the Jets are my family. This here-” He holds up the chain around his neck, and I can see now that there’s a pendant attached to it. “This was my dad’s. ‘S got the Lorton family crest on it. That’s me name, Gariff Lorton. I always thought that sounded crummy, so I’ve just went by Riff. Our family used to be someth’n to be proud of, back when we was in the bootlegging business. But after the feds shut up all the mobs we’s gone downhill, and then my old man drank himself to death.”
This sudden exposition leaves me feeling soft towards the Jet leader, and in the back-a my head I’m thankful to have grown up in a stable family.
“Wh- What about your mother?”
“Died when I was 5. Me dad’s drinking made her get depressed, ‘til one day she kissed me goodnight, walked right off the balcony and plummeted to her death.”
My hand flies to my mouth. “Oh Jesus, Riff… I’m so sorry.”
He keeps nodding his head. “Yeah, yeah, I’ve hoid all the sympathy talk. Folks hear this and they either pity me or just blame my upbringing on my ‘bad bahavior.’ Believe me, toots, it ain’t my foist rodeo.”
At this I wrap my arms around the stern gang leader, determined to show him that I ain’t just say’n stuff. He seems surprised at foist, but then snakes his arms around me so that we’re both snug up against a crate, staring out at the big city.
“I really do care, Riff. And if you don’t believe me, just know that family means everyth’n to me. It ain’t someth’n I’d kid around about.”
Riff don’t answer. Instead, he just keeps look’n at me as if I’m gonna say ‘just kidding!’ or ‘I'm just mess’n with ya!’ But when Riff sees I’m serious he smiles. Not a big, wide smile, but a small, grateful one.
“I knew when I saw you that you was special.”
I huff. “I ain’t special, I’s just look’n out for anyone odda than myself. Life hasn’t given me much, so I godda do what I can.” I look up at him with a sincere expression. “Thank you, Riff, for telling me. And thanks for show’n me this place.”
Riff rubs my hand. “I trust you. Besides, I wanted to make you feel welcome.”
“For the record, this has probably one-a the least terrible times I’ve had since I got here.” I chuckle.
“Aw, I’m flattered!” Riff replies. “This place is always open, if you ever wanna stop by.” He winks.
I grin and look up at the bright moon. “Well as tempting that is, right now I bedda be get’n home.” I stand up and start head’n back down the ladder.
When Riff follows me down he groans. “I knew this night couldn’t last forever. So sweetheart, up for an escort?” He doesn’t wait for an answer and slings his arm through mine.
“Tomorrow I’m gonna try to find a job. Noth’n too big, just someth’n temporary so I can pay rent and save up to go west.”
I see Riff’s face change to an expression of hidden somberness.
“You really wanna leave, don’t ya?”
“Riff, I ain’t a city goil. Sooner or later I wanna breathe fresh air again without someone try’n to kill me. I’m try’n to not get too attatched, so please-” I sigh and give him a imploring look. “Please don’t make this a big deal. I ain’t leave’n yet, so just calm down.”
By now we’ve reached my apartment, with Riff giving the Puerto Rican neighborhood an odd look.
“Are there any other exotic places here that I should see?” I joke.
Riff snorts. “Well, ya could always take a tour-a my place!”
I grin. “And where’s that?”
“A train car in the junkyard.” He shrugs. “It ain’t much, and it leaks all the time, but it’s the closest thing to a home I got. Noth’n like your penthouse of an apartment. But I’m sure you got a lot bedda things to do, so I’ll just bit you adieu.” Riff starts walk’n away and blows an air kiss. “G’night, Lynnie.”
After pondering an idea, despite a part-a me strictly disagreeing, I make up my mind.
“Hey, Riff?”
He immediately looks back. “Yeah?”
“Have you had dinner yet?”
Riff chuckles. “Um… does wadda and a dinner roll count?”
I laugh. “I’ll take that as a ‘no.’ Would you wanna come up to my place for dinner?”
Riff looks flabbergasted. “Wait- you’re inviting me to dinner, in your apartment?”
Suddenly I get embarrassed for ever suggesting it, and try to fluff it off. “I mean, if you don’t wanna, it’s only a few morsels, noth’n fancy-”
“Are ya kid’n?” A grateful smile spreads across Riff’s face. “‘Course I want to!” He extends his arm again and continues to lead me up the stairs, all the while earning some odd looks from the few Puerto Rican neighbors we pass. When we reach my door I go to pull out the key from my pocket-
“Marilyn! Ay ay! What are you doing?! Get away from her!” Anita comes up and pulls me apart from Riff, who looks just as shocked as I am. “You stay away from her! If I see you around here again I’ll call the police!”
“Anita, wait-!” I try to free myself from her grasp.
“Not now! Get away from him-!”
“I brought him here! He’s with me!”
Anita’s face changes. “You brought him? Mi querida, why? You know how dangerous he is-!”
“Yes, and I also know that he won’t hurt you or me. Will you , Riff?”
Riff, still shaken up in the corner, shakes his head. “I might know how to rumble, but I also know how to treat a lady. I make sure all my boys do,” he says sincerely.
“And what is that worth? A Jet boy’s promise?” Anita seethes.
“Anita! This is exactly why we’re not making any progress! It’s because you hate each odda so much, even when someone’s will’n to be nice, that you’ll just assume they’ll never change!” I yank my apartment door open and tug Riff inside. “But don’t worry, I’ll keep him here. Out of sight out of mind, right?” I shut the door in her face and turn around to lean against it. “Uggghhhh.”
“You read my mind, girly.”
Riff goes to sit at the small table while I take out some vegetables leftover from my dinner.
“Here. It ain’t much, but it’s all I got-”
“Lynnie, this is great!” Riff smiles as he looks at the tiny portions with hungry eyes. “I haven’t had this type-a meal in ages! Are ya sure I can have this?”
His modesty is adorable, and it’s eat’n away at my heart no matter how much I internally scream ‘don’t get attached!’
“Um… yeah. Go ahead. I gotta make anodda grocery run tomorrow anyway…” I drift off and just watch Riff all but devour his meal, all the while try’n to get past the thought of how leaving him’s gonna make me so sad-
Shut up! You’ve known the guy for one day! Get over it!
“Gotta say, I definitely feel more welcomed here this time.” Riff interrupts my thoughts as he finishes his dinner and cleans up the kitchen.
I huff. “Yeah, completely different circumstances than the last time you paid me a visit!” I give him a pointed look and nod at the window.
“So… you ain’t gonna kick me out again?” Riff asks as he sits on my bed.
I shake my head and smirk. “At this hour? It’s dangerous. I hear there’s a fearsome gang that hangs around here.”
“Meaning… I can sleep here?” Riff clarifies.
“Unless you’ve got a spot better than this rickety old bed.” I point at the creaking structure.
“Nope. This prime spot most definitely beats my bed-a grease rags in the junkyard. No rats.”
At foist I think he’s joking, but Riff doesn’t laugh the statement away. Instead he looks around my tiny apartment as if it’s the Taj Mahal, as if he’s happy just to simply have a roof over his head with someone who ain’t try’n to kill him.
He notices me staring, then shrugs. “Some city life, huh? At least you used to have a home, and kinda got one here too with the PRs. I got the Jets, but odda than that all I got is my wits, sense-a humor-” He gives a cheeky smile. “And my drop-dead good looks.”
I snicker. “You wish, Jet Boy. Now lay down and go to sleep before I knock ya out with my frying pan.”
He frowns. ‘What ‘bout you, Lynnie?”
“I’m gonna… crash on the floor.” I grab an extra blanket and pillow and go to lie down on the filthy rug. A somewhat terrible bed but it’ll do in a pinch.
Riff gets up, shaking his head, and sits next to me. “Oh no, no, no, Lynnie. Just ‘cause I’s a houseguest I ain’t gonna deprive my pretty hostess of her bed. I’m too much-a gentleman for that.” Outta nowhere, Riff picks me up as if I’m a delicate bride and starts carry’n me towards my bed.
“Jesus, Riff! A little warning next time-!”
“Ok. Incoming!”
Riff throws me up in the air and I come down flailing onto the discombobulated sheets. As soon as I land, all I can see is Riff’s wicked grin as he flops down on me. After wrapping a blanket around us and use’n my chest as a pillow he closes his eyes, smiles, and says: “G’night, Lynnie.”
I just gape down at him. “Um, no! Riff- get off me! How is this any way a ‘gentleman’ would behave?!”
“I let my pretty hostess have her bed, and now I’m use’n the hostess as my bed. I said I was a gentleman, sweetheart, not a saint.”
I try to argue more but he’s already half-asleep and snuggle’n up to me as if I’m a human pillow. Eventually I just sigh in defeat and half-turn over to rest my head on an actual pillow, let’n Riff’s warm, toned body send me to sleep with his steady breathing….
I can tell I’ve only been asleep for a few hours ‘cause it’s still dark out, but someth’n woke me up. But what-?
“Marilyn… Marilyn… Marilyn!” Riff’s sleep talk’n gets more and more frantic. “Don’t- don’t do it! Don’t- Marilyn!”
Now I’m fully awake and try’n to get Riff to stir, but every attempt is a failure. “Riff! Jet Boy! Hey, Riff! Wake up, you’re dream’n!” I shake him, but he continues to grip my torso as if I’m a life preserver.
“Don’t- Marilyn… Don’t die!” He sobs.
“Riff! Riff!” I shake him so hard that eventually his limp body springs to life, clutching me tight and his head look’n around frantically.
“Marilyn?! Marilyn…” Riff calms down again and closes his eyes, already fall’n back to sleep.
“Shhh… Shhh… It’s ok, Jet Boy. I ain’t go’n anywhere.”
He snuggles up to me again, and I notice that his shirt’s soaked with sweat. As carefully as I can, I slide the wet garment off without waking him up. It might look sketchy, but I’d rather have him think I’m a weirdo than let him sleep in this filthy thing.
I guess that’s a conversation for tomorrow. Right now, I rest my head against Riff’s chest as his breathing goes back to normal…
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GET TO KNOW THE MUN
——— BASICS! ♡
(PEN)NAME: Chicky
PRONOUNS: She/Her/They
ZODIAC SIGN: Taurus
TAKEN OR SINGLE: Taken
——— THREE FACTS! ♡
Awful at socializing I think. My brain blanks on what to say to people to start a conversation. It's like if it isn't a necessity or is something dummy funny like a meme I struggle to say something. I try to work around it because I want to be better, but it feels weird, like a script. Still, I try! It's easier to do online than irl.
Very much a homebody that does not like to get out.
A couple therapists I've had think I might be on the au/adhd spectrum. I would agree because there's so much there. Think it's all but put on my record at this point.
——— EXPERIENCE! ♡
PLATFORMS USED: My phone for texting rps, DeviantART, and Skype back in the day. Nowadays I use Tumblr and Discord.
——— MUSE PREFERENCE! ♡
GENDER: Female, but I have a little bit of everything; got a lot of OCs. Male, female, nonbinary, trans - I'm flexible baybee.
MULTI OR SINGLE: Single muse. I'm fixated on Jewel and always have been. It's difficult for me to divert my attention from her. She legit lives in my brain rent free 24/7. But! I have thought about making a multimuse RP blog with some of my other 'main' OCs. All of them are rooted in Bleach and I have their info already. It's just balancing my attention between them all, which is hard. Chase has his own blog and I don't even get on there enough rip.
LEAST FAVOURITE FACECLAIM(S): I don't have any? I don't mind them. I will say fcs of canons I'm familiar with can be jarring. There's a mental backflip in my head that says 'I know this face's canon story/personality but this is an OC and I have to treat it that way.' Like it's not a big deal ofc! But there is that quiet voice in my head lol.
——— FLUFF / ANGST / SMUT! ♡
FLUFF: I don't mind it. It works best with a connection to Jewel. She def has her cutie pie honey bunch moments with those close to her. And when she cares about someone the cute(tm) is inevitable. Sometimes her version of cute is bringing your muse a dead thing, ur welcome.
ANGST: Luv me some angst. Plotting helps here too. Gimme the worry, hopelessness, and sorrow. I will happily serve the gore and horrors up on a platter. Angst can rev a thread up and keep me on the edge of my seat. What's just as exciting is being able to write through those moments and get to the other side. Like damn we made a movie moment, look at us. |D
SMUT: I don't write smut, like, ever, because Jewel's v limited in terms of shipping and the specifics of what I'm looking for with her make it difficult to get to the point of writing any smut. She's had some 'almost' moments but nothing that was ever carried through. (almosts are fun though because they build tensioooon, but also boo bc that's all she's ever gotten lol) If it ever happens, I'd be happy to write it. 👀✨
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⊱┊32
“what? that fast?! i thought we’ll have at least~”
“well you thought wrong, didn’t you?”
“i~”
“it’s okay. listen, they are probably already on their way here, so you need to get the hell out of there right now.”
“okay, okay. i’m on my way.”
at this moment the sub history teacher figures out that i’m an intruder.
“hey, young lady, you’re not on my roll.”
“yeah, i know, sorry, i’m leaving right now.”
i can almost feel theo walking in the corridors with his dumb cap placed backward, but that might just be my nerves.
“no, no, hang on,” he utters skeptically. “you’re from the blackburn family, aren’t ya?”
“yeah, why?”
“i believe i know your father. nick? nicholas blackburn?”
“yeah, nick, that’s dad.”
“and you must be his daughter?”
“yup, rosé. ight, nice knowing ya, imma leave now.”
“‘rosé’, wow,” he chuckles. “nick wasn’t kidding, he really did name you that.”
“mr mikaelson..!” larissa cuts in. “i don’t get how in the movie..”
exactly what friends are for.
i turn around, but by this time, isaac, the man himself, comes through the door. he grips my wrist, turns back around and leads me straight out without any words spoken.
students stare in shock. the fact that our english lit teacher barges in, dressed in all sweats, swinging his car keys about like he’s heading downtown to grab a carton of milk or something?? well, nope, guys. we are kinda on the run, lol.
he walks me down the corridor, gliding his hand down my wrist and interlocking his fingers with mine tightly which honestly feels a lot better. “don’t look back.”
i look back to see two cops checking out the classroom we just left from. what pisses me off the most though is the fact that theo is in front of them, telling them where i might be. intuition never lies. guess he couldn’t wait to snitch.
“she has to be in here,” he says. jesus, he’s a complete mess.
arghhh.
“leave it,” isaac keeps me from turning around. “told you not to look back, didn’t i?”
“but he called the police on us..!”
“he’s embarrassed,” is the response that i get.
we round the corner. time flies because apparently it’s already recess considering all the students outta class. the shock and incredulity in their stares have never made me feel this much singled out. it’s like sir and i are the only ones moving. scratch that. we are.
“everyone’s staring,” i murmur self~consciously.
“let ‘em stare,” isaac’s austere voice is dipped in fury, zeal and passion.
zealousy is what i fell in love with and another’s jealousy is what almost took that away from me.
we exit the back green doors. isaac heads around to the driver’s seat and i open the door to the front seat. at this precise point, theo storms out of the building with his hands in his hair, enraged and humiliated.
as he glances up, he locks eyes with me.
swear, time, itself, pauses.
i shake my head at theo, telepathically pleading for him to fuck off. in return, he clenches his jaw and his nostrils flare up...not a good sign. then a smirk develops on his face, a pissed off smirk. so menacing in nature, it makes me question what i ever did to him for him to hate me so much.
“they’re here!!” he screams. “quick! they are getting away!” and he tries to make an attempt at catching up with us.
fuck’s sake!
“get in the car now!” isaac slams the door shut after himself.
i get in.
“shoulda fucking ended him when i had the fucking chance,” isaac seethes. “put your seatbelt on,” he orders with one hand on the wheel and the other hand sliding his own down.
i click it in, my heart racing.
“rosé!” theo gets in front of the car. “he’s not right for you! he’s got you all fucking brainwashed! please, just get out of the car.”
isaac revs the engine like he’s got a lambo for a romeo.
“see, look!” theo urges, holding his hands out in front to guard himself. “anger issues right there, man!” he points to the driver’s seat. “he’s sick!”
i stare at theo fiercely and he stares right back even though all he can see is the black windshield between us. this is the boy that tried to break us apart. this is the boy that used me for his own personal gain. this is the boy who almost succeeded.
keyword: almost.
meanwhile, students have also left the building to watch what’s happening.
“just step out of the car, rosé,” theo pleas. “and you and i, we~we can sort it out.”
i could have mistaken him for a crestfallen angel, face so damaged, eyes so blue, it could have fooled anyone. but not me. not again. the cops burst out of the green doors with their eyes glued on us. they call into their walkie~talkies, rushing to their vehicles.
“baby, please...”
i close my eyes.
there’s. that. word. again.
“drive,” i demand, and run him the fuck over while you’re at it i wanted to add badly.
“it’s not too late for you to turn back,” sir mentions. “i’d understand.”
“drive,” i tie my hair up.
“hold tight, my luv, because this may get a little outta control.”
tires screech at every turn he makes. theo stumbles back and falls on his ass from dodging his death. isaac enters the main road, not giving a single fuck about waiting for the oncoming traffic, a sharp left and slams down on the accelerator.
all done smoothly.
i reach for the radio and crank it up.
🎶can’t deny on the night that we met
felt like all time stopped in our heads
was just us, was just us
the windows slide down, allowing vigorous wind to mess up our hair.
“gimme your phone,” i pop my head out the window and reach back. “we won’t be needing ‘em no more!”
“bet me to it!” isaac laughs.
that laughter of his could stitch up broken hearts and fill them up with an infinite supply of honey. honeycomb hearts everywhere and endless amount of enriched sunset amber skies. this is love. i am in love. drowning in love.
“rosé!”
there he goes again, saying my name in that tone where i just melt. i face him, hyped to the core with hilarity. there’s this real definite look on his face, one i don’t quite recognise. a smile reaches his galactic eyes, his hair blowing wildly above them, reminding me of hot summer nights. nights i ain’t even had.
“marry me.”
my smile falls short... no way is he really asking me that? like, fuck yes i’ll marry ya!
“no..!” i laugh.
“no?” he gives me a cute, confused smile.
“nope.”
those nebula orbs flick up at me before turning away. “you’ll be the death of me, rosé marie blackburn.”
it’s his turn to wait now. he grabs my hand and places it on top of the stick shift. he shifts into high gear and the transmission hits its pinnacle. and that was it. that was the beginning of my life with
isaac
goddamn
killian.
...𝓁ℴ𝓋ℯ 𝒾𝓈 𝓌𝒽ℯ𝓃 𝓎ℴ𝓊 𝓇ℯ𝒶𝓁𝒾𝓈ℯ 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓉𝒽ℯ𝓎 𝒶𝓇ℯ𝓃'𝓉 𝓅ℯ𝓇𝒻ℯ𝒸𝓉 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒾𝓉 𝒹ℴℯ𝓈𝓃'𝓉 𝓂𝒶𝓉𝓉ℯ𝓇.
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Who’s in the mood to meet some fishermen? Anybody get seasick? I’d suggest getting off this ship now. It’s only going to get more intense from here.
As always, a million and seven thank yous to @sotheylived for betaing this story, @shipsxahoy for the lovely cover art, and @queen-icicle-fandom for the hand-drawn art. (Go give them some love. Follow them, they’re great people, scouts’ honor.)
Summary: Bouncing around with her son for the majority of her life, Emma Swan has told herself she’s happy in the city. It’s where the most camera operating jobs are, and that’s how she makes her money. But when an old friend calls her and asks for her help on a new project in small town Maine, Emma finds herself in a place she’s never been with people she doesn’t know filming a profession she knows nothing about. But when the captain of the ship she’s filming begins taking a keen interest in her and her life, she finds herself wondering whether she might just catch something other than fish. Deadliest Catch AU
Rating: M
Content warning: Character death, some violent situations
FFnet/AO3/Cover art/Snapshot art
Chapter Five
It’s early in the morning, and far too chilly to be late June. Her research did say that the weather would be cooler, but this? It’s like 60 degrees, if that. Last week saw record-breaking heat and now it’s freezing at the end of June. Stepping through the dewy grass gets her toes wet in her sandals and soaks the bottom of her jeans, making her even colder than she should be.
Right now, Maine is not at all the smartest move she’s made.
Jefferson, being the one to orchestrate this show – this entire ordeal really – leads them toward the water. He chatters away in the manner of nonsense, like he tends to do. Even when she first knew him, Emma thought he was mad as a hatter, or at least sometimes as creative as one.
At their dinner on Friday evening, in which she and David signed contracts that promised them exorbitant amounts of money, and while Grace and Henry chased each other around yard, Jeff explained to Emma and David that he’d managed to set up a bit of time with the crews of the trawling business so they could all get to know each other. The more Jefferson talks about it, the more Emma feels like she’s being prepped for the first day at a new school. She’s walking into this group of people who have known and worked together for who knows how long and here she is, the new girl in a man’s world.
Needless to say, her stomach gurgles with nerves.
Jefferson’s leading them toward a huge group of people all hanging about by the edge of the water. Even from afar, she can tell the group consists of men. Baggy jeans, flannels, combat boots. If they weren’t by the water, Emma would think she’s intruded on a lumberjack convention.
Leaning toward David, Emma asks, “What is with all the flannels? Do they know it’s June?”
David looks over at her with a smirk. “Says the girl wearing a sweatshirt.”
Emma shrugs. “What? It’s windy,” she retorts. David sends her a side-eye of knowing deflection that makes her blush. Arms crossed over her chest to keep warm, she can’t help the slight blush that washes her cheeks.
“It’s alright, Em,” he says, knocking into her side gently. “I know how guys somehow fluster you.”
She scoffs. “Please. Nothing flusters me.”
Jefferson comes to a stop at the backs of the crowd, and Emma and David halt behind him. He claps his hands to get the attention of the group. This is where Emma corrects herself: the flannel-clad group is made of mostly men, with one woman.
Girl power, she thinks. Way to represent.
“Alright, crew,” Jefferson says loud and clear, in his usual dramatic flair. “These are the two folks who are going to be operating the cameras on your ships.” He gestures toward her and David with open palms. She scowls while David, on the other hand, gives a small wave. “At some point in the near future, I’d really appreciate if you took these two landlubbers on board and taught them the ropes a little bit.”
There’s an uncommitted hum of agreement and understanding from the sailors. Jefferson spins around, his coattails flying behind him, to address her and David. “You camera folks, I want you to look for some places you’d think make for good mounted cameras. Think the corners of roofs, break rooms, whatever.”
“Of course,” Emma says simultaneously with David’s much more casual “Yeah, no problem.”
Jeff sends them a slightly crazed smile and a thumbs up before turning back to the crews. “Okay, why don’t you kids split off into your crews,” he says. Over his shoulder, he continues, “Mr. Nolan, you’ll be with the Jewel of the Realm. It’s the bigger of the two boats and your captain runs the family business. Em, you’re with the Jolly Roger.”
She can’t help but roll her eyes. “Really? Like the pirate ship?” It would figure: Henry mentions piracy, calls their move Operation Pirate. This is really too much.
With a shrug, Jefferson says, “I ask not where inspiration comes from or when it hits.” And with a flick of his hands, he starts walking back toward town. It seems that she’s been dismissed.
While David is already laughing it up with the larger of the two breakout groups, Emma strolls up to the smaller group. There’s four men: two with scruff, one with strikingly blond hair, and one whose attitude rolls off him in waves. She’s not intimidated by them, but she’s jealous of David. At least if she was assigned to the larger boat, the woman would be there, just so she’d have someone to talk to. Maybe. At least she would have a better chance of understanding where Emma was coming from.
But no, she’s got to babysit four grown men who probably act like teenagers. Especially that moody one. God, if Henry is a fraction as angsty as that guy come his teen years, she’ll have to ground him until he goes off to college.
She takes a deep breath to steady herself and then settles in to her tendency to be bossy. These guys will listen to her, respect her, if it’s the last thing she does.
“Okay, boys, I’m Emma Swan,” she starts, her voice strong, unquestioning, perhaps (hopefully) even threatening. “I have no qualms beating you into shape, but this is supposed to be a reality show, so I can’t do it that often. Don’t make me.”
The four of them chuckle. “A woman who’s not afraid to throw a man around,” the blond one says. “I like a woman in charge.”
Emma shakes her head and her hand flies up in the universal symbol for stop. “Gross. No, not happening,” she says with finality. Looking each one of them in the eye, she adds, “That goes for all of you. This –” she gestures to herself, “and that –” she gestures to each of them, “will not happen. We are coworkers at best, and that’s it. Understand?”
She’s happy to see a touch of fear in the blond one’s eyes, but he ultimately nods. One of the scruffed men steps forward and offers her his hand. “Won’t be a problem, Ms. Swan. The name’s Robin, Robin Locksley.”
“Nice to meet you, Robin.” She takes his hand and shakes it firmly. Internally, she breathes a sigh of relief. At least one of these guys seems to have a good head on his shoulders. “I look forward to working with you.”
“Likewise.” Robin grins, then points to the blond and the moody one. “This here is Victor Whale and this bastard’s Will Scarlet.”
Whale nods respectfully while Scarlet offers her his hand as well. “Lovely to meet ya, luv,” he greets her.
With a grimace, Emma takes Scarlet’s hand, then looks to the only one who she’s yet to be introduced to: the second scruffed man. He’s sort of hanging back behind his crewmates, dark hair swept over his eyes and a brooding look about him.
Great, this one’s got an attitude to, she thinks. Can’t wait to deal with that in the middle of the ocean.
“And you are?” she asks leadingly, bordering on patronizingly.
The man swaggers forward. “Killian Jones,” he says in a low accented voice. “Captain of the Jolly Roger.”
His eyebrow cocks up at the statement, as if he’s waiting for her to faint or gasp or be impressed. He seems full of himself, so naturally Emma decides to take him down a notch.
“Alright, captain. There’s no need for an attitude.”
“No, luv, you don’t understand.” Scarlet steps forward to explain, a hand flying up as if to keep one of them from attacking the other. “He fancies himself Captain Hook.”
Emma audibly scoffs and rolls her eyes. “Of course you would.”
“And what’s the tone there, Swan?” Jones asks. Disregarding Scarlet’s arm entirely, he comes closer to her, invading her personal space without a care. “Careful, many a lass has found themselves drawn to the captain himself,” he warns her.
And, to be quite honest with herself, she can see why – the whole bad boy thing really works in his favor, what with the general darkness surrounding him and then the pop of his startlingly blue eyes – but she’s been scorned more than once and knows how to react to those asses.
“Right,” Emma monotones. “Anyway, if you guys could give me a tour of the boat-”
“Ship, love.” It’s Jones that interrupts her and she can tell, just knows, that he’s going to do that for the entirety of this project. “The Jolly Roger’s a ship, not a boat.”
“Not your love,” she mutters. And then, under her breath to self, she mumbles, “Really not your love.”
In a moment, he’s somehow magically appeared at her side instead of in front of her, breaking all her boundaries. “We shall see, Swan,” he whispers in her ear. “We shall see.”
Emma jumps, if for no other reason to hide the dissipating goosebumps on her skin.
“Gimme a tour of the ship-” she looks pointedly at Jones- “like Jeff said and we can all get on with our lives.”
With a single nod, Jones strides off, leading the way down the docks, Whale and Scarlet following not too far behind. Robin, however, hangs back with her.
“Welcome to Storybrooke.”
“Thank you,” she says on a sigh. Though the sun is up, the sea breeze keeps the temperature lower than she desires, so she hugs herself to keep from shivering. The sweatshirt was a great idea. “It’s a nice change in scenery.”
“Really? Where are you coming from?”
“The southwest, where it’s really fucking hot all the time.” Her hand flies to her mouth and her eyes go wide. This guy is supposed to be a coworker. She’s supposed to be professional around them, but the cold is really throwing her off her game, among other things. “Sorry.”
Robin chuckles heartily. “Not a problem,” he tells her. “I have a feeling you’ll fit right in with this crew, Ms. Swan.”
Emma brings her hand away from her mouth. Glad at his admission, she requests, “Go ahead and call me Emma, Robin.” He nods. “Honestly, I just pull that out to assert myself. Sometimes guys see a pretty face and their dicks take control of their brains.”
Robin laughs again. “I completely agree. My wife and I are trying to raise my son specifically against that.”
With relief, she smiles. This. This is familiar. This she knows how to approach. “How old is he, your son?” Emma asks.
“A very insistent four and a half.”
She laughs. “I remember those days,” she says with fondness. At that age, they lived in a city and Henry demanded he pet every dog they passed and told their owners how old he was. When she glances at Robin, he’s got the question on the tip of his tongue, which she is more than happy to answer. “My son’s ten now.”
(Robin’s nice. He’s not a dick like his captain, at least. And he’s married, so he won’t hit on her, with a son of his own, which she can relate to, maybe even advise him on from time to time.
Emma thinks she might have just made her first new friend in town.)
“Probably a right young gentleman,” Robin compliments.
“I think so,” she says. “You know how it is with kids. They come into your world kicking and screaming and take over your every waking thought shortly afterwards.”
“Yes,” he agrees with a chuckle. Neither of them talk for a minute as they navigate the wooden slats of the dock. Robin steps ahead of her ever so slightly to lead her to the Jolly Roger. “Well, I hope you both like it here. Once you’re a little more settled, you should come over to our place for dinner. My wife’s lasagna is to die for.”
Emma nods. “We’d love that.”
There are three signs telling her they’ve reached the proper ship. The first is the most obvious – the boat in front of her bears bold black letters at the tip: THE JOLLY ROGER. The second is Emma can spot David’s blond hair and shoulders on the larger ship next to it.
The third is Jones’ loud, already annoying voice interjecting itself into her and Robin’s conversation. “You already inviting the lass to ship dinners?”
“Did he tell you about Regina’s lasagna?” Whale shouts from some unknown corner of the deck.
“More importantly, her apple pie?” Scarlet asks, his head poking over the side of the ship with a wry smile. “I’m tellin ya, mate, songs should be written about Regina’s pie.”
Robin chuckles. “I’ll be sure to send the compliments along,” he says humbly. Then, addressing his captain specifically, he adds, “I was trying to welcome Emma to town. I was saying how we should have her and her son over for dinner soon.”
Jones’ eyebrow goes up. Way up. “Son?” he echoes. Even with the distance between them, Emma catches his eyes flick down to her left hand where it lies across her chest. She’s tempted to hide it all together, just to watch him squirm, but figures he would’ve already caught a glint of wedding band if there were one.
“Yeah,” she responds. “Is that going to be a problem?”
To his credit, Jones doesn’t react to her ringless finger, nor does he react poorly to learning of Henry’s existence. “Quite the contrary, I would think,” he says. “Would he like to become a pirate?”
Robin ushers her up the few steps to the deck while Emma groans. Jones watches her the entire time, like a hawk on its prey, as she clomps up the stairs. “Don’t even joke about that. You should have seen his face when I had to tell him this show wasn’t about pirates.”
Robin and Jones both chuckle at that.
Thankfully, Jones isn’t the one giving her the tour. There’s something about him and the air he gives off that unnerves her. Not in a way that sets off her motherly instincts, makes her want to keep Henry safe from any pervert she comes across. No, this sets off a completely different alarm, and, at the moment, Emma can’t decide whether that alarm is good or bad.
Instead, Robin shows her around the boat, interspersing facts and figures of the vessel with quirky little stories about his son and wife. In turn, Emma feels comfortable enough to ask questions - not that she would care because it is her job on the line. She searches for spots that she think would hold smaller, mounted cameras on the frame of the ship: one inside the galley where the crew hangs out, a couple outside the crow’s nest, another on the rope reeler.
Every once in a while, Whale or Scarlet pops up out of nowhere, adding an unnecessary sexual comment or a snarky jibe. It’s like they wait their turn for the new toy - her.
Robin, to his credit, doesn’t seem fazed. He answers every question she asks in terminology that makes enough sense to her and explains the machinery as they pass by it.
The whole tour doesn’t last very long – the ship’s only about 35 feet long, mostly covered with ropes and cages.
“It’s much roomier once we’ve set the cages down at the bottom,” Robin says. “Little more elbow room, I promise.”
Their final stop is the captain’s roost, where Jones is sitting behind the wheel and making calculations. He looks up but doesn’t say anything while Robin talks.
And, figuring that she won’t be in this place without the captain, Emma allows herself to zone out, let Robin’s voice turn into white noise and dull to a buzz while she studies Jones.
He’s handsome, she’ll give him that. Sharp jawline, laser focus, shaggy hair that manages to fall artfully over his face and ears. She wonders if he wakes up and leaves it like that or if he, like some of the kids at Henry’s school, spends far too long making it look that way.
(He must do something to it. Otherwise, it surely wouldn’t so neatly cover the pinched points of his ears, would it?)
Robin claps his hands, breaking her concentration. “I think that’s it,” he says, glancing at her. “Have any questions?”
“Yeah, can we ‘ave lunch yet?” Scarlet shouts from below. “I’m starved.”
All of them laugh aloud. “Seems like privacy doesn’t exist even up here,” Jones mutters with a pained smile. He yells down to the deck, “You lads can go ahead to Granny’s. I’ll field any questions from Swan.”
“I actually think I’m good,” Emma says as Robin takes his leave. “I just need to compare notes with Jeff and David and then we can start installing the stationary cameras.”
His crewmates shout something back that she can’t quite make out, but he waves them on with a smile. She can tell when they’re back on the docks and on to town by the way his grin falls ever so slightly. He tries to hide it, but she’s always been more observant than the usual person. From his spot at the window, he still somehow manages to swagger up to her in this small space. This time, Emma holds back her eye roll.
“Then if you don’t mind, I’ve got a few queries for you,” he says simply. With a jerk of his head, Jones ushers her down the ladder. His feet hit the deck only a couple seconds after she moves from the bottom rung of the ladder. “These cameras, would you mind telling me where you wish to place them?”
She cocks an eyebrow in curiosity. “Why?”
Turning to face her, Jones tilts his head. His voice goes low again, low and serious. “My brother’s just instated me as captain of this ship and I take that responsibility very seriously.” Straightening his spine, he walks to the side of the ship and looks out toward the sound and open water. “You’ll come to find that the sea can be a fickle mistress. These planks and nails are built to precision.” The way he speaks of the vessel – what Emma thought only this morning as an organized pile of wood and nails – as if it’s a lifeline. And, as he continues, she begins to realize why. “It will be the only thing keeping you from sinking to Davy Jones’ locker in a summer squall, just as those men will be the first people to risk their lives so you can come home to your boy.”
He faces her again, turning his back on the sea. Her eyes quickly flit over him until they connect with his, almost imperceptibly different from the waters he was just observing. There’s overwhelming honesty behind his eyes when he says, “I need to make sure that every man I take out to sea comes back to shore unharmed.”
The ferocity of his tone surprises Emma. It’s in this moment where she can really, really see the character he fancies himself. She wouldn’t want to run into him in a dark alley.
(There’s a moment, a little tickle at the back of her brain, that mentions how much she might enjoy dragging him out into said dark alley, but it’s neither the time nor the place for that sort of thought. Not now, not ever.)
But she shows her appreciation for his protectiveness with a nod. “I don’t think it’ll mess with aerodynamics or anything like that, if that’s what you’re worried about,” she tells him. Emma quickly points out the locations she wants to put the cameras.
“They’re small, no larger than my outstretched hand,” she assures him. Jones asks about the specific dimensions, and Emma shrugs because she just doesn’t know offhand. “I’m telling you, it shouldn’t throw anything off kilter. If you’re really that concerned, talk to Jefferson or David or the captain of the other ship.”
Jones grumbles something to himself, skating his hand over the shadow of hair on his chin and jaw. It seems their conversation has come to an end and, with it, Emma sees the captain in a new light. They’re not too different in at least one aspect: they’re protective of their loved ones. The severe tone of his voice when he speaks about his crewmembers is similar – gruff and unquestionable – as hers is when another parent tries to tell her how to raise Henry.
Her ponderings are interrupted when she hears footfalls joining them on deck. Slowly, she turns on her heel to meet David and another man. He’s tall with curly hair and blue eyes she could pick out of a line up. He sticks his hand out immediately, kind smile wide.
“You must be the Emma Swan I’ve heard legend of,” he says. “I’m Liam Jones, owner of these two fine ships and this is my little brother.”
Off behind her, Jones protests, “Younger brother, Liam, we’ve discussed this.”
“I hope he’s been nothing but a gentleman during your tour?” Emma can’t tell if Liam is serious when he asks the question, but she suspects a hint of teasing.
She smiles at Jones and is tempted to rat him out or make him sweat, but there’s something about him that makes her answer, “Chivalry embodied.”
“Good,” Liam says jovially. He slaps his brother on the shoulder. “Might you two want to join us all for lunch? Granny’s Diner is the place to eat in town.”
Emma looks to David for her answer. He’s already shaking his head. “I promised my wife I’d help her decorate the living room once we finished up here,” he explains.
In her mind, Emma’s already disregarded the Jones brothers’ invitation. In a new town, she finds herself acting a lot like she did in high school and college: she didn’t go anywhere where she didn’t already know one person. She’d spent so much of her childhood losing friends and families that she got sick of making new ones without a solid backup to fall upon when they eventually ran away.
But Jones doesn’t know that.
“And you, Swan? Care for a bite of food?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. He’s got a very expressive face, Emma thinks, as he leans closer. In a tone meant only for her, Jones adds, “Perhaps a bite of something else?”
Emma gulps. Like, really gulps, like she’s some nervous cartoon character, for Christ’s sake. And is that a blush she feels rising on her cheeks? She tries to be sly in checking it, pretending to push her hair behind her ears by first brushing over her cheeks. Clearing her throat to buy her even a second more of time to compose herself, she finally responds, “I probably should, but I left Henry all alone at the house this morning, so I’ve got to go back and make sure he hasn’t set the place on fire.”
The Joneses share a look before bursting into laughter. Liam bends at the waist to catch his breath and Jones leans on his brother’s back for support. Emma sends a questioning look to David, who unhelpfully shrugs, and then back to the brothers.
“Love, if there was a fire, you would’ve heard the sirens,” Jones says, the last of his chuckles dying. He sniffs and wipes under his eye. “Alas, I understand. Your boy needs you first.”
And, like a fool, Emma snaps her fingers and sends him finger guns of approval. “Rain check.”
To their credit, neither of the Joneses – or even David for that matter – react. Liam nods and disboards while Jones smirks. “I’ll hold you to that, Swan.”
Biting on her lower lip, Emma nods and waves. Jones winks at her, shakes hands with David, and follows his brother off the ship.
And her eyes follow him. For no reason, she assures herself.
David bumps her shoulder, shocking her from watching the brothers walk away. He’s got a knowing smile on his face.
“Yeah, nothing flusters you,” he chides her in that big brother manner of his. “Nothing at all.”
She doesn’t need to feel her cheek to know the heat of a blush is there. Her lips pursed and arms crossed, all she can think to mumble is, “Shut up.”
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knowing your partner well makes writing together a lot easier , tag this with the people you enjoy roleplaying with but want to get to know better ( repost , don’t reblog )
BASICS.
name : olly
age : i am 15
pronouns : she/her
sexuality : heterosexual i think?
zodiac sign : ahhh I'm born on one of the fun in-between days so taurus/gemini?
taken or single : single
three facts : one, I'm still currently watching class of the titans send me help, two i have a cat and i luv him (completely unrelated send me pictures of ur pets pleeeeeeease) three,, i can play seven instruments with some level of proficiency??
EXPERIENCE.
platforms you’ve used : tumb.lr and once on insta.gram but it was not fun so that was a no from me
best experience : uhhh here on tumblr writing magnus and alina ( @sunsummoncd ) writing with you all is so fun i cri
MUSE PREFERENCE.
female or male : both i write one of each atm i don’t really mind
least favorite face(s) : i honestly don’t rlly think about that much
WRITING PREFERENCE.
fluff , angst or smut : gimme fluff or angst this gal does not write smut uh no.
plots or memes : there are good things bout both!!
long or short replies : whatever fits the thread best
tagged by : thieved it from the dash
tagging : u reading this should do it right now
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