Tumgik
#Gods this is their first meeting in this timeline too that just makes it so horrible
restlessreveries · 1 year
Text
Alright. Disconnect the Array path without meeting Sym.
I’m never doing this again.
Because when you do meet him, it’s so damn heartwrenching.
Lots of screenshots from the second fight with Noctilucent in the swamp, spoilers for this path obviously.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
After this point the path continues much like it usually does. There might be a slight variation in the dialogue options with Sym at the very end but it’s been s long since I did my first run of this path that I couldn’t tell.
Also I want to fucking strangle Vace. YOU ABSOLUTE DUMBFUCK, CAN YOU NOT INTERRUPT? THIS IS KIND OF IMPORTANT STUFF!
Gonna have to treat myself to a particularly wholesome Peace on Vertumna path after this...
43 notes · View notes
bet-on-me-13 · 10 months
Text
Danny is the Crazy Old Man™️ of Gotham
So, the events of Danny Phantom happened decades ago
Like, Phantom Planet was one of the first instances of Superheroes in HISTORY. Early 1900's, just the Fentons were Insanely Ahead of their Time!
Danny is still a Halfa, but has allowed himself to grow old and live his best life before fully dying so he can accept his Throne in the Infinite Realms. He decides to experience Life in the fullest way possible, partying, drinking, making long lasting friendships that shape the lives of everybody he meets, all that!
Eventually, Danny's Party Life leads him to Gotham. And this place is just amazing!
It has all the comforts of Home, with so much more! He can Party! He can Fight! He can do anything he wants and nobody bats an eye, because a crazy old man getting into a fistfight in the middle of the road is just another Tuesday for Gotham!
He decides to spend the rest of his Mortal Life there. And this is still Early On in the DC Timeline, like, Batman Year 1 is happening Right Now.
He hangs around, befriends the local Homeless Population, and mostly just has the time of his Life! And he takes up the stereotypical Homeless Old Man look because why fight it? That's literally what he's going for!
He also unintentionally sets up a bunch of future events
He teaches Kid!Jason on his to steal Tires as repayment for driving off some muggers with a Baseball Bat (honestly he was looking forward to being mugged, it's a new experience after all)
He pulls Kid!Tim into an Alley after Tim gets caught out at night and gets chased by some Punks. He hides Tim behind a Dumpster and tricks the Punks into mugging him instead (Yay! He finally got mugged!)
He becomes kind of well known as the Old Man who wants to experience everything before he dies. He says as much too, not like he really has a reason to hide it. He just tells people "I want to live my life to the fullest, it don't matter if I live 10 more years or 10 more minutes, I'm gonna experience every second of it!"
He once walked into a Cloud of Fear Gas to see what it was like. Later he said it was a 6/10. "Not the worst thing I've had injected into my body!" He says with no Context.
He traded places with a Hostage during an active Crime Scene because he wanted to know what it's like.
He was once dared to take Batmans Utility Belt by another Homeless Guy as a joke, so he walked up to Batman later that night in full view of everybody else and just asked for his Belt. He gives up after a few minutes, and one guy asked "Why not fight him for it? It's an experience after all.". Danny replys "Nah, I've fought Vigilantes before. It was fun though, gotta say!"
...
This got away from me, but all this to say: Imagine the Bat Families Reaction when they find out "Crazy Old Danny" is PHANTOM. You know, THE FIRST SUPERHERO!
I imagine Constantine is having a stroll though Gotham after finishing up some business with Bruce, and just bumps into a homeless guy by accident.
Later that night:
Batman: Constantine, Why are you calling? Is it to do with the-
Constantine: Why the fuck is there a Homeless God in your City?
Batman: Wait wha-
...
Or imagine they know before Constantine meets him, and it goes instead like this
Constantine: Why the fuck is there a Homeless God in your City?!
Batman: You mean Old Man Danny? He's just a homeless guy? What do you mean?
Constantine: I swear on what's left of my Soul, that is a God.
Batman, a little shit: I don't think so, I would know (fully knows)
6K notes · View notes
entitled-fangirl · 4 days
Text
Sweet mama.
Joel Miller x reader
Summary: Joel gets baby fever watching the reader play with Tommy and Maria's baby.
Author's note: don't think too hard about the timeline please and thank you. Also, I got baby fever this weekend, so I figured I'd make everyone else have it, too. Also also- I use they/them for the baby since the gender hasn't been revealed in the show
Masterlist
Tumblr media
...............................................................
Oh, God. She was all that occupied his mind at the moment. 
Life in Jackson was not exactly what Joel had in mind, but even he'd admit, it had its perks. 
For example, this scene in front of him.
Y/N on the floor of their shared home with Tommy and Maria's baby.
At first, Joel had very much disliked the idea of babysitting for the night when Tommy asked. But how could he have said no when he saw the way Y/N's face lit up at the very thought?
So, he obviously said yes.
But now, here they were actually doing it. 
He was sat on the dusty couch with an old can of beer he had found, sipping occasionally when he fell out of his daydreams. 
How can he not enjoy the way she interacted with the kid?
He had seen just how fantastic she could be with Ellie.
Y/N had been with Joel a little less than Tess had. They had had a rocky start, especially right at the beginning.
She was a friend of Bill and Frank's. And Frank had decided that they should meet.
But he knew telling both parties about it would only cause conflict. 
So, he didn't tell them at all.
Imagine their surprise when unsuspected visitors appeared in the middle of Y/N's and Frank's tea time. 
She pulled her gun on Joel.
Things were tense for a while after that.
But, after some time, they found that they liked each other very much.
Sometimes, Joel worried that they liked one another a little too much.
"You know," Joel finally said to her. "I haven't even been around a kid like this since… well, when it was Sarah, I guess."
She looked up from her spot on the ground as the baby played with the wooden blocks in front of them, "Really?"
He nods, "Don't even know if I remember what to do. Thank God I got you."
She laughs, "You were the one that was a parent. I was just an older sister. That's how I got my experience."
He shrugs, "You have a gift for it."
She smiles, grabbing the 10-month-old. The baby giggles as she lifts them into the air. She walks to the couch, "Here." She holds out the baby to him.
He holds his hands up in surrender, "Nah. You're doing great, Sweetheart. I won't stop ya."
She scoffs, holding the baby close to her chest now with a teasing scoff, "Whatever, Miller."
"I'm serious," He argues, "I like watching you like this. Happy and… God, this looks so fucking natural for you."
"Joel!" She yelled. "Language."
He laughs, "See? You're…" He sighs in thought.
She notices, "What?"
He smiles and shakes his head, "In another world, sweet girl…"
She tilted her head, "Joel, I'm confused."
He stands up, inches from her face now. He gently takes the baby out of her arms and places them in the makeshift playpen. He returns to her quickly.
His arms grab her waist gently. His voice lowers, "If life was different, I'd give you a baby right now."
Her cheeks turned pink, "What?"
He laughs as he buries his face into her neck, "Think about it. You'd be a beautiful mother. God, I'd give you a baby."
Her gaze started to turn hopeful. She had never thought about having a baby. 
Her thoughts turned dirty as he started to kiss up her neck slowly.
"A sweet mama." Kiss. "Walking around here with my baby in you." Kiss. "Making every man in here green with envy." Kiss. "You'd be so pretty like that." Kiss. "God, you'd just glow more than you do now."
"Joel…?"
He pulled away at her weak voice.
She looks away in thought. "Do you think… if… if this whole 'cure' thing works with Ellie… You think there may actually be a world we could have a baby in? Where… we could be parents?"
He takes in her features carefully, not realizing just how much his words had affected her. "Well… I… I don't know." 
She nods and pulls away from him completely, her wishful thinking over, "Right." She walks back to the baby in the playpen, "Not worth even hoping for."
He pulls her back into his firm chest, and circles her waist with his arms, "Hey. Don't say that. We'll just… leave it on the back burner. Yeah?"
She nods. "Back burner. Okay."
The two watch the baby in front of them play happily, blissfully unaware of the world they all lived in.
Y/N sat in the backseat with an unconscious Ellie.
She was still shaking at the sight of seeing Joel in a murderous rage in the hospital.
She knew he was protective of her and Ellie but she had never seen him do anything like that before.
She cradled the girl's head carefully in her lap, gently running her fingers through Ellie's greasy hair. 
She looked up to catch Joel's eyes in the rearview mirror. "Guess we're not getting that cure, are we?"
He shook his head, "Guess not."
"Say goodbye to the chance at parenthood." She sighed.
They sat in silence for a while.
She watched Ellie carefully to check for signs of her waking up.
And she heard Joel's light chuckle.
She looked up, "What?"
He looked at her though the mirror again, "Nothing, sweet mama."
"I'm not… this is…" She glanced down at Ellie, and back up at Joel. 
She smiled slowly as she reveled in Joel's observance.
"I guess…" she noted, "I guess we've already been doing it."
Joel nodded, "Guess it really was made for you."
................................................
725 notes · View notes
tismrot · 6 months
Text
GOOD OMENS in CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER (a fanfic helper)
I tried to find this online, but I only found bits and pieces here and there. This should be a very good tool when writing fanfics, or just for understanding the narrative - so, here's my best attempt at a timeline for the canonized events in the show. Let me know if I missed any, or if something is wrong! CHRONOLOGY of GOOD OMENS 4004 BC: Before the Beginning (Sunday, October 21st, Nowhere, no name for Crowley) Aziraphale meets Crowley as an angel in Heaven pre-Beginning and Crowley makes a star factory. 4004 BC: The Eden Wall (Rather more than 7 days later, Crawley) Crowley finds Aziriaphale on the Eden wall and they talk about right and wrong. Aziraphale gave his sword to Adam and lies to God about it. Eve looks about 6 months pregnant. 3004 BC: Noah’s Ark (Ancient Mesopotamia, Crawley) Crowley finds Aziraphale in front of the Ark and they talk about how God will drown kids. 2500 BC: A Companion to Owls (Land of Uz, Crawley) Crowley and Aziraphale work together to save Job's kids from God. 1353 - 1336 BC: Nefertiti's reign as queen, during which, at some point, Aziraphale did a magic trick for her. (Thebes/Luxor, ancient Egypt, Crawley) (unfilmed, just mentioned) We know he fooled her with a "lone caraway seed and three cowry shells" 33 AD: Crucifixion of Jesus (Golgotha, Palestine, name change to Crowley) Crowley (canonically confirmed female form) tells Aziraphale she showed Jesus the world. 41 AD: Oysters in Rome (41 AD) Aziraphale playfully tempts Crowley to go eat oysters with him at Petronus' restaurant. If this isn't innuendo, I don't know what is. 537 AD: Medieval England/King Arthur (Kingdom of West Essex) Aziraphale as a knight of the Round Table meets the Black Knight (Crowley) who suggests the Arrangement for the first time. Aziraphale says no. 1020: The Arrangement is agreed to (unfilmed, just mentioned in the book or by Neil) I can't find the exact date - tell me if this is wrong? 1040 - 1601: Crowley and Aziraphale act on their arrangement "dozens of times", as mentioned in the Globe Theatre. As far as I've understood this arrangement (correct me if I'm wrong) it means that whenever they receive orders from Heaven or Hell, they tell the other, compare notes, and if it takes place in the same area, they agree that just one of them has to go do both tasks. Either that, or both tell their respective bosses that the task has been done, because they would have cancelled each other out either way. Letters would probably be too risky communication other than "Let's meet up at....", so I assume they have seen a lot of each other during this time. 1500s: Something related to the Catholic Church and the Papacy (Rome?). (Unfilmed idea) My theory: Raphael/Crowley (Raffaello Sanzio da Urbino) works as painter in Rome from 1508 until his "death" in 1520. He was invited to Rome by Pope Julius II and was immediately commissioned to work on a series of frescoes for the Pope's private library in the Vatican Palace. Crowley can't enter consecrated spaces. Hilarity ensues. This would explain his conversation about helicopters (in the book) with Leonardo da Vinci. 1601: Hamlet (Globe Theatre, London) Aziraphale and Crowley meet inconspicuously as Shakespeare struggles with Hamlet (both actor and play), and Aziraphale agrees to do both his and Crowley's assignments in Edinburgh. 1650: Aziraphale does his first apology dance (unknown) Nothing more is known about this event. 1655: Agnes Nutter's book is published, and doesn't sell a single copy. 1656: Agnes Nutter is burned (Lancashire, England, 1656) After writing the Nice and Accurate Prophecies, she is burned by Pulsifer's ancestor. 1793: French Revolution (The Bastille, Paris) Aziraphale puts himself in harm's way by dressing like a nobleman while looking for crepes in revolutionary Paris, just so that Crowley will save him. 1800s: Aziraphale opens his bookshop. (Soho, London) I can't figure out when, it just says 19th century online. Crowley asks if Aziraphale wasn't supposed to open a bookshop when he saves him in the Bastille.
1827: The Resurrectionist (Edinburgh, October) Aziraphale and Crowley discuss morality, meet Elspeth and Wee Morag - and the body snatching doctor.
1827 - ????: Crowley sleeps or is in Hell We don't actually know long or exactly when, but in the book it's mentioned he only got up to go to the toilet once. Why?
1862: St. James’s Park, London Crowley is paranoid, Aziraphale won't give him holy water. 1862 - ????: Wild West meetup (Unfilmed idea) Neil Gaiman just had the idea, it wasn't filmed.
1928: Crowley buys the Bentley And he keeps it in tip-top shape until the Not-Apocalypse. 1933: Aziraphale gets his driving license (unknown location)
1941: WW2 Blitz (London) Church bombing, magic show, photo taken, shades of dark and light grey.
1967: Aziraphale gives Crowley holy water (Soho, London) ...And says Crowley goes too fast for him. He does it because Crowley is about to orchestrate the robbery of a church. One of the robbers is Witchfinder Sergeant Shadwell, who we meet later. He offers his 'army' to Crowley.
1980s: Crowley designs the M25 (Hell) No other demons understand the whole thing about constant, low-level, effortless evil.
2007: Three children are born in a hospital in Tadfield The old switch-a-roo.
2007 - later that night: Godfather meetup (Soho, ca 2009) They're drunk, talking about whale brains and agreeing to raise Warlock as nanny and gardener.
2012 - 2018: Raising Warlock (Winfield House, England) He's way too normal! 2018: Not-Apocalypse (Saturday, August 11th, Tadfield Airbase) Do I need to explain this? 2019 - 2023: Beelzebub and Gabriel start meeting each other. We see them meet in an American bar, a Russian café and in the Resurrectionist in Edinburgh. 2020: Lockdown (London) Aziraphale goes on about cake, Crowley wants to come by and watch him eat. Aziraphale chickens out.
2023: Jimbriel (Soho, London) A naked archangel with amnesia shows up on Aziraphale's doorstep. --- UPDATED AND IMPROVED
504 notes · View notes
brianwashere · 8 months
Note
Hello, hope you're having a good day/night
I was wondering if I could request the spiderverse characters (Miguel, Hobbie, Noir) meeting and reacting to male spider reader who abnormal tall (like 7 foot kinda abnormal) and morally grey for instance will kill if it means that it could be beneficial rather than having the villain go to jail???
(Also who would end up falling for reader?)
FIRST ATSV REQ LETS GO
I made Miguel so submissive and breedable real lmfaooo. Also ignore how many HCs are in Noir’s, I’ve actually never written for him before lol. Oh and since it’s not extremely clear, Hobie’s is platonic
**I do not own any characters or part of the franchise from marvel or sony**
Summary: go to req
Tw: cussing, death, discussion of murder, stuff like that
~Miguel~
Color Miguel intimidated bcc oh my god
You’re taller than him. With his same morals. He’s fucking reeling
When you stand next to him he’ll cross his arms and puff out his chest
You’ll notice and be like “What’re you doing…?” And he’ll act all ignorant like “hm? What? No I’m not doing anything…”
Once he gets over your sheer largeness he’ll become more comfortable and relaxed around you
He falls HARD and QUICK
Even doing missions with you becomes difficult for him, the first time he got choked up or distracted he immediately stopped doing any missions with you
It was like whiplash for you because you were doing all these high risk missions with Miguel regularly then he suddenly drops you with no explanation
You corner him one day and demand to know why he’s acting so weird
You literally corner him…
Standing over him and all angry
He’s feeling 5 different conflicting emotions all at once
He tried to web away from you and without thinking about it you grab him by his neck and shove him back against the wall
He whimpered. WHIMPERED.
You immediately know what’s up and laugh at him some then tell him you feel the same
And that’s how Miguel O’Hara got a shredded gigantic boyfriend
~Noir~
When he first glanced at you he couldn’t help but stare a bit.
I mean. DAMN. What’re they feeding you?
He couldn’t help but say something
“They make them big in your universe?”
The joke surprised you bcc a Spider-Man dressed in all black and a sick hat and coat just teased you.
You laugh some and respond.
“And they make ‘em cute in yours?”
He chokes some.
You smirk at him and introduce yourself
He collects himself quickly and introduces himself too
When you find out he’s from an older timeline
You can’t help but flirt a bit more
“Oh so I should take you to dinner first?” You say with a grin.
You came on so heavy he stayed silent for a bit, just blinking at you
He avoids you for a bit, not because he doesn’t like you or is weirded out. He’s just trying to learn how to respond to your flirting in a way that isn’t staring owlishly
You two are on a mission together and long story short the villain didn’t need to go back to his universe to restore the timeline and was beyond the standard villain evil
while he was fleeing from you two he flung a child into the air and let them drop, expecting them to distract the both of you
“Noir!” You yelled
“On it.” He immediately responded and caught the kid, taking them to safety and comforting them
When you caught the villain you couldn’t hold yourself back.
Needless to say Noir came back to find you covered in blood and dangerously quiet.
It was a sight to see and not one he’ll forget.
“If you’re gunna give me the whole ‘killing makes you as bad as them’ lecture you can save it. I don’t regret it now and I wont regret it ever.” You said firmly, still not meeting his gaze
He just walked over to you and rested a hand on your shoulder. “Good. You shouldn’t.” Was all he said. The return to the spider society was silent
There was a silent agreement between the two of you not to discuss that mission with anyone else. That it was something too personal, somehow.
A few weeks later he asks you out
“Do you want to go out for egg creams sometime?” He asked
“What the hell is an egg cream.”
It’s like the olive theory but with egg creams
He loves your size and secretly loves it when you rest your arm on his head/shoulder.
~Hobie~
He laughs when he sees you
“You been drinking your milk, mate?” He chuckled
You rolled your eyes at him.
You talk with him when you next see hi ma few days later
He just sort of appears around you and you don’t question it once so ever
Someone asks why you two are always seen together in a rude tone and Hobie just throws an arm around your shoulder and says “see this lad right here, he’s my best friend. We actually sleep in the same bed—“
You scoff at him and push his arm off
You know he’s being sarcastic and just trying to get the person to fuck off but calling you his best friend made something in your heart flutter
Protectiveness? Loyalty? Endearment? Who the hell knew.
All you know is from then on you started seeking him out more
You sort of became a older brother figure to him
You started checking in on him semi regularly
But one time he stopped responding and you hadn’t seen him for over a week
Obviously, you got worried
You decided to go visit his universe to see if something happened
When you got there your eyes were immediately violently assaulted with flashing images and constantly changing scenery
It threw you off mid-swing and you crashed to the ground
You had to shut your eyes so you wouldn’t get nauseous
Then you felt a hand on your shoulder and squint up to see Hobie who looked confused and concerned
He helps you back to his place and basically tosses you down on his beat up couch then asks why you’re there
You just grumble something about him not responding and not seeing anyone for over a week
He flops down next to you and lays his legs on your lap
“Aw you big bloke, you were worried ‘bout me.” He says smirking
You shove his legs off and stand up
“Don’t get used to it” you say with a grin
611 notes · View notes
netherfeildren · 8 months
Text
Tumblr media
The Cassandra Complex : Chapter I : Apollo
Series Masterlist
(Din Djarin x F!Reader)
Summary: Enter: A man who is not so much a man, but an effigy, a wound of steel and armor and Creed – secrecy and masked faces, above all else. 
Enter: A girl who is not a girl, but a creature helmed in darkness and spit out unto the galaxy broken and unmoored. 
Enter: The creation of myth.
Content Warnings: Dominant Din Djarin; Unprotected sex; Creampie;Size difference; Size kink; Rough sex; Overstimulation; Spanking; Brat taming; Touched-Starved Din Djarin
Rating: Explicit 18+
A/N: Hello, friends, and welcome to the new story! 
A few notes: We are starting prior to season one’s canon, and I am doing what I want and making it so that Din already knows about the Force and the Jedi. I make free use of canon and the timeline in whatever way I see fit to suit my own horny purposes, sorry. If things aren’t canon or don’t make sense pls don’t tell me. I am naught but a fragile flower who wilts under harsh criticism. 
Please note as well, that I do describe the FMC as having two different colored eyes although I do not specify what color they are. 
Also, I will be updating the tags as we go along so as to avoid spoiling too much too early on. 
Thank you and enjoy!
Word count: 8.1K
Read on AO3
PART I
CHAPTER I : APOLLO
Is it a god inside you, girl?
Anne Carson, Grief Lessons: Four Plays by Euripides
The first time you meet, he’s sitting in the corner of the shithole cantina on the shithole backwater planet you currently find yourself on: Nevarro. Sometimes you were wont to flight – in search of a nowhere place in the middle of a nowhere part of the galaxy to lose yourself. And the barren landscape of the volcanic planet, a broken star of red, the only interruption in the black field of ash, no wind, no life, no sound; it provides the perfect environment for getting lost when necessary.
And then one day, unexpectedly: him. He is a shining, metallic, mountain of a man. 
Mandalorian. 
Whenever you’d felt too suffocated, strangulated, in need of a moment, a breather, a reprieve from the reality of what you were… what you are becoming – this place is enough of nothing to be just the perfect something. When you’re not busy flitting from planet to planet, sector to sector, looking for something to fill the gnawing void within you. Before landing here, you’d been on Sorgan for a time. It’d been… nice… peaceful, or whatever approximation of peace you could partially recognize after an existence such as that which you were currently trying to run from. A temperate climate, kind people, but after a while, you’d happened upon a community one day, and they’d been so… so together, so familiar. Happy, they’d be so openly, unabashedly, uncomplicatedly happy. It was simple, and it had made a terrible lance of poisonous jealousy roil through you. Jealousy and anger and bitterness and a loneliness so painful that you’d had to flee, as far and as fast as you could from the reflection of all your envy and shame. And so you’d come here instead, to Nevarro. A more barren, emptier sort of place – better suited to your ilk. 
“I’ve never met a Mandalorian before,” you croon up at him, smoothly sliding into the booth he’s currently occupying in the furthest dark corner of the cantina, only the gleaming silver crescent of the curve of his helmet visible from the other side of the room. 
This is the first of many lies you will tell him. 
No response. Only the dark, yawning pit of his visor faced slightly away from you. 
The stark curve of his helmet gleams brightly. Beautiful. He looks strong, thickly built. His shoulders, so broad. The armor adorning his torso is beaten and worn, and yet, there’s something so… what’s the word? Lived, perhaps, about the facade of him. This is a creature who has lived – who has seen things, who has battled and survived and most assuredly killed. 
Maybe a little like you, but good. For this you know with certainty about Mandalorians – a flash of a pained scream, beskar crumbling beneath the force of you, for not even what could be considered the most endurable alloy in the galaxy could withstand something of your nature, blood, so much blood, and the sound of such defeat as you do the unforgivable– they are good and honorable and worthy – great warriors. But perhaps, on the surface, with a face of shared, painful history, of survival, maybe there are some things between the two of you which could be called similar. 
“I’ve always been curious, though… Always wanted to meet one.” You sidle closer to him. There’s something about him, the weapons, the breadth of his shoulders, the silence, which starts a chilled little shiver of fear that flashes and coalesces into something hotter and wetter deep in your belly, the closer you get to him. And the feeling of it – of apprehension, of standing in the presence of something other, something that could perhaps best, even you, it is exciting and arousing and different to everything else you’ve ever encountered.
Still no response. 
“You’re hard to come by now. Not many of you left, right?” A curdle of shame and regret hidden beneath your wry tone, “A girl’s got to get extra lucky to find something as interesting as you nowadays… something as pretty too.”
He does react to this, finally, and a little shock of victory fizzes in your belly at the fact that he’s at last deigned to give you even a semblance of his attention, for you are desperately in want of it, as he turns his helmet the fraction of an inch in your direction at the sound of you calling him pretty. So, it seems even a Mandalorian is victim to vanity. 
“Oh, so you can hear under there,” you quip, “I was beginning to worry…”
And then his voice, deep, and of potentially the lowest and smoothest baritone you’ve ever heard, comes through the modulator, “I can hear.” Clipped, and even maybe, a little cold. 
“And he speaks too!” He flexes open the fingers of the gloved hand that lays on the table. You’re annoying him. “How exciting.” You cross one knee over the other, elbow propped up on the edge of the table and chin cupped in your palm, looking up at him. He’s tall, even sitting. Your joint presses into the hard muscle of his thigh, and you feel him scoot just the tiniest bit away from you. You have the uncontrollable urge to snap your teeth at him. You must surely be at least half his size, especially with all that beskar covering him. Don’t act so scared, big, bad Mandalorian. I’m just a little girl. You don’t know what I actually am.
Helmet now turned entirely in your direction to keep an eye on you, he says, “What are you?” Or… whoops, maybe he does know. 
You ignore his question. “You know, I met a whore once – who claimed she’d fucked a Mandalorian. Is it true you just pull out the important bits and get on with it? Seems a bit cold, no? Even for a paid fuck?” He jolts a little at your vulgarity, and you flash him a wide grin, wriggle one delicate eyebrow provocatively. “No game?”
He turns his body to face you more fully now too, his thigh pressing into yours once again as he takes you on directly. Perhaps a warrior's instinct that can sense he is not in the presence of something to be trifled with. The helmet cocks slowly to the side. Silent, silent. Not one for many words this Mandalorian, although, it seems you’ve provoked him now. 
“What are you?” he says again, voice measured. 
“How do you mean?” You let your voice end on an upward lilt, and he shifts minutely, as if agitated at your uncooperativeness. 
“You’re not– I don’t–” The helmet tilts the other way as if inspecting you, and you cut him off before he can finish. 
“Oh, so many things.” You roll your hand on your wrist in a fluttering wave, tapping your fingers quickly against your thumb one by one, flexing a muscle you’ve not allowed yourself to use in a while and repressing it, all at once. You’re watching him so closely you see the small pivot of his neck to glance at your hand, and then back to your face. “Who can keep track anymore? So many strange creatures roaming the galaxy after the fall of everything. The Empire. We’re all just madly careening around as whatever the moment requires of us, aren’t we?” He’s quiet, still inspecting you, and you feel his gaze like a brand on the skin of your face. Like fire, like something that you remember from a nightmare, and that you think should be painful, but now only feels exciting. “So, what are you, Mandalorian? What does the present moment require of you?”
He goes silent again, and you watch the subtle downward tilt of his helmet as he inspects the length of you. You wish you could see if he was ogling the tight swell of your breasts beneath your dark clothes. You tilt your head side to side, smile big at him again, and you’re pretty sure you hear an agitated little huff of annoyance slip through the modulator.
And then: “I’m not interested.” He turns back to face away from you, both fists now firmly planted on the table’s surface, clenched into tight balls of clear annoyance. “Go away.”
Oh, he’s funny too. You throw your head back in a quick laugh, “Did I offer something?”
Silence.
“Dirty mind, Mandalorian.” You drag the vowels out to irk him just that extra bit more. “What? Just because I made one little mention of a whore means that, I too, must be peddling my wares?” And you knock your knee into his beskar clad thigh again. He scoots a smidge away from you, and you follow him, laughing again. Oh, you really should stop provoking him, but it’s just turning out to be too much fun. And you’d been watching him for weeks now, every time he came in here for a new bounty puck. You’d so wanted to talk to him, had snooped around to find out he’s in the Guild, and now you finally are. It was just too much for a girl who had too much time on her hands, and too many ugly thoughts she’d rather forget, roaming around in her mind, to look away from a moment of distraction such as this. 
“Stop,” and it sounds like he’s gritting his teeth. 
You snicker. “Stop what?” in a sing-songed lilt that you know must be grinding his gears. Poor, shiny Mandalorian. 
“Whatever it is you’re doing – speaking to me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you want something from me.”
“What could I possibly want from you?” You bat your eyelashes at him. “Who’s the one peddling their wares now, Mandalorian, hmm?” He says nothing now, and you know you’re pushing him, you can see the vibration of his restrained agitation in the lines of his thick arms, but there is something needling and annoying and obnoxious inside of you that wants his attention, that wants to incite him. And so you make a mistake that perhaps, is not a mistake at all, but a call for something more, for a reaction from him because as you slowly start to lift a single finger up towards the curve of his helmet, you say, “Tell me, what do you have to offer?” At the same time, he pivots and snaps up to grasp the thin of your wrist in a bone crushing grip as you’re about to make contact with the smooth surface of the gleaming beskar helmet. And you know you were asking for it, that you should never have even insinuated that you were going to touch a Mandalorian’s helmet, and that this is only your own doing, but as his harsh strength makes contact with you, so unexpectedly, he’s so fast, that you’re caught almost entirely unaware, you react on pure instinct. A reflex so embedded into the deepest and most poisoned recesses of your mind, that despite the fact that you know this is the last sort of reaction you should exhibit, that above all else you needed to keep this part of yourself hidden and secreted away from the rest of the galaxy, you can’t help yourself when, at the moment that his crushing strength slams your hand back down onto the table, twisting painfully so that you’re crying out in shock and hurt, you weren’t going to do anything to him, you just wanted to touch a little, you can’t help it when you let go of the reins on your power, and you feel the Force snap out of you like a band of rubber, to crack out and wrap around his arm and rip his painful grip away from you. Another inviolable tendril shoves against his chest plate to push him back. His movements, too abrupt, too unexpectedly aggressive to give you a moment to temper your reaction, to give you a chance to remind yourself that this is not one of your painful, dark memories, that you’re free, you’re free, you’re free, and suppress your reaction to not reveal yourself.
The two of you pause for one long moment, him by force, and you in shock and fear and slight nausea as you pant breathlessly. It’s been a long time since you’ve lashed out like this, since you’ve used the Force in front of another person, and the sensation of being perceived, of being seen for what you truly are is disequilibrating and terrifying and sickeningly liberating all at the same time. 
One thick arm of his is held up and pinned against the back of the booth the two of you are ensconced in, hidden from prying eyes, at least. His legs start to shift restlessly, seeking purchase or trying to kick out, and you pin him there too, lest he try and hurt you again. 
“I do not like to be handled so,” you admonish him, clicking your tongue. You can feel the seething fury rolling off him. “I wasn’t going to do anything to you. I am not going to do anything to you.” He’s got a blaster strapped into a holster at his thigh, and you’re sure his vambrace is hiding several other nasty tricks up his sleeve. You eye them both. “If I let you go, are you going to try and hurt me again?”
“No,” he growls out.
“No,” you mock back, but release him anyway, letting an impenetrable wall settle between the two of you. He immediately goes for his blaster, and you block his reach which has him furiously growling and lurching towards you, only to be met by the invisible Force impeding his attack. He spits a frustrated volley of curses in a language you can’t understand, but that you’re fairly certain is Mando’a. 
“Ah, ah, no blaster,” you tut, and he settles, going suddenly, shockingly still, watching you watch him. “You really are quite poorly mannered and surly.” There’s a part of you that is still slightly unbalanced, heart beating painfully against the cage of your ribs, but you’re trying to hide it behind a wry smile and light tone. Echoes of pain and hurt and cruel and unyielding hands molding you into a thing that was just as cruel and unyielding. You cannot tolerate being handled like that anymore, and you feel contrite that you’d provoked him into doing so. Sometimes it is still difficult for you to remember how it is you’re supposed to behave around other people. 
And then something you weren’t expecting, for he says, “You’re a Force weilder. You’re a Jedi.”
You let out a barking laugh. “What do you know of the Force?”
“Are you?” He presses.
“Yes, but no, definitely not that, no.”
“Then what?”
“Nothing. Or… whatever the opposite of a Jedi is, I suppose.”
“The opposite?” He shakes his head, “I don’t–”
“Hmm…” you cut him off, turning to make sure the two of you still haven’t been noticed. “Not anymore. I don’t use it anymore.”
“Oh, no?”
“Well… you’ve gone and ruined that now, haven’t you?”
“You started–”
“All I was trying to do,” you interrupt, “Was make nice. I’d always wanted to meet a Mandalorian,” Lie, “Haven’t you ever heard of a little flirting? And I fear, now, you’ve painted them all in a very poor light,” Lie, “Look at how rude you’ve gone and been, when all I wanted was to be friends,” Another lie, “A shame…” you heave a big sigh, “You really are very beautiful.” Truth. That fist clenches again, and you cock your head to the side, getting one last good look at him. You feel suddenly sad, you don't want to go. You’ve enjoyed this brief moment you’ve gotten to talk to him. Even if you’d gone and pissed him off and ruined it all now. 
“It was nice meeting you, shiny. Even if you were an abominable beast about it.” You give him a nod of your head, and a quick two fingered salute before you’re sliding out of the enshroudment of the booth and slipping out the back of the cantina, into the dark alleyway, leaving him behind. 
The last glimpse you catch of him out of the corner of your eye before the door shuts behind you, is the sight of him scrambling out of the booth and starting towards the door to follow after you. 
A glutton for punishment, then, so it seems. 
You flit through the dark, dirty alleys, scampering from shadow to shadow. The city streets around you, gone quiet now as the sun over Nevarro sets quickly, and you can feel him hunting after you. He’s strong, and you can almost feel the heavy weight of his life force even at a distance, almost as if the goodness and honesty of his character is a presence of its own, sentient in a way. And he’s angry, and you can feel that too, charging after you, provoked, even if he does it on entirely silent and measured feet. You can sense that ravenous curiosity and frustration at being bested and evaded pressing up against you, chasing after you. As if there were some dark red thread connecting the two of you from spine to rib bone, leading him to you, pulling him along your trail. You tiptoe the lines of the shadows silently, making your way through the winding city streets, feeling him getting closer and closer, trying to confuse him, even as he gains on you anyway. 
And then he’s there. 
You feel a massive hand, strong and sure, clamp around the back of your neck, but his touch is measured this time – he’d heeded your warning. His other hand wraps around the bend of your elbow, twisting your arm back behind you, and then he’s kicking open the nearest door, what seems to be some sort of storage alcove, the space dark and humid and mildewed, and pushing you inside. He shoves you away from him once you pass together into the darkness, and you catch yourself on the edge of what feels like some sort of table or workbench.
You laugh breathlessly. Overwhelmed by the thrill of the chase, of the feel of his hands on you, the surrounding darkness, the sound of his own panting breath through the modulator of his helmet. You hope he’s just as overwhelmed, disequilibrated, as you are now. 
“Oh, you again?” you laugh, turning to face him, bracing yourself back against the table. All you can see of him is the silver crescent of the curve of his helmet, the outline of his wide shoulders in the dim light of the moon seeping in through the cracks of space around the door. He is a steel giant.“Did you forget something? Need me to hand your ass to you again, Mandalorian?”
“You’re a fucking brat. Anyone ever tell you that before?”
You gasp mockingly, “Me? Never.”
“Why is it that everything you say sounds vaguely like a taunt? Like you’re trying to provoke me.”
And, oh, he sounds just so unbearably serious and put out by you, that you pout, forced to match his serious tone with one of your own. You force the smile to leave your voice, “Maybe because I am,” and your voice goes quieter, softer, because again, truth. There is something about him that incites provocation, you want him rattled, come undone. “Maybe I want to see what happens when a man made of metal loses control.”
“I can’t – I don’t–” His voice, even through the modulator, is its own flavor of foreplay. “I don’t know…” he says again, whispers it, his tone seeping through the helmet, entirely uncertain, or at war with himself. 
He takes one menacing step forward, made even all the more intimidating by the vast difference in your heights, the sheer breadth of him, the darkness wrapping around him so that all he’s made into are slivers of gleaming silver flame here and there. You feel the whisper of one leather covered finger skim lightly over the outside of your right forearm, another soft touch to the left side of your waist, and you shiver all over. 
“Not a virgin? Your Creed lets you fuck?”
“No.”
“No, what? Use your words.”
Silence. Stubborn, silent, tin can.
“Girlfriend?”
“No.”
“Whores?”
A grunt. 
“Aha! Gotcha.” You start to toe your foot forward, bending your knee to make contact with him when you find his leg, tilting slightly away from the table so that you can slide your thigh between his legs. “Is that what you want me to be for you?”
“No.” Fucking monosyllabic–
“Then what do you want from me? Why did you follow me?”
“I don’t know…”
“Don’t lie.”
“I want to fuck you.” Your cunt goes soaked and tight at his words, because yes, yes yes, this is what you were leading him to. Finally, he’s caught on, and then he’s planting a strong, broad hand to the center of your chest and pushing you back into the table, and pressing the hard, unyielding length of himself against you. He’s hard and swollen beneath his pants, you can feel the thick heft of him against your belly as he presses into you, and you bring your palms up to slide against the unprotected sides of his strong waist, sending him into a full body shudder as you touch him, helmet falling forward on his neck as he hunches over you, hands planted on the table behind. You can hear his labored, panting breath huffing through the modulator as you run your hands along the planes of him. He’s huge, pure muscle beneath unrelenting beskar, and if you weren’t the creature that you are, you’d feel slightly frightened at the unbelievable strength he’s made up of. He is a thrumming effigy of restrained power beneath your hands, different to that which makes you up, and you feel the strength of him once again, humming through the Force. His light burns so bright, almost blindingly. He’s strong. 
You slide one of your hands up his chest plate, tucking your fingers into the top-most edge to bring yourself up and closer to him as he curves over you, bending you back into an arch over the table’s edge. Your other hand reaches for his wrist braced against the table, wrapping around it, so thick your fingers don’t meet, to tuck your fingertips into the space where his sleeve meets his glove, and at the feel of your bare skin on his, just there, just there, he growls, deep and savage in his chest at the same time that you let out a breathy, warbled moan. His other hand shoots up to grasp at the small of your back and press you into him, his fingers digging painfully into your skin. He’s burning hot, sweltering, and he slides his palm lower, tilting your pelvis into his as you hitch one of your knees up the outside of his thigh to his hip, and then your cunt is rocking against the thick length of his cock, and another breathless, pained groan from the both of you as you make contact there, pushing and pulling against each other. You want to taste his skin, his tongue, you want to kiss him, to feel him licking into your mouth. You pull yourself in closer by the hand tucked into his chestplate to press your face into the warm space between his helmet’s edge and the folds of his cowl. He smells so good, like leather and sweat and metal. Something earthy and musky, something that proves to you that despite the beskar, there is only a man of flesh and blood and want beneath. 
His palm slides to grip the lush of your ass, rolling you onto his length harder, pressing deeper as if he could fuck you through your clothes. 
“Are you going to let me fuck you, little brat?” he pants, ending on a stuttered groan as you hook your calf around his waist and press your foot into the small of his back to grind particularly sharply onto him, pressing your clit into the edge of his utility belt, “Please, just– just–” you gasp, head falling back on your neck. And then he’s spinning you abruptly and pressing between your shoulder blades so that you're bent entirely over the table, cheek smushed against the hard surface. That wide palm slides down the slope of your spine, squeezes your asscheek harshly so that you’re moaning out in lust or pain, you can’t tell.
“Was that a yes? Who can’t use their words now?”
“I liked it better when you weren’t talking,” you grouch, but then his fingers have somehow snuck their way up beneath your tunic and under the edge of your trousers, and he’s ripping everything down to leave you bare and unprotected from the sudden onslaught of that huge expanse of leather clad palm cracking down painfully on the soft skin of your ass so that you’re scrambling to find the opposite end of the table to pull yourself away from him. A pathetic little screech claws its way out of you, and he wraps the length of your hair around his fist to pull your head back and up, turning you into his own little bow string, head resting back on the hard pauldron over his shoulder. 
“Where do you think you’re going? I caught you, you’re mine now.”
“Fuck off–” You try, but he clamps his fingers around your jaw, squeezing the fine bones of your face to cut you off, his other hand in your hair gives a sharp tug that makes the tips of your breasts go hot and tight and your cunt clench around nothing. You can feel yourself dripping down the insides of your naked thighs. 
“Open your mouth,” he orders, shoving the thick of his fingers inside to press down on your tongue. You try and moan around him, protest or something, but you can’t help but run your tongue around the digits, tasting the smokiness of blaster residue, the tang of whatever he must use to oil his gloves. “Finally, some silence. I like you better like this,” he taunts you with an imitation of your previous words. He bends his head forward, “Get them wet,” he murmurs, voice soft and sultry through the modulator, and the moan you give him now is all desperation as you let saliva pool heavy on your tongue to coat the leather. 
When he pulls them from your mouth, tugging your head back further so that you can look up into the dark tee of his visor as he slides his spit slick gloves between your thighs to press against your throbbing clit, your whimpered little mewl has a chastising tut filtering through the helmet, “Slippery, little thing.” He starts to press slow circles to the aching bundle of nerves, sliding down on every other swirl to press gentle, teasing pressure to your clenching opening. “Did my chasing do all this? Do you like being hunted, brat?”
“Not–” you moan as he presses down hard on your clit, then back to the mouth of your cunt, giving you just the tip of his finger, “Not a brat,” you struggle to get out.
“No?” He starts to press two fingers inside at once, both of you groaning in tandem. “Maker – fucking tight–” He scissors his fingers inside of you, twisting his wrist to fuck you open, making room for himself inside of you. “Don’t know if I’ll even fit in here.”
“No,” you groan, low and drawn out, and then, yes, whispered breathlessly, one of your arms reaching back to hold onto the wrist of his hand still twisted in your hair, trying to find purchase on anything to anchor yourself with. Because the stretch of just his two fingers inside of you – you can hear the slick squelch of your wetness as he starts to fuck them in and out of you slowly – is so unexpectedly obscene. You had not expected to find yourself in this position with any man, especially not one like this – had not thought you were yet ready to be touched by another person. Not so soon after– “Please – m– more. I want–”
“You think you’re ready for my cock, little one? Have I stretched this tiny cunt out enough?”
“Yes– yes. Just do it.”
“Fuck–” You listen to the wet little pop as he pulls his fingers from you, and the clink and shuffle of his belt and armor as he pulls himself out of his clothes, and then he’s shifting behind you as you brace against the edge of the table. The burning hot blunt tip of his cock skimming against the round of your ass, and you feel him spread his feet wide, bend his knees, and then his cock is there at the slick mouth of your cunt, and he’s thrusting up and into you on the downward roll of your hips, and Maker, he’s deep like this. Suddenly, twin strangled groans of pain or relief ripping from your throats in tandem as he grinds deep, deeper, for a moment. You feel the heavy kick and throb of his cock inside of you, and he is too big, too thick – he forces you to take it anyway. Stretching you in a way you’ve never been before, your eyes smart, forcing your body to make room for his inside of you, it leaves your breath to stutter out in a weak little puff of shock. 
And you moan, using the palms of your hands against the edge of the table to grind yourself back onto him while his hands clamp tightly around your hips, his fingers so long they almost meet at the center of your belly beneath your navel. 
Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. That’s so good.
You can’t tell which one of you is speaking. You can't even tell if you’re still breathing. And then he starts to move. 
You knew he’d fuck hard, from the first moment you’d seen him, you knew.
He pulls his hips back, the slick wet, the grasping walls of your cunt trying to suck him back in, and then the scorching slide of him pressing back in, in, in, grinding again, those long fingers pressing down on your belly so that you feel him from the outside too. 
“Harder,” you beg, because of course you want more. You are a creature made of greed and hunger. You always have been. 
“Quit. You’ll take whatever the fuck you’re given,” but his hips slam back in, a savage growl punctuating the movement. 
He gives it to you almost brutally, without pause or thought, fucking punched out breaths and whines from you. 
“Shut up,” he spits on the end of one particularly deep, harsh thrust that’s followed by a high pitched mewl from you. “You want every piece of shit on Nevarro to find you split open on my cock like this?” Your head lolls back limply on his shoulder, the wet slap of his heavy balls against your clit overwhelming the sound of your thoughts. You can’t speak, your brain is currently being jostled within the confines of your skull by the force of his cock splitting you open. “No? Then be a good girl, and be quiet,” his voice, rough, even through the modulator is almost drowned out by the wet, obscene sound of him pounding into you. 
He brings one of his hands back up to your jaw, turning your head slightly so that your nose is almost smushed up against the chrome of his visor. He wants to look at you. The hard beskar of his chest plate rubs harshly against your back on every push upwards of his hips, and you’re sure that’ll hurt later, but right now you just can’t seem to care. You can feel the humid, warm air of your panting breath, foggy against the gleam of his helmet, and you bring one of your hands up to the wrist holding your face, holding on for dear life, sanity, you’re not sure what. Your other hand twists back into the hanging fabric of his cloak so that you can pull yourself more tightly back into him as he slows his thrusts, making them longer and more drawn out. “Yeah– like that. Settle… good girl.” Your eyes flutter shut. Too much, too much. It should hurt. You wanted it to hurt. Not gentle, you don’t want it gentle.
“Harder,” you whine, plead.
“No. How I say.” He rolls his cock into you over and over, your slick sliding down your thighs, the backs abraded by the plates of beskar over his own legs. He’s so deep, so big it hurts so good. Even if you want it harder, it still hurts so good. The hand at your face slides down to rip open the fastening of your high necked tunic, reaching inside and under your breast band to pull out the heavy aching weight of your tit and pinch your nipple, rolling it between his strong leather clad fingers – more high, desperate mewls that have him groaning deep in his chest. You’re sure if your face wasn't so close to his you’d never be able to hear them through the helmet, low and rumbly and so delicious. 
“Fucking beautiful,” he murmurs low, cupping your breast to plump it up, massaging it in his palm.
“What? You can see?” 
“Yeah– fuck yes, I can see.”
“Not fair,” you whine. It’s so dark in the little room he’d pushed you into, you’re not even going to get to take a good look at his cock before this is all over. 
“You don’t need to see. You just need to be good and take it.”
“Do you ever kiss?” you ask him suddenly. Irritated by the fact that you’ve not gotten to ogle him – or kiss him. If he even does that.
Another deep roll of his hips, a tight squeeze to the swinging globe of your breast, “No.”
“That’s a shame.”
And he responds immediately, voice subdued and even, underneath the helmet, despite the fact that you feel like he’s cleaving you in two. “Maybe next time,” he says. His palm slides down to your belly then, the other pressing down between your shoulder blades to fold you over the table, hands moving to wrap around your hips and lift you up and back onto his impaling cock so that the tips of your toes are left skimming the ground beneath, your fingers scramble and claw for purchase against the wood of the table. You can feel the wide tip of his cock punching against your womb on every thrust in and stars flash behind your eyes, mouth hanging open pathetically. 
There is nothing gentle about the way he fucks you. Like he wants to split you in two, like he wants to make sure the shape of him is branded into the center of your body so that you’d never forget this. The sticky sweet coil of your orgasm starts up low in your belly, and you feel molded in his image for one second, pushed out of yourself to stand on the sidelines and look upon the sight of your much smaller form draped over the table and being fucked into so savagely by this silver blade of a man.
And then: they’re fucking bare, they’re fucking raw, and it has been so, so long since he has felt the touch of another person, someone else’s skin on his that was not bestowed upon him in violence or with the barrier of a sheath between. It is an almost overwhelming feeling, that of your hot, soaking wet cunt pulsing around him, you’re about to come for him, he can feel it. The fluttering of your inner muscles, delicate thing that you are, your thighs shaking as you struggle to push yourself back on to him to get it harder, deeper. He is, almost, made faint with the feeling. And those eyes… you’ve got the strangest multicolored eyes. One enshrouded entirely in darkness compared to its bright counterpart – as if one had forgotten to take that last step into the light. You’re fucking beautiful and–
You snap back into yourself. No, no, no, stay out of his head. Stay out of his head. Focus. You push yourself up again so that your back is against his chest, and he bands one tremendously strong arm around you, gripping your breast tightly. You feel him bend his knees framing your thighs to change and deepen the angle, and then he’s pounding right into that tender, devastating place inside of you, and your cunt twists and floods with your orgasm, electric shocks of pleasure numbing your fingers and toes. You can do nothing more than let him do with you what he will. Your toes aren’t even touching the floor. 
He presses as deep as he can, grinds for a moment, and then he folds you over the table once again and presses down harshly on the small of your back with one heavy palm as he pulls his cock from you and finishes himself off. You listen to the wet thwack, thwack, thwack of him pulling on his cock, and then the searing hot spurt of his come is hitting your ass and the exposed seam of your fluttering cunt, a savage growl ripping through the modulator as he squeezes all of the air out of you with that unyielding hand. You’re like a pressed flower between the pages of a book – wilted and frayed, but still held in the image of that which you once were. At the last spurt from his cock he brings his hand to your ass, spreads you apart to rub his spend into the tight furl of your ass, and then further down into your throbbing, overly sensitive clit. All you can do is cry and whimper weakly, still trembling from your own orgasm. “T– too much, nooo,” you whine pathetically.
“Easy – easy, settle.”
You feel him fall to a crouch behind you, pulling you apart with both hands by the meat of your ass to look upon the sight of your blushed, fluttering hole. Messy, little cunt, you hear him whisper. He rubs his come into your trembling thighs, over your swollen clit again, inspecting every vulnerable inch and crevice of your sex, and then he’s pushing two of those thick fingers back inside of you, the passage made slick and fucked open by your mingled come. “Just one more, little one. Want to see it up close,” he murmurs. You try and wiggle away, tears of oversensitivity brimming beneath your lashes, I can’t, I can’t, you think you whisper, but he’s inescapable. He clamps one hand painfully over your asscheek, keeping you spread apart for his inspection, the other one buried deep inside of you so that his fingers are hooked against your g-spot where he presses over and over, quick and relentless, his fingers almost vibrating inside of you until your vision is going white hot and a buzzing sound rings in your ears, and you’re crying for what you think might sound like mercy or something equally despeerate. “Yes, fuck, yes. Just like that.” Your answering sob does not prompt him to abate, for he keeps his fingers pressed against that spot inside of you until you’re leaking an embarrassing amount of wetness down your thighs, until the rippling throbs of your orgasm have finally settled. You feel his head fall forward, the beskar of his helmet pressing against the space where your asscheek meets your thigh, and he holds there for a second against your burning hot skin, the scorching soothed by the cool metal.
You can’t stop shaking, you feel, suddenly, like you might cry. You were not prepared for something of this intensity, to be touched like this, and now that it’s happened you’re left reeling. You don’t even know his name. And now you’re sure he’ll go away to wherever it is that Mandalorian bounty hunters run off to, and you’ll never see him again, and you’ll have to live with the memory of this forever. And something like this… amidst all the other horror that lives within you, you’re sure that the intimacy, the fervor of this, will make it hurt all the more, even compared to all the rest. 
He uncoils behind you, rising up to his towering height. You listen to the rustling of his clothes, and then he’s smoothing a large palm over the slope of your trembling back and reaching down to pull up your trousers, tucking your breast back beneath your tunic, righting your clothes for you without commentary. When you think you’ve finally caught your breath, or can at least pretend you’ve done so, enough to push yourself up from your position over the table. Your eyes feel pinched and hot, your heart beating so hard, almost painfully, within the confines of your ribcage that it feels as though your bones are rattling beneath your skin, knocking together in the imitation of a death rattle so that he’ll surely know that you feel two paces away from falling apart entirely. 
“You’re… Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you?” Voice stilted.
“No more than I wanted you to.”
He’s silent for a moment, uncomfortable. You can feel the sensation of him pulling away, getting ready to make a run for it. “That’s not–” he cuts himself off. “Do you– do you spend much time on planet?” He’s awkward, uncomfortable now with this unnecessary notion of seemingly required small talk.
“No.” Lie. You like Nevarro, you spend more time here than anywhere else. 
“What’s your name?” It shocks you that he asks, for you know he’d not give you his if you asked it of him in return, but for one infinitely painful, insanely uncharacteristic moment, you want to tell him. You want to give him your real name desperately, tell him who you are. But if you were to do that, then you might tell him what you are. And then he’d hate you, and the memory would be ruined, and you have so few good ones, that this one must be protected at all costs. 
So instead you say that which you have no real desire to say, do what you have no real desire to do, and make sure that he thinks you’re not interested, that you have no desire to ever see him again. Maybe next time. Your heart gives a surprisingly painful pinch, your eyes growing hotter by the second. “This was just a fuck, don’t get all sentimental on me now.” Your voice is so cold, so uncaring. You hate the way you can make yourself sound sometimes. You sense him snap with tense shock, and he nods once, succinctly. “Very well. Thank you… for this. I suppose.”
You lean back against the table, trying your hardest to appear as unaffected as you can. You turn your face to the side, roll your cheek over the hill of your shoulder. “It was my pleasure.”
He turns to go, his cape snapping with the sharp abruptness of his movements, and he pulls open the door of the little storage room letting a flood of moonlight sweep in to shed light on the construction of this memory you’re assembling brick by brick to preserve in your mind for as long as you possibly can. Your eyes sweep over the length of him ravenously, trying to catalog every single detail of him, the incredible breadth of his shoulders, the silver gleam of his beskar helmet, the sweep of his cape, the arsenal of weapons strapped to his body, lethal. He turns back to look at you for one moment, the yawning darkness of his chrome visor, “Don’t get killed, Mandalorian. There are so few of you left now.” And truth, truth, truth, for it would be a shame beyond imagining for a creature such as this, something so strong and beautiful and other, to perish when so few like him remain. He pauses to take you in, as well. You wish you had the courage to ask him what he sees when he looks at a thing like you. The tears are right there, and you hate them and feel weak and disgusted, but also relieved, and you could fall to your knees, in this moment, to thank the Maker that you still possess the ability, the heart, to cry, to succumb to something as trife as tears. You hope he cannot see them. The helmet cocks to the side for one second, perhaps he too is cataloging you to his memory. He nods once, and then he’s turning and gone away into the night. The door snicks shut behind him, and you’re alone once again. 
You pause for a moment, hoping that relief will come. He’s gone, you got what you wanted from him. You should be glad. But there is only the screaming thought of wait, there was still more, there was still more that I wanted from you. 
You let yourself sink slowly to the ground, hand braced against the edge of the table he just fucked you over, lest your shaking legs give out and have you planting face first into the dirt. You fold your legs beneath you, tuck your wild hair gently behind your ears, your movements measured, trying to breathe deep and slow, in through your nose and out through your mouth. Don’t cry, there’s no reason to cry. But shouldn’t we be glad we can still cry? Isn’t it a sign that not all is lost? That there is still a part of us that feels enough to shed tears? This should be a good thing. And so you let the tears fall. You fold yourself over as small as you can, one hand pressed over your hot, leaking eyes, another over your mouth to keep your sounds contained, and you sob as quietly as you possibly can. It was so good and you’re crying and you’re alive and you’re free. You are free, and you should be glad of this. Cry, cry, but cry for your own victory, for your own freedom, for the chance to cry. This is what victory feels like. This is what it is to be alive. 
And so, here is your truth: It is a difficult thing, to shed the facets of the dark side after you’ve lived with it for so long. To be a Sith is to forsake all connection, all peace. There is only passion to strength to power to victory to the Force, but it is always alone. Always against someone or something else. So, yes, it is difficult to shed the facets of the dark side that have made you the thing you’ve been for more than half your life, since the time you were stolen from your cradle, your parents slaughtered, and spirited away into the shadow of a cruel and unforgiving master. What is it to know exactly how your life will play out, to see everything, to be so aware of what you will be – and to still be lost? Part agony, part madness. The pieces of you that are secretive, that like to hide, to run, these are especially difficult to let go of, and you are so, so interminably sad, you live in it. It’s all you feel you are now, after the dark, after the fall of the Empire and the Sith, after escape, after freedom, after you’d so forcibly ripped its claws, that were so deeply sunk within you, out by sheer force of will, by sheer force of desperation, you worry that it’s taken a piece of you with it, your soul. That it had eaten a piece of you. That you don’t have one anymore. 
You don’t even know his name. And even if you’re certain he would not have given it to you, for one moment, you feel an incredible lance of regret that you did not give him yours. 
But then: a person without a soul could not cry. 
And so this must only be proof of the fact that you must still possess yours, as shriveled or weak as it’s been made, you must still have one. You must. You must. 
And you think: I am not unfamiliar with this half life – there is a wound inside of me – dark and putrid and festering. But perhaps my tears will heal me. Seal the wound closed. 
You feel lonely – worse, you feel strange. Once, you were terrible – now you are only yourself. So you cry for the passion of the moment, for the way he made you feel, for the loss of a name, for the truth of freedom.
Chapter II
Netherfeildren's Masterlist
Updates Blog : Follow and turn on notifications for new fics!
530 notes · View notes
rentumblsstuff · 29 days
Text
Random Hatchetfield Headcanons
The first time Alice Woodward ever smoked weed was when (after much inner turmoil) she asked Deb to shotgun it with her.
Max has two snaggletoothed incisors which is why people swear to god he has fangs.
Deb also has a snaggletooth which is what inspired the vampire part of Alice’s vampiric sapphic play. Alice also thinks it’s ironic she made a vampire character when Deb is a vegan.
Ruth as a Sophmore hit on Senior Alice a lot. Alice thought it was funny and she and Deb “adopted” her. Max and Steph also put the PANIC in bi panic for Ruth.
Max would find it weirdly hot that Grace wears bathing suits under her clothes because of the idea that he gets to see what her body looks like before even she does.
The hospital is downtown, so Becky Barnes definitely got infected in TGWDLM. Despite never wanting to do it again, Becky climbs the tree as someone calls the HFPD to save Kathy’s cat because she’s still infinitely compassionate even under Pokey’s control. Plus, Pokey knows she wants to get over the trauma associated with climbing trees, so he makes her do it to give her a big number about finally overcoming her past. She accidentally flings the cat as soon as the song starts, which is why in Show Me Your Hands, the cat dies so quickly even though it JUST got called in.
Peter infected Steph who infected Deb who infected Alice in TGWDLM. Pete and Steph would have been Sophomores and Deb and Alice were Seniors, but I always imagine Steph and Deb knowing eachother because MRFC said Steph is in the Smoke Club on Twitter at some point. Assuming Steph’s been a little punk for a while, she’s been in the smoke club since at least Sophomore year, and probably a new inductee the same year as TGWDLM (2018).
Alice and one of her parents (maybe Bill) were also raised in purity culture because we know the Woodwards and the Chastitys go to the same church. The Woodwards probably take it with a grain of salt though (Alice has expressed dislike over Grace’s prudishness)- either that or one of her parents (probably her mom) wasn’t originally from said church and also raised Alice with “this is what you’re learning here, but here’s also what I learned at my church at your age.” Bill was likely the one raised in purity culture because he does NOT LIKE DEB and thinks that if she HAS TO date a girl, she should date someone like Grace Chastity, implying she’s an exemplary teen girl. Ms. Woodward lets Deb sleep over and probably knows she smokes and likes her anyways; three points for Alice’s mom not being the puritanical one.
Ted reads romance novels. He’s a former geek turned sleazeball- you know he reads the smuttiest novels ever and calls them “his research”. He refuses to read any book with the friends to lovers trope because it’s too upsetting to think about. (Side note Time Bastard gave us a definite date that timelines don’t branch/reset before depending on whichever theory you believe because the homeless man is in every timeline, meaning that Jenny’s death is fixed in time and never changes: October 7th 2004, so the timelines change anywhere between October 8th 2004 and 2018.)
In whatever timeline Emma finally gets to have her weed farm, she meets Paul when he tells her he was prescribed that marajamij for his anxiety and he was too scared to try Xanax. She thinks he’s kind of cute for a wet cat of a corporate slave. “Fuck the patriarchy? Yes please.” (Side note Paul seems so uptight and unfuckable like bro gotta be blank down there like a Ken doll and has no discernible kinks from what I remember while Emma is laid back and chill asf and like… normal in comparison so yeah sure Paulkins canonically fucks but does Emma enjoy it?? Like dude even Pete’s more fuckable than him come on.)
Pete and Steph don’t kiss when they admit their feelings for eachother even though one of them would die before ever getting to kiss each other because they both think it’ll only make it that much harder to go through with sacrificing the other. One of the reasons Pete also chooses to be the one to take the bullet because he doesn’t think he even COULD pull the trigger on her. Like it’d be physically impossible for him, in his mind.
TGWDLM was originally meant to be an allegory for the institution brainwashing us. Show Me Your Hands and America’s Great Again: examples of people in power working for and fulfilling the evil wishes of some almighty, otherworldly, inhuman THING (be it aliens, be it those in power). It’s clearly meant to satirize the way that power corrupts and tries to convince you its way is better. Even Hidgens, THE FUCKING TEACHER, tries to teach his student that it will be better for everyone to join in that corruption and give in to the hive mind. This reminds me of how the school system in America tries to paint our history as something glamorous; manifest destiny instead of genocide of the indigenous populations. The people in power convincing those under them that the deaths of countless lives is a good thing and it will pave the way to a better future. Cool motive, still murder. Which is why Emma “Fuck the Patriarchy” Perkins is the last one to be infected. She was incapable of being brainwashed , and even when she was the last one left, she saw that the people watching didn’t care, and the all-consuming threat of corrupted power closes in on her until the very last moment.
The Lords in Black were going to try to convince whoever sacrificed their most treasured something to do more work for them, but Grace required very little convincing. Like Wiggly spoke into her mind like “Gracy-Wace! You forgot my booky-wook! Look in it, see any thing you like? Wanna kill all the pervy-wervys?” And she’s like “holy cow I can kill all the pervy-wervys with this book?” Pete would have needed the most convincing because he’s just lost the only girl who will ever love him (in his mind) and so he’d think these things took away his one chance at true love and NEVER want to deal with them again. Even if they offered him a way to get her back, he’s too smart to know that won’t come without an even bigger price AND too paranoid to think she won’t come back wrong like Max did.
If the Green-Foster family ever did get to move to California and Lex got to be an actress, her interview attitude would be a lot like Reneé Rapp and if she ever got asked about why she’ll openly shit talk people in an interview, she’s like “I used to work retail I learned pretty fast that nothing gets done if you keep your mouth shut.”
152 notes · View notes
m0chaminx · 3 months
Text
Mk1 characters with witch!reader | Dialogues
Tumblr media
*•.¸♡Request: no
*•.¸♡Prompts: none
*•.¸♡Warnings: A couple of uses of y/n (I tried to keep them minimal), flirty, threatening, sweet fluff, the whole shebang, I've never written for mk before so go easy on me
*•.¸♡Paring: Various mk1 characters x gn!witch!reader
*•.¸♡Summary: just some fun dialoge of the mk1 charchters and a witch reader
*•.¸♡Words: 1k
*•.¸♡A/N: Merry Christmas y'all!!
Tomas : I faced far worse than an outworld witch.
y/n: You may jest now, but beware, for my spells can turn jesters into ghosts.
Tomas : Forgive me, but I do not understand the threat you pose.
y/n: Dear, sweet Tomas. Underestimate me at your peril. My hexes have a way of adding a bit of spice to the ordinary. Care for a taste?
y/n: Feel flattered Tomas, you have been the only Lin Kuei to pose a challenge.
Tomas : I cannot except your compliment's y/n, I truly can’t see a way I win this fight.
❊╌──┈⊰᯽⊱ 𝒌𝒖𝒂𝒊 𝒍𝒊𝒂𝒏𝒈 ⊰᯽⊱┈──╌❊
Kuai Liang : I wish you no harm, but be prepared to lose.
y/n: I brew potions stronger than your fire, darling. Try not to get scorched by the truth.
y/n: Is it just me, or did the room light up the moment you walked in? 
Kuai Liang : That’s my Kunai, I’ll try not to cut you… too bad.
y/n: Cross my path again, and you'll find out how swiftly my curses take effect.
Kuai Liang : Your threat has been noted, little witch.
❊╌──┈⊰᯽⊱ 𝒃𝒊-𝒉𝒂𝒏 ⊰᯽⊱┈──╌❊
Bi-Han : It is foolish to face me, witch.
y/n: Ha! I mastered the art of Ice Manipulation when I was a child. You are the foolish one.
y/n: If ignorance is bliss, you must be the happiest person in the room.
Bi-Han : Mind your tongue.
Bi-Han : I can't believe I need to waste my time killing you.
y/n: Oh please, Bi-Han. I don't need a crystal ball to predict your imminent exit from my life.
❊╌──┈⊰᯽⊱ 𝒔𝒚𝒛𝒐𝒕𝒉 ⊰᯽⊱┈──╌❊
Syzoth : So, you cast spells?
y/n: Why cast spells when I can cast smiles? Yours is my favourite enchantment.
y/n: I'd advise you against challenging me. My curses have a way of sticking around longer than you'd like.
Syzoth : Do you stick around as well?
Syzoth : I heard you're a witch. Do you do shows?
y/n: Mock my craft, and you'll wish you had never left that travelling carnival.
❊╌──┈⊰᯽⊱ 𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒏 ⊰᯽⊱┈──╌❊
Raiden : They say magic is in the little things, sweet y/n.
y/n: Then consider me your personal witch for these enchanting moments, sweet Raiden.
Raiden : I sense sparks between us.
y/n: I thought you had been practising with your amulet.
y/n: Cross my path, and the shadows you'll meet will be darker than any you've ever known.
Raiden : You must wield very dark magic then, witch.
❊╌──┈⊰᯽⊱ 𝒌𝒖𝒏𝒈 𝒍𝒂𝒐 ⊰᯽⊱┈──╌❊
Kung Lao : I can’t wait to tell everyone I beat you.
y/n: Oh, please, darling. I could turn you into a toad with a flick of my perfectly manicured finger.
y/n: Why fly on a broomstick when I can use that thing you call a hat to soar above your nonsense?
Kung Lao : Hey! I thought it was creative.
y/n: I could make your dreams come true, but first, you'll need some better dreams.
Kung Lao : Lucky for me, I dream of you.
❊╌──┈⊰᯽⊱ 𝒍𝒊𝒖 𝒌𝒂𝒏𝒈 ⊰᯽⊱┈──╌❊
y/n: Tell me Lord Liu Kang, what was I like in this other timeline?
Liu Kang : All I can say is you're far more responsible in this one.
Liu Kang : I must commend your skills, witch. You have far exceeded any expectations.
y/n: Did you just compliment me? By the elder gods, what was I like before?
Liu Kang : Are you sure you wish to battle me, young witch?
y/n: I’m sure I want you to remember when I best you.
❊╌──┈⊰᯽⊱ 𝒋𝒐𝒉𝒏𝒏𝒚 𝒄𝒂𝒈𝒆 ❊╌──┈⊰᯽⊱
Johnny Cage : I gotta ask-
y/n: No! I cannot saw you in half. At least with you surviving.
Johnny Cage : Have you ever been on the big screen? People go crazy for witches.
y/n: While I thank you for the opportunity, Cage, my magic is not made for the big screen.
Johnny Cage : Whoa! Witches in outworld are way better looking.
y/n: Did you expect me to have a long green nose and melt in the rain?
❊╌──┈⊰᯽⊱ 𝒌𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊 𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒂𝒉𝒂𝒔𝒉𝒊 ⊰᯽⊱┈──╌❊
y/n: I'm not a mind reader, but I'd love to know what's brewing in that mysterious mind of yours.
Kenshi Takahashi : I can assure you, you’re the only one surrounding my mind. 
y/n: Think twice before meddling with my spells. The repercussions can be... unexpected.
Kenshi Takahashi : Sorry if I hurt your feelings, but I’m more intrigued than threatened.
Kenshi Takahashi : WIth Sento at my side, I can not lose.
y/n: Challenge me, and you'll learn that in the realm of magic, the victor is seldom the one who laughs last.
❊╌──┈⊰᯽⊱ 𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒆𝒏𝒂 ⊰᯽⊱┈──╌❊
Mileena : Consider this your only warning. My wrath is not to be underestimated.
y/n: The feeling is more than mutual, Emperors.
y/n: If I were a witch, I'd cast a spell to make you mine. 
Mileena : Luckily, you don't need magic for that.
Mileena : You over saw my mother for some time. Any words of advice for me?
y/n: A kind word to you Empress: underestimate powers you know nothing of, and you may not live long enough to regret it.
❊╌──┈⊰᯽⊱ 𝒌𝒊𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒂 ⊰᯽⊱┈──╌❊
Kitana : Must you always be so vigilant, my protector?
y/n: Only when it involves safeguarding the most precious gem in the kingdom.
y/n: I put the 'hex' in 'hexcellent.'
Kitana : That’s not as amusing as you think it is.
Kitana : I never expected a witch to be so charming.
y/n: Well, I say chivalry isn't dead, especially when there's a princess to impress.
❊╌──┈⊰᯽⊱ 𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒍 ⊰᯽⊱┈──╌❊
Sindel : You must have heard the news of Mileena’s condition by now?
y/n: I shall try everything in power to help. It’s the least I can do for you.
Sindel : I’m sorry for what must happen, but do know I will always value you in my life.
y/n: I have served you for some time Empress, one battle will not sway my loyalty.
y/n: Your daughters have become great fighters, your majesty.
Sindel : They have found a great teacher with you, y/n.
Tumblr media
゚°☆Page navigation
348 notes · View notes
freak-accident419 · 3 months
Note
Helloo, I hope you’re doing alright!! I was wondering if you can make a fic about Josh Futturman that’s set after the show?? Like at around the early 2000s (since they end up in 1999 iirc) And when he meets the reader at his new job he gets a crush on them so he invites them over to hang out :-)
I think it would be cute fluff (like a little kissing) but if you can manage to make it smut that’s good too :P
His Silver Lining
Josh Futturman x GN!Reader
Tumblr media
Summary: Josh had been adjusting fairly well to the year 2000 after tragically getting stuck in it. Though for quite a while, he had developed a crush on you ever since he first met you during his new job at Blockbuster. He finally gets the courage to ask you out—which was inviting you over at his place to watch a horror movie.
Word Count: 2.7k
Content: fluff, gender neutral reader, takes place in year 2000 (after season 3 events), Josh uses “Pastman” for a fake name, spoilers for season 3
(A/n: First of all, I’m doing just fine, thanks so much anon !! Second, I don’t know if this was exactly what you wanted based on the request, but I hope it’s okay !! I can’t tell if it’s half-assed, but it was the best I could do!)
-
Josh adjusted quite well to the year 2000. He found a place to live, got a simple job at a Blockbuster store in Pasadena, and almost accepted his life here in this timeline. Sure, he would usually make a few slip ups like the fact that NYSC would break up, Britney Spears’ conservatorship, and the existence of the Xbox, but nobody would think too much of it; to them, they were just wacky, pessimistic predictions—except for the Xbox, of course.
You were a regular customer at the Blockbuster store. You were quite the film buff, immersing yourself in old cinema and classics as you would rent a new movie every twice a week. And it was almost love at first sight for Josh when he saw you at the counter renting The Last Starfighter—it was destiny.
A bit sheepish from how attractive you were to him, he stammered over his words a bit clumsily, which you only smiled admiringly at.
The first thing he noticed about you were your eyes. They were bright and optimistic. With this, it revealed to him that you were quite charming and friendly. The second thing he noticed about you was your style—your fashion was unique, yet delightfully peculiar. It was sort of refreshing to see, which made you stand out compared to anyone else he’s met. And he should’ve seen this first if it weren’t for your eyes, but the third thing he noticed was your smile. It was so beautiful that he couldn’t believe that it was himself that brought you to grin like that.
“‘The Last Starfighter’? Really?” Josh asked after he came out of the trance you put him in, ringing you up.
“Yeah, I know, I… It’s a bit of a classic, hell, I was, like, nine years old when it came out, but… Y’know… I’m just… Expanding my horizons. I kinda just immerse myself in mostly eighties movies,” you chuckle. The cashier was endearingly dorky to you. He had soft brown hair and eyes, with a cute smile, undeniably caused by you. You’ve never seen him before however, and you came here frequently, so you assumed he was a new hire.
The movie you’re renting would only remind himself of his own life—how his video game became reality, bringing him into the most traumatizing and insane adventures. Hell, it took him a month to finally stop seeing his parents from afar ever since he got trapped in this timeline. So the subtle mention of it would have sparked melancholic nostalgia in him under different circumstances, but right now, he was far too distracted from how pretty you were.
“Yeah, it’s… it’s an alright movie, I’d say,” he replied with a faint chuckle, reinforcing your belief in the film as you took out your cash to purchase the rental.
“Hey, so, um, are you new here?” You asked briefly.
“Yeah. Yeah, I am. Did I—did I make it that obvious? Like was there something unprofessional I did—”
“No, god, no,” you giggled—it was the sweetest thing Josh had ever heard in a long, long time. “It’s just—I’m a regular here. Rent movies all the time. Usually Brandon or Steffie rings me up. When did you start?” You asked, watching him place your money in the register, then retrieving the amount of change you had.
“Oh, like, a week ago,” he answered, giving you your change.
“Well,” you peered at his name tag, “Josh. Welcome to Blockbuster. Get used to seeing this face every twice a week.”
He chuckled softly to himself, almost in fluster as well, because he knew he would look forward to be seeing you frequently. “I’ll look forward to it, um…” He trailed off with anticipation as he handed you the VHS tape and receipt.
“Y/n,” you grinned, taking it in your hands and making your way to the exit.
And so, the last thing he noticed about you was the silver ring on your right index finger.
***
It was like this for a couple of weeks. You would come in, get a movie, exchange smiles and giddy laughter, then leave. He would observe the movies you would rent, though he would also occasionally make some more accidental slip ups about the future:
“‘Dead Poets Society’?” He raised an eyebrow as he looked at the VHS cover. You nodded pridefully. The image of Robin Williams caught his attention. “A shame he died. He was awesome.”
“Neil Perry? Yeah, I suppose,” you reply.
“Wh—Oh,” Josh stammered in realization.
***
“‘Dawn of the Dead’? Hell yeah! That man, Zack Snyder, is a genius.” He declared with a wide grin.
“Who?”
He looked back at the cover. This was the 1978 movie. The Zack Snyder version wouldn’t come out until four years from now. “Oh.”
***
You brought up a ‘Back to the Future’ VHS at the counter, causing Josh to raise an eyebrow.
“Huh.” How ironic.
***
You came into the Blockbuster store once again. Over time, your crush on Josh only increased. There was something about his dorky, sweet, awkwardness that charmed you, that even on days you didn’t feel like watching a movie, you went anyways and rented one as an excuse to see him again.
Today, Josh had a confident mindset—this was the day he was going to ask you out. He felt very prepared to speak to you once you would walk up to the counter with a movie.
“Hey, Josh,” you smile softly as you see him at the counter.
“Oh, hey, Y/n. Got any specific movie you’re looking for, or are you just gonna browse today?”
“Well, now that you mention it,” you began, “Do you have any movie suggestions for me?” You walk to the front counter where he was, crossing your arms on the surface with an expecting smile on your face.
“Hm. Depends,” he answered. “What, um… genre are you looking for?”
“Not sure,” you shrugged. “Just anything. Any movie you’d like.”
“A movie I like?”
“Yeah,” you smile.
“Why me?”
“Eh. I guess I trust your taste.”
With an attractive chuckle under his breath, he led you to a specific aisle of the store. Then, he finally grabbed a movie for you.
“Sleepaway Camp?” You raise an eyebrow as you gently took the VHS from his hands.
“Yeah. Yeah, um, it’s a really great horror movie,” he claimed. While Josh would usually be scared shitless of this kind of slasher, he was so desensitized to nearly everything due to all of his time travel adventures. He witnessed his companions chop up his co-workers and saw his work crush’s head explode right in front of him. And plus, he already watched this movie, so he knew where all the scary parts were.
“Horror movie? I don’t know if I’m much of a horror person,” you bit the inside of your cheek and smile kindly.
“Wait. You’re scared of horror movies?”
“I didn’t say I was scared—”
“I think it’s heavily implied.”
“No, I… I quite enjoyed the—The Silence of the Lambs and—”
“No, no, no, Y/n, that’s different. Like, you gotta watch Sleepaway Camp. It’s crazy. Like, insane,” he emphasized.
“I don’t know, man,” you laugh softly.
It’s now or never, Josh thought. “Okay, okay, how about this: we watch it together. At my place. I have a TV and microwavable popcorn. I can even let you know where the jump scares are and everything,” he initiated endearingly.
You offer a coy smile as you fidget with the ring on your finger. “Josh Pastman, are you seriously asking me out?” Because his six-year-old self exists in the same timeline as him now, he would’ve had to have a cover name—which was actually the same one he used back at the meth lab.
You could swear you saw his face flush red a second after you said this, making you giggle to yourself.
“I—Well. Sorta. Well. Only if—if you—if you would want to—”
“I’d love to, Josh,” you interrupted charmingly, looking at the back cover of the VHS’ clamshell to skim through the movie’s details.
“W-wait, really?” He blurted in surprise. While he did intend to ask you out, he never really expected you to actually accept it—his self confidence was fairly low and the poor man has never gotten a break.
“I mean, yeah, sure, why not? Bold of you to suggest a horror movie for our first movie together, though,” a smug smile appeared on your lips. You suspected he would choose it because you would inevitably cuddle with him in fear. It really wasn’t his intention, though. It was genius, nonetheless. “Hm. Respect.”
Josh stammered over his words, slightly abashed. “I—Wait—No, that’s—”
“I’m just messing with you.”
He sighed in relief. He was adorable. “Okay, so, the movie’s fine? We can—we can change it—”
“It’s all good, Pastman,” you laugh. “Don’t sweat it. I’m gonna be busy for the upcoming days, so is tonight gonna be alright with you?”
“Yeah. Yeah! That’s—that’s perfect!”
You scoffed playfully at his mannerisms. “I’ll see you then, Josh.”
“I’ll—Yeah! Yeah, I’ll see you then!”
***
“Oh my god, I hate you, I fucking hate you,” you breathed in his neck as you held onto him tightly. A quite gruesome, unsettling scene had just appeared on the TV screen, not like it was the first one that occurred, but you were at a point where you couldn’t take it anymore.
Josh was blushing furiously as he felt your warmth on his body, your hands clutching at his shirt, and face buried in his neck. It felt nice for him to protect you, holding you in his arms, feeling his blood rush to his face.
It was an unintentional plan. It practically wasn’t even a plan to begin with. But it was genius nonetheless.
“Hey, it’s not that bad, it’s just shitty special effects of the eighties,” he chuckled, looking down at you.
“Dude. I get nightmares of even the most mildest crap,” you argue.
“Yeah, well, at least we’re not watching The Human Centipede. Now, that shit is fucking crazy.”
You grimace as you hear the title name. “I don’t think I even wanna know what that is.” And you wouldn’t. Not until another 9 years, give or take.
You peek fearfully at the TV screen with uncertainty. “If I see shit like this in my dream tonight, I am going to fucking destroy you,” you claim.
“Oh, really?” Josh raised an eyebrow.
“Well, yeah. I know where you live.” The two of you laugh softly. It was a beautifully, harmonious sound, your laughter. The way your voice overlapped with his, it was a sweet symphony. He had the greatest laugh. You finally moved your face from his neck and looked at him. Then he looked at you. Another calm, shared laugh until he finally grabbed the remote to pause the movie.
As you remained to grip onto his shirt, he glanced at your silver ring. “Hey, what’s—what’s that?”
“What’s what?”
“That!”
“Wh—what?”
“The—the ring.”
“O-oh, my ring?” You chuckled softly as you look at the shiny band hugging your finger.
“Yeah. What’s the—what’s the deal with it?” You raise an eyebrow as you looked at him with playful uncertainty.
“Well, I always believed on ‘the bright side,’ you know? The saying that ‘every cloud has a silver lining’. Like, when shit hits the fan, there’s at least one advantage coming from it.” Josh looked in your eyes as you explained, yourself too preoccupied with the carvings on your ring. “And a silver ring is quite literally sort of like a silver lining. I know—I know it’s corny, but a friend gave it to me, and I guess it means a lot.”
He hums in response, not taking his eyes off you. You were gorgeous. “Take this moment, for example,” you start, finally looking back at him, which elicited another blush on his cheeks. “I am being scared shitless by this fucking eighties horror movie, but… at least I’m watching it with my favorite Blockbuster employee.”
His eyes widened, quite comically as well. “I—I’m your favorite?”
You nod with a polite smile.
“Me?”
“Yes.”
“Not even—not even Steffie or Brandon?”
“N—”
“Not even Matty? He’s, like, everyone’s favorite, he’s so kind, and—”
“Josh! Holy shit!” You exclaimed, giggling at his disbelief. “They’re all nice, yes, but you are definitely my favorite.”
He slightly parted his lips in awe, then grinned sweetly. “Well, I hope you’re happy to know that you’re my favorite customer.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Well, yeah. Even the guy who knows so much about video games, that guy cannot take your place.”
“Oh jeez, so technically I did have competition, huh?”
“Eh, not really. I like you too much.”
Josh actually couldn’t believe he just said that to you. He wanted to play it cool, but his eyes widened once he processed what be just told you.
You blushed softly instead, smiling to yourself as you bit the inside of your cheek. “O-okay, so, why’d you ask me about my ring?”
“Well, initially, I was curious. But also, I thought that if you had to explain and think about something else, you would forget at least some of the scenes in this movie that freaked you out,” he explained.
“Wait, really?”
“I feel a little bad. I don’t want you to get nightmares because of me.”
“Seriously? That’s so sweet of you, Josh.”
“Well, yeah. I mean, it’s not a big deal, anyone wou—”
“I mean, I know that, but,” you intervened, “It’s not just that, you… You’ve always been so amazing to me, you know? You’re kind, and charming, and patient, and… you are really funny.” Josh smiled at you bashfully as you chuckle. You were so charmed by him. He stood out to you, and you didn’t really know why. He was kind and considerate, like everyone else, except it wouldn’t feel the same—in the best way possible. Josh paid close attention to you. He genuinely admired you. “You’re a really great guy, Josh. I would… definitely be lying to myself if I said I wasn’t crushing on you for a while now.”
His eyes widened, and you just smiled faintly. “W-wait, really? You—You like me in that way?”
“Um, well, yeah. I thought—Was it not obvious?”
“I—I don’t know, I—”
You both laughed together, feeling nothing but giddiness and contentment.
“But yeah, um, I really like you too,” Josh claimed after the laughter died down. “I just… I looked forward to seeing you every week because you’re just… You’re so amazing! And it just… blows my mind that you like me back, because why would someone as perfect as you, like such a loser like me?”
“Hey, you’re no loser, Josh,” you chuckle. “There’s a reason why I like you, alright?” He let out a scoff, but then nodded with a cute smile on his lips. “Hey. You said I was perfect.”
“Yeah.”
“You really mean it?”
“Of course, I do!”
You looked into his eyes quite intimately. They were brown and doting. He was beautiful.
Your hands were already on him, as you had held onto him tight in reaction to the gory movie scenes. So it wasn’t difficult to trail your hand up to the side of his neck. It seemed like he read your mind, because he remained quiet, shy, yet prepared. His eyes would switch from looking into yours and your lips.
You whisper lightly, “Can I—”
“God, please do—”
You two kissed each other slowly, yet passionately, your hands moving more comfortably to his face as you adjusted your legs slightly. His lips were soft and gentle, moving deeply with yours in the comforting silence of the room. You both were generous with your actions, as well as intimate.
Josh had realized; you were his own silver lining. It absolutely sucked to be trapped in a reality that wasn’t his, a timeline that he was forced to adjust to. That was the shittiest thing about it. But at least you were something great that came out of it all. With all of the calamity and mishap he’s experienced, you seemed to be his only comfort, an anchor to keep him stable in this reality.
You continued to kiss each other, which sort of transitioned into making out, as he held onto your hand, moving his finger gently over your ring. You gave him hope. That life here was going to be okay.
He was going to be okay.
203 notes · View notes
shaunamilfman · 2 months
Text
Being Shauna Shipman's Controversially Young Girlfriend
Adult Timeline Headcanons
nsfw mention
Shauna’s been divorced from Jeff for a few years for the sake of the plot. I think she'd be a writer maybe.
Shauna definitely enjoys the confidence booster that dating someone in their 20s would give her for sure. Shauna is very confident in her own attractiveness, but the idea of pulling someone that young really gets her going.
At the same she'd be extremely jealous of you interacting with attractive women your own age as she'd feel strangely threatened by it in her more insecure moments. She's definitely the ‘pull you away to make out in a back hallway’ type. She's got you pressed up against the wall covering you in hickeys asking stupidly jealous questions that you're far too focused on the feeling of her mouth to answer. Like what do you mean “is she hotter than me?” You just shoved my hand in your pants?? 
Leaving the function looking like you've been mauled by a bear while Shauna glares at whoever happened to speak to you. 
Shauna is a jealous and possessive partner in general but older Shauna is on crack. you're lucky to ever leave the house without being covered in hickeys in various stages of healing. she wants you to give them to her too. there's just something about physical representations of “ownership” that drives her insane. She likes when people see you together and know that you're both taken. 
college freshman Callie coming home a few days early and catching you standing in the kitchen in nothing but boxers and her mom's old high school t-shirt. this leads into the most awkward dinner ever because Shauna needs everyone to at least be civil. Callie making snarky comments all night until you finally make one back mean enough that she reaches a begrudging understanding with you. she still takes every opportunity to mock the two of you unfortunately. 
"please please please let me punch Callie" / "absolutely not”
Shauna calls you her step mother as a fuck you whenever Callie gets annoying. she's so petty
god Callie’s all in your business all the time but i also think she'd also be the first to defend you if someone else said anything though
side note but TaiVan would definitely serve you food on one of those kid plates to fuck with Shauna. God she'd be so mad.
unlike my Lottie HCs i do think Shauna would be embarrassed to meet your friends. Like the absolute queen of communication she is she would tell you she was embarrassed of the idea, but would instead pick increasingly petty fights with you leading up to it. Shauna finally ends the cold war when she misses you too much and confesses how she feels about it. You've definitely got to comfort her by showing her texts from your friends asking about your hot milf girlfriend or something before she'll be confident enough to do it. 
divorced Shauna would be pretty experienced sex wise I feel. Shauna Shipman is a woman who enjoys sex and seems pretty confident in her sexuality. Given the chance she'd definitely be really into exploring it with different partners. Long story short is that I think Shauna is definitely a woman who knows what she likes, but would be very open to exploring things sexually with you if she didn't already know she didn't like it. Shauna's not very open with her emotions, but I do think she's very open with her sexuality. This is a woman who canonly agrees to furniture store role play i think she'd humor you in most things. 
writer Shauna for sure works from a home office and would go crazy about the idea of yall hooking up in there fr
Shauna would get off on the idea of teaching things to you even if it's not necessarily true. She'd definitely like it if you let her pretend she was teaching you how to get her off. Your comparable inexperience is something she really enjoys about your age difference. 
Shauna Shipman and pet names is a lethal combination. “Sweetie” this, “sweetheart” that, “is that okay honey?” shauna is so nurturing when given the chance she'd thrive with someone she felt like she needed to take care of
Older Shauna enjoying teaching you things extends beyond just sex. She likes to teach you how to cook things that you don't know by like hugging you from behind and resting her head on your shoulder as she directs you on what to do. Beyond that it also just makes her feel useful and she enjoys feeling that way. 
Shauna hits you up once a week asking how bluetooth works. Shauna's okay with technology but she's the slowest fucking typer. I definitely think Callie lies to her about what acronyms mean so you get the wildest fucking texts sometimes and she's like “what??” when your confused
Shauna loves when you steal her clothes. just lounging around her house in nothing but her boxers and her flannel and she's going insane. Shauna accidently misplaces your clothes all the time so you have to wear hers instead. “oh i must have put them in the laundry you can wear mine” but suspiciously there's already shorts and a t-shirt laying out on her bed. strange. 
she's loves making you dinner, or making you something for lunch every once and a while. there's something about watching you eat something she made that makes her feel important and valued. 
Older Shauna gives the best fucking hugs of your life bro. Coming home from a bad day and just sitting with Shauna while she hugs you so tightly you can barely breathe. Shauna kissing you on the top of your head while her arm is around you watching TV?? insane 
150 notes · View notes
cryinginthevoid · 10 months
Text
Dc x dp prompt #24
Dan knew what he had done was wrong, he just didn’t care.
From the moment he formed, he had two raging, angry cores painfully fused inside of him and two mangled, failed obsessions driving him into a spiral.
He didn’t know if he was Fenton, Masters, or something different, but he did know that he wanted to hurt.
Wanted to hurt everyone else, make them feel what he feels.
But then he was beat by Fenton. A kid.
The kid he never got to be after that explosion.
That thermos was hell though.
After so long inside of it, his white hot anger dulled into a hallow numbness in his chest.
His obsessions shriveled until nothing was left, waiting until his core decided on a new one.
He honestly thought Stopwatch finally decided to just erase him when he noticed it, but that never came.
He just kept waiting.
It wasn’t very often John Constantine actually showed up to Justice League meetings. Especially if the man was asked to be there.
Ironically this was not one of those times, and yet here he was, stumbling through the room with an odd looking thermos in hand—most likely filled with alcohol—and muttering about dimensional eldritch gods.
And here Bruce thought that day was going to be relatively peaceful.
The passage of time was lost on him inside his prison, but he knew things were changing. Either himself or his surroundings, but neither could be too good when Clocky was involved.
And Bruce was having a relatively calm day too.
The first time Dan saw light after his fight with his younger self, it was to a group of adults in children’s Halloween costumes.
Did
And why the hell was everyone so tall.?!
Or: Clockwork hands off Dan’s thermos to Constantine in hopes that his presence would be integrated into a timeline where he could actually heal.
If things went south, they could always erase him.
467 notes · View notes
thepersonnamedsam · 10 months
Text
introduction
Tumblr media
pairing: genz!driver x '20!grid
summary: the first time the genz!driver meets the grid
word count: 766
warnings: mentions of fainting, a swear word, some bad google translated french
note: the timeline sucks, as always, so please ignore it, thank you so much
masterlist / taglist
2020, a year full with up and downs. For y/n, 2020 was something special and a year full of surprises. Having just placed 3rd overall in the F2 championship, she received an offer she just couldn’t say no to; AlphaTauri or Toro Rosso, the RedBull owned F1 Team wanted to sign her. Her, a teenager and a female! She couldn’t believe it. Of course she signed the contract and started as a Rookie in F1.
The media went wild as AlphaTauri released that y/n would be the second driver of their team. Everyone tried to get an interview with her, but y/n‘s PR team refused to let anyone interview that girl.
She first met Pierre, well meeting is maybe a bit exaggerated. He shot her a DM, where he wrote her, that he’s very excited to work with y/n next season. When they officially met, she was so nervous, that she couldn’t say a word to him. He found it cute.
On the 19th of February y/n joined the team for testing in Barcelona. That’s where she met 12 of the 19 drivers she’d be competing with. Legends like, Romain Grosjean, Lewis Hamilton, Kimi Räikkönen and Sebastian Vettel were all there. She was so nervous to meet all of them. Thank god she had Pierre by her side, whom she already knew, who gave her some kind of comfort. Even though he wasn’t really great at it, because he left her alone the second they walked on the grid.
Romain Grosjean was the first to notice her, looking all lost and helpless. „Bonjour, petite fille (Good morning, little girl), can I help you?“, his voice soft and kind. She looked up at him, (hypothetically and literally of course), and nodded her head. She didn’t know where to be. Where did AlphaTauri need her? „I don’t know where to go, like, where is the motorhome of AlphaTauri?“
„Oh mon dieu! (Oh my god!) You are y/n! I am so pleased to meet you! Welcome to F1, my dear“, his french accent prominent and hard to miss. He shook her hand, almost hugging her, not wanting to overstep any boundaries. „I will show you where to go, no?“
She was glad someone helped her. Pierre just left her alone, bastard. But Romain took her to her garage, thankfully it wasn’t that far and she didn’t have too much awkward time with the driver.
Pierre was standing outside his side of the garage, an apologetic look on his face. He felt guilty for leaving her at the entry. Franz Tost already spoke some harsh words with the young french man. „Look y/n, I‘m sorry for just leaving you. And merci Romain, de l’avoir amenée ici (and thank you Romain for bringing her here)“, Pierre looked at Grosjean for the last sentence. y/n just shook her head and blew some air out of her mouth, making some kind of fart sound. „Don’t worry man, found it here, didn’t I?“
Franz Tost did make them go inside and told Grosjean he should go back to his own garage. She met her engineer, her mechanics her PR team and every important person. She finally met her car for the first time, naming her ‚Buggy‘. And when she first raced in the car, she felt alive. She never felt this alive before. From F4 to F2, the car always got better and faster, but F1 was just a massive upgrade. She never wanted to drive anything less.
Lap after lap y/n beat her best time, over and over again. Every lap she got faster. And she was so happy to hear that. Everyone knew that she was an excellent driver, but still no one expected this good of a result.
After the testing y/n was so happy. Pierre invited her to dinner, wanting to make up for leaving her alone that morning. He also invited half of the grid. She met Sebastian Vettel, Lewis Hamilton, Lance Stroll, Daniel Ricciardo and Charles Leclerc that evening. And it was chaos. She was so nervous, more anxious to say, and every time a driver told her how much they admired her for her talent she almost fainted. Those were her idols and they were admiring her? She couldn’t believe it. She did faint at one point, as Lewis Hamilton, the 6 time world champion made a toast to the young female driver and the history she made and will make in F1.
She ended up with a bump ok her head and a bruise on her hip, but it was worth it. That’s how she met the grid, well half of it anyway.
°°°
taglist: @ironmaiden1313 , @topguncultleader , @missskid , @gulabjamooon , @lovelyy-moonlight , @peachyplumsss , @mistrose23 , @copper-boom , @love4lando , @champomiel , @serenityleah
630 notes · View notes
mischief2sarawr · 20 days
Text
Reading List February 2024 📖
Tumblr media
Welcome back, spring flowers! 🌷
First of all: Thank you for over 500 Followers 🥹 🥳
I'm so happy to have all of you here and get to enjoy our weird cozy corner on this platform. You all deserve the world ♥️
During February I sadly didn't manage to read as much as I wanted to and some stuff has to wait a bit longer, but there's still some new obessions of mine on here and returning stories ✨
Since I'm already super late I had to keep my summaries a little bit shorter. I'm also insanely tired and it's quite possible they aren't making a lot of sense :D
Dig in and have fun nonetheless my loves.
I adore you.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
↪︎ Previous reading lists & writer recommendations
Tumblr media
A Hollow Promise | @olet-lucernam | ongoing
One of my biggest obsessions this month with some of the best written dialogue and interactions I've read in a while! In fact it's so incredible, even if not a lot 'actually' happened during the current chapters it still felt like so much did. Follow this story starting with Loki on the Helicarrier after the battle of New York, where he meets his new guard for the time being - a woman who sees the truth in all things and cannot lie. While she doesn't know who she really is, Loki can't say the same thing. I really can't recommend this one enough. 🫶
Very Full | @mischiefandmedicine | ongoing
I already recommended this one last month and it's grown into one of my favourites of February. We still find ourselves in Lokis conversation with his daughter at the end of time, where he opens up about his past with her mother - and like a true god of stories, dives deep into the retelling of how they met and formed a unique connection that none of them truly understand for now ♥️
Ghost. | @cookies-and-music | ongoing
A new discovery I also enjoy very much! ♥️ In this one, Loki finds himself at the TVA and meets someone he once knew. Unfortunately she doesn't seem to remember him and what part she took in the battle of New York. Not able to give up on convincing her, Loki tries to convince her how important she was to him and they both discover more than they were prepared for 👀
A Tournament of Trickery | @littlespaceyelf | ongoing
Welcome back this lovely mutual with me and check out the new story they came up with! It's only just starting out but I now it's gonna be worth it. We're being presented with an opportunity for an engineer internship with Tony Stark - while working on our pitch Loki unexpectedly shows up on our doorstep battered and exhausted. Letting him into our home and with that also in our life and work, we start to form a peculiar romantic relationship!
Freedom & Forgiveness | @darkserenity24 | ongoing
If you have been following this story for as long as I have, I really don't want to spoil the last few chapters we got too much - really, just read them immediately and I promise you it will pay off in every way. There's stuff we've all been waiting for. Furiously. 👏
Time & the Trickster | @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 | ongoing
While this story continues on being absolutely brilliant, the same can't be said for the actions of our characters - we're still trying to get Loki to England to meet the Doctor and maybe find out how Loki can get back and save the timelines. Still trying to hold back our feelings but in the end deciding there's really just no use, we also have to deal with a long travel across the ocean and an unplanned stop in Iceland 🌊
When everything's made to be broken | @use-your-telescope | ongoing
Things are starting to heat up a lot in every sense! Not only do Theo and Chris kind of accidentally make their deput on the red carpet, the whole event turns into chaos when shadow creatures show up and fighting ensues - seeming to target Theo specifically 👀
Follow the Crow | @gigglingtiggerv2 | ongoing
Dee and Loki team up to fix the damage she has done to the barrier between realities. But as they have to find out they didn't make it back soon enough and multiple of the goulish shadow creatures from the other side followed her through 💥
Would've Could've Should've | @muddyorbsblr | completed
With the third and final part we now have uncovered new information about our past and how it still influenced us to this day - the truth is more troubling than we ever really expected but gives us the chance to finally end it once and for all to start the future with Loki on our side ♥️
Dirty Work | @darkficsyouneveraskedfor | ongoing
I can't even tell you how much has been going on in this one. The relationship Cinders already had with her job as now more than just a maid for Loki was complicated to begin with. Visiting his family with him and joining the Walpurgisnacht celebrations didn't just make everything even more complicated but brought so much unforeseen with it, that it seems like there will never be a time where she's really listened too 🫣
Forget-me-not | @darkficsyouneveraskedfor | ongoing
We're being treated with another incredible work so far, right out of the Backwoods AU. Returning to our old home after the death of our mother, we're being confronted with the past and all of his unpleasant inhabitants - and things are escalating rather quickly when the Odinsons decide to immediately cross all the boundaries.
The Old Gods and the New | @mrs-illyrian-baby | ongoing
After all the trouble we recently had to go through so far, a bit of time alone with Loki in his hideout is the perfect distraction. Things do start to heat up again but not just in the physical sense, when a prophecy is uncovered concerning our future and the role we play in it!
Linden Leaves | @buttercupcookies-blog | ongoing
This is also shaping up to be one of my favorites! After Loki managed to make the worst possible first impression, he gets a chance to correct his behaviour and begins to open up to Anariel who herself realizes there is a lot more to the god of mischief than she originally suspected and they even seem to have more in common than they realized.
Tentative Steps | @cosmic0artist | ongoing
After all the struggle Sigyn has been facing in trying to help Loki fulfill the role of the all-father and preparing the realms against Thanos, it seemed like she managed to achieve some progress and get Loki to consider including Jotunheim in their plans as well and make some kind of amends for the past. That is until they make their way to the frozen realm and things completely go down the wrong way and she forces Loki to make a decision.
A Scandal in Bohara | @mareebird | ongoing
The more we learn about the strange ways of Bohara, the more confusing everything becomes - at least Loki manages to reunite with Steven again after he seemed to just have vanished. While he's surprised to learn what happened, there still seems to be a larger plot going on they both still can't quite grasp. 👀
Against all Odds | @loki-cees-all | ongoing
While spending the night with us in our home, Loki realizes how attached he has already become and how much pain his leaving will cause in the end. Still convinced it's still what he has to do, he tries to find out more about us and an answer as to how the candelabrum he found in our flat, formed by his horns actually ended up here, in London in 1977.
Wildest Dreams | @lady-rose-moon | ongoing
After accidentally running into a mysterious stranger, we can't seem to get him off our mind. Still occupying our dreams three months later, fate decided to let us run into him again so we can be reminded of his undeniable charm and his unexplainable abilities ✨
Ravished by a God | @latent-thoughts | ongoing
Sometimes you start reading one of your favorite old fics again and the stars align because they get updated just two days later - I'm so excited to tell you this one got a new chapter 🔥 We're jumping right back to Matrix who wakes up on Asgard to Lokis use of his famous silvertongue followed by a look into the future from Frigga, trying to make clear how much more important Matrix is to Loki than she realizes.
Cool Heat | @thirsty4villains | ongoing
Another returning story that was on a break for a while! After Loki had been struggeling with his heat and we've offered ourselves to him to ease his pain, it seems like his appetite won't be sated as quickly as we might have assumed - not that we'd really complain about that honestly. 🔥
Tumblr media
@lokisgoodgirl
Supply Closet
Be Mine
@ijuststareatstuffhereok89
Fight for me
Eden
@sarahscribbles
Welcome him home
@snowflakesnsundry
The Embrace of a Stranger Part I & Part II
@cleo-fox
Overtime & Daylight
@give-me-a-moose
The Rockrose and the Thistle
Cuffed
@ladyofthestayingpower
Letting you in
@oswildin
Allies of Circumstance
@jo-writes-fanfic
Love & Mischief
@jiyascepter
A Carnival Serenade
@space-mermaid-writing
Ever since that kiss
@chennqingg
Little Green Snake Part I & Part II
Tumblr media
Reading List Part 11 | @foxherder
Tumblr media
I hope you‘ll find something new for your own reading list & if you do, please don’t forget to reblog the fics of these amazing writers to support them :)
If I made a mistake somewhere, please tell me, I'm quite the chaotic person 🫶
144 notes · View notes
grandlinedreams · 5 months
Note
I always see strawhat!reader x law stories all over the place, so can I request a kid pirate!reader x law? Where, specifically the reader is Kid’s younger sister (or killer’s, I mean a sister of one is basically the sister of the other)?
YES oh my god I didn't know I needed this til I wrote it and I hope that you like it too!! I think having Kid as a big brother would either be the best or worst thing in the world ㅡ set somewhere in timeline idk maybe around Stampede
[Heads up!: afab/fem aligned reader, some cursing, shovel talk from kid, established relationship]
Tumblr media
Being in the same pirate crew as your older brother in and of itself is a little odd. Being in the same pirate crew as your older brother when he's the captain makes it a little odder, you suppose. At least to those who only see it at a glance, brief glimpses rather than seeing the whole picture.
You don't mind, not really. Most older brothers would probably have tried to talk their younger sister from becoming a pirate ㅡ but all Kid had done was stare at you and then scoff. "I'm not your damn babysitter, I won't stop you."
And that was that ㅡ if there'd been dissent when you joined, Kid put a swift stop to it with a fierce glare and well-described threats about what would happen if they laid a finger on you. But you're strong in your own right, and the one or two who continued to push the matter learned it the hard way.
And truth be told, Kid doesn't treat you like his little sister. He's your older brother yes, and there are hints of it here and there when you know where to look, but it's Killer who takes on the softer aspects of being an older brother to you when you need it.
Which is what makes this so surprising that it's Kid who's staring down the man you've been dating behind his back.
"So." Crimson eyes lock with gold. "You and my sister, huh." His attention shifts to you for a moment. "How long has that been going on?"
"Not longㅡ"
"A while."
If Law can feel your furious look aimed for him, he doesn't show it. Kid looks far from thrilled at the differing answers, scowling as he refocuses on Law.
"Guess it doesn't matter how long it's been going on, becauseㅡ"
"Because I'm a grownass adult, Kid!" You snap, frustrated with your brother who looks like he'd like nothing more to swing a fist at Law. He turns on you, and you match his glare for its intensity. "I'm not going to let you ruin something good for me because you decided to pull the older sibling card for once."
You know Kid cares, you know he loves you ㅡ and you love him just as much, because at the end of the day, he's your brother.
Kid stares at you for several long moments before he scoffs. "Fine. Do what you want. But you're not leaving us for that shitty crew of his."
"I wasn't planning on it, asshole! Somebody's gotta help Killer keep your dumb ass alive!"
"Don't yell at me, I'm still your older brother!" Kid glares at you and you match his gaze for its intensity before he rounds on Law. "If you hurt her, I'll let her kick your ass first, and then I'll finish the job."
Law meets his glare, his expression carefully blank. "I wasn't planning to."
Kid scoffs before he shifts his attention back to you. "I'm giving you two minutes to do whatever you need to before we leave, with or without you."
"And here you said I wasn't allowed to join their crew." Your eyes gleam. "Doesn't give me much choice if you leave me here."
Kid scowls before he stalks off, mumbling loud enough that you can hear his complaints of "dumbass little sister" and "been a pain in my ass since you were born" before it fades completely.
"That went about as well as I expected," you sigh before you approach Law. "He's nowhere near as scary as everyone thinks when you have as much blackmail as I do."
"He doesn't scare me." Law glances at you. "It's still surprising that you're related."
You raise an eyebrow. "I'll take that as a compliment." Stepping closer, you lean up to press your lips against his in a short, chaste kiss. "I should go. Don't need him figuring out that we've done more than just kiss."
227 notes · View notes
eddie-sweetheart · 2 years
Text
Spare me! - Part 1
You and Eddie have a crush on each other, but it takes Murray Bauman to make it embarrassingly clear.
Tropes: Eddie Munson x Henderson female reader, fluff, Murray exposing your feelings, forced proximity, a very soft Eddie.
Warnings: Mention and/or depiction of fighting and wounds, teeny-tiny diversion from the show's timeline (this one's more about the concept than the overall S4 plot😉).
Word count: 5.4k
Author’s notes: I recently rewatched all seasons of ST and noticed how Murray always knows what's going on in the gang's hearts... thought I'd give his Cupid skills a try with Eddie eheh
✨Part 2✨
🌹 Masterlist 🌹
Tumblr media
Happiness can be found in the strangest of things; but it never occurred to you that happiness - or, better, relief - might one day come into the shape of a faded and battered-down warehouse in the outskirts of Hawkins. 
However, as soon as the once yellow and light blue building comes into sight as you come out of the woods at the side of the road, panting and with your feet hurting like hell from walking all that way, you almost feel like crying. 
“We’re here” you state with a tired exhale, a smile warming up your face as you turn to your side. “We made it, Eddie”. 
“Thank God” is all Eddie can mutter under his breath before tripping on his feet and almost falling to the ground. You rush to his side, throwing one of his arms around your shoulders as you try to support him. 
“Hey, hey, stay with me” you tell him, your free arm on his chest, holding him steady. “Just a few more steps and then you can rest”. 
You can feel his chest rising and falling into heavy breaths under the thin layer of his Hellfire shirt as he nods slowly. You’ve never been so physically close to him, you’ve never touched him like this - and sure enough, he’s never leaned on you like his life depended on it, as he’s doing now. The whirlwind of feelings is enough to send your head spinning, but now it’s not a good time for fluttery butterflies and quickened heartbeats: you need to take him inside before he passes out. 
You’ve been walking through the woods outside Hawkins for hours after escaping Jason and his crew of insane jocks. You were supposed to bring Eddie some food at Reefer’s Rick, but when you reached the boathouse it was too late: Jason and his goons had found Eddie and had cornered him, turning him into their personal punching ball. He’d been able to stall them for a bit with the same broken bottle he’d used to attack Steve, but it hadn’t been enough. 
You even tried to stop them, but Andy had mercilessly elbowed you away, making you trip and fall into the freezing waters of Lovers Lake. Soaking wet, you were struggling to climb back up on the floor of the room when it happened. 
Patrick was suddenly frozen still, eyes white and blind. Andy noticed it first, and he tried to bring him back into consciousness by calling his name, shaking him, but you knew he was gone now. You took your chance as soon as the boy started levitating, knowing well enough what was next - and the horror and stupor that possessed Jason and the others as Patrick’s bones started to snap was just the diversion you needed. 
While they helplessly tried to save their friend, in a rush of desperation you managed to rise from the lake, grab a semi-unconscious Eddie and make him barely stand up to get him into the boat in the middle of the room. And just as everyone else started to scream in despair at Patrick’s death, you were rowing away from the boathouse, towards the opposite shore of the lake. 
Eddie’s wounds, thankfully, weren’t as serious as you feared; but he was bleeding, and you needed a safe place where you could contact the rest of the group and set up a meeting. You needed the help of someone you trusted, who wouldn’t ask too many questions and who lived reasonably close. That’s when it clicked. 
You met Murray Bauman two years ago, when you went to his house with Nancy and Jonathan to expose the secrets of Hawkins Lab. Last year, he joined you and the others at Starcourt to bring down the Russians and their damned machine, which opened the Upside Down once again. He knows everything and he would understand - and that’s how you ended up buzzing his intercom in the middle of the night, with Eddie’s body slumped against yours. 
“State your name”
Murray’s voice echoes from a speaker above the door. You really don’t have time or energy left for this ritual, but you know it’s mandatory. 
“It’s me, Y/n Henderson” you urgently speak up, trying not to be too loud, “Murray, let us in - we need help”. 
“Show your face” Murray adds through the speaker, his tone as flat as that of an answering machine.  
“Murray, please” you hiss through your teeth, your voice edging towards desperation as you snap your head up towards the camera above you - wondering how he’s going to see anything more than a blurry shape in the dark.
A second later, the metal door of the warehouse swings open to reveal Murray Bauman standing in front of you, with nothing but a white tank top and matching boxers on. 
“What do you want?” He asks you, his eyes lingering inquisitively on an almost zoned-out Eddie and his black eye. “You woke me up”. 
“It’s back” you blurt out, “it’s back and we’re in danger. I’ll tell you everything, but we need a place to stay for tonight - he’s not doing well” you add, nodding at Eddie. “Please, Murray”. 
Murray’s face suddenly turns pale at your words, and he gives you a single, silent nod. He then moves to the side to let you in, his head turning left and right to look at the street before closing the door. 
You stumble towards the sofa, Eddie’s weight almost throwing you off balance as you carefully place him down. As soon as he lays his head on one of the pillows, he finally passes out. 
“So” Murray addresses you, his head tilted to the side as he nods at Eddie, “who’s that?”
You adjust a strand of Eddie’s curly hair away from his closed eyes and check his temperature and breathing to make sure that he’s okay before turning towards Murray. 
“He’s Eddie Munson” you explain with an exhausted sigh. 
Murray’s eyes widen as if they’re about to pop out of their sockets, Eddie’s name immediately reminding him of the latest news reports on TV. “Munson? You’ve brought a wanted murderer into my home?” He exclaims under his breath, hands frantically moving in the air. 
“He didn’t do it” you’re quick to add, a glimpse of anger straining your voice as you drop down on a chair next to a small table in the kitchen corner, “He’s innocent. I’ll tell you everything, I promise… but I need some water first”
Murray glares at you, but then he moves to the cupboard, grabs two glasses and proceeds to open the freezer. 
“I think I have something better than that” he states, taking out of the cold compartment a bottle of vodka. 
As you two drink a few shots, the liquor tingling down your throat and burning inside you (but bringing you some much needed comfort), you tell him everything from the start. How you met Eddie by giving Dustin, Mike and Lucas endless lifts to their D&D campaigns, how you and your brother looked for him with Steve, Robin and Max after the events at the trailer park, swearing by his innocence and supporting your claims with Max’s story about the flickering lights and Eddie’s own recounting of Chrissy’s death. How you’re now on the run from Jason Carver and the Hawkins High basketball team, and how you’re planning to meet with everyone else tomorrow.
Murray stares into the void as he listens, taking in every word and growing almost imperceptibly paler. 
Once you’re done with the story, the bottle is half empty and your head is slightly spinning. Murray is looking at you with a resigned expression, still sipping on his fifth glass of vodka. 
“You can stay” he finally tells you, “but just for tonight. I have a plane to catch tomorrow”.
Even if you knew he would say yes, you’re so relieved you almost hug him. You wouldn’t do that in any normal situation, especially not when he’s still half naked, but you’re so grateful that you’d even be willing to go past that. 
However, before you stop yourself, he immediately puts up his hands, shaking his head. 
“Uh-uh” he says, “Don’t come any closer, please - you stink. Go take a shower, there’s a clean towel you can use in the bathroom closet”. 
Now that the pressing need to find shelter and let Eddie rest and recover is resolved, you remember that you actually need to take care of yourself, as well: your hair and clothes are still a bit damp (and, yes, smelly) from when you fell into the lake, and your side is hurting where Andy’s elbow crashed into it. And, now that your body is finally starting to relax, you’re realizing how exhausted you actually are.
You get up and head towards the corridor, stopping by the sofa to glimpse at Eddie. He’s still knocked out, hair sprawled around his face and a ringed hand resting on his chest. Your gaze softens visibly as you lower your head over his to check his breathing one more time - and you realize that he’s probably shifted into a sleeping spell.
“Can you keep an eye on him while I clean myself up?” You ask Murray as you straighten yourself up again.
Murray knowingly looks at you with his eyebrows raised. “Yeah, sure, it’s not like I’m going anywhere at this point” he blurts out, ushering you with a quick movement of his hands. “Now please go, go, go”.
You get into the bathroom and as you close the door behind you, you finally allow yourself to take a big breath. You carefully remove your t-shirt in front of the mirror to check the damage and you notice that a black and yellow bruise is already forming on your side. You touch it slightly with the tip of your finger and, yeah, it hurts, but it seems quite superficial and not that serious - Eddie has it worse, for sure.
You get into the shower and the hot water makes you sigh in pleasure as soon as it hits your tense shoulders. You’d love to spend a whole hour under the heavy flow, surrounded by warm steam, but you really want to check on Eddie and be there when he wakes up. So, with great effort and a lot of resistance from your body, you turn the water off and get out of the shower box, grabbing a large white towel from the closet that Murray mentioned and wrapping it around your body. Then, you tiptoe back into the living room, trying not to drip too much water on the floor. 
“Do you have some clothes I can borrow, by any chance? Mine really need a wash” you ask Murray, who’s still sitting at the table while flipping the pages of today’s newspaper.
“Oh lord, and then what? A VIP ticket to Area 51 as well?” Murray sighs loudly while rolling his eyes, but he immediately pushes the newspaper away and gets up from the chair. “Let me guess: he’ll need my clothes too, right?” He asks you, nodding at Eddie.
“Uhm… yeah, I think so” you shyly reply, earning a glare in return.
“You’re lucky I’ve done an extra load of laundry today” Murray replies, pointing a finger at you before disappearing into the corridor.
You’re about to sit back down on your chair when a low groan makes your head snap around.
“Y/n” Eddie murmurs, his eyes flickering open as you rush to the sofa and kneel by his side on the carpet. 
“I’m here, Eddie” you tell him, scanning his face as he comes back into consciousness and feeling his forehead with the back of your hand to check for any signs of a temperature. 
“Wait, are you naked?” He slowly asks once he looks at you, still in a confused daze as a tilted smirk appears on his lips.
You let out a chuckle, your hands rushing to tighten the towel around your body. “Don’t even think about that, Munson” you reply, shooting back up on your feet as Murray comes back into the room.
As soon as Eddie sees him, he tries to sit up, but he struggles as pain makes him hiss at any attempt at moving. You help him, accompanying his body up by gently taking his hand with one of yours and placing the other on his back.
“Welcome back to the world of the living. Shower’s that way” Murray states, pointing back towards the bathroom before dropping a bundle of clean clothes on the sofa next to Eddie. “You can use these. I’m also getting you a first aid kit because, if I can be honest, your face looks like shit”.
“Uhm… thanks, man” Eddie tentatively replies, throwing a questioning look in your direction.
“Yeah, yeah, she’s told me everything already” Murray addresses him again, “I know you’re not a serial killer”.
Eddie’s shoulders drop, relief visibly filling him up as he grabs a pair of faded sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt from the pile next to him and manages to stand up, making a few steps towards the bathroom door. 
“Do you… uh, do you think you need help with that?” You ask him, blushing slightly at the idea of following him.
Eddie turns towards you, his signature grin back on his lips now that he knows he’s safe. “I can manage that” he says, looking for support on the doorframe as he stumbles a little, “Besides, I don’t think you want to see the sweet old tatties on full display” he jokes.
Your cheeks get even redder as you desperately hope that he’s not reading your mind right now. “Yeah, uhm, cool” you reply, catching a glimpse of a visibly stupefied and slightly annoyed Murray behind you, “I’ll get changed in the meantime. Once you’re done, we’ll try to patch you up”.
“Roger that” Eddie replies, finally closing the bathroom door behind him.
“Was all that flirting necessary?” Murray asks you as he leads you to the guest room, where you plan to change into the remaining gym shorts and hoodie.
“It wasn’t flirting - we’re friends” you briefly explain, shutting his protests down. “I’ll be back in a sec and then I’ll need your radio” you’re then quick to add, getting inside the room and closing the sliding doors. 
“We’re friends” Murray mocks you in a high-pitched voice as he goes back to the bottle of vodka, “Yeah, and I’m Russian”.
When you come out of the guest room and sit on the slumped sofa in the living room, Murray brings you his radio, dropping it unceremoniously on the coffee table. You thank him with a smile and start fiddling with the channels until you find the right one. 
“Dustin, do you copy?” You ask into the speaker. While you wait for a response, the bathroom door opens to reveal a cleaned up, but still limping, Eddie. He stumbles back to the sofa and sits down next to you. 
After a few minutes of silent buzzing, the radio crackles and Dustin voice echoes in the room. 
“Y/n, thank god” he exclaims, his familiar voice making both you and Eddie smile, “are you guys okay? You didn’t check in when we called you”
“Yeah, uhm, we had a little setback” you explain, “Reefer Rick’s is compromised - Jason found us. But we made it out and we’re safe at Murray’s. Eddie’s here with me” you add, glancing up at him. 
“Hello, Henderson” Eddie says as he leans down towards the radio, his damp hair brushing against your cheek.
“Munson” Steve voice suddenly echoes from the speaker, “do you know where Skull Rock is? Glad to know you’re okay, by the way”
“Hey, I was talking to them” Dustin mutters in the background. 
You and Eddie exchange a look, then he gently takes the speaker from your hands to reply. His fingers lightly graze yours with the gesture, making your skin tingle. 
“I know it, yeah” he says, nervously scratching his hair, “are we meeting there tomorrow?” 
“Yes, ten o’clock, Skull Rock” Steve repeats, “We have to go now, but we’re keeping the line open if you need us. Say hi to y/n for me and try to be careful in the meantime. Over and out”. 
Eddie places the radio speaker back on the table and slumps down into the sofa, his hands running up and down his legs. 
“Hey” you ask him, placing a hand on one of his to calm him down. “Are you okay?”
He looks at you, his gaze softening. “That’s a good one, sweetheart” he replies, absentmindedly intertwining his fingers with yours. Your stomach turns into a swarm of butterflies as you notice the glint in his eyes - what is going on?
Murray coughs, and you both immediately let go. 
“So, uhm, let me take a look at those” you stutter, nodding at the few wounds on Eddie's face as you gently touch him with the tip of your fingers, slowly moving his head side to side to inspect the damage. He has a split lip, a cut on his left cheek and a black eye, with some leftover blood dried just under his nose. Your heart tightens at the thought of what Jason, Andy and Patrick did to him. 
“Murray” you ask, turning around to face him, “what about that first aid kit?”
“Yes” Murray exclaims, clapping his hands before rummaging through one of the kitchen drawers until he takes out a small, white box. “This is it, but I’ll leave you to it and go back to sleep” he says, handing the box to you over the sofa, “you know where the guest room is - just don’t be too loud, okay? I’m not in the mood to listen to you two-” 
“Murray!” You exclaim horrified, as Eddie’s eyes run back and forth between the two of you in shock. “We’re not sleeping together- I mean, I will stay here on the sofa” you specify, feeling the heat of shame rising up your neck. 
“I’m not letting you sleep on the sofa - I’m sleeping on the sofa” Eddie interrupts you in mild confusion. 
“Eddie, you’re hurt-” you try to talk back, but he puts one hand up to shush you. 
“Nope” he says, shaking his head, “You brought this old, battered body here, you need to rest in a proper bed”. 
“Exactly” you specify, “your body is battered, so that’s why-“
“GUYS!” Murray interrupts you with a yell, “Enough with that lovers’ quarrel. Just sleep in the same damn bed like you both clearly so desperately desire and let me rest in peace”. 
“It’s not a lovers’ quarrel!” you and Eddie both exclaim, immediately exchanging a look. 
Murray stares at you in disbelief as silence suddenly falls in the room - however, it doesn’t last long. 
“Oh, spare me!” Murray finally blurts out, loudly. “Fucking unbelievable. Listen” he addresses you both, a finger pointed at your faces. “I’ve been through this shit twice already - Byers and Wheeler first, then Joyce and Hopper. It must run in your whole damn Ghostbusters slash Scooby-Doo group, I swear. You” he turns to Eddie, who looks at him with wide eyes, “you’re the nerdy metalhead that nobody in the whole world would ever love because he’s a freak, am I correct? So you hide behind an unnecessarily thick wall of sarcasm and cynicism because if you don’t put up that façade someone might actually find out that you crave to love, and to be loved. And what happens one day? You find her“ he adds, turning to you next. “And it’s a fucking cliché, because she’s your best friend’s sister and oh my god she’s untouchable and she will never look at you, right? Wrong! Because every time she looks at you - and boy, she does that a lot - she basically melts into the ground, turns literally purple, loses all sense of reason and logic and starts waking up people in the middle of the damn night to keep you safe. On that note: Y/n, stop lying to yourself and finally admit that you’re head over heels about him - and stop being so insecure, so dubious, so full of useless self-pity and worry. Open your beautiful girly eyes and get a grip, because YES - he’s head over heels about you too, okay?”
Murray takes a deep breath as you and Eddie sit there in silence, avoiding each other’s eyes like the plague. 
“Good” Murray finally exclaims, proud of his little speech - he’s convinced he’s the best Cupid out there by now. “Have a good night, Mr. and Mrs. Just Friends” he concludes, heading towards his bedroom and locking himself in. 
The living room is so silent that you can hear the faint chirping of the crickets outside the house. Your hands are sweating on your lap as their grip on the first-aid box tightens, your eyes locked on it because you’re too embarrassed to meet Eddie’s. Your mind is spinning as it tries to analyze every single interaction, every word you’ve exchanged with him, looking for any possible instance of you slipping up and showing your true feelings - and, for a second, you also consider looking for signs that might confirm what Murray has just stated. That Eddie might actually feel the same. 
Little do you know that Eddie is doing the exact same thing. But he’s quicker to find a way to change the subject and tone down the awkwardness, because yes, he’s just been blatantly exposed, but making sure that you’re okay - that both of you are okay with each other - is way more important than finding a way to recover from Murray’s words.
“So, uhm…” he begins, stuttering lightly as he nervously starts playing with his rings. “Is there a… uhm, a bandaid or something in there?” He asks you, nodding at the kit with a tentative smile. 
You snap back to reality. “Oh, yeah, I guess so - let me look for it” you blurt out as you open the box, fidgeting with its contents until you manage to find a tiny bottle of disinfectant, a few cotton balls and two bandaids with a red and blue polka dot print on them. 
“Not so metal, I’m afraid” you tell Eddie as you show him the bandaids with a small smile that matches his own, making him chuckle as he realizes that yes, probably you’re still okay.
“As long as they keep these battle wounds from bleeding” he jokes, taking them from you before starting to peel one of them open, “I think they’ll do”.
“Oh no, wait” you exclaim, blocking him with your hands. If someone asked, both of you could swear that the sparkles erupting from your hands touching were brightly visible in the dim light of the room. “We need to clean those properly first”.
Eddie sighs in defeat and you proceed by pouring some disinfectant on one cotton ball, dabbing it on the cut on his lip and the wound on his cheek. 
“I’m sorry, I know it burns” you apologize as you feel him holding his breath, guessing that it’s because of the pain. That’s true, but just in a very small part - mostly, it’s having you so close to him that leaves him breathless and clueless about making any move. He’s actually too absorbed in admiring your long eyelashes and how they flutter as your eyes attentively scan his face, counting the pale freckles and tiny skin marks scattered on your cheeks and nose, noticing the clean scent of shampoo from your still damp hair and the faint hint of your cologne still left on your neck. Actually, the burning is welcome to him, as it’s the only thing keeping him grounded and restraining him from doing something stupid and way too risky - like, he guesses, kissing you.
“All done” you finally state, tapping on the edge of the bandaid you’ve just placed on his cheek before moving back away from him. Both of you feel the space between your bodies, and it seems as deep as the ocean.
“Thank you, kind lady” he replies, his eyes still lingering on yours.
You both stand up at the same time, the awkwardness back in the room as you nervously look at each other with an embarrassed smile - because, you’ve just realized, it’s time to make a decision on the bed thing.
“Soooo” Eddie tentatively begins, taking a strand of his wavy hair and barely hiding his face behind it as he looks sideways at you, “Since there’s no way I’m letting you sleep on this sucker…” he begins, waving one hand at the sofa.
“Eddie, come on-” you try, but he accepts no protests on your side.
“And you’re too kind and stubborn to let me be the knight in shiny armor” he continues as you scoff, smiling, “I guess we could, uhm…” he concludes, words dying in his throat as a wave of insecurity washes over him. Maybe what he’s about to propose is way out of line…
“Share?” you ask, finishing his sentence - but it’s more a wish than an actual question. 
Eddie’s lips curve upside down in one of his signature smiles. “If that’s okay for you, of course… I- I don’t mind” he tells you, waiting patiently for your consent as he begins fiddling again with his rings.
You give him one warm, matching smile. “Seems big enough for two” you say, nodding towards the bed that is visible through the sliding doors of the guest room across from you. “It’s okay for me”.
“Great… great, okay” Eddie states, finally taking a breath as he nods repeatedly. God, not even bullies at school have ever made him so nervous. He should really get a grip.
You head towards the room, bumping into each other as you unsuccessfully try to get in at the same time. You both let out a timid laugh and Eddie moves sideways, bowing slightly and showing you in with an extended arm. 
“Ladies first” he theatrically states, letting you into the room.
You take a few steps inside and sit down on the folding bed, which is set up with clean sheets. Probably Murray got it all prepped when you were in the shower and Eddie was still knocked out.
“Good, I always sleep on the left side” Eddie exclaims, as he notices you’ve taken your place on the right edge of the mattress. 
You chuckle as you lie back, while Eddie crosses the room to get to the other side of the bed. He lies down with a sigh, too, looking at you one last time for permission to turn the lights off. You nod slightly, tiredness already making its way through your exhausted limbs, and with a flick of Eddie’s fingers the room gets pitch black.
“Goodnight, Eddie” you whisper in the dark.
“Goodnight, sweetheart” he replies, the nickname he started to use as a joke (but that doesn’t feel like a joke anymore) escaping his lips before it’s too late, lingering in the air as silence falls between you once again.
You both turn around away from each other, facing the outer side of the bed. You close your eyes, feeling safe for the first time in hours (and, maybe, days), the comfort of Eddie’s presence next to you and the warmth of the blankets wrapped around you making your mind drift farther, and farther away…
But it takes you just a few seconds to understand that you can’t sleep. 
It’s one of those cursed situations in which you’re actually too tired to get some rest, and as your body finally relaxes your mind jolts awake, fully active and functioning better than it ever did.
You sigh deeply, the mattress creaking loudly as you move to turn around and switch position - just to find out that Eddie has turned around as well, and he’s now facing you.
His breath warmly and regularly fans over your face, and you figure he’s asleep - until his voice breaks the silence with a whisper.
“Y/n” he softly asks, “are you awake?”
You smile in the dark, your eyes still closed. 
“Mhm”
“I just wanted to say, thank you for today” he murmurs, “You saved my life. Very metal of you”.
“Anytime, Munson” you whisper back, “take it as a thank-you gift for keeping Dustin busy and relieving me of my big sister duties once a week for the past year”.
“That little devil” Eddie chuckles as he scoots closer to you. Your heart starts beating a little faster, as you feel the faint thread of electricity that has formed between your bodies. “I guess stubbornness runs in the family. But I’m grateful to him, actually” he adds, shuffling slightly under the covers.
“Why is that?” you ask him, the thought of sleeping now completely forgotten in some corner of your mind.
Eddie stays silent for a few seconds, then speaks again.
“I guess you don’t remember the first time you brought him to Hellfire” he softly says, and you think you can catch a glimpse of his smile.
“Actually, I do” you reply, the memory of that late September afternoon easily coming to your mind. “Especially because you kept staring at our car when we got there. Leaning against the school’s front door like a dark, mysterious character straight out of a fantasy novel” you joke, tentatively moving your hand in the dark to poke him.
And just as you actually find his body, Eddie finds your hand. His long, slightly calloused fingers intertwine with yours, his thumb drawing soft circles on your burning skin. He’s glad the lights are off, because he’s too scared that you’d back away if you saw the nervousness mixed with badly hidden love in his gaze.
“As nice as your car is” he says, chuckling, “I wasn’t staring at it, at all. I was…” he hesitates, before deciding to risk it all. “I was actually wondering how Henderson could have such a beautiful creature for a sister” he blurts out. 
You lie still in the dark, speechless, your hand still into Eddie’s. Your brain is running ten thousand miles an hour, trying to wrap around what he’s just said.
“I mean, he’s a, uhm… a cute kid, I guess?” Eddie quickly adds, trying to make sense of his words, “but when I saw you I thought… I mean, I actually thought, that’s how Arwen must have looked like. And that’s how Aragorn must have felt when he, uhm… ”.
He can’t finish the sentence, because your hand has moved from the gentle grasp of his fingers to his cheek, pulling him closer to you until your lips meet in the dark.
The kiss is soft and slow, and you pour into it all the words you’ve never said and feelings you’ve kept hidden for months, careful to avoid the healing cut on his lower lip as you move. Eddie’s arms wrap around your body, his legs now intertwined with yours under the blanket. 
You explore each other’s bodies - your hands through his hair, his lips down your neck, t-shirts lifting up and skin burning at any soft touch as the steel of his rings slides under the thick cotton of your clothes. You both feel safe, understood, and seen even in the pitch black of the room. It almost feels like meeting for the first time, too.
Eddie doesn’t let go of you, not even when you stop kissing to take a breath, the weight of the day now finally overcoming you both. As you lie in his arms, your head placed on his chest so that you can hear the beat of his heart, you realize that this is what true relief - or, better, happiness - must feel like.
“Guess your friend was right” Eddie says, his hand caressing your ruffled hair as his words are followed by a yawn.
“He usually is”. You chuckle, closing your eyes as your breaths deepen and slow down.
Then, you both fall asleep.
—♥︎—
✨Part 2✨
3K notes · View notes
wee-snek · 7 months
Text
Ineffable (pre-2000's) Timeline
Before the Beginning 
We don’t know how long before The Beginning this was, or how long they may have known each other in ‘heaven’ before Eden. We don’t know if one (or both) of them had their memory of the other erased (I think there's quite a lot of speculation about this, so I can't link just one example).  
Angel!Crowley is the most adorable thing in all creation, but he asks some very innocent and appropriate questions and Aziraphale is scared for him (and maybe scared of him?) 
Crowley shelters Aziraphale with their wing. Adorable. Love it. 
4004 BC: Eden 
Aziraphale gives away his flaming sword in his first official act of doing-good-against-God’s-wishes and Crowley immediately fucking eats it up.
"You're an angel, I don't think you can do the wrong thing" is well-intentioned but probably sets up a less-than-helpful anchoring point for Aziraphale's morality (see various points below about Aziraphale's moral evolution trajectory and rationalising Heaven's actions).
Aziraphale shelters Crowley from the rain (and the best part is that Crowley moves in, closer to Aziraphale, BEFORE Aziraphale puts his wing up. Fucking lovebirds. Ridiculous) 
3004 BC: The Flood 
Crowley seeks out Aziraphale at the flood. Essentially just shows up to flirt.
Aziraphale clearly doesn’t like the flood-and-death plan but he also isn’t ready to speak negatively about God. He defends the flood as “not that bad” and goes all “no comment” about killing kids (because he can’t actually defend that bit). Not a huge fan of heaven already by this point, but either too brainwashed or too scared (or both) to actively say anything non-conforming out loud.
Crowley is appalled by the idea of killing children, has always been a rebellious little cinnamon roll.
“You still have one [unicorn]” implies that Crowley either doesn’t know the point of the Ark (unlikely, he didn’t show up here by chance) or he doesn’t know about the birds and the bees. (Is it at all possible that Bildad The Professional Cobbler/Midwife still didn’t know what sex and childbirth were? No solid evidence that he had any plan other than pulling the ribs out. He’s so stupid)
(Theory: Others have considered that this meeting was more involved than what we’ve been shown so far because 1- by the Job incident Aziraphale is real damn convinced that Crowley won’t hurt the kids and 2- “sudden rainstorm forces them together under a canopy” doesn’t actually fit with either of the times our lovebirds sheltered the other under their respective wings, because neither time was sheltering “together”. So maybe this sudden rainstorm is what Crowley is actually referencing and there’s more here we haven’t seen). (Theory 2.0 is this wildly long meta that basically is a dissertation on why the kissed during the Flood and I’m here for it).
2500 BC: The Job Incident 
Ugh, I love this episode. Nothing but endless love for our baby Bildad.  
Appears to be a chance meeting between them.
They BOTH DEFY ORDERS to save the children.  
When the bird-goats make a noise, Crowley turns around before Aziraphale says anything. He was HOPING that Aziraphale would catch on, he was baiting his Angel to see that he was going to save the kids. Which, I mean, we all already know Crowley is a softie and he’s not really tried that hard to hide it from Aziraphale in the history we’ve seen so far, so…tone down the evil demon cosplay, babe. We’re past that.
Crowley saving the kids isn’t surprising. But we actually have a big jump for Aziraphale here. When we originally only had the Flood and the Crucifixion in S1, the evolution of Aziraphale’s “defence” of Heaven seems subtle and slow between those two short scenes. But throwing this epic story in the middle? Genuinely a MASSIVE shift from rationalising Heaven’s plans for the flood to assuming he knows what God is thinking + actively collaborating with a demon and trusting a demon more than his fellow angels + willing to be literally damned to save three random kids. (Could easily argue that this seeming anachronism in Aziraphale’s arc [along with Bildad’s stupid hair] makes it all the more plausible that there is a magic trick happening here).
Aziraphale says that Crowley is “technically” a demon. (I see what you’re getting at there. I see you, Aziraphale) 
Aziraphale tries human food for the first time. Odd sexual tension. I won’t elaborate.
When Aziraphale is sitting by the ocean, he’s waiting to be punished and thinks that’s why Crowley came over. But Crowley doesn’t know this. He was just coming over to spend more time with Aziraphale for totally platonic reasons.
Crowley has the chance to take Aziraphale to hell as a demon, and declines (hmmm, foreshadowing us all getting our hearts ripped out a few short episodes later???) 
Crowley’s appearance: people have speculated on why they look so different here compared to the Flood and the Crucifixion. My theory is that the other to flashbacks (seen in S1) are Crowley going about her life and just popping in to flirt with Aziraphale, whereas with Job, Crowley is showing up to work. The Bildad getup is a work outfit, demon cosplay. Long hair and no sunglasses is Crowley being himself, and silly hair silly glasses is creating a character to play while hiding his eyes because humans are around AND he’s vulnerable when hell is watching.
Bonus happy thought: when they get the kids in the cellar they start bickering like an old married couple/BLATANTLY flirting and the kids are just...so confused. Fucking delightful.  
33 AD: Crucifixion 
Crowley seeks out Aziraphale.  
Crowley has changed their name.  
By this time, when Crowley says “Heaven’s being a bit shitty” Aziraphale doesn’t actually defend Heaven? “I’m not consulted on policy decisions” is much closer to “I know they’re awful but I can’t change anything” as opposed to trying to rationalise that heaven must, by default, be good. (See note above about Aziraphale’s non-linear moral evolution).
Not much else here except Crowley looking their absolute most gorgeous in all of history.  
41 AD: Rome 
Crowley having a bad day. A lot of people have written about how after the Crucifixion and everything else that has happened so far, baby bean is fucking disillusioned as all hell.  
Crowley makes obvious ploy to get Aziraphale to ask him on a date, and it works. Delightful.  
Bonus happy thought: the little pins each of them is wearing on their togas? The fucking angel wings and the snake? Nothing but love for the Good Omens costume department.
537 AD: Wessex knights
No idea if they’ve met between Rome and now, but I’m pretty sure they have? Aziraphale recognizes Crowley’s voice immediately, I feel like they’ve talked sometime (oodles of times?) in the previous 500 years.  
Proposed Arrangement. Aziraphale very dramatically declines for corporate reasons. Not so much “working together is wrong” but that “working together is against the rules”.  
Could possibly argue that this feels like a step backwards for Aziraphale since the Job incident. But I think, no? With Job, the stakes were high and they were literally saving innocent lives. Here, The Arrangement is presented more like cheating on homework. Like, this is just a report for work, I’m not going to risk being reprimanded for something trivial like faking a sick day. Because Aziraphale still wants Heaven’s (God’s) approval quite badly: he’ll risk his life to save human lives, but not to save himself a trek to a castle.
1601: Globe Theatre 
By the now The Arrangement is well established. Aziraphale puts up a very lazy fight against it, but caves almost immediately.  
We can see already that Aziraphale is concerned that Crowley could get in trouble over their relationship, but I don’t think he has really realized how much danger Crowley is in? Like, if he genuinely thought destruction was on the line, he might have protested more. But it’s still important here that Aziraphale is concerned with Crowley’s safety above his own.  
I believe Aziraphale asked Crowley to meet up at the theatre from what Crowley says about “you said we would blend in with the crowds”.  
Bonus happy thought: I’ve seen people speculate about whether the coin toss was rigged. I choose to believe they BOTH rigged it so that Aziraphale would go to Scotland bc Crowley didn’t want to go, and Aziraphale knows that Crowley can’t ride a horse so was totally keen to save him from that ordeal.  
1650: not shown
Something happens and Aziraphale does the “I was wrong” dance 
I wrote elsewhere that this could be a promise of something we will be shown in Season 3 -OR- it could be a Clue that memories are missing (see The Magic Trick You Didn’t See)
Also, despite all the wonderful suggestions people have from actual history about what these two might have gotten mixed up in in 1650, my personal prediction is that if we see this in Season 3, the actual Thing that led to the dance will be extremely trivial, like Aziraphale knocks over Crowley's drink or something.
1793: The Bastille 
Aziraphale gets himself in a damsel-in-distress situation and Crowley “has to” save him. Obvious ploy to go on a date. Flawless.
Crowley is clearly following Aziraphale around, since he showed up at exactly the right time. Zero coincidence detected.
Aziraphale has absolutely no issue with the executioner being beheaded in his place. Bit ruthless to sacrifice a random stranger for the cause of taking your crush out to lunch.
At some point, Aziraphale does the “I was wrong” dance here. Hopefully over crepes.  
1827: Scotland 
Crowley essentially just takes Aziraphale on a date to a graveyard. Such a mood.  
Some obvious moral struggles for Aziraphale starting to realize that good and bad are not black and white and that extenuating circumstances exist.  
Whether or not you believe that this memory was tampered with, when Morag is dying, Aziraphale essentially asks for Crowley’s moral guidance. He could have just healed Morag, but he defers to Crowley for ?permission...I don’t know for sure, but it feels significant that he wants Crowley’s approval here before doing ‘good’. That has to mean something.  
“Last I saw of him for some time” is, at most, 35 years between here and St James Park, which means they are meeting up a lot more frequently now. We’re not regularly going decades/centuries between dates anymore. 
Edit: As others have noted, the wording in this diary entry is actually odd because when Aziraphale is writing this, he MUST have already seen Crowley again for that last bit to make sense. Which means we actually probably have quite a lot of “us time” between the Elsbeth flashback and St James park.
1862: St James Park 
Likely Definitely not the first time they have met up since the Scotland flashback (see edit above).
I THINK this is the first time we see Aziraphale’s personal tartan show up? He’s now officially created his own clan on Earth and is NOT wearing the official tartan of heaven. He later gives this tartan to Crowley which is Significant. 
Since our last meeting, Crowley has been dragged back to Hell and, presumably, punished, for what he did with Elsbeth/Morag. (The time spent in Hell was likely not necessarily a LONG time but still seems like it was a sobering event for Crowley where he seems to catch up with Aziraphale about how much danger they might be in).
Crowley asks for the holy water because he now realizes that he may need to protect himself (and Aziraphale?) from Hell if and when they figure out the scope of his ‘breach of the infernal code’ and retaliate.
1941: London Blitz 
Accepted by fans as likely the first time they have met up since the breakup in St James Park. As with the Bastille scene, it’s very clear that Crowley has been keeping track of Aziraphale (if not actively just following him around).
Obviously, canonically, the moment when Aziraphale realizes he is in love with Crowley.
Immediately after this realization, Aziraphale also realises how much Crowley is at risk from Hell by continuing to associate with him. This does not stop them from having a romantic glass of wine back at the bookshop.
Photograph of Crowley and Aziraphale exists, no clues as to what happens to it/who keeps it after the events of this night. I hope it’s in the photo album that I assume Aziraphale keeps with his diaries and little drawings of Crowley he’s made over the millennia.
At some point, presumably on this same night, Aziraphale does the “I was wrong” dance, but we don’t get to see that. Yet.
(Side note: I feel like by this point in their relationship, it’s really got to sting when Aziraphale assumes Crowley is the cause of whatever horrific thing humans are doing. I mean, what in the past 6,000 years would point to Crowley wanting to actually help nazis? It’s not funny anymore, Aziraphale, stop re-traumatising your boyfriend with baseless accusations.)
1967: Soho Heist 
Crowley plans the heist in the pub that is literally across the road from Aziraphale’s book shop 
Aziraphale finally gives Crowley holy water – whether this is because he’s actually worried about the danger of the heist, or if he has just come to his senses about the fact that Crowley is in mortal danger from Hell and may actually need a way to escape them if things go pear-shaped, or whether he’s just acts-of-love reaching out....could speculate for days on that.
He gives Crowley the holy water in a thermos with his personal tartan on it. 100% on their own side. Adorable.
Aziraphale isn’t wearing his bow tie in this scene. He still has his tartan, but he’s wearing it as a cravat instead, with his shirt unbuttoned at the top. I genuinely don’t know what this is supposed to mean, but the costume department is too good for it to be random. (It supposed to be flirty? Like, ooh, top button undone, basically naked? And that just necessitated losing the bow tie? Is there sartorial symbolism here about a cravat vs bow tie that I’m missing? Tell me what’s going on!?!)
“You go too fast for me” (ugh, gutted every time) 
Additional event: year unknown
In their earlier flashbacks, we see them travelling the world for their jobs.
At some point they both end up permanently stationed in London.
My assumption is - that originally it was just the two of them on earth, possibly for thousands of years. Then their territory was limited to the British Isles, and eventually, when there were too many “oodles” of humans, they both ended up just looking after London.
So, who was assigned to London first? Because it’s not a blind coincidence they’re both specifically in London - one got assigned to the London first and the other one deliberately FOLLOWED.
I am still updating this as I re-watch and read other folks’ posts.
These are mostly my observations with a few additional things thrown in that I’ve seen people discuss already here on Tumblr. I will try to link to them best I can, but my Good Omens saved posts are massive and I’m not sure I can find all the original posts who's theories I’ve mentioned here
363 notes · View notes