#I promise my replies won’t all be this long and melodramatic lol | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hugmekenobi · 2 months ago

Text

Something New

A Bad Batch Post S3 Oneshot

Gif by @barissoffee

Hunter x femaleJedi!reader

Summary: You have a surprise that'll help you and Hunter take a break from the stress of planning your wedding

Warnings: No use of (Y/N), references to past poisoning, little bit of teasing, some self-doubt/self-consciousness, light swearing, Smut (lingerie wearing, kissing, marking/biting, non-explicit descriptions of slightly rougher sex with unprotected P in V, kissing, reader can be lifted), we have some light fluff and feelings too

<Previous Oneshot (not totally necessary to read but helpful for build up)

Masterlist for S1,S2 and S3

Word Count: 2K

Rating: 18+

Author's note: We're back! Sorry it's been so long!! I have no excuse for this. It was just a little thing that my Hunter addled brain felt the need to include before the wedding oneshot and @decembermidnight very nicely encouraged me to do this so it happened. No pressure to read! Just needed to get it out my system before the next one lol

“Remind me again why I just spent 2 and a half hours listening to all the bands Pabu has to offer and you weren’t there?” Hunter called out tiredly but merrily enough by way of announcing his arrival back home. He loved the people here but some of them were not as talented as they thought they were, and his ears were not thanking him for his patient listening.

“Because we agreed that me reading all the wedding tradition research Tech and Omega keep sending me as well as spending a minimum of 3 hours a day getting poked and prodded by Lyra was equal to you handling the music, food and flowers.” You replied as you peeked your head round the refresher door.

“Hey, I read it too!” Hunter protested. He liked being involved in the process. It was new territory for both of you

“You read the summarised versions I put together, it’s the same as me helping you pick whatever band or flowers you’ve narrowed it down to.” You reminded him with a grin. “All about the teamwork, Sergeant.”

“Uh huh.” Hunter said with a fond roll of his eyes before he changed the subject. “Is there a reason you’re standing in there?” He asked as he casually passed by en-route to the bedroom.

“Don’t come in!” You yelped as you dashed behind the door.

“Why not?” Hunter asked but he obeyed your request and instead carried on to the bedroom.

“I have a surprise for you but now I’m chickening out.”

“Haven’t we had enough of those recently?” Hunter responded nervously. The horrible emotions and memories of your poisoning still lingered in his mind.

“This is a good surprise…” I hope. You added mentally as you stared at your reflection and worked on bringing back the confidence you’d felt ten minutes ago. “But I need you to promise me that you won’t laugh.” You requested, your voice loud enough so he could hear you.

“Why would I laugh?” He asked back, voice equally loud.

“I’m trying something new. We have been through a lot and I’m obviously not just talking about wedding planning stress, and I can only imagine the range of talent you heard today. So, I figured we need to unwind, wipe the slate clean. Hence, this surprise. But again, you cannot laugh, or I swear I’m walking outta here and all this wedding stuff comes to an end. You can marry Shep for all I care.” You threatened, obviously not meaning it but you needed him to understand that this was far out your comfort zone.

Hunter ignored your melodramatics, “What’s wrong with Shep?”

“Hunter!” You cried out through an exasperated laugh. “Do you understand what I’m telling you?”

“I understand but I do think a surprise is ruined by an explanation.” He quipped back as he took off his light layer, draped it over the dresser chair, and rolled up his sleeves as he waited for whatever it is you were talking about.

“When you’re done being a smartass, will you just promise me that you’re not going to laugh?”

“Yes, of course I promise but would you just get out here? You’re not making any se-” You appeared and suddenly he forgot how to speak. He couldn’t form the words. He couldn’t process the gorgeous image in front of him, so he was left just standing there, gawping in pure awe.

You shifted awkwardly under his intense stare and brought your arms to cover yourself self-consciously. “I can take it off if-”

“Don’t you dare.” His voice was hoarse with longing. The dark red lace lingerie set that left little to the imagination suited you and your body perfectly, emphasising ever part of you in a way that drove him crazy with need. The fact that the colour matched that of his bandana did not escape him either.

You glanced up and that was when you sensed the want flowing through him. It was reflected carnally in his eyes. You lowered your arms to your sides. “You like it then?”

All the words he wanted to say required more articulation than what his brain was currently allowing him to do so all Hunter could manage to do was nod dumbly. His hands were clenching and unclenching by his sides as he fought with himself to stay in control of his faculties. He was waiting to see how you wanted to play this.

You’d talked yourself out of doing this countless time up until this point and even tonight that feeling had still lingered but now, hearing and feeling the impact this was having on him, you began to believe it again. The growing confidence allowed you to move forward and dictate what you wanted here. Your simmering arousal grew more as you stepped towards him. “Want to show me how much?” You whispered as you placed a teasing and seductive kiss to his neck and trailed your hand down his chest, undoing a few of his shirt buttons as you did so. You could feel his heart pounding beneath your palm, and you mouthed along the tan skin that was now available to you, smiling as you heard his breaths grow more rapid and uneven. You brought your eyes back to his and waited expectantly.

Hunter didn’t need to be told twice. He dropped to his knees and placed slow, open-mouthed kisses up the inside of your thighs, sucking marks into your skin as he moved closer to where you were absorbing the softness of the material, teeth grazing the edges of the fabric.

“Hunter?” You murmured with a sensual sigh as you brought your head back from where it had fallen towards your shoulder blades and peered down at him. You caressed the side of his face with your left hand, your engagement ring proudly standing out as you moved your fingers with a tenderness that didn’t quite match the intentions you had tonight.

Hunter kissed your palm and relished in the feeling of the cool metal band against your skin as he stared up at you. He was enraptured by the sight of you and completely at your mercy.

You moved your hand to rake your fingers through his hair, tugging slightly at the ends and you smirked at the low groan he ground out at that, before you uttered a simple command without so much as opening your mouth. Fuck me.

The change in him was instantaneous. With a breath that sounded akin to a growl, he got to his feet and kissed you with an intensity to match what you were asking of him before he backed you into the wall. He didn’t miss a beat as he carried on kissing you and picked you up by the back of your thighs.

You matched the passionate strokes of his mouth with yours as you wrapped your legs around him and tangled your fingers in his shirt with a moan you felt him tight against you.

Hunter didn’t know where to start. He wanted to worship you in the way you deserved to be but the need he had for you was overpowering and he couldn’t stop touching your lace covered skin as he kissed you with utter desperation and need.

You knew what he was holding back for but this time, you didn’t want it gentle.

You wanted it rough.

You wanted to feel him.

Your body was yearning for him, and you couldn’t wait.

You snaked your hands down between you to reach for the waistband of his trousers. I need you. I need you now, Hunter. You said as you had to pull away to draw a much inconvenient but needed breath.

That was all he needed for his lingering doubt and restraint to officially vanish. Hunter didn’t bother removing the flimsy piece of fabric, nor did he particularly want to. So, he merely moved your underwear to the side without breaking the kiss. A low, eager groan rumbled from his chest as he moved into you.

Any pain quickly morphed into pleasure, and you welcomed the sensation of feeling him in this way as he moved against you. Harder. You instructed as you kissed him and took his lip between your teeth in encouragement.

Hunter was only too happy to obey. He relished the loud, breathy groan that emitted from you as he gave you what you wanted and the way your grip on his shoulders tightened, only heightened his own desire for you.

The two of you were to wound up for this to last as long as you usually did, and you could tell by the way his movements started to stutter that he was reaching that point of ecstasy that you were careening towards too.

Hunter could feel you tightening around him, and his words left him in a frantic and breathless manner, “I’m not going to- I can’t- you need to- fuck, you feel so good.” He couldn’t even finish his train of thought. He was that caught up in the feel of you and knew he wasn’t going to last for much longer, but he refused to let you go unsatisfied.

You knew what he was requesting and brought your own hand down between you and a cry left your lips as you went tumbling towards your climax.

Hunter swallowed the precious sound from you and pressed his mouth to yours in a final, hard and fervid kiss as he allowed himself to go with you. You both fell apart together with a shared groan and for a moment, all that could be heard was the sound of the two of you working on getting your breath back.

Hunter pressed his forehead against yours. “Did I ever actually tell you how stunning you look in this?” He asked as he got his bearings back.

“I think the focus lied elsewhere.” You kidded through a tired laugh. “But I got the message without it.”

“Well, you do. I mean you always do but this, yeah, this was a nice surprise.” He said gratefully. He kissed the hollow of your throat. “I love you. You took my breath away and you look absolutely beautiful.”

“Thank you.” You uttered quietly as you stroked through the ends of his hair. “I love you too.”

“Is this what you had in mind before Skara Nal?” He asked, his voice far raspier than it typically was as he lowered you down but continued to toy with you and the fabric.

His shirt was half-buttoned and wrinkled, his bandana askew and he was panting heavily. And you knew you were in just as equal a dishevelled state. “Might’ve been.” You said coyly as you ran your fingers through the shorter hairs of his fringe. “Lyra thought it was pretty important to re-create.”

“Remind me to thank her.” Hunter mumbled against your neck.

“And I have two more.” You said through a gratified and happy sigh as you cradled the back of his head as he lightly and dotingly kissed across your collarbone. “Next time I’ll wear one of the different colours.” You promised.

Hunter rested his forehead on your chest with a low moan. “I don’t know how you expect me to focus on wedding planning when I know this is something that I’ll be returning too. We’re going to have the most bizarre mix of wedding accompaniments cause I’ll just be looking for the quickest way out.”

You chuckled softly and on slightly shaky legs, you made to step past him to freshen up but Hunter’s hand around yours stopped you in your tracks.

“Hold on, what makes you think I’m done with this one?” Hunter said, his eyes gleaming with both mischief and desire.

“Aren’t you?” You replied with a smirk, but your heart was already racing in anticipation once more.

“There were a lot of really terrible bands.” He said by way of answer before he led you towards the bed.

Next Oneshot (to be posted)>

Tagging: @noeasyisnoisy, @andreaaxy, @moonychicky, @notgonnaedit, @arctrooper69, @dizzy-9906 , @nightmonkeysstuff @allthingsimagines , @thegreymarveljedi , @jellybeanstacey0519 , @callsign-denmark , @superbookishhufflepuff , @qvnthesia , @justsomerandompersonintheworld , @ooostarwarsfandom501st

#the bad batch #the bad batch season 3 #the bad batch s3 #hunter x reader #hunter x femalejedi!reader #hunter x female!reader #hunter x fem!reader #sergeant hunter #sergeant hunter x reader #hunter tbb #hunter the bad batch #the bad batch x you #hunter x y/n #tbb hunter x reader #the bad batch fanfiction #star wars #friends to lovers #fluff #smut

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delicrieux · 4 years ago

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☆ﾐ 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 “𝚘𝚑”

PART 13: ...O-OH?

it’s the night of the big stream. y/n uncovers a strange, albeit deep, bond with charlie. corpse interrupts her garden date with sykkuno quite unceremoniously. tensions are high as ever; proximity chat reveals internal monologues and stray thoughts. y/n’s “batshit insane” energy affects everyone. this is, quite literally, the best game of among us bretman has ever played.

─── corpse husband x reader, sykkuno x reader (if you squint, it’s very one sided) ─── soc. media + written fiction! ─── word count: 6.1k oops ─── ❥ reqs: sum people requested some interaction w bretman + jealous corpse + flirty sykkuno

author’s note: guys....GUYS WE’RE ON THE 3RD “OH” hope ur excited cus i am!!! this was rly fun to write, but then again, everything is better than writing an essay lmao! this is extremely chaotic and a bit seggsy but like a minuscule bit u wont even notice it i swear xx there’s not much social media in this one, mostly written lol. as always lmk wat u think n thank u for all ur kind words n sooo manyyyy ideassss!!! love u lots

ultimate masterlist. ҉ myso masterlist ҉ previous. ҉ next.

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It’s happening, you think, picking the discreet, angelic white color for your astronaut - with a halo and all, truly, you are a seraph that stepped through the gates of heaven and descended onto earth to grace these morals with your presence...quite literally, you’re not only donning white in game, but also in real life, cute as a button or more like as a bunny. Cat girls are overrated - cat boys, on the other hand, you’ll ardently defend till your last breath - but bunny girls...Safe to say, your chat had been going feral. Your endless ego is fed well. You even swore on your heart that no devilish trickery would follow in this game - you had left your snake ways behind you.

No one believed you. The Roaches know you too fucking well.

The influx of new subs, however, do not. Look at this cute girl! She wouldn’t hurt a fly! You chuckle at the compliments. At the exact same moment, Rae pipes up on the discord call, “Y/n is leering and cackling evilly. No one trust her.”

Demon woman herself must be watching your stream before starting her own. You pout, all adorable and innocent, but your eyes gleam slyly. Truly, a mastermind of manipulation! Look at you go! The chat is swooning. The viewer number steadily climbs past 16K and you hum happily, welcoming all that decided to join your little clan, “Don’t listen to Rae. Wifey is mad because I said I’m not bringing her back a souvenir. Well guess what, bitch, I’m the gift.”

Your perfect image does not quite align with your tone, nor the affectionate nickname you call your roommate (bitch, not wifey). The new viewers are none the wiser though, just like your new stream mates.

There is laughter from people you don’t quite know. The lobby is almost full, but not everyone has trickled in yet.

“Filing divorce papers right now.” Rae mumbles, but you hear the smile in her voice. It makes you crack a grin, too.

More hello’s and shy introductions to the people in the lobby. Sykkuno’s green astronaut pops in with a upbeat, “Hey, everyone! Hi, Y/n!” as his character circles around yours. A collective awww echoes in your stream chat as you, quite breathless at the wholesomeness, reply with a “Hi! Hi hi!” as well.

Corpse is next to join, mysteriously ominous. The discord call is pure chaos, everyone screaming over the other variations of his name while stressing different syllables. Silent as a grave, he just stands there, his black astronaut seemingly eyeing everyone in the lobby.

Alas, when the noise dies down, he utters, “Whaddup, baby.” and it’s pandemonium all over again. You are screeching/laughing along with the rest. His astronaut swiftly glides to Sykkuno, still circling around you, “Hey, Sykkuno.” He says. The latter abruptly stops. The game hasn’t even started, and already - betrayal! Sykkuno starts circling around Corpse now, leaving you in the dust.

“Hey, dude!”

“Yo,” You interrupt, “I’m like here too, yeah?”

“Fight, fight, fight!” Pokimane jeers. You can’t see her, but you’re certain she’s pumping her fists in the air.

“Let’s leave the bloodshed for the game, yeah?” Dream offers past her laugh ridden urging.

“No, fuck that, let’s start this shit right now,” Charlie declares - his monotone is strangely pleasant to the ear, and you lean back in your chair with a thoughtful hum. Something about his energy just clicks with yours instantly, but perhaps you’re judging too quickly- “Got my fucking knife ready to slit some throats. You can all pretend you aren’t ready to kill on sight, but that’s not me. I’ll teabag your dead fucking body.”

-yeah, no, your initial estimate had been correct! What a pleasant surprise, you feel like you and he will get along beautifully.

“Way to be subtle, Charles.” Rae snorts.

“Subtle doesn’t make an interesting game, Rae,” He’s quick to bite back, “and if I’m Impostor, you bet your fucking ass I’m going after you first.”

“Noooooo!” She shrieks, rushing to your astronaut, which is still just standing there, abandoned, like the equivalent of that one emoji, “Y/n, protect me.”

“Of course, baby.” You purr.

There’s mumbling in the discord call, though it’s barely audible. Corpse seems to be repeating the word to himself: Baby...Baby?...Baby...

“You’re gonna stab me in the back the first chance you get, won’t you?” She questions, already painfully aware of the answer.

“You know it!”

“Finally, someone that’s not fucking cowering in their boots and flaunting their real nature.” Charlie says, “Y/n, form a Big Dick Alliance with me.”

“Oh for sure, man.” You agree immediately, trailing to his in game figure, “Let’s show these virgins how it’s done.”

“This is going to be a mess, isn’t it?” Sean’s voice rings with a cheerful laugh, making you flustered. Yes, you’re actually playing with THE JacksepticeyeTM. You still haven’t fully wrapped your head around that part, “I’m very excited to see where this will go.”

“Nowhere good.” You say with unparalleled sincerity - every word you speak to him, the icon, the legend, the one of the few youtubers you actually actively follow, must be genuine. You doubt you can lie to him. He’s too good of a person. You admire him too much. Stuck between wanting to be a shady bitch and an absolute saint, you refrain from addressing him more - you are simply not worthy.

its the y/n trying to act like a normal person in front of jack for me

ikr she looks ready to join the monastery

each day we stray closer to gods light???

Your viewers are snide as always. Gosh, you love them.

The last player pops in, fashionably late, “Hey, y’all.”

“Hey, Bretman!” The call choruses somewhat harmoniously.

“Hi, daddy.” He’s speaking to Corpse now, a smile in his voice - you can hear it even past the static of his atrocious mic. Your eyes widen, eyebrows shooting up. Your friends are cackling, but confusion refrains you from doing the same - were you not the only one Corpse offered, seemingly so long ago!, to be his sugar baby?

One betrayal after the other. You’re glad for the Big Dick Alliance. The name has a nice right to it, too.

Corpse laughs, “...Hey, Bretman. How are you today?”

Damn, two sentences for him, but not even a word spoken to you!? You’re already scripting a very melodramatic paragraph you will text him after the stream. With poorly masked discontent, you mutter, “Wow, thanks for such a warm welcome, Corpse, my day’s going great, yeah, loving the company.”

“Now now miss girl,” Bretman chimes, “we can’t be all daddy’s favorite.”

“Careful,” Charlie drones, “I think you just got yourself onto Y/n’s shit list.”

“Right next to Corpse Husband and Valkyrae.” You agree, “Sykkuno!” You suddenly call him.

“Uhm-Uh-Yes?” Is his nervous reply.

“You’re safe.” You state coldly, “For now.”

“You are not going after Sykkuno on my watch.” It must be a belated holiday miracle because Corpse finally decides to address you. His words seem to awake something in him, “Hey-Hey-Hey-” He swiftly glides to you, standing right next to your minute virtuous angel, “When are you coming back to Cali?”

corpse stop acting weird challenge

literally omg lmao

he does bring up a good point y/n y u not in cali yet?!

^pack it up corpse simp he disrespected the queen when he didnt say hi

“Back off, buddy,” Charlie interjects, “this spot is for Big Dick Alliance members only.”

“I’m never returning.” You inform him, your voice cold like the Arctic snow, and the look in your eyes is no kinder. You feel like you’re having a stare down through screen.

Silence stretches. Is this an intimidation tactic? Because if it is, it’s a paltry one. Your conviction to be petty is stronger than any vulnerability you might feel.

“Then I have nothing to say to you.” He admits and fucks right off with that. Fine, go join Sykkuno and Rae in their little corner of betrayal! Friendship ended with Corpse, now Charlie is your best friend.

“Okay, guys, guys, guys-” Toast, noting this is going to spiral any minute now, tries to catch their attention, “Let’s start?!”

You look into your camera, and the roaches know what you’re thinking. You’re twins like that, communicating telepathically. You are taking back your tender promise of not being a conniving bastard. It’s fucking on. You will destroy everyone in your path, starting with the guy you have a stupid crush on - maybe?! Feelings are confusing, you’d rather just not think point blank period.

With no objections from the cast, the counter ticks away seconds and, for the first round, you’re stuck as CREW MATE.

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Charlie is a gift. Truly, you had not expected such a sudden, wonderful relationship to bloom. How have you not known of him sooner?! It’s a crime that you hadn’t spoken to him earlier. You are a 100% certain if you had found him before you started streaming, he would’ve been a big inspiration.

The two of you do your silly little tasks and curse like sailors, commenting about this and that thanks to proximity chat. You wouldn’t have been able to stand the claustrophobic silence if it was just a normal Among Us game - to think, missing out on all his foully worded quips! It almost springs a tear into your eye. He’s just as unhinged as you.

worried about this dynamic

its a trainwreck lol i love it plz collab more plz

Caught in a headed discussion in Electrical - TikTok trends, or audios specifically - you defend the app the best you can. Charlie thinks it’s super cringe, and you insist it’s part of the charm as you connect wires.

“I mean, have...-do you know that one audio, the one that goes, like,” You’re spilling your words, heated, frustrated that he’s so dismissive of the app that literally saved 2020, “it goes like, uhm,” You clear your throat, prep your voice - even take a sip of your favorite drink. Drawing the syllables, you try your best to make it drop an octave - it must sound like you’re doing an atrociously bad and nauseatingly scratchy Corpse impression with an extra dramatic flair, “My assssssss, your cockkk, you do the mathhh.”

“Did-Did I just-” You freeze hearing Corpse’s voice, finally done with your task. Charlie is muffling his laughter behind his palm; Corpse’s astronaut stands in the doorway, “What the fuck did I just walk into?” He seems genuinely confused, though a strangely winded. You’re mortified. Your shoulders are shaking. You look at the stream chat but it’s going too fast for you to follow. Manic laughter bubbles in your chest and you squeeze your eyes shut, mouth split into a toothy grin, lowering your head and trying to hide the blush dusting your cheeks.

“Hey? Guys? What the fuck are you talking about?” He questions again.

“Honestly?” Charlie chimes, “No fucking clue. TikTok, I think. Ask Y/n.”

You can’t reply. You’re crying. You cover your face with your palms, muttering a soft oh my god before bursting into a full blow laugh, throwing your head back, the motion accidentally knocking your headphones off.

“Y/n.” Corpse calls you, “Fuck was that?”

You’re howling. Your stomach hurts. There are literal tears in your eyes. You think Charlie might be laughing too, but you can’t really tell over your loud screeching. Hastily fixing your headphones, you wipe away the tears stuck to your lower lashes, heaving, “S-Sorry, I-” You stutter, breaking into another fit of giggles. Corpse patiently waits you to calm down. Catching your breath, you start again with a sniffle, “TikTok, yeah.” You idly fix your hair, trying to bite down a smile, “It’s an audio.”

“What- What kind of videos are you watching?”

“The good kind.” Your reply is instant, merciless, “Also, why are you here? We’re having a BDA meeting, you know.”

“I-I...” He trails off, “I...I heard people talking and...I just came here to check it out, but...I’m regretting it.” There’s a lilt in his voice, and you know he doesn’t regret jack shit. You bet he’s smiling. You wish you could see it.

“Bitch, then leave!” You huff. You aren’t sure what is with him today, and you don’t want to stick around and find out - his playfulness makes your stomach flip at the most inappropriate times! Like when you’re trying to sound threatening. You must retreat posthaste, “No, wait, I’ll do it for you.” You say, brushing past his character. Charlie follows after you.

“Dude, you’re so fucking lucky neither of us are the Impostor because you’d be deader than I’ve been feeling since I was 10.” Your favorite companion comments. Charlie is truly a modern wordsmith. You’re pretty sure you adore him, because you’re nodding your head, so quick to agree with him that even you’re surprised.

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A meeting is called. You spare a glance at your fallen crew mates. They will be missed. Sean most of all, God, why does heaven always take the good ones?! The game feels emptier without him, even if you really only passed him once on your trek to Cafeteria with Charlie.

You may or may not have been avoiding him, afraid you’d accidentally say something horrible and he would hate you. It’s a silly fear, though a deep one. And with Charlie keeping you company, you had not uttered a single objectively good, or even coherent, sentence. Your parents can’t watch this stream once it’s uploaded onto your Youtube channel. They know you’re barely keeping it together in most of your videos, but here, now? Yeah, no. Charlie is already hard to listen to on his own for sensitive viewers, and hearing you agree with literally everything he says with your own chaotic ideas? Your dad would stumble into an early grave.

Mom probably wouldn’t mind too much, but you’d have to explain your relationship status again. She is under the assumption that everyone you collab with is your significant other. You’d say it began with Sykkuno, though the exclamation of “Finally! My daughter isn’t pathetically single! We need to celebrate.” had started with Rae. Truly, a scandal.

Speaking of which, Sykkuno is gone, too, but you had time to mourn him already. You found his body roughly ten minutes ago; so torn with the fresh agony of heartbreak, you could not do anything else but cry. It was Charlie, bless his heart, that reported it.

“Someone killed Jack,” You say, voice dripping with venom, “court is now in session. I’m ready to vote the fucker out.”

People speak all at once. Toast roars over them, “ORDER! ODER IN COURT!” as he slams his hand onto his desk repeatedly. That seems to work, though briefly.

“I think it’s Y/n.” Corpse says. You stare at him, hand gripping your heart, mouth falling open in surprise.

flame him

corpse boutta be a corpse fr

beat his ass queen!!!!!

“Pardon my french,” You grumble, “but nani the fuck?!”

“It’s definitely Y/n, I found her and Charlie conspiring in Electrical. Surrealist experience of my fucking life, but it’s definitely her.”

“Dude, we’ve been over this,” Charlie sighs, shushing Rae who was about to comment something - knowing your luck, it was probably in favor of the man throwing you under the bus, “we would’ve snapped your fucking neck the moment you walked in. But we didn’t.”

“Yeah, we didn’t.” Corpse notes, “I said nothing about you, I’m just saying it’s definitely her. She probably didn’t kill in front of you because of your stupid alliance-”

“Someone sounds salty because he wasn’t invited.” Pokimane snickers.

“-or possibly she did tell you and you won’t betray her for the exact same reason.”

“That’s some big brain logic you pulled there, genius,” Charlie says, absolutely unimpressed, “sure you didn’t have an aneurysm trying to connect all of that together?”

“Well,” Rae pipes up, “Y/n and Charlie did say they will kill right before the game started. If you ask me, it’s not unbelievable. And Sykkuno was sorta on the shit list.”

“I’m writing down your name twice, Rachell.” You spit.

“Not helping your case at all, Y/n...” Dream worries, “And Rae makes a good point. Charlie and you have professed desire for murder. I’m just saying! It’s a bit suspicious, you know?”

The next words to leave Corpse’s lips sound incredibly smug, “See?” He drawls. The pressure is getting to you - you don’t understand where this beguiling talent of his to convince literally everyone comes from, but it doesn’t inspire any confidence. Your fist suddenly feels incredibly lonely, so useless - oh, how you long to swing at him, “It’s definitely Y/n.”

“I dunno...” Toast mumbles.

“It’s Y/n.”

“Corpse-” You try, but he's ignoring you - shocker, as if he hadn’t been doing that from the very start of this stupid game - and chanting your name like it’s a fucking mantra or something, a smile in his voice, knowing, relishing in the fact that he’s grating on your nerves, “FIRST OF ALL,” You scream into the mic, successfully cutting him off; catching your breath, you exhale, and continue, calmly, lowly, “get my pretty name out of your mouth.”

There’s a pause full of tense silence.

Then, there’s a sound, seemingly stuck in the back of his throat, “...O-Oh...?”

“Second of all,” You continue, words like honey dipped in arsenic, “This is the clearest smear campaign I have ever witnessed. By how hard you’re trying to frame me for fuck knows what reason, I’m led to believe it’s you that killed them. You’re the Impostor.”

“Corpse wouldn’t kill Sykkuno, though.” Rae comments, skeptical.

“Then the other Impostor did it.” You counter.

“Maybe you’re both Impostors.” Pokimane chirps.

“Y/n would never betray the Big Dick Alliance like that.” Charlie states.

You grin, “Charlie, I literally love you.”

“Wait hold up now,” Corpse seems to get his bearings together, “what’s this about love I’m hearing?”

“I have none for you, dick.” You snap, flipping him off. Your chat cheers. While he can’t see it, you hope he senses it through the screen, “I officially hate you.”

“No, wait-”

“Boo, Corpse, you suck.” Toast laughs.

“Y/n, please-”

“Let’s all vote for Corpse Husband, okay?” You say it like it’s his full official name with an encouraging smile and multiple soft nods. Sykkuno can’t be here to nod, so you’ll do it for him. You eye the rapidly decreasing timer before clicking on Corpse’s figure and voting for him. The VOTED icon instantly pops up beside your adorable astronaut.

“Baby, I-” It slips past his lips so easily, as if he’s not even thinking about it, like it’s only natural to call you that and a spike of anxiety shoots up, making you glare. It’s only halfhearted. You try your best to ignore the rapid and uncoordinated pulses of your heart. Replace unwanted feelings with anger and hate - works like a charm, every time.

“You are not allowed to call me that.” You hiss. The chat spams snake emojis.

“Wait-” Bretman chimes, “Hold up, y’all, slow down a minute. Why does Corpse never call me baby?”

“Yeah!” Pokimane agrees, “I want to be baby, too!”

Pokimane may not have been called baby, but you just single-handedly decided her nickname for her - Target 4. Welcome to the shit list, she is officially your public enemy number 1. You aren’t sure why the thought of Corpse ever referring to anyone else as baby makes you sick to your stomach (you actually do know why, but brain no think at the moment), but you wish this whole conversation never happened. You don’t like it.

20 seconds left. More VOTED icons appear by your friends. Corpse is the last one to cast his ballot at, you assume, you, as the rest wait for his quick explanation before everyone (or not) returns to the game, “...Because she’s my baby.”

Goodbye. Life had been sweet, and there was sorrow, though the amount of embarrassment you feel now is worse than when the internet found your cringe worthy high school pictures on your mom’s Facebook. It’s a mixture of dread and excitement - the pleasure of being noticed, cherished even, though anxious from vulnerability. Someone is screaming a very prolonged “WHAAAAT?!”, or maybe multiple people are, you aren’t sure, your ears start to hurt from the loud, conflicting cacophony of voices as you stare blankly at the screen. You received two votes, just like Corpse, Charlie got one, the rest skipped. With no one flung out, you all find yourself back in Cafeteria again.

Baby. My baby? My baby. My baby. The sentence is playing ping-pong in your mind, reverberating louder each time. You’re actually speechless for the first time in your life; your chest hurts, your heart beating so fast your hands start shaking. Had he meant it? Or was this a some joke? Was he trying to get a rise out of you again? You might just go insane from so many questions. My baby. Holy shit, this is a heart attack, this is what a heart attack feels like, dear God, you figured you at least had ten years before you get one!

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

First round ends with IMPOSTORS raining victorious. Your sixth sense had been working wonders since, true to you previous estimate, it had been Corpse. His companion was Pokimane. For absolutely no reason what’s so ever, you change her name once more from Target 4 to Target 1. Normally, you’re all for girls supporting girls. Men don’t deserve anything, really, but now you’re so flustered and still reeling from what you are 80% sure was cardiac arrest that you genuinely don’t care about your established morals.

Round two starts without much deliberation. You get CREW MATE again; the game must sense your growing bloodlust, making sure that once you do get IMPOSTOR, you will not hold back. True power is granted to those who are ready and strong enough to wield it. You wait for your moment with bated breath.

Charlie is taken from you too early. The two of you were once again caught in a discussion - God knows about what, Minecraft, hentai, oh! your server! - as you tried to card swipe for the umpteenth time. The lights blew out and you just knew one of you was getting murdered there and then. Charlie’s voice abruptly cut off, and you think a part of you died with him.

It’s a cold meeting; with your new best friend being the first to go, everyone decides to skip. You proclaim you seek vengeance. When the meeting comes to an end, Sykkuno is the first to offer his condolences.

“I’m sorry, Y/n.” He says, and while he’s not in Brooklyn, you somehow feel him patting your back. You feign a sniffle.

“There’s nothing to apologize for...” You murmur sadly, “Unless...” Your voice turns sharp as the knife that was surely twisted into Charlie’s back, “It was you?”

“NO!” He exclaims, “I would never-you gotta believe me! I would never kill him. I know he’s important to you. I wouldn’t do that, I swear.”

“He was like a brother to me.” You admit, solemn, “Charlie, if you’re haunting me right now, know I will avenge you. I will not let this go.”

Sykkuno hums, circling around you, “Hey, I have a task in Greenhouse. Would you, uh--Would like to, uhm, join me?” Despite the shaky start, he finishes on a firm, pleasant note. He’s trying to cheer you up. Having lost your closest friend, he’s offering you his company. You accept with a soft smile and a cute “Yes, please!” and he releases an airy little laugh. The two of you make your way to your favorite place in map MIRA.

It’s difficult to stay sad for long when Sykkuno’s so sweet; the atmosphere of the Greenhouse is strangely calming; your problems seem to be left behind the shut doors. If you tried hard enough, you could imagine being in an actual Greenhouse - the warm, damp air clinging to your skin, the unmistakable smell of earth and vegetation, the pleasant silence broken only by yours and his hushed voices and clumsy footsteps.

The two of you are talking. Mainly about your choice of attire. Cat first, Sykkuno ponders aloud, doing his task as you watch the plants grow, now bunny, what’s next? You affirm that you will most likely dress up in cow-print next, or as an adorable sheep. He laughs, admitting you’ll look good in anything before he trails off. His awkwardness is really endearing.

“Or!” You chirp happily, content with being locked away with him for the whole game. The idea must be playing in his mind, too, because he seems in no rush to leave, “I could, like, dress as someone from My Hero Academia. I watched the stream you did with Stella, the one where she made you look like Todoroki. It was really cute. You were really cute.”

“Oh, uhm-well, uh, thank you, thanks, I, uhm-” He clears his throat, and despite his stutter, you hear the smile in his voice, “I-I think you’d look better, though. Not as Todoroki. Or, probably as Todoroki, too. But, uhm, what character are you thinking about?”

“Maybe Momo?”

“Momo!” He yeps, “Momo is good. Yeah, she’s great. You’ll-uhm-you’ll look amazing. Really. Momo is awesome. Very pretty. Just like you.”

You are blushing. A stupid, toothy grin makes your cheeks hurt. Your eyes flicker to the chat, but again, it’s going wild. Giggling, you thank him for his sweet words, so giddy it’s honestly embarrassing. Why can’t you stop smiling? This is incriminating. You hide your lips behind your palm.

“...What’s this?” Corpse question. You had failed to note his sudden appearance, too busy gushing. “Am I interrupting?”

“Hey, Corpse!” Sykkuno greets. For someone so awkward and shy, he sure is good at hiding it when he wants to. Perhaps it’s all an act and you had been deviously tricked! Probably not, but you can’t help but narrow your eyes suspiciously, finally able to calm down. You definitely underestimated him, you just haven’t figured out how yet, “Not really! Y/n was sad Charlie died so I took her here.”

“You interrupted our date, dipshit.” You deadpan.

“...Fuck you say?” Corpse dares, his voice low and somewhat menacing - for someone who exclusively portrays his emotions through only his voice, he’s incredibly hard to read. This is payback. Your love for wreaking havoc resurfaces suddenly. Serves him right for pulling all this ignoring shit at the start. Maybe you’ll make him say oh again.

Your sly smirk is promptly wiped. Fuck. He said oh, he literally said oh out loud. The Teruhashi fangirl in you is screaming. You had been so caught up in defending yourself you didn’t even register it at first. Alarmed, you look at the camera, then at the chat. First oh, then my baby. There’s no way he had been teasing you, and this proves it. Holy shit. You mouth the words “HE SAID OH!” for your audience only.

now she notices

snail pace baby we’ve been loosing our shit for the past hour

corpse x y/n saikik au enemies to lovers 500k words slow burn im here for it

opening wattpad rn^

Your heart races in your chest - it might be considered an Olympic medalist at this point; flustered yet again, you wish you could cave into yourself. You should’ve brought your bright blue wig with you to Brooklyn. Turns out it would have been perfect for this stream. Yes, yes thinking about unnecessary details always works in distracting you from the butterflies throwing a fucking rave in your stomach.

“I guess it is a date!” Sykkuno admits, “Kinda after a funeral, but still.”

Corpse hums. You’re still too stunned to say anything. The black astronaut with adorable cat ears approaches Sykkuno.

“It’s not.” He states. Your mouth falls open in shock as your date, your companion, the Shoto to your Momo is murdered in cold blood right in front of you. His lifeless body, cut in half, lays on the tiles by the growing flowers, right beside you, “You didn’t see shit.”

“...I didn’t see shit.” Is all you can utter, breathless and terrified.

“Thaaaat’s fucking right, baby.” Corpse coos, “Now I’m gonna report it, and I’ll say we found Sykkuno together. Better stick close to me after the meeting, got it?”

If Sykkuno is Shoto, then Corpse is definitely Dabi.

why is that kinda hot tho omg

didn’t know i needed dom corpse since now but i do

y/n looks like shes boutta throw up lmao

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

You follow him around like a lost puppy - because what else is left for you to do!? You’re helpless in this situation. He’s got you in the palm of his hand, successfully eliminating everyone you had previously interacted with. First it was Charlie, then Sykkuno, even Sean, who said hello in passing, was shot instantly. Real Sangwoo behavior. You almost want to scream warnings at everyone to not approach you. You cannot mourn another lost crew mate, you don’t think your conscience can take it. But words fail to form. You’re too weak. You fake cry to your audience. They’re quick to remind you to stop acting like a little bitch.

“Mean.” Is all you say, eyeing the comments.

“Hm?”

“Was talking to the roaches.”

“What are they saying?”

“That I should betray you.”

“...Better not.”

A shiver shoots up your spine and you half believe he will bust down your door and drag you into his basement for real. A nervous laugh slips past your lips, “I won’t, I won’t.” You reassure him, “Don’t worry, I’m sticking with you. I haven’t seen shit.”

“I like that you listen to me. You always this agreeable?”

“You’re kinda not giving me a choice right now.” You grumble, vending yourself a drink while he looms behind you, protecting you. From who?! Himself?!

“Oh my fucking God, finally,” Bretman exclaims, “girl, I’ve been running around the whole map trynna find someone, is everyone like, dead?”

You’re scared to reply. Corpse does it for you, “Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, maybe? Not sure. Where have you been?”

“Oh you know,” Bretman grins, “doing tasks, talking shit, the usual. You two are not, like, Impostors right?”

You shoot a look at Corpse, but he obviously can’t see it. Biting your lip, you murmur, “Nope.”

“Just your regular crew mates doing regular crew mate things.” Corpse says, no, purrs. Because that’s not suspicious at all. You’d recommend Bretman to run, and not only because that sounded shady as fuck. But he seems to enjoy danger, or he just doesn’t care.

“Hmmmm, crew mates, sure. Miss girl Y/n,” He’s addressing you now; you smile anxiously, “How come every time I see you, you’re with a different man?! Like damn, leave some for the rest of us, for real!”

You like Bretman. You like his high-pitched whine and drawl. You would like him even more if not for the complex situation at hand. You fear for his life. Chewing at your bottom lip, you snicker, “Sorry, Bret. I can leave you Corpse if you want?”

He laughs, “Girl, I’d say yes so fucking quick, but I know he wouldn’t want that. Normally I wouldn’t care, but y’all are such a cute couple it’s making me not want to be a shady motherfucking bitch. Changing my ways, embracing the lord. Love it.”

Corpse doesn’t correct him that you are, in fact, not dating. His lack of reaction unnerves you slightly. Does he...? No! No think! Only exist! You catch that train of thought and steer it away from forbidden territory. Looks like it’s up to you to clear the air, and that is exactly what you do after trying to swallow down the lump in your throat, “Uh, we’re not together, actually. We’re just really good friends.”

“Bitch, then move over,” Bretman says snappily,”go like, back to your other boyfriends. Or find another one. I think I saw Dream near Navigation.”

“Near Navigation, huh?” Corpse hums thoughtfully. It’s a subtle warning, but you catch it. Yeah, even if you try running, Dream’s going to join your other ‘boyfriends’ in the afterlife. Granted, killing someone by just talking with them is kind of cool. Or maybe Stockholm Syndrome is finally kicking in, “Bret, the thing is, Y/n’s scared of dying, so she asked me to stay with her.”

It’s disturbing how good at lying he is. It is also really really attractive, as bizarre as that is.

y/n stop being in a toxic relationship with corpse challenge

making fanart of this omg her face

its the blushing for me girl get your head outta the gutter!

^she cant, it lives there

“Baby, you’re gonna fucking die if you stick with her,” Bretman points out, “have you noticed the mortality rate of her partners? Rest in peace, daddy.”

“He’s right, you know.” You mutter, dramatically looking to the side, “I’m no good, Corpse.”

“Not leaving you, end of discussion. Bretman, join us?” Corpse offers, catching you by surprise. He might still be lying, though. Creating a false sense of security before eliminating Bretman. Probably would laugh while doing it, too. Wow, he truly is evil.

Turns out he doesn’t have to do any of that, because when Dream strolls into Cafeteria, he kills Bretman instead. The two Impostors are finally revealed. You promised not to snitch on Corpse, but you didn’t say shit about not exposing Dream. You press the REPORT button and say just that: “Dream just murdered Bret right in front of me and Corpse.”

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

The last meeting is called. Dream had been voted out with the help of Corpse, and now only you, he, and Rae remain.

“Baby, you know what to do.”

The VOTED icon pops up beside Corpse’s astronaut. Rae wheezes, “No! Y/n, it’s not me, you gotta believe me, I swear it’s not me!”

“...I really don’t know,” You murmur, “I’ve been with Corpse a lot, and...Rae, I’m not sure...”

“Please! I swear it on my Kagayama cardboard cut out, I’m not the Impostor, please! You know me, I’d never lie to you like this.”

“She’s definitely lying.” Corpse says, sounding pleased.

“Don’t listen to him! Remember, during the first round, when he tried to convince us that you were the Impostor? He’s doing the same shit to me!”

“I also remember you agreeing with him.” You remind her.

“I was stupid! Small dumb brain moment! He was using us to win! He’s using you right now!” She votes, “Please, Y/n, make the right choice.”

You’re silent for a moment.

“I’m gonna...I’m gonna vote for who I think it is.” You lastly say.

A slow, lazy grin makes it’s way onto your lips, eyes gleaming mischievously. You had not forgotten your promise to your brother from another mother, you had not forgotten the pride of the BDA, you had not forgotten your beautiful friendship. Two miniature astronauts pop up by Corpse’s at the exact moment Rae screeches “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEES!”

“Fuck.” Is all Corpse says with a laugh.

The screen changes, informing of the first CREW MATE victory.

Your ears are assaulted with different voices as you appear in the lobby.

“Now that’s what I’m fucking talking about.” Charlie raves, “I swear to fucking God, Y/n, you even got me going for a second. Pulled some 1000 IQ shit right there. It was fucking amazing. Best back stabbing I’ve seen in a while, and I’ve seen a lot.”

“That was absolutely fantastic, Y/n.” Sean applauds, “I really thought you joined Corpse like some crew mate accomplice or something. Can’t believe you switched on him at the last second.”

“That’s my wifey!” Rae cheers, strolling to you, “Love you, mwah.”

“Hey, Corpse,” Charlie calls him, “How does it feel to be a fucking loser?”

“I’m surprisingly fine with it.”

yeah he would be lmao

mom is the best snake ever i love you sm y/n

rae and y/n’s friendship....the feeeeeels

As the rest sing your praises for another solid minute or two, the third round begins. CREW MATE again. Though, just because you’re stuck as an underpaid worker in a dying spaceship, it doesn’t mean you’re innocent. Your last round proved that quite well. You can’t help but silently snicker.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

TAGLIST IS CLOSED!

tags (in italics is those i couldn’t tag! make sure all’s ok w your settings!) : @littlebabysandboxburritos - @fairywriter-oracle - @tsukishimawh0re - @ofstarsanddreams - @bbecc-a - @annshit - @leahh19 - @letsloveimagines - @bellomi-clarke - @wineandionysus - @guiltydols - @onephootinfrontoftheother - @liamakorn - @thirstyfangirl - @lilysdaydreams - @pan-ini - @mxqicshxp - @tanchosanke - @yoshinorecommends - @flightsandfantasy - @liljennyx3 - @bingusmode - @unknown-and-invisible - @sinister-sleep - @fivedicksinatrenchcoat - @mercury--moon - @peterparkerspjsuit - @unstableye - @simonsbluee - @shinyshimaagain - @ppopty - @siriuslystupid - @crapimahuman - @ofthedewthesunlight - @mythicalamphitrite - @artsyally - @corpsesimpp - @corpsewhitetee - @corpse-husbandsimp - @hyp-oh-critical - @roses-and-grasses - @rhyrhy462 - @sparklylandflaplawyer - @charbkgo - @airwaveee - @creativedogs - @kaitlyn2907 - @loxbbg - @afuckingunicornn - @fleurmoon - @yeolliedokai

more tags are in the comments bcs tumblr only allows me to tag 50 people max 💙

#corpse husband #corpse #corpse husband x reader #corpse x reader #corpse social media au #corpse husband x y/n #corpse husband fanfic #social media au #corpse husband imagine #myso #make you say oh #sykkuno x reader #if ya squint #imagine #imagines #reader #reader insert

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jasmine-iroh · 4 years ago

Note

i have so many ideas in my head for fics LMAO and as u know i am obsessed w ur writing hehehe umm lets think can you do a sokka imagine where reader is Piandao’s apprentice as well so she spars with Sokka in his training and always wins, until he beats her one day from like being flirty and distracting her or something?? idk u can ignore this and just do any imagines u like LOL

Ahhhhh I love this idea so much!! Idk why but I have a headcanon that Piandao is lowkey like Batman and just trains abandoned kids and now he has like a tiny army of little white lotus warriors he’s informally adopted over the years.

This kid is weird.

That was the immediate impression (Y/N) got of Sokka when Master Piandao had introduced him as a new apprentice.

What the hell kind of name is Sokka, anyways?

That was her second thought. It was the kind of name that rolled off her tongue nicely when she was snapping at him to focus during their drills. The shape of it in her mouth made it easy to add a snarl to the front and a growl at the end when he was screwing around in front of Piandao, making them both look bad.

By the end of his first day training with (Y/N) under Piandao’s reserved tutliage, Sokka had been introduced to several intermediate forms. His heavy wooden practice sword had turned his arms to jelly long ago and there were various bruises and scrapes from (Y/N) sneaking past his defenses, but Sokka didn’t mind the aches.

She’s amazing.

That was Sokka’s first impression of (Y/N) as he watched her demonstrate the basic forms he was supposed to learn. He wasn’t focusing on the forms, but rather the warrior waltzing her way through them.

(Y/N) seemed to merge with her abilities. She moved with the ease of someone who spent her time befriending her skills, pouring her soul into singing metal and brutal dance numbers. Her blade was her master as much as Piandao was. She wielded her sentences as tactfully as her steel, every word intentional and aimed to cut to the heart of a matter.

Sokka would wager his last copper piece that her and Suki would get along quite well if they ever met.

He’s good.

That was (Y/N)’s third thought as she watched Sokka breeze through his basic drills.

A tiny part of her sung with pride when Master informed her that she was excelling in her duty of shaping Sokka into a proper swordsman. Sokka was her first real trainee during her time with Piandao. She’d studied under him from the age of six, when she’d turned up on his doorstep after being left behind in the middle of the night by her nomadic family.

She’d seen many hopeful young men turn up on that same doorstep, opening her sanctuary to their arrogant swaggers and second rate weaponry. They had all given her the same look when she guided them through Piandao’s home; a look that held the intrigue of having a girl around to preen for, not knowing that she was the judge, jury, and executioner of their fate.

Piandao might’ve been the one to teach the boys to fight, but (Y/N) was the one to make them honor the battle. They all came boasting to the Master about their accomplishments in their backwater town, lauding their own praises and embellishing their military bloodlines. Most left cursing the girl with forged steel for a personality and the word no sharpened like a blade.

Not Sokka, though.

(Y/N) supposed that maybe that’s what first warmed her up to him, the fact that he’d seen the sword on her belt first and her gender second. His quick wit and ability to bounce back after a defeat didn’t hurt, either.

Sokka’s knuckles were still red and actively bruising from their previous match when Piandao informed the pair that the next would be their last for the day. The compound was bathed in the golden promise of a sunset to come and (Y/N) found herself getting distracted by the way the light pressed gentle kisses to Sokka’s cheeks. The breeze played with his unraveling topknot like a teasing lover, taunting (Y/N) with the idea of what he’d look like with his hair down.

Before her thoughts could settle on the fight in front of her and not the boy, Sokka was making the first move. He went for the obvious strike, even though he should’ve learned by that point that (Y/N) would parry the blow.

Swinging her sword up to block him with ease, (Y/N) found herself shocked by their close proximity, puzzled that Sokka had thrown his first move to get close to her. A coy smirk was crawling along Sokka’s face as he gifted the young warrior with a flirtatious wink, causing her to narrow her own eyes back at him. It seemed that Sokka had seen her distraction and chose to wield his looks as his weapon of choice for this round.

“You can’t fluster me into losing, Sokka,” (Y/N) huffed, a mild bout of surprise bubbling as she realized that she was actually having to try to keep Sokka from getting the upper hand in their fight.

“That doesn’t seem fair, you’ve been flustering me all day.” He replied with a disarming grin, putting her on the defense with a quick, if somewhat unpracticed, set of attacks.

“Cut it out.” She growled, hoping the dark flush on her cheeks could be written off as exertion and not a real blush. Those oceanic eyes stared a hole into (Y/N), the flickering of his pupils to the side being the only consistent indication of his next move.

He was still too close for (Y/N) to ready a true offense, so she blocked and parried his attacks, his ever increasing proximity forcing her a step back with each move. She was trying to distance herself for an attack when the stone wall of the practice arena hit her back, shocking the wind out of her and allowing Sokka to land what would have been a fatal strike in a real fight. Their eyes were still locked as their chests heaved from the effort of the fight, bewildered (Y/E/C) eyes meeting a cunning blue gaze.

“Resourceful use of terrain, Sokka. (Y/N), don’t allow yourself to be crowded by a larger opponent. Use your agility, not your size.” Piandao advised, snapping the pair out of their staring contest. Sokka was still looming over (Y/N), but she wasn’t looking at him, instead forcing herself away from the wall to disappear into the bamboo thicket. She was being melodramatic, she knew, but she was ashamed that she’d let a stupidly charming boy make her look like a fool in front of her Master. The blow to her pride was blistering, raising all of her long buried insecurities to the surface.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Sokka’s voice called from the bamboo to (Y/N)’s right. To hear that much concern in the voice of a boy who barely knew her showed his true character, but (Y/N) wished he would reveal an arrogant side. Something, anything, to throw her heart off the scent of a crush.

“Why would you do that?” She snarled, trying to cover the turmoil in her mind with misplaced anger.

“Do what?” His disembodied voice was confused, the rustling of bamboo revealing his position to (Y/N).

“Embarrass me like that in front of everyone! Do you know how hard it is to be taken seriously as a girl doing this?” (Y/N) ranted, her glare already fixed to the spot where Sokka popped out of the foliage into her line of view.

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that, I just... I thought we had something going on there for a minute, y’know? You’re the best fighter I’ve ever met, being a girl doesn’t change that.” He told her honestly. He took a tentative step closer, approaching her like he would a scared cat.

“That trick won’t work a second time.” (Y/N) snapped, her eyes spitting fire at him. Once again, she found herself on the defensive with this boy, every careful step he took towards her sending her a step back until her back pressed against a clutter of bamboo.

“Trick? (Y/N), there is no trick. It’s called liking someone, and hoping they like you back.” Sokka exclaimed, frustration trickling into his tone. He wanted to be patient and give her room to puzzle out his intentions, but she was too busy protecting her emotions to see his truth.

A long pause, before, “he’ll replace me if he thinks I’m easily distracted.” It was said so quietly, in such a hopeless voice, that Sokka wouldn’t recognize it as (Y/N) speaking if he wasn’t watching her lips form the words.

“He’s a fool, then. He won’t find another (Y/N).” Sokka told her boldly, feeling wild and fierce in their bamboo haven with her baring her deepest emotions to him.

“Please stop saying nice things. It makes it really hard to be mad.” (Y/N) whispered in that same careful voice, her tone cooling as she folded in on herself. She couldn’t believe she’d shown her soul to a boy she’d known for two days.

“Then don’t be mad, be honest. Do you find me as distracting as I find you?” Sokka matched her tone, speaking quietly as he tried to coax her back out of her shell.

“No. Yes? I don’t know. I’ve never even liked any of the apprentices before you.” She huffed, tilting her head back to groan at the sky in confusion.

“Stop over thinking it. Do I distract you? Yes or no?” Sokka pressed, taking (Y/N)’s battle calloused hands in his own and tugging her attention back to those oceanic eyes.

“Yes.” Her tone was confident, her rough thumbs tracing delicate shapes over Sokka’s bruised knuckles as she accepted his rough palms in her own.

“I’m glad I’m not the only one, then, or this would’ve been awkward.” He admitted, a warm blush crawling up his neck.

“It already was,” (Y/N) giggled quietly, releasing the tension between them. They stood grinning at each other like fools, both trying to stretch this soft, peaceful moment into a lifetime. Sokka leaned down closer to (Y/N) slowly, his eyes flickering between her own and her lips as he gave her the chance to stop him.

Instead of bolting like he half expected her to, she leaned up and pressed a firm kiss to his lips, pulling him closer. The action threw him off balance and sent the pair tumbling through the bamboo, Sokka landing on top of (Y/N) with a squawk of indignation.

The serene atmosphere broken, they stared into each other’s eyes for a shocked moment before bursting into laughter and settling for holding each other close like a cherished possession.

#this got a little long and put of hand IM SORRY #I JUST LOVE MY SWEET BOOMERANG BOY #also this took me forever work has been HORRIBLE lately but i loved this idea and it was so fun to write #sokka x reader #sokka x you #sokka imagine #atla imagine #sokka fanfic #atla fanfic #atla #avatar the last airbender #avatar #sokka

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serenlyss · 5 years ago

Text

For the Sake of a Smile Chapter One

Rating: G Relationships: Teru/Shigeo, Ritsu&Shigeo, Teru&Reigen, Shigeo&Reigen Summary: Hanazawa Teruki is seven years old when his parents leave him to wait on a fallen log in the middle of a lavender field for them to return. He’s seven years old when a boy his age saves him from drowning and reminds him that there’s still light left in the world. Hanazawa Teruki is sixteen years old when he leaves home for the first time in search of a boy whose appearance he can’t quite remember and whose name he never learned, a nine-year-old promise yet to be fulfilled. Now, as he sets his sights on the bustling Seasoning City, he’s determined to do things right this time around. Chapter Summery: "Cooking is at once child’s play and adult joy. And cooking done with care is an act of love." - Craig Claiborne The prologue chapter, basically. Crossposted to AO3: Chapter One

Chapter Two (coming soon!)

Hello all! I've had this idea on my mind for a while and now that I'm out of school for the rest of summer I decided I can finally post the first chapter! As the tags state this is an AU taking place in the Kitchen Princess universe, but will not include any characters or settings from Kitchen Princess, so you don't need to know anything about it to read this. Basically it's a cute and very cheesy romance manga I read when like 8 or 9 years ago in middle school that I've gone back to over time.

As far as updates go, I don't plan to follow any specific schedule for this fic. The chapters are going to be relatively short (around 2-3k words for the most part, which is short compared to my 5-6k normal chapter length lol) and will update as I write and edit them.

Anyway, that's enough notes for now! I hope you all enjoy this fic, if you do be sure to leave me your thoughts in a dm or reblog this to let me know you're interested in reading more.

---

“Teruki, sweetheart, wait for us here, alright? We’ll be back soon.”

Mother ruffles his hair, long and blond and curly around his ears. Her touch is static and her words drip with honey as she speaks empty reassurances to him. He’s seven years old, old enough to use the little knives in the kitchen drawer to make himself a sandwich without calling for help, old enough to recognize that something is wrong, very wrong.

“Where are you going?” he asks. “When will you come back?”

“Mommy and Daddy have some work to do,” Mother responds, and neither of his questions are answered. “I know you’ll do just fine, you’re so responsible.”

The praise would normally make him smile, make him puff out his chest with pride, but now it just serves to make his heart fall further into his stomach.

“We need to hurry,” Father reminds Mother, holding his watch out for her to look at. “At this rate, we’ll miss it and have to wait even longer.”

“Miss what?” he asks, desperation seeping into his voice. He can’t wrap his head around what’s happening. Mother looks away, distracted, and her face lights up in melodramatic surprise when she sees how late the hour is.

“Oh, dear, you’re right!” she exclaims, straightening up from where she’s kneeling beside him. “We can’t let that happen, can we?” She doesn’t answer his question, doesn’t elaborate on what they might miss if they don’t hurry. Father doesn’t even spare him a glance as he turns on his heel and begins to walk. Mother follows him, waving and calling her goodbyes over her shoulder.

He stays sitting on the little fallen log, because that’s where Mother told him to wait. They won’t be long, he tells himself, and then they would all catch their train back home and he’ll pretend the discomfort and apprehension weighing him down were never felt at all. Mother will praise him for being so patient and Father might even smile at him when he sees how obedient he’s been. Those thoughts keep him firmly rooted. He can’t disappoint Mother and Father.

Hours pass. Mother and Father don’t return. The sun starts to go down, and he knows they’ve long missed their train home. He sits and sits and sits until his backside is numb and his stomach starts to growl from not having eaten.

The sun is nearly setting when a stranger finally happens across his path. She’s a few years old than him, maybe twelve, with badly-cut black hair that nearly falls into her eyes and a sharp gaze that seems to know more than she lets on. She introduces herself as Tome and takes him by the hand, and her touch is much softer and more tender than Mother’s had ever been. She leads him to her house, which is filled with kids of many ages whose parents are all dead or forgotten. “I don’t belong here,” he tells them, “my parents told me they’d be right back.”

The sun has long set by the time it sinks into his seven-year-old brain that his parents won’t be coming back for him after all. He lays on his side on an old futon in a bedroom that is too crowded with other children his age and cries into the early hours of the morning.

---

Teru hardly eats or sleep for days after he’s officially accepted into the orphanage Tome lives at. It takes a week of him insisting that his parents will come back and get him, that they must have gotten stranded or held back by something important, before he finally stops trying to defend them. He’s known all along that his parents don’t care for him enough to look for him too hard, but the thought still sickens him enough that his sour stomach won’t take more than the bare minimum. He knows that the sisters who run the orphanage, good women who always treat him with kindness and an infuriating amount of caution, are worried about his health, but he doesn’t care.

He leaves the run-down little house for hours at a time without telling anyone where he’s going. Sometimes the sisters send Tome to find him and bring him back, and sometimes he goes back all on his own, if he’s feeling particularly welcoming.

He doesn’t dislike the orphanage. His caretakers are kind and attentive, and the other children treat him nicely enough. He doesn’t know most of their names, but at least Tome doesn’t treat him like he might shatter if they don’t watch their words around him. Everyone knows he’s been abandoned, and while Tome knows the subject is forbidden, it doesn’t stop her from teasing him and sticking up for him and playing games with him as though she’s his own sister. It doesn’t make him want to stay in the house any more, but he appreciates it nonetheless.

One warm afternoon, Teru leaves the house like he always does, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his pants. His jeans are cheap and the dye is faded, handed down from an older kid who’d grown out of them. They’re not at all like the expensive ones his parents had once bought for him, but somehow he can’t bring himself to care. It’s a particularly bad day, one of the ones that catches him staring at the seams where two walls meet for minutes on end without blinking, the kind where Tome has to ask him three times in half an hour if he’s doing okay, if he needs a nap, if he’s hungry. He’s hardly eaten anything all morning, and his stomach grumbles incessantly, but he ignores the pangs in favor of walking down to the river.

It’s calming here, usually, listening to the rush of water as it rumbles past the rocky, muddy banks. He slips off his shoes and rolls up his pant legs, taking a few steps into the shallows and letting his feet sink into the soft clay of the bank. His hands fall out of his pockets and lay limp at his sides as he just stares down into the water, gaze half lidded and a perpetual frown on his face. He wades in a bit deeper, until he’s up to his knees. The water laps at the edges of his rolled-up pants, dampening their edges with its biting cold. He wonders, briefly, what would happen if he decides to walk out the front door of the orphanage one day and never go back. If he walks far enough, even Tome won’t be able to find him. He has no idea what he would do, though, or where he would go, so instead he just wades deeper into the water, letting the cold sap away the feeling in his legs for just a moment. His feet sink into the clay so far now that it’s hard to keep his footing, the mud slippery between his toes. His pant legs are soaked up to his mid-thigh.

He takes another step, crossing an invisible threshold, and the strong current in the center of the river pulls his legs out from under him. He doesn’t even have time to scream before he’s completely submerged, the icy water soaking through his thin shirt in an instant and sapping the heat away from his skin. He flails, scrambles for purchase, but his child’s legs are too short to find the slippery river’s bottom anymore and he can no longer tell which way is up or which way is down. Water rushes up his nose painfully and steals the breath from his lungs, which leaves his mouth in bubbles that float up uselessly and leave his lungs burning. For a frightful moment, he’s certain that he’ll die here, alone and unloved.

A hand closes around his wrist and pulls, hard. His head breaks the surface and his feet find solid ground again. He’s heaved onto the muddy shore, where he collapses onto his hands and knees and coughs river water into the grass. It dribbles out of his nose, which he sniffs loudly and rubs at with the back of his hand as he replaces the water in his lungs with air.

“Are you okay?” A quavering voice sounds near his ear, and he feels a small hand rest against his back. Teru manages a dumb nod and turns his head to finally get a look at the person who’d just saved his life.

It’s another boy. He can’t be much older than Teru is, and his wide, dark eyes are filled to the brim with worry and concern.

Teru opens his mouth to reply, but finds himself speechless. Tears come to the corners of his eyes and he hugs his knees to his chest, hiding his face as he begins to quietly sob. Part of him is glad to be alive, really glad, but the other, smaller part of him wishes he’d just drowned after all so he won’t have to face the sad reality of what his life has become anymore.

The hand stays on his back, rubbing soothing circles between his shoulder blades. Teru doesn’t look up until he feels the boy press something into his hand. When he does lay eyes on it, he sees that it’s a flan, carefully chilled in a pristine glass cup. There’s a tiny dessert spoon stuck into the top of it, one with an intricately engraved handle that depicts an emblem Teru’s never seen before.

“When you eat something good, you smile,” the boy says, and then offers him a small, shy grin as if to illustrate his point. “Go on, try it!”

Teru’s first instinct is to refuse - it’s not his food, after all - but the boy’s smile is incredibly soft and sincere, and his stomach aches from going too long without eating. He takes the spoon between his shaky fingers and lifts it to his lips, taking a bite of the flan. It’s sweet, with a subtle flavor that melts in his mouth and leaves him feeling lighter. It really is delicious.

The boy looks at him expectantly, eager to hear his thoughts. “It’s good,” he murmurs, and the corners of his mouth tug upward into a ghost of a grateful smile.

The boy’s grin broadens at this, relieved, but before he can say anything else, there’s a call from down the riverbank. Teru looks up, and sees another kid in the distance, waving his arms. He doesn’t quite catch the kid’s words in his distraction, but the hand on his back disappears as the boy who’d saved his life stands up abruptly. “Ah, I have to go!” he says, nearly tripping on the rocky riverbank in his haste.

Teru doesn’t even have time to call out to him, to remind him that he’d left behind his snack, to thank him for pulling him out of the river, to do anything. He disappears into the trees surrounding the river bank and leaves Teru, dripping, in the grass. He cradles the cold flan in his hands and stares down at the fancy-looking emblem carved into the spoon’s shining surface, and vows that someday he’ll make the boy the best dessert he’s ever tasted.

---

Years pass in a blur. Teru’s parents never come for him, but eventually Teru stops waiting for them, stops thinking about them much at all. He turns fifteen and discovers that the spoon he now carries with him at all times comes from a prestigious private academy in Seasoning City, the kind with a sprawling campus that accommodates kids from kindergarten to high school.

The image of the boy who’d saved his life all those years ago fades from his memory over the years until he can’t quite remember the color of his eyes or the shape of his hair or exactly how his voice had sounded. He does remember his words though, remembers his concern and his unwithheld kindness. He calls the forgotten spoon his good luck charm as he studies to take the transfer exam that will let him enroll in Salt private academy.

He learns to cook, too, through a combination of lessons from the sisters who take care of him and his own personal experiments. The sisters call him gifted, say his sensitivity to taste and flavor is beyond anyone they’ve ever seen, and Teru lets it go to his head, just a little. Cooking makes him feel confident, like he has a place in the world at last. He makes treats for the younger members of the orphanage, kids who have grown to become somewhat of a nontraditional family to him, while Tome steals spoonfuls of batter from his bowls when she thinks he isn’t watching. It’s gratifying, the way the younger kids light up when he announces he’s decided to spontaneously bake cookies, and whenever they do the words of the child who had saved him nine years ago flash in his mind: When you eat something good, you smile.

It takes a few months for Teru’s acceptance letter to arrive in the mail, but when it does he has to stop himself from crying out in excitement. He spends the next few weeks preparing for the move, packing everything he owns into a single suitcase and carry-on. Salt graciously pays for his plane ticket and transportation as part of his scholarship, and assigns him to the “special class”. Teru’s not quite sure what that entails, but he isn’t about to argue when he’s finally getting the chance to follow through on his vow.

Tome makes him promise to keep in touch three times over, and she double-checks that her phone number is in his contact list before she lets him leave for the airport. Teru just rolls his eyes at her and reassures her that just because he’s moving doesn’t mean he’s going to forget about her, and finally gets her to stop hounding him by promising to call at least once a week. He pretends not to notice the way she holds back her tears as he climbs into the taxi and leaves behind his childhood home, giving one last wave goodbye as the taxi pulls away from the curb and the long drive begins.

#mob psycho 100 #mp100 #terumob #hanazawa teruki #kageyama shigeo #kurata tome #kitchen princess au #fluff and angst #mostly fluff #eventual romance #child abandonment #implied child neglect #food as a metaphor for love #serendipitousfics

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distant-rose-archive-blog · 7 years ago

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Hi, I have a little pirates one shot request, maybe when Elizabeth and one of her brothers are a little bit older, they some how get suck into the past, basically like 3x22, but instead they see CS meeting for the first time and all that,if that makes sense lol

This is actually my favorite prompt ever. Like I didn’t even know I wanted it until you sent this to me ages ago. Apologies on the wait. I feel like you’ve been waiting for this ages. Anyway, I loved this and I’m going to go a bit overboard because this could never be a one-shot in my mind. In fact, I’m projecting it to be 4 chapters at the moment. Yes, I’m actually writing a multi-chapter for this one because I really want to explore it. Also, I hope you will forgive me for switching out Beth’s brothers for Jim Hawkins, I felt he was a more appropriate partner for Beth’s journey into the past meeting Season 2 Emma and Killian. Special thanks to @katd2003, @the-corsair-and-her-quill, @artistic-writer and @welllpthisishappening for looking this over. This is available in AO3 flavor here: [LINK]

Title: A Once and Future Thing (1/7)Summary: Beth’s quest for vengeance against her boyfriend’s killer goes a bit haywire when she and her former best friend Jim Hawkins are sent into thirty years into the past. Now, they must figure out how to find a way back to the future without wrecking the first meeting between Beth’s parents, Emma Swan and Killian Jones. Rating: T+Chapters: One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | EpilogueWord Count: 6,900+

Beth Jones had one focus and that was to kill the sorceress Circe of Aeaea. Nothing else mattered as she stormed the witch’s castle and met the bulk of her armed forces. The bodies her sword ran through were only just stepping stones to her goal. Not faces, not even people, just roadblocks to be torn down.

“BETH!”

She ignored the voice and continued forward, slashing and climbing. She couldn’t think. If she stopped, then it would all be for nothing. Advance and survive. That was her mantra; a constant mental lamentation that kept her going, kept her fighting. Advance and survive. Stab and step.

“BETH STOP!”

Circe’s men were nothing more than bags of meat under her blade, not even proper swordsmen. Beth had been trained at her father’s knee and spent more time with biting steel than she had with dolls. Her childhood was spent with her father and Grandpa David, practicing in the yard when most children played soccer. Her sword was more than an instrument, it was a part of her. Slashes, parries and stabs were a well-practiced dance where she was a master and they were but novices. She could have fought them all with her weak hand, ate cake with the other and still would have cut them all down like they were nothing.

“BETH JONES, YOU’RE GOING TO REGRET THIS!”

Beth was done with his nagging. He just didn’t stop. An echo of a time when she actually believed there was justice in the world. She pulled her sword out of a soldier’s body, flicking the blood off of it with a small movement of her wrist and turned to her harasser with furious green eyes.

“Stop following me, Jim,” she said coldly.

Jim Hawkins, Captain of the Silver’s Spell and Beth Jones’s former friend, did not heed her command. He kept scaling the steps, blood and gore staining his boots and the bottom of his long brown coat. He returned her fierce glare with one of his own.

“No,” he replied firmly, stepping over the mass of bodies effortlessly.

“This isn’t your fight. It’s mine,” she snarled.

She lifted her sword, the one he had crafted for her nearly two years ago, and pointed it towards his chest, both daring him and threatening him. The message was clear. If he dared come closer, she would cut him down as well.

Jim looked down at the sword then back at her face and scoffed. He didn’t falter for a moment, only stopping when the point of her blade tapped against the leather of his jacket.

“You won’t strike me,” he stated as if this was a written fact, grey eyes boring into hers.

“You don’t know that,” she said through clenched teeth.

“Oh, but I do,” Jim sighed heavily, bringing his hand up and pressing her sword aside without much effort. Beth didn’t resist the movement, allowing her sword to fall to her side. “I know you, which is why I know you’re making a terrible mistake.”

“She needs to die, Jim.” Beth’s voice had a hint of desperation in it. “She’s needs to go. Will deserves justice.”

Will had been dead for nearly six months now, but it still felt like it happened yesterday for Beth. Whenever she closed her eyes, all she could see was Circe turning him into sea foam while she was powerless to stop it. She could still feel his hand slipping from hers as he turned into nothingness; leaving Beth behind with a gaping hole in her chest. It was the reason she never slept without finding herself at the bottom of a bottle.

“Does he need justice or do you need revenge?” Jim asked calmly, the hand that brushed away her sword came to rest on her cheek.

“Sometimes they’re the same thing,” Beth stated.

“No, they’re not. And you know that. What would your father say if he saw you right now, Beth?” Jim’s question had almost a pleading tone to it.

Beth froze at the question, closing her eyes for a moment. Her father didn’t know where she was, let alone what she was doing. She hadn’t spoken to him since Will’s funeral. Despite all of this, she was more than aware that her father would not approve of his daughter mindlessly hunting down the witch who had taken her boyfriend away. In fact, he had pleaded with her not to seek revenge, to not gave away her soul to an endless pursuit like he once did for Milah, but Beth could not let this stand. She could not let Will’s murderer get away with destroying her future. She couldn’t let go.

Jim didn’t need to know this however. He would only use it as fodder against her like he usually did. Despite being a pirate, Jim Hawkins had a serious conscious and loved to lord it over everyone, especially Beth.

“Stick her with the pointy end,” Beth retorted, turning on her heel and continuing up the steps.

“Beth, where are you going?” Jim called after her.

“I thought that was obvious,” she said over her shoulder. “I’m going to gut the witch bitch.”

“Beth, this is her castle. She knows you’re here, especially with the blood trail you’ve been leaving. She’s either long gone or you’re about to walk into a trap,” Jim replied, lengthening his strides so he could catch up with her.

“Thank you, Captain Obvious,” she retorted, not even stalling. “I’m well aware the bitch is setting a trap for me, thank you very much. I may have not gone to college, but I’m not a moron.”

Jim gave her a befuddled look and opened his mouth to ask her what the hell she meant by it, but Beth held up her hand to silence him.

“I know you think I’m a child, Jim, but I know what I’m doing. I know I’m going into a trap. She knows that I know. That’s what makes it fun,” Beth sighed, taking her hand down so she could take a flask out of her long red greatcoat. She took a swig before handling it to Jim, who took it without question.

“You are madness,” he said with a shake of his head.

“I’m glad you’re finally catching on,” she chuckled darkly.

The rest of their walk was spent in silence, save for the echoing of their boots against the marble. Beth wouldn’t look at Jim. She couldn’t look at him, but she could feel his eyes on her and she could feel the weight of his words resting on the tip of his tongue like they were on her shoulders instead. She didn’t want to hear it.

They stopped in front of an arched doorway. Jim hovered behind her, a step too close. If he had been anyone else, Beth would have turned around and booted him. There was too much history between them however; nearly three years’ worth of it. The time frame didn’t seem like much, but so much had happened in those years and Beth was fairly certain nineteen-year old Beth Jones would not recognize twenty two-year old Beth.

“She’s on the other side of this door,” Beth muttered, taking a cloth out of her sachet and taking a moment to clean the blood off her sword. “I can feel her magic.”

“And I feel the need to remind you that this is both a trap and a mistake. It’s not too late to turn back,” Jim sighed.

Beth let out a noise of frustration, turning to face and tossing the soiled cloth to the side.

“Yes. I’m aware, yet, despite all of your warnings and whining, you’re still here. That’s the only thing I don’t get,” she snapped, looking up at him in irritation.

“Because I made a promise,” Jim said simply. “And I’m going to keep it.”

“Oh, fuck off, you melodramatic bastard,” Beth scowled.

“Not being melodramatic, just keeping my word,” he said calmly.

“That promise was to help me get the beans so I could go home. It didn’t extend indefinitely. You fulfilled your promise, now just get the fuck out of here.”

“No,” he replied, unimpressed.

Beth let out a noise of frustration, running her fingers through her hair and glaring at him. Jim remained both unfazed and unmoved. He just stared down at her with a slight lift of his eyebrows.

“Fine,” she said through clenched teeth. “Just don’t get in my way.”

Beth kicked at the doors, stumbling backward when they didn’t move. Jim’s eyebrows rose to his hairline and Beth whipped around to glare at him.

“Shut up.”

“I didn’t even say anything,” he said, but there was a tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Let’s keep it that way,” Beth replied, putting her hands on the doors.

She gave them a tentative push but they didn’t budge. She frowned, tilting her head and studying them for a moment. A look of frustration crossed her face once more.

“This is a really shitty trap if I can’t get in,” she muttered under her breath.

Jim moved from behind and grabbed onto the metal rings that were attached to the door, giving Beth a sardonic look.

“That’s because you pull them up, not push. Paying attention to detail is everything.”

“Thank you for the reminder, Mr. Magoo,” she responded with a roll of her eyes.

“I have no idea what you’re referencing, but I’m assuming that’s probably the point,” Jim sighed as he pulled the rings towards him and opened the doors.

“Damn straight,” she remarked, bringing her sword up and walking through the doors.

They entered into a great hall made of white marble and stained-glass windows. The lighting in the hall was bright and completely different from the rest of the castle and Beth squinted a bit under the harsh difference. On their third step into the hall, there was a loud, slow clapping that resounded and echoed off the walls. Jim and Beth paused.

At the end of the hall, there was a large marble throne stood on an elaborate pomp. A rich purple canopy was raised above it, matching the pillows that furnished the seat of the throne. A pale woman lounged on top of them, looking at both Jim and Beth with a predatory grin. Her golden eyes flashed as she regarded them, looking like a lion eyeing prey caught in a trap.

A cold fury took hold of Beth as she met the woman’s gaze and squared her shoulders. There was nothing in her heart but pure hatred for her. She wanted nothing more than to rush forward and strike her, but Beth knew better. The woman on the throne was no ordinary woman. Her name was Circe of Aeaea and she was not someone to be taken lightly.

“Well, well, well,” Circe grinned as she arose from her lounging position to sit more properly, brushing her dark hair over her shoulders. “As I live and breathe, Little Beth Jones and her pirate pet too. I wondered when your bloodied footsteps would come to my door. It took you longer than I imagined. I’m almost disappointed.”

“I honestly don’t care,” Beth replied, stepping forward again. “You’re not going to be living and breathing for much longer.”

“You know, as I was sitting here, I was contemplating the nature of apples,” Circe responded, as if Beth hadn’t said anything at all.

She lifted her hand and Beth stopped in her tracks, waiting for an attack. Circe gave her an amused look before flicking her wrist. A golden apple appeared in Circe’s hand and she took a bit out of it.

“As I was saying, I was contemplating the nature of apples,” she repeated, juice dripping from her lips. “And how they don’t fall far from trees, oh, but you didn’t just fall did you, Little Beth? You became the tree itself. You, my dear, give a whole new meaning to Daddy’s girl. Look at you. An angry slut drunk on revenge. Daddy must be proud.”

Beth said nothing, merely gripped her sword tighter as she ignored the trembling in her fingers. She wanted so badly to react, but if she did then it would all be for nothing. Everything she had worked for in the past six months would be for nothing.

Circe just kept eating her apple, chuckling at Beth as if sensing the rage was radiating off of her. Everything seemed to be a game to her.

“I have to say, I’m a bit disappointed in you, Little Beth. You are honestly made of magic, but you never use it. People with your potential are rare and it’s just all wasted on that pirate delusion of yours. I thought killing that boy would set you free, but here you are, still thinking you can just kill me with a sword like a pathetic mortal. Such a waste, but beauty never did come with brains,” Circe said casually, tossing her apple to the side.

“Don’t talk about him,” Beth spat.

“Don’t talk about who? Your little boy toy? The mermaid prince from a kingdom of no consequence? What was his name? William, I believe. Why can’t I talk about him?” Circe asked, leaning her elbow on the arm of her throne and resting her cheek in her hand.

“I loved him and you took him from me. You don’t deserve to speak his name,” Beth hissed, anger rising.

“There is so little you can do to stop me. William. William. William. Your precious Will. Like I said, I did you a favor. What would he say if he saw you now and saw what you really are? You might be the product of True Love, but you have a dark heart, Elizabeth Jones. Tell me, did it feel good to run your sword through my soldiers? I bet it did.”

“You’re right, it did. It felt good because every single time I slayed one of your men, I was closer to getting my revenge,” Beth replied.

Circe laughed in delight.

“It’s delightful to see history repeat itself. Truly. I didn’t think you would reach the stage where you could admit murder so casually. It’s like you’re the second coming of your father - Captain Hook reborn and I created you,” Circe said in amusement.

Beth scoffed.

“You didn’t create me.”

“Oh, but I did,” Circe replied, tapping her finger against her chin. “I took a clever, arrogant little girl and I turned her into a violent ruthless killing machine with a one-track mind and that one-track is me. Though I do admit your genes made it easy. Obsessive behavior is probably a familial trait.”

“You really enjoy listening to yourself talk, don’t you?” Beth asked, trying to focus on agitating Circe instead of getting agitated herself.

“Almost as much as you enjoy killing, Little Beth,” Circe grinned.

Beth rolled her eyes and nearly jumped as Jim put a hand on her shoulder. She moved her foot back to step on his. She couldn’t afford to take her attention away from Circe. One moment of distraction and it would all be over.

“What’s the plan here?” Jim whispered in her ear. “Or you just going to be catty with her all day until she fries us?”

“The plan is for you to not bug me,” Beth remarked quietly, keeping in contact with the sorceress.

“Ah, so much tension there. Perhaps Will didn’t mean that much to you after all since you replaced him so easily and with your old teacher too. Darling, didn’t your parents ever tell you that older men are nothing but trouble,” Circe asked, nonchalantly rising from her throne.

She stepped towards them. Jim stepped away, but Beth remained where she was. Her right hand went to the pocket of her greatcoat where a bottle of squid ink was concealed. This was what Beth had been waiting for – Circe getting cocky.

Circe circled around Beth and Jim, smirking at them. Beth just waited. She needed Circe close in order to pull this off.

“Oh, my sweet, you shouldn’t have come here, but you never know when to quit, do you? Your dear old Daddy even knew that. Retired and got himself a bunch of brats instead of getting skewered by the Dark One,” Circe purred.

As she settled closer, Beth smirked and popped the cork off her vial of squid ink. However, as she moved to toss it at the sorceress, a hand caught her arm.

“Is that what I think it is, Little Beth?” Circe, taking her arm and yanking it backward. “Squid ink? Oh, my dear, my dear, this could work on you, it could work on the Dark One even, but not me, Precious. Didn’t you read your mythology? I’m a goddess. The daughter of the sun itself. My magic doesn’t work like your magic.”

“Fuck,” Beth breathed out, taking to yank her arm out of Circe’s grasp.

“Such foul language, foolish reckless girl,” Circe admonished. “You need a lesson, my dear, and that’s what I intend to give you. What should I do? Should I take away your hand too? Then you’re really be just like Daddy. No. That wouldn’t work. That’s not severe enough. Perhaps a history lesson would teach you.”

Beth saw Jim reach for his sword out of the corner of her eye. She let out a noise of frustration. This was why she didn’t want him to follow her. He was going to end up collateral damage just like everyone else.

Circe laughed when she noticed Jim as well. She snapped her fingers and he frozen in place.

“Leave him out of this!” Beth hissed.

“Oh my, my, my. The new boy toy thinks he’s a hero too He can join in on your little lesson. I think it will be one for the ages. Enjoy the past, my darlings.”

All Beth knew after that little taunt was pain and a bright light. It felt as if her body was being fitted into a compressed tube. She wanted to curl into a ball, but she couldn’t move and she felt like her skull was being crushed. She wondered briefly if she was dying.

Just as Beth thought every part of her was going to explode, she landed on something. Hard. She let out a grunt of pain and rolled to the side, trying to catch her breath. Her lungs felt oxygen starved and she was nearly hyperventilating. She couldn’t believe she was still alive.

“Gods, you’re not nearly as light as I thought,” Jim wheezed, holding his ribs.

“Really? You’re going to complain about my weight right now? I mean I’m more still surprised that she didn’t pulverize us or something. Fuck, of course, she’s a goddamn goddess. Just my fucking luck,” she said

Beth wrapped her arms around herself, curling into a ball and trying not to cry. All of her work had been for nothing. How the fuck was she supposed to go up against a goddess? Better yet, how did one kill a goddess? She didn’t know and just felt completely overwhelmed by that knowledge.

“Hey, hey,” Jim said quietly, placing his hand on her shoulder. “Now is not the time to be feeling sorry for ourselves. Pull yourself together, Beth. We need to figure out where the hell we are…”

Beth opened her eyes, surveying her surroundings and frowning. She sat up a bit, wincing slightly as her chest felt tender. She placed a hand against her ribs and groaned.

“I think I bruised myself a bit,” she murmured, grimacing.

“Well, I definitely know you bruised me,” Jim said with a snort. “Any idea where we might be?”

“Well, one thing is for certain, we’re definitely not in Kansas anymore,” Beth muttered, scanning the area.

They were in a densely forested area. There were lots of thick trees and tall parched-looking grass. The air felt dry and barren. Wherever they were, it felt like the realm was experiencing a severe drought. It gave her a heavy feeling. She highly doubted Circe’s choice of destination for them was a friendly one.

“You’re referencing something again,” Jim said, slightly annoyed.

“Always am,” Beth said distractedly, eyes still scanning their surroundings.

Jim opened his mouth to reply but was cut off by the sound of a loud roar that sent cold chills down Beth’s spine. Though she had never encountered such a noise before, she had a vague idea what made it. Though she had been born in Storybrooke, she had been brought up on the tales, myths and history of multiple realms and there was one particularly nasty creature that Grandma Snow had told her about that made a roar like that. She looked to Jim for confirmation. Terrified green eyes met grey.

“Ogres,” Jim confirmed grimly.

“So, we’re in the Enchanted Forest then,” Beth whispered, immediately looking around for her sword. She found it not too far from where Jim had been laying. She picked it up, gripping it tightly. “I thought ogres weren’t a problem anymore!”

“They aren’t,” Jim confirmed. “Though Circe did say ‘enjoy the past.’ For all we know, she could have sent us back to the height of the Ogre Wars.”

“Fucckkkkkkkkkk,” Beth groaned in frustration. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

Beth sucked in a breath as the ogre came into view. Her face went pale at the size of it and she couldn’t help but gape. It looked like the troll from Harry Potter on steroids and she highly doubted her sword would do much damaged.

She was about to die from being crushed by a goddamn ogre.

Jim grabbed her hand harshly, yanking her backward.

“Don’t just stand there! Run, Elizabeth!” he shouted in her ear.

He didn’t wait for her response, practically dragging her with him as he started running. Beth stumbled a bit before breaking his hold on her and starting her own sprint. She couldn’t help but look back at the gigantic beast behind them.

“Stop looking it or you’re going to be dinner!” Jim hollered at her.

“It literally looks like it just walked off the set of Harry Potter. How the fuck do you kill something like that!?” Beth replied, ignoring his command and glancing back at the ogre with some fear.

“Less referencing, more running. Only you Beth, god-fucking-damn it!”

“Hey!” Beth attempted smack Jim’s shoulder but missed, unable to run and hit him at the same time.

“This is not the time to get offended. I swear to the gods, if this thing doesn’t kill us, I will strangle you,” Jim hissed as they reached a clearing.

It was an open field that looked like it had once been farmed, judging by the poorly managed post fences that surrounded it. Beth was about to hop over the fence in hopes of putting at least one obstacle between her and the ogre when she caught something out of the corner of her eye.

People.

They were on the other side of the field, along a tree line. Beth nudged at Jim’s shoulder. When she caught his attention, she gestured to the small cluster of people with a movement of her head.

“Civilization. Maybe they can help us?” she said, slightly out of breath.

“Or they could capture us and kill us,” he said, looking over his shoulder.

The ogre had yet to reach the clearing but judging by the roaring behind them, it wouldn’t be long. They needed to think and fast.

“Or they could know how to kill that thing. I mean, one of them has a bow. The one in the disgustingly pink cardigan that only my grandmother would wear. I don’t know how helpful that could be, but long range weapons seem to be the way to go. God, I wish I had a gun,” Beth replied, raking her fingers through her hair.

“You want to convene with strangers in order to take down an ogre instead of doing the sensible thing of running like hell and hoping it goes for that unfortunate lot instead of us,” Jim said flatly.

“Yes,” Beth said firmly. “We can’t run forever.”

“If we end up hanging from the neck, I am going to fucking haunt you in the afterlife,” Jim said with a heavy sigh before turning around and pushing back against the fence in preparation of a mad sprint.

“You always say that, but we haven’t died yet,” Beth replied, copying his pose.

“The keyword there is ‘yet,’ Elizabeth,” Jim replied with a snort. “Ready for another mad dash into most certain peril?”

Beth let out a humorless laugh, wiping the sweat from her brow.

“Always.”

Both of them pushed off the post for momentum, the ancient wood whining against the force. As they got closer, the people at the other end of the clearing seemed to notice them and two moved forward to meet them. Beth visibly paled when she got close enough to make out their faces. She stopped in her tracks.

“No fucking way,” she breathed, stumbling a bit in her shock.

No longer vigilante in where she was stepping, she tripped over a root. Beth made no motion to get up, too stunned by what she was saying. A roar sounded behind her. Closer. The ogre was about to make its appearance.

“Beth! Get up!” Jim shouted.

Beth was too focused on the woman in front of her. The woman in the pink cardigan that only Grandma Snow would ever wear. Her description had been a little too on the nose apparently.

“This isn’t happening. This isn’t fucking happening,” Beth said with a shake of her head.

“ELIZABETH!” This time Jim’s shout was out of fear than urgency.

And that’s when the ground shook and Beth peered over her shoulder. The ogre was back. Her heart nearly leapt out of her chest and she scrambled to get back up. She pushed herself off the ground and nearly run straight into Snow White. Green eyes met and both went wide for a moment.

“Move,” Snow White commanded, pushing her future granddaughter roughly to the side and stringing her bow.

Jim immediately grabbed Beth by the shoulders and pulled her backwards until they were closer to the trees. Beth watched in fascination as Snow White aimed her bow and coolly shot the ogre in the eye. She made it look effortless. Beth had always known her grandmother was a good archer and had even tried to teach Beth herself how to shoot, but she never stuck to archery like she did to swordplay. A part of her now wished she gave archery more consideration.

The ogre let out a shriek before tumbling to the ground. The ground shook violently as it fell to the earth. Snow White gave the recently deceased monster a look of disgust before turning back to Jim and Beth with narrowed eyes.

“Now that we have that settled, who are you?” she asked, placing her bow over her shoulder and crossing her arms in front of her chest.

Before either Beth nor Jim could speak, they had blades held to their necks. A petite but fierce looking Asian woman was holding Jim at swordpoint and Beth nearly snorted. Jim was one of the best swordsmen she knew. It wouldn’t take him much to bat that heavy looking sword away. The size advantage was his. She glanced down at the sword at her own throat, following the length of the steel to meet the face of her captor. She let out an audible gasp. It felt as if the air had been stolen from her lungs.

She was being held at swordpoint by her mother.

“Holy shit,” Beth whispered, not wanting to believe what she was seeing.

“Answer her question,” Emma Swan said tersely, holding the blade closer to Beth’s neck.

Beth glanced over at Jim to see how he was fairing. He looked more annoyed than scared. Beth knew him well enough that he was probably calculating the odds in his head. Jim seemed to sense that Beth was looking at him and glanced in her direction, giving her an irritated glare. She knew exactly what he wasn’t saying and could hear his annoyed voice in her mind saying: “This is all your fault, Jones.”

She made a small gesture with her hand, signaling for him to let her to take the lead on this. Jim rolled his eyes but gave a barely noticeable nod of his head in compliance. She nearly breathed a sigh of relief. She couldn’t exactly explain to him that her mother was a human lie detector that very few people were capable of hoodwinking; the only people who had that talent that Beth was aware of was herself, Wes and Neddy.

“Answer her question now or I will cut your goddamn throat open,” Emma hissed.

“I’m Elizabeth Swann and my good friend here is Jack Sparrow. We mean you no harm,” Beth said calmly.

Emma let out a disbelieving laugh.

“You gotta be kidding me? You’re real too?” Emma exclaimed. “No way. I thought you both were created to promote a failing ride at Disney World! This is nonsense. I don’t believe this!”

“A what?” Jim looked perplexed. “What the bloody hell is she talking about, Beth?”

Beth didn’t answered, just mentally berated herself in her mind. She was a fucking idiot. Elizabeth Swann was her go-to alias and it generally worked out well when she used it, mainly because Pirates of the Caribbean was not something known in any realm aside from Storybrooke and the World Without Magic. She just wanted to hit her head repeatedly against a solid object, preferably a desk or a tree.

“Disney World?” Another female voice called from behind them. “What’s Disney World?”

Another woman came into view and Beth almost didn’t recognize her. It was Aurora Morris, except without the designer clothes and the crow’s feet around her eyes. She was dressed in a tattered purple gown with some quasi-jeweled crown on her head. She looked barely older than Beth herself. It was nearly as jarring as seeing her mother and grandmother so young.

“Nothing you need to worry about,” Snow White replied, still looking at Beth and Jim with a quizzical look on her face. “But Elizabeth Swann and Jack Sparrow are famous where we come from…they’re famous pirates.”

“Pirates!” Mulan scoffed and there was some venom in her voice. “They could be working with him!”

“Don’t worry yourselves over that, loves. I was working alone aside from, well, Cora. I wouldn’t associate myself with these…amateurs,” a lilted voice called from behind them.

Beth closed her eyes. She recognized that voice anywhere. It was her father’s voice. She was really in the shitter.

“Fuck me,” she whispered, shaking her head.

“Like we’re going to believe you, Hook,” Snow White said with a roll of her eyes. “I mean first Captain Hook shows up, then Elizabeth Swann and Captain Jack Sparrow do too? Too much correlation to be coincidence. Not to mention they’re covered in blood. How do we know they didn’t help you and Cora with murdering all those innocent people.”

“I’ve never bloody heard of these two before nor have I ever worked with them. I assure you Cora was more than capable of slaughtering those people on her own,” Hook said and Beth didn’t have to see him to know he was rolling his eyes. “Whatever coincidence you have found is just that…coincidence…”

“And we’re supposed to believe that it’s a coincidence that one pirate was involved with Cora and two just randomly should up in the middle of nowhere? Really?” Emma scoffed. “What? You expect me to believe there’s just some pirate convention happening around here incidentally?”

“I don’t know what they’re doing here, Swan, but like I said, I don’t work with amateurs. You said you can detect lies. You should know I’m not lying.” Hook stated again.

“I’m not a bloody amateur,” Beth muttered under her breath.

“Maybe he is being honest, Emma. I mean, I don’t think they’re working together. Pirates aren’t necessarily known for their loyalty and he’s been rather quick to dismiss them,” Snow White said with a sigh.

Beth couldn’t help but be offended by her words.

“That’s a stereotype,” Beth snapped without thinking. “And it represents a very narrow view of the world. What you think that because you’re royals that you’re the epitome of goodness? I’ve met more loyal pirates and thieves than I’ve met loyal sovereigns. Do you even know the most pirates are former navy men? Do you know the most common reason they turn to piracy? Because being a sailor doesn’t pay and they have mouths to feed.”

“Elizabeth, stop talking,” Jim hissed.

“No, I’m not going to stand here and listen to them being all high and mighty,” Beth snapped.

“Well, I’m not sure you noticed, but I have a sword to your throat so we can do as we please,” Emma said sardonically.

Snow White seemed to be considering Beth’s words however.

“And what about you? Why did you become a pirate? You certainly aren’t former navy…” Snow White questioned, giving her a considering look.

“Beth…” Jim said warningly.

She didn’t heed him however. Instead, she laughed harshly.

“I’m the worst kind of pirate there is,” she smirked. “I didn’t come from poverty or anything, I chose it. I wanted it.”

“Well, I have to say this has to be one of the most entertaining times I’ve ever had while being tied up…well, tied up not in a fun way,” Hook mused from behind him.

Snow, Mulan and Emma rolled their eyes and Aurora looked very much scandalized. Jim made a choking noise and Beth was tempted to ask him what the hell he found so funny about her not-yet father making strange innuendos.

Taking advantage of Emma’s distracted state, Beth pushed her steel away from her neck with the use of her own sword. She put some distance between Emma and herself, twirling her own sword absently to keep herself at the ready. Immediately, Snow took her bow off her shoulder and pulled an arrow from her quiver, stringing her bow and taking aim at Beth’s head. Emma glared at Beth, pointing her blade at her again. Her stance was shoddy at best and her feet were uneven. It was obvious that the Emma Swan in front of her wasn’t that trained.

“My sword is bigger than yours,” Emma stated, glaring at her. “The odds aren’t in your favor.”

“Quite contrary, I’m more worried about the bow than the sword,” Beth said casually. “An untrained sword is more of a danger to the wielder than the opponent. You’re unbalanced and you’re holding that big ass sword with a two hand grip, which kinda slows your movements…My saber on the other hand might be smaller but it allows for more maneuverability and a one-handed grip…The odds, well, they’re in my favor.”

“Beth, stop digging the hole,” Jim groaned.

“I’m not digging the hole,” Beth rolled her eyes. She dropped her sword with a roll of her eyes before taking her knives from her belt. “I’m just showing them who they’re dealing with, J.”

“That has rarely turned out well for anyone,” Jim replied dryly.

“Yeah, well, I’m surrendering, dumb ass. I said we meant no harm and now I’m showing that it’s true. You should drop your sword too. And maybe take that dagger out of your boot as a gesture of goodwill,” Beth retorted.

“This is the dumbest thing we’ve ever done,” Jim muttered under his breath. Regardless, he let go of his sword and let it fall to the ground. He then looked down at Mulan and raised an eyebrow. “May I take the knife out of my boot, good lady?”

“I’m not a lady,” Mulan replied coldly.

“Well then,” Jim responded with an arch of his brows. “May I take the knife out of my boot, good person?”

“You may, but don’t think I’m not watching you, pirate,” Mulan said, lowering his blade.

As he knelt to the ground, he glanced up at Beth expectantly. Beth arched her eyebrow at him while taking her own dagger out of her boot. Jim let out a loud huff and did the same. He tossed the short blade down on the ground with a bit more aggression than was necessary.

“Jesus Christ, do you have an arsenal or something?” Emma asked in disbelief.

“Gotta always be prepared,” Beth said absently.

“A real boy scout,” Emma snorted.

“Something like that…”

“Aurora, tie her hands,” Snow White commanded, nodding her head at Beth.

Aurora did not seem like she appreciated the command, but nonetheless grabbed the rope from somewhere behind them and appeared in front of Beth. She gave her a look of disdain before taking Beth’s hands together and began to loosely wrap the rope around her wrists.

“Do you seriously not know how to tie knots?” Emma scoffed. “She could get out of that easily.”

She pushed Aurora out of the way and began to roughly tie knots around Beth’s hands. Beth gritted her teeth as the rope bit into her skin.

“You could be a little bit gentler,” Beth hissed.

“And you could shut up,” Emma snapped back as she tied Beth’s hands together tighter.

Beth glanced down at her bound hands, wiggling her fingers experimentally. It was a good hold, but one that she could get out of it if she needed to, though it would require her to break her thumb…again.

“Mulan, do you think you can handle our two friends from the Caribbean?” Emma asked, pushing Beth forward.

“Yeah, I think I can handle them fine,” Mulan replied, sizing them up.

Jim and Beth shared a glance. The corner of Jim’s lips twitched and Beth knew he was holding back a particularly sarcastic remark. He looked down at his own bound wrists and Beth knew exactly what he was looking for the weak spots in his mind.

Mulan took the rope that bound their wrist, pulled at them roughly.

“And you…” Emma turned her attention from Beth and Jim back to Hook. “You’re going to be my problem. Don’t try anything stupid, Hook. You’re going to show how to get the compass and you’re going to it without any funny business.”

The man that would one day Beth’s father licked his lips and offered his future wife a salacious grin. Beth had seen her father look at her mother in such a way before, but normally her mother returned it with a look of her own and would tell Beth and her brothers that they were “going upstairs for a nap and to not disturb them.” However, Emma wasn’t so moved by his leering this go around. In fact, she looked downright disgusted. She freed Hook, binding his hands in the same fashion as Beth’s.

“You’re pretty good at this, Swan,” Hook said casually, mischief in his eyes. “One might think you’ve had a bit of practice at this.”

Emma gave him an unimpressed look.

Jim was quietly snickering and Beth nudged his foot with hers.

“What’s so funny?” Beth asked in a low voice, not wanting to be heard.

“It’s just…” Jim shook his head. “That’s…that’s who I think it is, right? Killian Jones? They called him Hook so I’m assuming he is who I think he is…Because if so, this just explains so much about you. Like nearly every question I ever had about you has been answered in the last fifteen minutes.”

“Oh?” Beth arched an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I’ve always wondered where the attitude, the constant flirting and all the…I don’t even know what to call it…extra-ness came from? Circe wasn’t kidding when she said you’re him reborn. It’s honestly just like watching you in a male body. It’s been frightening and intriguing…I’m assuming he’s the reason you surrendered because you want to free him…”

“It’s a bit more complicated than that,” Beth murmured.

Mulan jerked them forward and they were helpless to do anything but let themselves be awkwardly dragged.

“I gathered. You don’t surrender, Beth. You’ve never surrendered in your goddamn life. Not even when you’re low in your coffers during a gamble. It’s just not in your nature to give up without a fight. What is it you always say? A man who doesn’t fight for what he wants deserves what he gets?”

“You’re not wrong. I do say that. A lot. But it’s more than that, Jim. I know exactly when and where we are. I’ve heard the story of what happens here my entire fucking life. It’s my family’s story,” Beth whispered, looking forward and watching her one-day mother drag her one-day father behind her like a dog.

“Okay, then don’t leave me in the dark, Beth,” Jim replied, brows knitted together in puzzlement. “What’s going on? Where are we?”

“We’re thirty years in the past, Jim. In the Enchanted Forest just after the Evil Queen’s curse was broken. You were right…the man in front of us is…Killian Jones. The dark haired one in the gross pink? That’s Snow White. The blonde in the red? Emma Swan,” Beth said softly.

Jim’s eyes went wide.

“You mean they’re yo”- “Yes,” Beth cut him off. “They’re exactly who you think they are and, Jim, they literally just met. We’re at the very beginning and if what I know is correct, we’re going to the beanstalk.”

#captain swan #cs ff #cs fic #cs future fic #cs children #little pirates #little pirates fic #my fic #my shit #a once and future thing #beth jones #jim hawkins #asks #answered #anon

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vicekings · 8 years ago

Text

Blind Eye Blaze

Brynden/Ben fic i promised lol. ~1750 words, nothing really explicit about it.

if you’ve got eye issues and struggle with reading it on my theme, here’s a link to the google doc copy of it

dunno if im gonna put it on ao3 yet we’ll see.

note: bryn’s just gonna be referred to as the Playa for most of the fic, but it is 100% bryn lol. takes place during sr1 after Ben is rescued from the VK coup and up until the boat explosion.

The “Playa’s” apartment was comfortable, if not exactly homey. It was quiet most of the time, with the owner absent and Ben left alone. It felt much more like an abandoned military outpost than an apartment. The place felt… empty.

Ben vaguely wondered how the Playa trusted him purely on Julius’s word (if he even did trust him, really) enough to leave him alone in the apartment. Trusted him enough to let Ben take his bed and sleep on the couch instead, at least. Trusted him not to leave, as the lock on the door had been broken long before Ben took up residency and remained broken even now. The Playa didn't have much in the apartment worth stealing, he supposed.

He supposed, and didn't complain. The Playa made him breakfast. The Playa made sure the bathroom door locked. The Playa gave him his space. The Playa brought back takeout and didn't interrupt him.

He was good.

“The best friend I've had in long damn while.” Ben had said over lukewarm chicken fried rice one evening.

“And I don't even know your goddamn name.”

The Playa smirked and cocked his head aside, silver eyes twinkling in the dim light. As per usual, he offered no reply. He poked at his food.

---

Ben found the Playa’s leftovers in the fridge the next morning; barely touched. The styrofoam box sat right beside the almost-empty bottle of scotch. On the shelf above sat Ben’s lunch, with a note from the playa in deceptively elegant script, asking him to put the clothes in the wash and letting him know that the “lift” was out. There was money on the counter for Ben to buy pizza with. If he wanted delivery, he'd have to go downstairs and pick it up.

Judging from the increasing cracks in the windows and the Playa’s already proven cooking proficiency, Ben figured the money could be better used on other things.

He bought pizza anyways. They shared it over the last dregs of scotch and shitty beer.

“If you didn't waste cash on pizza and booze, you might be able to afford to fix those windows.” Ben said casually, just barely watching the shitty hallmark movie on the old box TV.

The Playa snorted.

The woman in the movie grew visibly angry. “This is not a home!” She snapped. “This is not my home!” Her fiery red hair was whipped around by the fierce winds of winter.

Ben didn't quite know why, but he chuckled. The Playa did too.

“Her dye job is almost as bad as yours.” Ben laughed.

Something sparked in the Playa's eyes. It almost looked like fear. The glimmer of it lasted a breath, then left as fast as it had come. Had Ben been looking, he might've noticed. When he finally did look up, the Playa had pulled his hood up over his greasy black locks. Ben stomped down the whim to ask him when the last time he had showered was.

---

The Playa showered the next day, though Ben suspected he wouldn't have if not for the sudden and overwhelming smell of gasoline and rotting fish that lingered on him and his clothing. When the playa emerged from the bathroom, wrapped only in a towel, his greasy black hair had changed back to a blood red. So blood red that Ben had felt a brief moment of panic smack into him like a train at the sight of it. Only when the Playa shook out his shaggy mop of hair did Ben feel his heart rate drift back to normal.

“You'll need a new dye kit.” Ben observed.

The Playa glanced up at him with the eyes of a kicked puppy and then nodded cautiously.

“Relax, Lisbeth Salander. I won't tell anyone your dirty little secret.” Ben chuckled.

The Playa cracked a smile, and pointed towards the first aid kit on the counter. Ben handed it over, noticing the gash on the Playa’s stomach for the first time as he did so.

---

If Julius was going to send Ben to the doghouse for weeks over a little bullet wound, then of course it made sense he'd send the Playa back too for the knife wound. Ben never considered that the Playa might've made the choice on his own. This was, after all, the man who had taken on a daredevil mission to save a gang leader with only a motorbike and a handgun. He had to be advised once in awhile.

While the Playa was in the bathroom re-dyeing his hair, his cell phone lit up with a text.

Julius: Where are you?

Five minutes later, the Playa’s cell phone rang. Ben picked up.

“He's recovering, Jules. Give him a day. Yeah, knife wound, I think. He's fine. I'll let him know you called.”

This was also the man who had thrown him on Johnny Gat’s desk and successfully patched him up on his own, no hospital required. Perhaps he didn't need advice after all.

---

Ben's newest friendship was built on beer and shitty Hallmark movies. He supposed there were worse ways to make friends. He supposed that spicing things up and watching melodramatic hospital shows with his new friend counted as developing their relationship. For two days while the Playa rested, that’s all the two of them did.

That's all Ben did.

The Playa read, mostly when Ben was asleep. Ben wasn't sure the Playa slept at all, but then again Ben wasn't sure about much when it came to the Playa. What he did know was that when he woke up, the bookmark had gotten closer to the end of the novel.

When the Playa left again, his copy of Dorian Gray was tucked neatly on the DVD shelf filled mostly with other tattered books.

---

Ben woke up shaking. He hadn't done that in a long time. As he caught his breath, the warm hand against his back almost made him lose it again.

The Playa looked him with concern in his eyes. “We can start tomorrow.” He said, in the gravelly tone that was rarely heard and barely sounded right on his tongue. “You've healed up enough.”

“What about you?” Ben asked, still shuddering.

Snorting, the Playa shrugged. He offered up the glass of water from the end table.

---

On the last night Ben spent at the Playa’s apartment, they had homemade pasta and cheap boxed wine. Ben went to bed early, only feeling slightly guilty that he had displaced the Playa from his bed for three weeks.

With the sound of spraying water from the shower came the rise of a soft voice. At 2:01 in the morning, unable to sleep and sparking with nerves, Ben pondered the irony of a man who never spoke but sounded like an absolute angel when he sang.

---

Standing at the shattered glass and looking down, Ben felt a sigh settle in his soul. With Tanya fell his empire. With his car Kingdom Come burned.

The Playa placed a hand on Ben’s shoulder and squeezed lightly. Ben always forgot how tall he was until the Playa stood directly behind him, at perfect height for Ben to tuck his head against his collarbone. Ben stepped away, and fished his keys from his pocket.

“I don't have much use for it now. Get her patched up, send her to the dump, I don't really give a damn.” Ben shrugged. “Thanks, Playa. For everything.”

“I'll get her fixed.” The Playa replied, the gravelly wrong-voice dropped and replaced with a distinctly smoother and much more Irish voice.

“And it’s Brynden. The name.”

Ben paused until the silence between them became as awkward as a middle school dance.

“... What the fuck kind of name is Brynden?”

The Playa’s silver eyes glinted with the reflection of the fire. He offered a grin. “‘S my name.” He said.

“... Oh.”

“And-” the Pl- Brynden dug into his jean pockets and pulled out his own key. “Something in return. In case you ever need to lay low again. Don't be a stranger.”

Ben cocked his head aside. “So now you get the lock fixed?”

Brynden shrugged. “Until it breaks again. Best of luck to ya, Mr King. It was a pleasure.”

He trotted off into the night, carrying himself much more regally than usually.

---

No one else knew his name. The papers called him a gang member. The ladies at the coffee shop called him “a handsome devil, likely not so much though after that.” Ben called him Brynden, and Brynden was as good as dead.

Ben choked on his coffee and spat it out against the paper. He had to toss it out and nab a new one. A new one confirming he hadn't been seeing things. There on the front cover, a story that froze Ben to the core.

Alderman Hughes Dead In Tragic Boat Accident. Full story on page 4.

Brynden was a second thought, a barely mentioned nobody who died and was in critical care in the Stilwater Prison. He was the probable perpetrator, caught in his own plot.

But his grainy little picture, said to have come from a “friend” showed unmistakable silver eyes and a trademark horrendous dye job.

Ben threw the newspaper in the nearest trash bin.

---

The Playa's apartment sat as still as it had in all the time Ben had stayed there; the eerie quiet of the rooms even more noticeable with the lack of the Playa’s presence.

The lack of Brynden’s presence.

Ben exhaled shakily and sat back on the worn leather couch. He shook his head and took in the empty living room, ran his eyes over the box TV and the cracks in the walls and the books-

One was missing from the shelf. The others had slipped down in its absence. Ben found the missing text in the kitchenette, bookmarked and already gathering dust.

On the bookmarked page, a passage from a poem was highlighted in neon yellow.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight, And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way, Do not go gentle into that good night. Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light. And you, my father, there on that sad height, Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray. Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

#my fics #my writing #kate writes #brynben #brynden stark #benjamin king #sr brynden #sr #saints row #sr1

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