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mypoisonedvine · 1 year

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𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 | dark-ish!joel miller x reader

sequel to 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐞

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | your... relationship with joel, if you can call it that, has become all you know. you might be his only indulgence, but what happens to you when he needs to leave the boston qz?

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | just under 6k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | no episode 2 spoilers/no relationship to the show's plot, extremely dubious consent SMUT (18+ only as always; unprotected sex, non-graphic somnophilia, free use, cnc), angst, graphic depictions of addiction, drug use, and withdrawals, daddy kink, breeding kink, implied but unspecified age gap, degradation and praise, mean!joel but with some hints of soft!joel in there

The lights are on, but you’re not home

Your mind is not your own

Your heart sweats, your body shakes

Another kiss is all it takes…

There were words in your mind, a faint melody echoing, but you couldn’t tell where any of it came from. You didn’t think you dreamt it, but you weren’t even sure if you’d been asleep this morning. Time didn’t seem to move the same way when he was gone.

You were tangled in Joel’s sheets, but suddenly it was too warm for them and so you kicked them off, letting the still air of the room sink onto your bare skin. Your eyes were open sometimes, shut other times… but because the view never changed— the window, the table and chair, the radio— you never knew how much time had passed.

It had to be afternoon when you heard the door open and shut; normally, if he came back during the day, it was the afternoon. You imagined getting up and greeting him, but you knew you couldn’t— too tired, exhausted to the bone, still recovering from what happened before he left this morning. In fact, you were already damn near asleep again by the time he had stepped inside.

He approached the bed, tilting his head slightly as he watched you lay still on your back. He said nothing, just started to open his belt.

“I can’t,” you pouted, but he just grinned at you.

“Can’t say no to me, baby,” he reminded you softly.

“Joel, please,” you whimpered, as he climbed on top of you with a groan, “no— m’still sore…”

“Shh,” was his only reply, his hand reaching into his jeans so he could guide his cock to your opening. He wasn’t even fully hard yet— but he was hard enough, and he forced his head into you with a grunt.

“Fuck,” you sobbed, holding onto him tightly to cope with the pain; he stretched you open and reawakened the pain from before when he’d fucked you for hours, spitting on your pussy to keep it wet when your body had given all it could.

He buried his face in your neck, breathing in deep, whispering a few things you were too caught up in your discomfort to really make out. “Just need you right now,” that was one you remembered— “need you, baby…”

This was pretty typical. Well, it didn’t always hurt this much, but waiting for him all day just so he could come back and use you however he wanted, that was normal. So normal that you’d basically forgotten what life was like before this— before him, before the pills… it was like a memory of a dream, fading faster than you could try to remember it each morning.

He kept you high pretty much constantly, though not nearly enough for your tastes. It was a delicate balance: not enough pills, and you might say ‘fuck this’ and leave him, if you even knew how; too many, and you’d be too fucked up to do what he said— or worse, you might OD. His regiment for you was strict, and designed to keep you addicted enough that you needed him but without getting your tolerance too high.

It was only a few months after this little arrangement started that you moved in. He wanted access to you all the time, and frankly, you only agreed to it because you thought you could find out where he kept the motherlode and steal a lifetime supply of pills before disappearing into the night. Of course, even if you had found the stash, he would’ve found you not too much later— because it’s Joel, and that’s what he does. But it didn’t matter now, because you never found anything more than what he was already going to give you, and that was… you didn’t even know how long ago that was. Everything was sort of a blur now.

He pulled out, but he wasn’t done; he was only stopping to roll you onto your stomach, running his rough hand down your bare back with a soft hum. You hissed as he slid inside you again, but if you knew how to do anything by now, it was how to lay down and take it. Joel admired this talent of yours; “Jus’ take it, baby, mm,” he cooed encouragingly, his thrusts deeper yet slower as he got back to it. “Good girl.”

Even though you were so weak you could hardly grab the thin pillow under your head, you still moaned and arched your back at that. You tried not to think too much about why you craved his approval so much, mostly because deep down, you already knew: he gave you purpose, the one thing drugs couldn’t give you. The pills kept you happy, numb, satisfied; he made you feel like you actually might have some shred of value, even if he was the one who robbed you of your dignity, freedom, your independence of both body and mind.

It was worth it, though. A fair trade, you thought.

“Joel,” you whimpered when his fingers dug into your arm, holding you tight while he laid on top of you; his lips and teeth trailed along your neck and shoulder, his hips grinded against your ass as he fucked you as deep as he could. By now, it didn’t hurt when he went that deep— you’d basically built up an immunity, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t still be sore when he fucked you before he left only to do it all again as soon as he came home. His stamina was impressive at best, dangerous at worst… you might not have agreed to move in here if you knew how often he would want to get his dick wet.

“Yeah,” he agreed, “s’me, baby, m’right here…”

You wondered if he really thought you weren’t sure— you weren’t that high, but it wasn’t the most outlandish idea. Sometimes you woke up to him already inside you, sometimes you drifted in and out of consciousness while he was using you and he didn't even slow down— sometimes he'd give your face little slaps to try to keep you awake, mumbling 'look at me, baby, look up at me with those pretty eyes'...

Maybe you dreamed those, you couldn't even be sure. "So good," he grunted as his pace increased and he fucked you faster. "Perfect little pussy, nice and tight for me."

You buried your face deeper in the pillow to muffle your whines, but he yanked your head back by your hair. “Fuck!” you yelped as he pressed his lips to your ear.

“Wanna hear you,” he explained in a grunt that made shivers jump up and down your spine like lightning. “Lemme hear how much my little whore likes it— let ‘em all hear.”

“Fuck,” you said again, closer to a sob now, “Joel, daddy, please— please, fuck, m’gonna—”

“Gonna cream for me?” he finished for you, and you shut your eyes tight as you nodded. His free hand was kneading your ass, still decorated with a few old bruises from the last time he gave you some nice hard spanks. “Gonna soak my dick?”

“Yeah,” you panted, “yeah— you’re gonna make me come…”

He let go of your hair, instead wrapping his arm around your neck— he didn’t use it to choke you this time, just to keep you close as he pressed himself to you. He usually stayed fully dressed, and didn’t give you anything to cover yourself; you would steal a shirt of his from time to time, only for him to take it back to put on before he left— as if he didn’t have anything else he could wear, you knew he had more than one fucking shirt.

Maybe he just wanted to make you stay naked. Maybe he just wanted to take the scent of you with him when he left. Who’s to say?

“So good, so fuckin’ good,” he praised, groaning loudly as he sped up even more. “Tell me what you want.”

That was code for tell me what I want to hear. “Want you to come inside, daddy,” you sighed, “wan’ it all inside me, please, want you to— to fill my pussy—”

“Fuck,” he moaned, his voice deeper than ever, and a shudder tensed up your insides around him. “Yeah— fuck, keep going.”

“Please, please,” you rambled, your own pleasure ready to burst even though there was still that edge of pain to it all, “wanna be full of your come— wanna… want you to… knock me up…”

He laughed, but then he growled a second later and fucked you more brutally than ever until you bit back a scream. “Yeah? Fuck, you’re such a needy slut,” he spat. “Need my come that bad? ‘Cause you wanna be pregnant?”

You swallowed, nodding as you pretended that wasn’t one of your biggest fears. “Yes, daddy, please— need you, need you, fuck, I need you—”

“Come,” he ordered, “right fuckin’ now, come for me—”

He kept talking, but you stopped listening; when it hit you, it was like your muscles were too weak to do what your orgasm dictated they should— because normally, everything in you would tighten and your toes would curl and your head would fall back and it would be obvious that you were coming for him. Instead, all you could do was lay there and let it wash over you, pangs of pleasure and pain alternating while he groaned and came with you. He coated your walls with every pump, thrusts faltering until his forehead rested on your shoulder with a long sigh.

“Fuck,” he whispered, only indulging in a moment of rest and stillness before he pulled out and got up. It was amazing to you how he could just shove his dick back in his jeans and zip up and it was like nothing happened— amazing, and sad. Meanwhile, you couldn’t even get up off the bed, couldn’t even walk if you tried. He had such an effect on you, and you were just an instinct for him— just a fill to a need, like food is to hunger or water is to thirst. Maybe you sort of liked to be needed, but it wasn’t easy.

“Is it time yet?” you asked.

“No,” he answered quickly, firmly, and you rolled your eyes. He never told you what time you were allowed to get your fix, usually he just told you that it wasn’t time yet. It felt like it was never fucking time. What was even the point of all this if he made you wait? You never made him wait— you tried, but he made it clear your body was his and your job was just to spread your legs when he was ready.

You like to think that you’re immune to the stuff, oh yeah

Closer to the truth to say you can’t get enough

You know you’re gonna have to face it, you’re addicted to love

You were lucid enough now to actually question how and why those words were in your head; your eyes were heavy, but you kept them open to look at the radio. “A song…” you realized aloud.

He looked over at you again. “Huh?”

You summoned your little strength to lift yourself up— just enough to turn onto your side and slip under the sheet again. You were cold again, even though the temperature in the room hadn’t changed. “The radio… there was a song,” you mumbled.

He stepped up to you again. “What song?”

You shook your head. “Didn’t know it,” you said. Because of course you didn’t, you barely knew anything, you were too young to remember before. You barely even remembered last month— the pills will do that to you.

“Well, how did it go?” he asked.

Looking away, you tried to conjure it in your mind, but it was so distant. Did he want you to hum it for him, sing or something? Your throat was tired from screaming all that bullshit about getting pregnant— it was gonna be a pretty rough go, if you tried that. “I… I dunno,” you mumbled. “My brain’s all… it’s fuzzy. I need the pills.”

He tightened his jaw. “Are you trying to negotiate with me?” he asked, the tone of his voice making it obvious that the correct answer was no.

“I— no, I,” you stalled, “I really can’t remember, I just… maybe if you give me some—”

“God damn it,” he rolled his eyes as he started to reach into his coat pocket. “One. Y’hear me? One.”

Suddenly you were full of energy, sitting up on the bed and reaching for him eagerly. “Yeah, yeah,” you agreed, nodding fervently. “Thanks, s’gonna help, Joel, really.”

You tried to grab the pill as soon as you saw it, but he jerked it away. “Jesus,” he grumbled, “give me a second.”

He set it on the bedside table, taking out a gun from his belt next and using the butt to crush the pill. You watched, enraptured, practically drooling, as he ground the pill into powder and prepared a line for you.

“Do you need—?” he began to ask as he backed away, likely about to offer a rolled up paper or something to make it easier, but you were already face-first in it, holding one nostril shut and running the other across the surface of the table.

One wasn’t much, but neither is a sip of water when you’re stranded in the desert— but it’s still incredible. You hummed a little as you sat back on the bed, tilting your head back. It was already hitting, and you were already feeling better than you had all day.

A one track mind, you can’t be saved

Oblivion is all you crave

If there’s some left for you, you don’t mind if you do

“You remember it now?” he asked impatiently.

“Yeah,” you sighed. “Yeah, uh—” you cleared your throat and did your best to sing the hook, the part that repeated a thousand times— “might as well face it, you’re addicted to love.”

You opened your eyes again for his reaction, maybe hoping he might say something nice about your singing voice or thank you for remembering. That wasn’t quite how it went. “Shit,” Joel hissed, then again, louder: “Shit!”

“What?” you wondered, your voice sleepy and slurred as you sunk back into the bed, ready to go back to sleep— real sleep, the kind you can only get from a hit. It wouldn’t last long, but it would still be better than anything else.

“We’ve gotta go.”

“What?!” you said again, though this time you had a lot more energy, because you heard what he said. He was already shoving things into a bag. “Joel, we— what? Go where?”

“Long story, I’ll explain on the way,” he promised. “Just… start getting your things together.”

What things? “Seriously, we can’t— I can’t—”

“Do what I fucking say,” he said sharply, stopping what he was doing to look at you intensely. “Don’t make me tell you again: Get dressed. Get your shit. We’re going.”

The first day was torture. You thought maybe he was getting sick of you, too— you weren’t very… useful. You couldn’t even keep up with him, couldn’t follow as quickly or navigate the rocky, uneven terrain outside the QZ like he could. You held out hope that you were going to get your daily dose soon— he only gave you that one before, never your full allowance— but as it grew darker, you realized he was going to have you skip the day since you wouldn’t be in any condition to hike once you got your fix. He promised, though, that you could have a double dose tomorrow if you were patient. It was still nearly impossible to wait for it, but it was a nice motivator to keep moving.

He never explained where you were going exactly, or why— just that the song you heard on the radio was code for something that he needed to handle. In a weird way, you were flattered that he was bringing you with him, even though all you could think about was going back home and curling up in his bed.

What you expected to be the worst part of this, though, turned out to be one of the only good things about this situation: sleeping. He brought something to roll out on the ground, and it helped, but you’d been dreading sleeping on the ground from the moment you stepped outside of Joel’s apartment. The thing about sleeping out here, though, was that— unlike at home— he held you at night. Sure, it wasn’t the first time you’d cuddled with Joel, but it was the first time you really noticed it— normally, he would hold you while you slept but he’d be gone before you woke up, so you’d really only be aware if you happened to wake up while he was still asleep. Instead, now, it started from the beginning: he motioned for you to lay down with him, opening up his arm for you and letting you rest your head on his shoulder. He held you close, promising it wouldn’t get too cold, even breathing in deeply against the top of your head.

It took you longer to fall asleep than him, and not just because you were craving your fix; you couldn’t really wrap your brain around all of it, and every time you looked up at his sleeping face, you realized how rare it was to see him this vulnerable.

In the middle of the night, awakened by the pain of craving those pills you were waiting for you traced his features— the lines on his forehead, the slope of his nose, the salt-and-pepper stubble on his jaw.

Having a mischievous thought, your eyes glanced at the jacket rolled up under his head; the right side pocket, he’d pulled out the pill from you from there. Is that where he’s keeping the rest of them? You examined it, wondering if you could somehow reach into it without unrolling it or waking him up.

It definitely wouldn’t have worked, but you didn’t even get a chance to try— when your fingers brushed over the jacket, the sound of your fingers on the fabric just beside his ear woke him up. He just stirred at first, but then he blinked his eyes open and hummed as he held you tighter.

“Can’t sleep,” you whispered, and even though you didn’t think that was good news, he smiled at you and turned on his side— pulling you into him, nuzzling his face in your neck.

“Tell me what you need, baby,” he mumbled just beside your ear.

I need the fucking pills, Joel. “I need you,” you whispered instead.

He rolled you onto your back, kissing up and down the height of your throat, humming soft praises to you. It was so easy to give into him, like second nature: you spread your legs and let his body slot between them, hooking your ankles together behind his back and holding on with trembling hands to his broad shoulders. “Gonna give you what you need,” he promised, and you sighed in satisfaction— you were still imagining tomorrow, when he’d give you what you really needed, but a little dopamine in the meantime would stave off the shakes at least.

He pushed up the borrowed shirt you were wearing, and pulled your panties halfway down your thighs. A second later, his pants were shoved down and he was inside you— and yes, it stung at first, but it was also shockingly comfortable. Not just the penetration itself, but the slow movements of his hips, the kisses on your jaw and collarbone, the way he held you…

“So good, my good girl,” he whispered to you, making you moan shamelessly. “Shh, not so loud— need to be quiet, okay? Not too loud…”

Nodding and biting your lip, you tried your best, but every time he filled you made waves of relief flood your body; it was hard to keep from just saying his name, over and over, like a mantra as he took you to enlightenment.

It was mostly wordless after that, spare a few times you hissed out a yes or he mumbled a fuck, but much more was said in the silence. The way his hand gripped your thigh, fingers digging into the softness of your skin, said don’t leave, don’t even move, you’re right where I want you. The way his teeth nipped at your neck said I’m holding myself back, but I can only control myself so much. The way you hid your face in his chest said I know if you look at me now, you’ll see everything.

He must’ve heard that, then, because his free hand brushed your hair back and guided your head to lay down on the jacket-pillow again— he stared down at you, and bent down to kiss away the tear on your temple. Maybe a more gentlemanly sort of guy would actually stop and ask why you were crying, but you knew he already knew that this wasn’t a cry of pain or anguish, he knew that if he stopped you’d just whine and beg him to keep going.

So he didn’t stop, not until he’d made you fall apart to the pleasure and your walls were coated with him once again. Even as weak as your body had become, you still found the energy to give him one more squeeze when he grunted at the end, the rough sound of his pleasure which you took a little too much pride in being responsible for.

Only then did you finally fall asleep, with him still inside you and surrounding you, your whole body going a little numb— yet you were warm, ecstasy running through your veins, thick and sweet like syrup.

Some things didn’t change at all: he wasn’t laying with you when you woke up, already re-packing the bag and checking his map one more time. At least he wasn’t totally gone, like most mornings, but of course he’d never leave you out here on your own.

Another thing that didn’t change was your favorite question. You’d probably asked almost ten times already: “Is it time yet?”

It never was— you tried to keep walking, keep following, but each step was worse than the last and your body felt completely drained. Joel apparently didn’t understand this, but the pills didn’t really get you high anymore, not in the way they had when he was just your dealer once a week. You needed them just to feel normal; it wasn’t for fun, you weren’t partying or anything, you just wanted the pain to stop… you just wanted to sleep.

At least you got a few hours last night, but your body could only take so much, and your brain could only survive on so little.

“Is it—” you began as you trailed behind him.

“Don’t ask again,” he ordered, still marching ahead determinedly. “You’ll know when it’s time.”

“How will I know?” you asked, but he didn’t answer, he didn’t even look back at you over his shoulder. He just readjusted the pack on his back and kept moving forward.

The sun was so low you couldn’t even see it past the buildings on the horizon, a tangerine haze settling over the ruins of wherever-the-fuck-you-were, and he was guiding you up a long cement spiral— a parking garage, if you were thinking clearly enough to consider what this used to be.

You were thinking clearly enough to know this wasn’t a necessary path through; this was a detour, and presumably it was where you’d settle for the night considering it had all the necessary attributes of a temporary shelter. You liked this better than the last place— you could probably get inside one of the cars left behind, clean it out a bit, and have an especially secure (and padded) sleeping spot— but there was still one glaring flaw with this plan: it was nearly time to stop for the night and you still didn’t get your goddamn fix.

You’d been saving your complaints in case he went back on the offer to double you up for today, but you couldn’t hold it back anymore. Your hands were shaking— almost made you paranoid that you got infected somehow, even though you had managed to avoid any runners the past two days.

“Please, Joel, m’goin’ crazy over here,” you whimpered, clutching your arm. “I need—”

“I don’t have any!” he finally snapped at you. “I was out when we left.”

“No,” you denied instantly, “no— you’re lying, you had one— you gave me one.”

He sighed, his expression and tone losing their frustration and shifting instead to a sort of solemnity as his shoulders slumped. “It was the last one.

It was like instinct: you ran at him like you really thought you could take him down. Of course, as soon as you reached him, he held you back without even putting much effort into it while you clawed and screeched and and said every horrible thing you could think of. “Fuck, Joel! Fucking fuck you! I hate you!” you screamed.

“You wouldn’t have come with me if I told you,” he offered, as if that were a defense.

“No fucking shit!” you yelped, trying to writhe your way out of his grip on your wrists, but it was useless. So you tried to kick him— and then he went from mildly irritated to properly done with your shit. Shoving you back, he pushed you away and you tripped on a broken chunk of cement; the pain of hitting the ground was nothing— nothing compared to the aching need that crawled under your skin, nothing compared to the twist in your heart that made your eyes and nose burn. Sniffling, you hid your face with your arm so he wouldn’t see you cry.

He knelt down in front of you, sighing like he was about to say something, but he didn’t.

“I need them, Joel, I need them,” you kept repeating weakly. “I’m so— fuck, I can’t even think without them…”

“You can’t think with them, either,” he replied. “They were messing with your head, kid.”

No, you were messing with my head. You made me your slave and now I’m stranded in the middle of fucking nowhere about to go into withdrawals.

His hand came to rest on your knee, and you were too exhausted to even pull away. “You needed to get clean— now’s as good a time as any.”

You pulled your arm down so you could glare at him. “Now, Joel? Cold turkey, hours from the nearest QZ, no doctors or nurses or fucking anything around— now’s as good a time as any?”

He frowned and looked away.

“You know how much you had me on, you know I can’t just stop.”

“You’re gonna have to,” he shrugged. “Unless you have a better plan.”

“We’ll go back—”

“Are you fucking kidding?”

“We— there’s gotta be something on the way, somewhere we can go to get more—”

“There’s not,” he promised. “You’re just gonna have to ride it out. But it’s gonna be so much better when you get to the other side— it won’t control you anymore—”

“Will you?”

He stopped. For a second, he actually looked sad— heartbroken, if you didn’t know any better. After a long silence, his face straightened out again and he looked at you, just as cold and stern as usual. “You know you can’t leave,” he said. “Not because I’m making you stay— because you’ll die if you go alone.”

“I know,” you admitted, only able to whisper because speaking any louder would make your voice break with a sob. “I know, Joel, I know— m’fuckin’ useless, I know—”

“Shh, hey,” he reached forward, hesitantly stroking your arm through the material of his own shirt that you were wearing. “That’s not what I mean. I just can’t let that happen to you— you have to stay here. Just for the night.”

As if tomorrow you’d be free— but tomorrow would be the same, tomorrow might be even worse depending on how bad the withdrawals got. Tomorrow wouldn’t give you some magical way to get home, or to get your fix, or to trust him again after that monumental lie.

Still, you both knew that you had no choice tonight: you were here now and he was all you had.

You didn’t even sleep for a second. The two of you hunkered down in a rotted Land Rover just because, well, it felt like the fanciest option and the seats were in better condition than most; he held you all night, rubbing your back and trying his best to soothe you as the pain grew and grew. You cried into his chest— you wanted to hate him, but the way he held you was the only thing that didn’t feel like pure agony right now. You wanted to blame him, but you subconsciously associated him with the cure; some part of you was convinced he was the cure.

“Hurts,” you choked out, as if this was some new information for either of you; it was like everything inside you was sharp, your toes were curling inside your boots and your brain felt like it was swelling up and pressing against the inside of your skull. “Hurts, Joel…”

“I know, I know,” he soothed, letting you grip as tight as you could onto his arm. “It gets better— it’s gonna stop hurting soon.”

"I think I'm dying," you announced, "am I dying?"

"No, baby," he sighed, "you're not. You'll be fine."

“I think I’m gonna die,” you sobbed anyways. “I can’t— I can’t do this… I just want it to stop…”

“I know,” he said again. That was the meat of it, really: you kept telling him how bad it hurt and he kept telling you he knew. But you couldn’t imagine how he could understand pain like this.

It was quiet for a long time, probably hours. You’d stopped crying— you felt empty of all tears, of all words or thoughts— and just tried to breathe as slowly as you could. Your heart wanted to race even as you sat perfectly still, curled up in his lap, and it scared the shit out of you; so you were doing everything you could to try to get your heart rate down, taking long breaths and saying nothing and keeping your eyes shut as you rested your tear-stained face on his shirt.

His own breathing was the only other sound in the car— you could hear his heartbeat, too, with your ear on his chest, and you tried to get your own to match it. It was steady and strong, not weak and unpredictable like yours; it was fitting, really.

It almost startled you when he spoke; it made your heart pick up again, slightly, but you didn’t react otherwise. “I couldn’t give you anymore, sweetheart,” he whispered, petting your head softly. “I know you fucking hate me, I know what I did to you for this long… you know it’s almost been a year? Since you first ran out of rations and offered yourself instead, can you believe that?”

You were too weak to answer— he probably thought you were asleep, he only got to talking this much when at least one of you was asleep.

“I never felt good about it,” he admitted, “but I was able to let it go for a while. Having you was worth it. I felt like fuckin’ shit keeping you hooked on that crap but I couldn’t lose you— I knew if I stopped, you’d leave. What I didn’t realize was I was gonna lose you to the drugs if I didn’t get you clean. You were too fucked up, baby, you were barely there… this was the only way, m’so sorry, but this was the only way— couldn’t lose you, darlin’, I couldn’t lose you…”

He was holding your limp body so tight, so close, burying his face in your neck; you’d never really seen him like this, he had his moments but he was generally pretty aloof. You wished you had the strength to tell him: I was never gonna leave you, Joel. I was never strong enough for that.

You watched the sunrise, through the filthy back window of the car and between the cement levels of the dilapidated garage. Then you watched Joel sleep, and felt a different pain than the shudders of withdrawals that you’d almost gotten used to by now: the pain of loving someone, and having no fucking idea how to survive it. You were still angry with him for what he’d done, and why he did it, but you knew you were going to tolerate it all— and not just because you had to. You needed him now, for much more than just survival.

The shakes hit again, and though you held your fist tight to fight it, the movement still woke him. He opened just one eye first, and you couldn’t help but smile slightly at the expression on his face.

“Drink some more water,” he encouraged you— and you were perfectly capable of handling that task yourself, but he still unscrewed the canteen he’d brought and held it to your lips, tilting it forward slightly for you. With his guidance, you drank a bit more than you usually would have, which was probably a good thing. “How are you feeling?” he asked when he let you stop.

“Better,” you admitted. “I didn’t think it would ever get better but… yeah, better.”

“It might come and go for a while,” he warned you, “but we won’t start moving again until you’re ready.”

You nodded, rubbing your own arm as you noticed a slight chill inside the car. Your legs were still draped over his lap, and he wrapped an arm around them. “M’ready,” you decided. “Just… might need a break—”

“Yeah, of course,” he offered; you’d never seen him so effusive, if that was the right word. He could certainly be gentle, it wasn’t the first time you’d seen that side, but that was usually little physical things like petting your head or cleaning you off with a rag or something. Not words: not promising, in a not-so-obvious way, that he would do anything to take care of you now. That he cared more about keeping you safe than getting to where he needed to go.

Still, you didn’t want to abuse his mercy. It didn’t take you too long to get everything together and head out, setting down a new path that he’d actually explained to you somewhat in advance: past that big tree there, between the two grey buildings, and East for a while…

For most of the morning you were silent— he led, you followed, walking along the uneven ground and avoiding anything that looked like it might be connected to the larger network of infection.

It must’ve been about an hour before you finally found the courage to say something. “I don’t hate you,” you blurted out.

He looked over your shoulder at you, an unreadable expression on his weathered face.

“Just wanted you to know that,” you explained.

He nodded, turning back forward, and you kept moving.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller hbo x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #joel miller dark fic

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writers-hes · 9 months

Text

Borrowed Time

SYNOPSIS: You always knew Tommy as the cheerful boy who took care of you. He always knew you as the smart girl that he visited by the docks. The daughter of a prostitute, the son of a deadbeat father; a soldier who protected his country; a whore who protected him; a gangster who controlled Brimingham; and now, a wife. War changes people, you just didn't realize that war could change you both. (angst, abuse, canon-typical themes, death, war)

Chapter synopsis: The end of the story.

AN: Don’t look at the comments / reblogs if you don’t want spoilers!! But please discuss what you think once you’re done reading 🤍

LONDON, 1921

Tommy sits in his chair, unmoving. Dying becomes an issue to him if it affected you this way. Ever since the war, he thought that he was living for free. It didn’t matter if he died now since he was on the verge of dying every day in France but…was this a physical manifestation of what you felt every single day for the four years that he was gone?

“I only have less than three hours left,” you mumbled, eyebrows furrowing on the teacup on the table. “I’m not-I’m not supposed to be here, Tommy…he will kill you if he catches me here.” you whispered, afraid to let the whole world know about how terrible Simon truly was.

“Hey, you’re alright,” his voice soothes you; the raspiness sending shivers down your spine. He was sitting beside you now, a hand on your bouncing knee. “I made sure you’re alright,”

“Tommy, I know that you hate me,” you sobbed, shaking your head. “I’m sorry for what-what I did but I…we had these plans together of—of living in a future where it’s just us and—”

“It’s alright,” he says. Seeing you risk everything just to warn him was already enough proof that you were sorry. “I’m sorry for all of the things that I said that night,”

“You’ve-you’ve got to believe me when I tell you that I…I sent you letters every week,” you pleaded. “I know that you might think that I forgot about you, but I never forgot about you, Tom. I’m sorry for believing that you’d think I was replaceable…that I didn’t matter to you,” you whispered the last part, hands on your lap forming into fists.

Would now be a wrong time to tell you that he loves you?

“How do you…” he coughs, trying to veer away from the road where you were going. He couldn’t do this now, not when everything’s slowly set in motion. “How did you get the information?”

You fished for the paper in your clutch, showing it to him.

“I received this during a charity dinner in London,” you said. “I tried everything to put Simon away from you…but I couldn’t. I failed and now…now he’s out to kill you,”

“He’s not going to kill me,” he replied. “It was Alfie’s men who put that there,”

“But he will!” you exclaimed, looking up at him. “He knows Alfie Solomons…”

“So do I,” he calmly says. “Alfie Solomons and I have an agreement,”

“He killed Johnny,” you warned him, but he was looking at you blankly and you feel despondent. “Alfie Solomons…killed Johnny. Has he not?”

“It was Darby Sabini who killed Johnny. To retaliate, I infiltrated the Eden Club. Alfie Solomons’ men were in charge of security and protection but Darby Sabini’s in charge of whatever dirty work Simon wanted to get done. Their dealings started recently with Johnny’s death,” he says. “It’s not—I,” he sighs, not finding the right words to say.

“Tommy…”

“Whatever happens to me isn’t your fault, Y/N.” He means it, you could tell but a small part of you still couldn’t quite grasp the measures that Simon will undertake to keep you close. “Y/N, love, it’s alright,”

“No- I…I can still try to persuade Simon. I’ll give that-that heir he wants so bad just please don’t…” you heaved, choking on your own tears. The way Tommy said it…like he knew that he was dying soon made you feel cold. You've come so far, would you really let Simon kill Tommy that easily? Tommy's hand on your knee tightens momentarily but he lets it go.

“You will do nothing of that sort,” his throat constricts. “You won’t have to do things you don’t want to anymore. I’m—I’m here now. I want you to be happy and I’ll do everything to make sure that you are but if an heir with him is something that you—“

“I don’t want to carry his child,” you shook your head. “Tommy, can’t you see? I just want you to live and be—be happy. We both changed since you left. The war took so, so much from you, Tom. We’ve both said things we cannot take back but God, Tommy. I want us to be happy and I want you to rest,”

“We can rest together…be happy together,” he proposes. “Our future isn’t that far away if—“

“How?” you asked, voice small and eyes full of tears. “How?”

“No more running away. I have a plan,” he tells you, but he didn’t want to divulge the details. His blue eyes stare directly into you. His face was blank, but his body was leaning towards you, gentle hand still on your knee. “Hey,” he says, putting his hands on top of yours. You started to pick on your nail beds again. He interlocks his fingers with yours and you smile slightly. Just like when you were kids.

“Sorry,”

“Y/N,” he stops himself. Why did you have to apologize for everything?. “I…I wrote to you,”

“Tommy—“

“I did. I waited for your letter everyday. I-I would be the first one to be there when letters were being sent but I sent them to Watery Lane,” he says. “I can’t go on with this without you knowing that I waited for you. I don’t want you to think that I’ve abandoned you because I don’t. I could never.”

He didn’t know where his courage was coming from. Maybe it was because he could feel the end coming soon. He was so scared to die without letting you know about what he truly felt for you, no matter how selfish that sounded. He wouldn’t die until he tells you about how much he loved you, about how deep this love ran through him.

“I know…Arthur told me,” you nodded. You blink away the tears that threatened to fall. “It’s me who didn’t wait for you and I-I regret it every day, you know? Not waiting…because I wouldn’t—I wouldn’t be here if I did and—I’ve always believed in your promises, Tommy. I knew that you were going to keep them but I—“

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he soothes you, he’d be asking Arthur about that sometime. “I’m not angry. I’m alright, you’re alright, we’re alright,” You didn’t believe him though and neither did he.

“Tommy?” you asked. “Do you know who tried to stop the letters?”

“I do,” he replied.

“You don’t want to tell me?”

He hums.

“Can you hold me? Instead of telling me?”

Borrowed time, you were on borrowed time and all you wanted was Tommy’s arms around you. Love is a funny thing. The world was ending and all you could ever think of is how Tommy’s hands were made for destruction, but they were also made to hold yours.

The house was dark when you came back. For a house filled with servants, the house was quiet An eerie feeling washes over you and you walked on, looking for anyone. Instead, the fireplace was open, flames roaring while your husband sat. He was looking intently into the fire, smoking his pipe.

“Where did you go?”

“Out and about,” you said, the lie rolling perfectly from your tongue.

“I see,” he nods. “Did you know that Ada Shelby was abducted today?”

You stopped, ice creeping up your spine.

“Tommy Shelby captured the Eden Club owned by Sabini and then, Sabini abducted Ada Shelby.” he says it like it was nothing. “I wonder why Tommy Shelby captured the Eden Club. Do you happen to know why?”

“No, Simon,” you shakily replied. “Why…?”

“Because Darby Sabini killed Big Johnny. Do you know why?” he asked. “You don’t because you’re a fucking idiot, but I’ll lay it down for you. Nice and simple so you can understand. I ordered the death of Big Johnny to punish you for hiding who Tommy Shelby was. I ordered Ada’s abduction because you went to see Tommy Shelby today. I ordered for the death of all the Shelbys—even the children so you would never have to worry about them. I tried to be reasonable, but you wouldn’t listen. Maybe you’d listen to me once all of those Birmingham rats are dead, hm? You’ll have to carry the weight of their deaths in your shoulder because you wouldn’t listen. It’s your fault they’re dying. It’s your fault that Johnny died. I liked him and you killed him,”

“I gave you everything. I love you with all of me and all that I have but you…you still love someone else. What do I have to do for you to love me like you love him?” he asked. He wasn’t looking at you, he was just unmoving…smoking his pipe like he was telling you about today’s weather. You were shaking, afraid for them and for your life.

“Stop crying,” he orders you, but you couldn’t stop. How could you? He just revealed all of his plans—all the things that he wanted to do to them. “Go to our room and stop fucking crying!”

“Well, you look like shit,” Polly says, seeing Tommy on the hospital bed. “What did you do this time?”

“Sabini’s men took me and beat me up,”

“They wouldn’t beat you up without anything. They wouldn’t abduct Ada without reason. I heard that someonedecided to drop by. What did you talk about?”

“Nothing that I don’t already know,” he shrugs. “Can you pass me a cigarette?”

“You want me to help you but you’re not fucking telling me anything,” Polly says, tossing the pack to Tommy’s chest. “What is it, Tommy?”

“Poll—“

“Tom,” she asserts sternly. “You tell me now or I will get it out of her,”

“Fuck,” he groans, head falling back. “Simon killed Johnny and ordered Sabini to kill all of us. They know that I was staying at Ada’s and saw her enter Ada’s house and got us to where we are now,”

“Fuck…but we’re talking about our lives here, Tom.” Polly stresses. “Do you think that you get to have a say on whether or not we’re dying just because of a promise you made when you were young and naive?”

“I think it’s better if you all leave me to deal with this whole…thing,” Tommy says. “You’re right. Your life is on the line and I’m not really accomplishing anything if you all fucking die because of me. It’s not Y/N’s fault. It’s…that fucking husband of hers! If you really want to know, Polly…since you did give her away, yeah? Simon’s out to get all of us, even Y/N.”

Polly feels her throat tighten. This…this is what she gave you away for. Her nephew on the brink of dying, Ada with multiple fucking bruises, the threat of death, and then, the receiver of all anger…you.

“That girl is like my daughter,” Polly says. “I will help you, Tom but you have to promise me that—that you will be honest with me. Don’t keep us in the fucking dark. It’s not your own problem anymore. It’s ours,”

“Alright,”

“I know you have a plan. What is it?” Polly asked, inhaling. “Honesty, Tom,”

“I…I made a deal with Alfie Solomons. We are alliances. He works with Simon for Y/N’s security and I allowed a few of his bookies to be in the racetracks in exchange of ensuring…well, Y/N’s safety,” It was half the truth. The other details, Tommy had to omit to ensure the execution—

“Stop fucking hiding,” Poll warns. “Tommy, you have to tell me,”

“Fuck—“ he coughs. “Everything is set in motion, Poll…there’s nothing else,” Polly looks at Tommy, there was no way for him to let up anything. Tommy was just staring at her, uninterested. He held her gaze, but she knew that there was nothing else. Tommy made up his mind about something; she just wished that it would turn out alright.

“I’d like to stroll around the garden today,” you told one of the servants. Life at home had been back to the way things were. Simon was back to the old Simon that you knew but somehow, you felt like your every move was watched.

“I’m sorry, miss but Mr. Coventry told us that you can only go to the garden with him,” she replied. “We can call on Mr. Coventry to ask…”

“What-what do you mean?” you asked. “I thought I was allowed to go…”

“Mr. Coventry told us that you can only go out of the house with him and that, if he isn’t around, you’re only allowed to be inside the house,” she repeated. You swallowed the constriction in your throat, unable to form any sentence. “We were also instructed to be with you at every single moment, miss,”

“What?” you asked, frowning. “I don’t need to be tended to every minute of the day,”

“But miss—“

“You may leave. I’ll go to the garden alone and you can just tell Simon that I insisted on it,” you told her, walking away but she grabs your arm. “I didn’t tell you that you can touch me,” you spit. You’ll feel bad about it later but for now, you need to go out. The house was suffocating, and you felt like you were being watched.

“Miss—“

“Leave me alone,” you scowled. “I want to go to the garden,”

“Oh, darling but you can’t,” Simon says, mocking you. “I told the servants to follow my orders. With the stunts that you’ve been pulling lately, I think it’s just fine to have you close and protected, hm?” he asked, walking over to you.

“Simon, this isn’t right,” you begged. “I’ve been cooped in the house for too long. I need-I want to go out,”

“I wish you could, but I have to go attend a meeting with Alfie Solomons. Did you know that I had your old driver killed? It’s all because of you,” he chuckles. He dismisses the servants with a wave of his hand. “You have to understand that I…I’m doing it for our family. You can hate me,” he states, walking a step closer to you. “Or push me away…” he adds, a tendril of your hair swirling in his fingertips. “You can even try to kill me,” he chuckles, his breath on your ear. “But you’re still mine. You’re my wife. You’re my fucking wife!”

You shuddered, pushing him away.

“You’re taking everything away from me, Simon,”

“I’m just taking back what I gave you,”

“My…my freedom. You took away my freedom,” you cried. “You took Johnny away from me! You took the Shelby’s away from me,”

A slap echoes in the halls.

“Don’t you dare fucking say that I took the Shelbys away from you. They were taking you away from me!” he roared, chest heaving. “What—you didn’t think I would feel magically alright when you visited Tommy Shelby the other day? You didn’t think I wouldn’t know about that fucking locket that you lied to me about? We were having a wedding and you still had Tommy Shelby on you! You think I’d be happy about that? I love you and I…I gave you everything! But I still have to try to read your mind. Tommy doesn’t. You…you’d rather live in the sewers with that fucking criminal than be here with me,”

He caresses the stinging on your cheek, wiping your tears away.

“What does he have that I don’t?”

You were locked inside your bedroom, your heart aching. He loves you…but he hurts you. He’s cruel and controlling and full of wrath but he’s dependent and loving and kind. You hated to admit it, but you understood his fears, his anger, and him.

What if you stole one of the cars right now? You could drive down to Birmingham and stay there or…or you could leave, find a place to stay in Ireland and never be heard of again. Will Simon shoot down the car? Will he shoot you, too? Or will he forbid you to even set your foot in England ever again?

Simon enters your room, disregarding you completely before sitting on the bed with you.

“I’m sorry,” he says, his hand covering yours. “I didn’t mean to…to do that,”

Right.

“Simon…”

“I’m sorry, please,” he says, coming closer to you but you only feel cold and repulsed. “Please, darling… I don’t want to do these things to you. Do you think it doesn’t hurt me when I have to take things away from you? I just can’t…not until I’m sure that I can trust you.”

You closed your eyes, tears falling on the hands that connected you to your husband.

“I’m so tired, Simon,” you whispered. “You…you taunt me and-and you turn my freedom into your weapon. I understand that you’re angry but to do that…to do the things that your father did to your mother…when you told me before that you hated him for it…what does that make you?” you asked. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree…was that supposed to be your excuse every time he does something horrible?

“I—I…”

“I married you not because I know that you can give all these things to me. I married you because you told me you loved me. You told me that I was important to you…but is this what love is? Is love supposed to be painful? Is love supposed to bruise? Is this what love is supposed to be like?” you asked. You removed your hand from his, standing up and walking away. If this is what love bruises you like peaches, you wanted no part of it.

Simon has given you the wings to fly but he likes to cut them whenever you fly too close to the sun.

When you lay in bed that night, Simon’s arm draped on your figure, you only felt cold. You laid on the softest bed in the world, unmoving…unblinking.

Maybe you'll be free another time.

“I’m sorry for what I did,” he says, setting his utensils down on the dining table. “You have…you have every reason to be mad at me,”

“Simon,” you sighed. You’ve been playing with your food for a while. “You…you can’t just say sorry every time you decide to…hurt me. I want to be able to love you without fearing for my life,”

“It’s just…Tommy Shelby.”

“I don’t have him anymore,” you told him. “Tommy and I…are nothing but childhood friends. His father used to frequent the brothel when my mother was still alive. He—and I grew up together and he was all I had until he left. Now, I only have you,” you said. “My relationship with the Shelbys is nothing but familial. They took care of me, they took me under their wing,”

“But he loves you,” he replied. “He loves you, Y/N and he wants to take you away from me! Do you not appreciate my efforts to ensure that our marriage is preserved?”

“What preservation?” you asked, standing up. “What—what preservation? You killed Johnny and you expect me to be alright with it. You took away my friends, my freedom…and you—you expect me to be the same!” You chuckled. “Preservation? You’re the only one killing this marriage, Simon. I love you but no matter how much I show it…it will never be enough,”

“Then, kill Tommy Shelby!” his voice booms. “You want me to trust you? You want me to see your love? Kill him! We have more than enough money to have one of Alfie’s men or Sabini’s men to kill him. Kill him!”

Your face pinches in anger, eyes turning into slits.

“What? You can’t be serious,” you scoffed. Simon takes your arm harshly and you flinched. He grips it in his hand, forcing you to stay immobile.

“Kill him,” he spits. “Your love means nothing to me if you won’t,”

“And you think I’ll continue to love you when you’re forcing me to kill my friend?” you asked, shaking your head. “Let me go!”

“No!” his voice booms. He drags you to his office, your legs stumbling behind him. “You have to decide if you’ll kill for me. I’ll kill for you, don’t you know that?” he asked, throwing you on the couch in his study. “I’ll kill for you…”

You stand up to leave but he pushes you down.

“I don’t care if you don’t love me right now. You will love me again. You’ve been obedient for Tommy’s sake…that’s the greatest love of all and I—I don’t have it,” he whispers. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted and I don’t have it.” He shakes his head, watching your husband turn into the cruel man that you learned to hate. He walks towards the door and exits. You run after him but he forces the door closed from the other side.

“Make sure that Mrs. Coventry is taken care of,” he tells his security. “Only maids are allowed to be inside but don’t let anyone near the door until I leave. She will remain in this room until I arrive in the evening.”

You were rattling the door but to no avail. Your tears were freely flowing, trying to get the door open by slamming your body on it. You could hear the quiet murmur outside but they were all ignoring you.

“Let me out, Simon!” you sobbed. “Let me out! Let me out…please!” you cried, slamming your body harder but it couldn’t fucking open. Your fall on the floor, consoling yourself from the coldness and the darkness of Simon’s office. If your mother saw you today, would she be proud of you?

Time passes in Tommy’s eyes, his eyes blank. Alfie Solomons told him to wait but he couldn’t. Their men surrounded the mansion, pretending to be your security but they’ve been planning the seeds, telling Tommy that you weren’t allowed to be out of the house with your husband anymore. He heard some of the men joke that you were a ghost that sat on the window because they have never even seen you.

“Tommy,” Alfie called, a young man trailing after him. “I’ve got someone useful for you. One of my men in Coventry’s fucking mansion. Go on, David. Tell Mr. Shelby here about the fucking horrors in that big, big mansion,”

David nods, his resolve dissolving upon seeing Tommy’s icy stare directed at him.

“My name is David and I’m assigned to the security of the house. Mrs. Coventry is currently locked in Mr. Coventry’s house—“

“Ah, fuck, mate. Just say Y/N and Simon. These fucking names really…” Alfie interjected. He nods.

“Um—Simon laid a hand on Y/N yesterday,” his eyes looking away from Tommy. “She’s not allowed to-to go out of Simon’s study…after Y/N refused to have Mr. Shelby killed”

“What about the driver that brought her to me?”

“He’s dead. Darby Sabini’s men killed him,” Alfie shrugged. He dismisses David with a wave of his hand. “Be honest with me, Tommy. Who is she? Because it’s quite absurd, innit? Here is a man with a wife and then another man who vows to what? Take her back? If I was Simon Coventry…I would be mad too, is what I’m saying. Did you know the tenth commandment, mate? Thou shall not covet thy neighbor’s wife…did you know that?”

“No one,” was Tommy’s laconic reply, standing up to walk away. Alfie chuckles.

“No one!” he exclaimed, slamming his hand on the table. “This no one cost me a man. A poor lad who decided to follow your Y/N’s orders for what? A few pounds and a fucking—a fucking night with you. Is that it, Tom? No one. Fucking no one and I’m letting my men run around after your fucking whims!”

“A fucking night? My fucking whims?” Tommy spits.

“What? Is it not true?” he asked, “You’re fucking…obsessed, mate. That’s what you are! She is married. The more you act the more she gets…fucking hurt. You think that’s alright?”

“He’s using her!” Tommy shouts over. “He’s hurting her no matter what I do or not do. Did you fucking know that? You’re not doing anything!” he asked, eyes teary.

“Then, don’t fucking do anything! It wouldn’t matter anyway; you said it yourself. As damned as I am, Tommy, don’t fucking do anything,”

Tommy shoves Alfie, shaking his head. No fucking difference?

“What the fuck? Tommy!” Alfie shouts. “What’s the matter? You’re fucking angry, eh?”

“Yes, I’m fucking angry!” he says, pointing a gun to Alfie.

“Oh, you’re going to kill me?” he taunts. “You’re going to fucking kill me when your anger is un-fucking-justified! So, what, Simon has your woman, eh? He has her? You’re angry at me but fucking hell, Tommy! How many men do I have to sacrifice for this little fucking protection project you got going on? How many fathers will you fucking kill? You think you’re better than Simon Coventry? You’re going straight to fucking hell, Tommy! Straight to fucking hell! Just like me and Simon! You come to me to get closer to Simon Coventry and…you stand there, talking about not doing anything when it’s my men that have to go through the other end of the barrel. Kill me and pull that trigger for some fucking honorable reason. Like an honorable man and not like—not like some fucking civilian that does not understand the wicked way of our world, mate,” he spits. Tommy stares at him blankly.

“Look, mate—Tommy. I will fucking help you but you have to be fucking patient. The races at Sabini’s tracks are happening soon. You just have to be patient.”

Tommy shoves Alfie away from him. He wouldn’t understand—he’d never understand. Time was ticking and if he didn’t move now, he’ll get killed.

“I think it would be much better to wear the green,” Simon says, looking at the dress that you have on for the races. “Wear it,”

“Oh, but it would be such a waste,” you told him, twirling to show him the way the fabric draped beautifully on you. “Don’t you think so? Besides, it’s going to be so hot at the races today. I don’t want to sweat,”

Simon pinches his nose.

“I suppose so,” he agrees, striding over you and laying his hand on your waist. “You do look ravishing, darling. I already can’t wait to take you home, hm?”

“We have to make sure our horse wins first,” you tell him, laying your head on his chest while you let his eyes rake over your body. “Simon, can-can you kiss me?”

“Why so sudden?” he asked, turning you around. “Is everything alright, darling?”

“Of course,” you smiled at him, studying his face. This was the Simon tha you loved; the kind Simon that you rarely see these days. “I just want you to kiss me, my love. Can’t you kiss your darling wife?” He smiles a small smile, taking your chin with his gentle fingers and kissing you.

“I love you, Y/N,”

“I love you too, Simon.” you told him, pecking his lips once more before a knock breaks you away.

“Looks like we’re ready to go,” he tells you.

“Of course, you can go ahead. Let me just fix my hair and we can go,” you replied, turning away from him. He was so warm…so, so, so, warm. Simon leaves you with a kiss on your forehead. You’ve been good lately, no Tommy Shelby…no requests…no anything. You could tell that he loves it; that you were obedient but if you didn’t want a repeat of what happened, you had to play your cards right. You fix your hair one last time and double-check the contents of your purse. It felt heavy, it felt right.

You had to get this right; you were living on borrowed time after all.

Your car stops at one of Darby Sabini’s tracks in London. Simon requested privacy and privacy he’ll get. No one knows that the Coventry’s are present in the race except for Alfie, Sabini, and the men who ushered you to the private room. No word was supposed to be out that you were both here. Simon forbade it. You let Simon walk in front of you with his hand clasped around yours. The room you were in had whisky, rum, and other items that you knew were not for the general public. When you arrived, a man with a hat was waiting.

“Darling, I’d like for you to meet Alfie Solomons,” Simon tells you, removing his hand from yours to shake Alfie Solomons’ hand. “He’s been the one supplying us with security. Sabini will get here in a while, but I think that it’s better for you to meet Mr. Solomons first.”

“Good…day, Mrs. Coventry,” Alfie greets, a polite bow sent to your way.

“Good day, Mr. Solomons. I’ve heard so much about you from my husband,” you offered, smiling at him.

“Good things, I hope?” he asked. “Well, it doesn’t matter anyway. Mr. Coventry, Darby Sabini’s been looking for you. Something about your dealings. I don’t really keep track, you know?”

“Of course,” Simon nods. He kisses your head. “Will it be alright to leave you with Mr. Solomons for the meantime, my love?”

“Sure, darling,” you said, your hand tightening on the beaded purse in your hand. He smiles at you before leaving, looking for Darby Sabini. You watched the door close and you were about to sit down when Alfie Solomons spoke.

“You know, love,” Alfie starts, walking to you closer. He stops right beside your ear. “If you wanted to hide that gun better, you’d have to loosen your grip on your purse. I can see the outline of the barrel from where I was standing.” he says before leaving you in the room. “Darby Sabini’s not here but he is somewhere by the racetracks,” he hints.

“What do you want?” you asked, following him. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Let’s just say I’m a friend of Tommy Shelby,” he nods to himself. Your blood runs cold, and your face turns pale. “Go,” he urges. “Do whatever you want,”

You exited the special room with haste. Blood was ringing in your ears and you couldn’t breathe properly. You were stumbling with adrenaline, with hope, with…every single emotion that you never thought you could feel and comprehend. Nobody else was in the corridors leading to the room marked with an unassuming planter box beside it. You cautiously entered and Simon turned around immediately. His face tenses with alarm when he sees you.

“Darling, what are you doing here? You should go back with Mr. Solomons before Darby Sabini sees you. I told our men to all leave so he and I could have some privacy,” he warns, eyes darting everywhere.

“He’s not…he’s not here,” you tell him, unloading the gun from your purse with shaky hands.

“What—what is this about?” Simon asks, looking pointedly at the gun that Tommy gave you long ago. You weren’t even sure if it was still working. You point the gun at him, straight to his face. “You’re going to kill me? Is that it?” he asked, anger taking over his features. “You’re going to kill me when I’ve given you everything! I gave you your fucking life, Y/N. Put that gun down and-and we’ll pretend like this never happened,”

“No! You—you took everything away from me, Simon. You took my family away. You took Johnny away from me and you still—you still expect me to love you? You took me away and weaponized my freedom. You think—you think that I can still love you? I wake up every day counting to ten if you’d hit me. If you’d shove me down and slap me and kick me. This isn’t love, Simon! This is prison,” you enraged, your gun shaking. “You told me that…you told me that the only way out is if I kill you,” you heaved.

“Y/N…you’re being callous right now, love. You’re not you…you’re angry,” he tries, walking towards you but you just shook your head. “You’re being stupid!”

“Stop! Simon, stop!” you shouted, the volume of your voice raisins. “I can never be smart for you. I’ll always be a property in your eyes and I—and I’ll never ever be your equal,” you sobbed. “This is something that I need to do. You broke me,” you cried, tears falling in your eyes. “You broke me, and you still expect me to love you,”

“I love you, Y/N,” he sobs. “I love you—“

The coiled spring that wrung your heart explodes.

A manicured hand pulls the trigger, and your husband falls to the ground along with the gun that you held. Your hands shake and you fall on the floor, wailing. Now that the job was done, who else would you have? You crawled towards him, your dress was getting dirty, but you didn’t care. Who thought you’d finally use the gun that Tommy bought you for protection?

You lay your head down on his chest, there was no heartbeat. He was dead, Simon was dead. The trembling of your hands, hold what you could. The blood trails down your arm and you just lay there. He was dead. Simon was dead, you killed him. You killed Simon. You killed the man who loves you.

“There’s no use crying over spilled milk,” a gruff voice that belonged to Alfie Solomons says behind you. “You’re more capable than what Tommy painted you out to be,”

“Where is he?” you asked. It was odd, you thought you’d be crying by now. “Where’s Tommy?”

“Sabini’s men took him,” Alfie shrugged. “Simon ordered Sabini to kill Tommy today. You did well,”

“I killed my husband,” you told him. The waver in your voice couldn’t be pinpointed to one single emotion. “I just…I just killed my husband,”

“I see that,” he replied. “This wasn’t Tommy’s plan really. He was supposed to kill Simon and I was supposed to guard you while this all happens but…I guess Simon was quite intelligent too,” he says, pushing Simon’s limp arm with his cane. “You’re a good shot,”

“Mr. Solomons, I’ll buy your silence for five thousand pounds. I’ll let your men take care of this scene for ten thousand more. Make sure that none of this is blamed on me or on Tommy,” you negotiated, pulling yourself away from your husband. You were still trembling and Alfie could see how hard you tried to supress yourself from revealing too much.

“You just landed yourself millions. I don’t think a few thousand more will be burdensome on your pockets?” he asked, looming over you. He extends his hand for you to take, and you do, hauling yourself to meet him at eye level. You swallowed.

“Blame this all on Darby Sabini,” you told him. You stand up straighter, looking him in the eye. “And I’ll make sure that the cash is ready for you after the funeral. I’m sure you’d want very powerful friends on the inside?”

Alfie nods, a smirk forming on his face. Looks like you never needed Tommy in the first place.

The police found you wailing on the scene of the crime, the weapon nowhere to be found. Alfie Solomons testified that you were with him the whole time when one of his men ran to tell you that Sabini’s men shot him in the head. He had someone testify on it too.The funeral was private and quick, you decided to bury him with his parents in the mausoleum with ‘COVENTRY’ written in gold. Simon bequeathed every property to your name in his will. You were free; you were finally, finally, free.

BIRMINGHAM, 1922

After selling your mansion in London, you moved back to Birmingham. You bought a house that was big enough to have guests over but still not as massive as your mansion in London. You haven’t talked to Shelby’s in a year, even though they did lend a hand with what happened to Simon. Apparently, it was Polly who arranged a meeting between some Lizzie Stark and Sabini. Tommy and Alfie connived to kill Simon, but Sabini’s men took Tommy away to some far away place before anything could happen. You couldn’t face them yet, not with the freshness of your wound…not with the guilt that clawed its way deep into you.

You’ve been with Simon for such a long time that you almost forgot what it was like to be yourself.

You looked at the garden outside your window, feeling nostalgic because this was the same garden where Tommy used to take you all those years ago. You were only kids back then…how time flies. Does he know thatnyou moved back to Birmingham? Is he giving you space?

You watched the rain fall from the French windows, appreciating the breeze and the calm that the pitter patter gave you. You looked on, a single figure walking towards your house and you smiled. For the first time since your life started, you were finally free.

A/N: It’s done! It’s finally done…actually, it isn’t. I will be uploading an epilogue sometime soon and then, I will be doing a Q&A afterwards which by the way, I’m already accepting question submissions! I will be posting all of the questions in one post and I hope you guys send in some questions about the story. I want to thank every one of you for loving the story of Y/N and Tommy and it has been such a ride. I can’t write anything about a final author’s not yet…I still don’t know how to feel to finally be able to finish this story…but maybe soon? Thank you so much for waiting and thank you so much for the overwhelming love and support! As always, don’t forget to like, reblog, comment, or maybe all… to show your appreciation! Thank you so much.

TAGLIST: @shelbydelrey @runnning-outof-time @duckybird101 @thenattitude @swordofawriter @litteltourtius @trixie23 @everythingelseisextra @majesticcmey @liveat1am @dumb-wh @denabp16 @yvonna-chan @goldensunflowe-r @therosabel @hunnibearrr @dazecrea @daddyslittleattentionwhore @the-girl-wh0-cries-w0lf @dang-shawty-okay @dasia21 @tsenthusiast1920 @aces-tattooartist @panda-luminary @ttaechi @spencerrxids @i-heart-food @fudge13 @affabletimelady @heartcereql @ce1iat @notalxx @1800-queen-trash @sweetwanderlust05 @globetrotter28 @thebestandworstdayofjune @reggxe-a @verreuckteli @vampireluck @zoexme @liter4ti @quixscentsposts @homosexualjohnwayne @charli123456789 @Maria_elizabeth21

#tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby #tommy shelby angst #cillian murphy #tommy shelby fluff #thomas shelby x reader #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #hurt/comfort #thomas shelby ansgt

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sebstanaddict · 6 months

Text

The Prettiest Girl

Sebastian Stan x Reader One Shot

Summary: When you interview Sebastian Stan but all he wants is to flirt with you 🤭

A/N : I've been wanting to write this for a while. It's just a little something I wrote for fun. Hope it brings a smile to your face 😊

Warning : just pure fluff and maybe A Different Man spoiler although the movie isn't even out yet, so 😆

Word count: 2.9k

My other one shots >

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Soho, New York - November 11th 2023 - 3.50 pm

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Millions of soft icy particles fell from the heavens down to the earth on that fateful Saturday afternoon in Soho, New York. They covered everything from trees, buildings, pavements and the top of people's heads. Some had stuck on one particular window of an apartment and created beautiful patterns.

Y/n looked out the window and smiled. It had been snowing all day and it didn't look like it was going to stop soon. Everything looked white and the atmosphere felt serene and beautiful. Despite the cold she had always loved looking at snow and playing with them. She couldn’t wait to go out and make some snow men at the nearest park once the snow had stopped falling. But now she had a job to do.

She sat at her working corner in her bedroom and turned the laptop on. Moments later she opened the zoom application and started setting up her webcam so it showed her clearly with one of the walls in her bedroom as the background. She tidied her hair a little and fixed her white buttoned up blouse so that she looked presentable. Satisfied with how she looked, she entered the empty virtual room in the zoom application.

Her heart rate started to rise as she looked at her laptop screen. As a senior editor at one of the world’s top entertainment media, she was used to interviewing many celebrities. But that afternoon she was scheduled to interview the Hollywood A List actor and Marvel star Sebastian Stan, someone whom she had been in love with for quite some time. Despite having worked at the entertainment media for ten years, it was the first time she got the chance to interview Sebastian and she couldn’t help but feel very nervous about it.

She picked up the paper which had a list of questions she was going to ask him as well as some facts about his upcoming movie. Yes, one of the reasons for the interview was for him to promote the new movie. She had seen the movie and it was quite an interesting movie. She couldn’t wait to hear from him more about it.

She was re-reading the third question when the screen in front of her flickered and Sebastian’s face was shown on the screen.

“Hello!” Sebastian smiled wide and greeted her, making butterflies fly around in her stomach. How could someone look so gorgeous? She pondered as she stared at the screen and admired his beautiful face. Sebastian had let his hair grow but not that much. It was short but fluffy at the top. He had a very light layer of stubble like he just shaved yesterday. But of course it was his ocean blue eyes that mesmerized her the most.

“Hello Y/n.. earth to Y/n. Can you see me? Can you hear me?” Sebastian asked and she blinked several times, finally snapping out of being drowned in his gorgeous eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, I can see you. I can hear you. Sorry.” She blushed as he smiled again at her.

“Oh okay, that’s good. I'm sorry but I'm currently traveling and I'm stuck in traffic right now. So if I get disconnected or something it's ‘cause I'm on the road.” He said as he turned his camera around making her see that he was in a car.

“Oh okay. You know if it's a bad time, we can do this later.” She suggested.

“Oh no, it's okay. I mean as long as it's not two hours long. You know.” He chuckled.

“Oh of course not. Depending on your answers this could take half an hour to an hour at most.” She replied.

“Alright. I'll try to keep my answers short.” He said.

“Well, if you need to elaborate please feel free to do that.”

“Yeah.. yeah.. of course.” He smiled and for a second she could see like he was really seeing her for the first time.

“You look great by the way.” He winked and she felt like her heart leapt out of her chest.

“Uh.. thank you.You look great yourself.” She blushed yet again that she was sure she looked as red as a tomato.

“Oh, thank you.. “ He smiled shyly and she could see that he was blushing too. She loved how he could sometimes be uncomfortable when people compliment him. It was so endearing to her.

“Anyway, how are you? How is Atlanta?” she asked. As it happened, Sebastian was in Atlanta to shoot the next Marvel movie.

“I’m good, thanks. Atlanta is, well, it’s been cold but not that cold. We’ve been shooting indoors a lot with wires and stuff. It’s been hard and exhausting. But, you know, I shouldn’t complain. I really shouldn’t. It’s been great fun.” He replied.

“Can you tell me if Anthony is there?” she asked with a small smile on her lips.

“You know I can’t tell you that. I signed an NDA! I can’t.” He chuckled.

“But.. maybe off the record I can tell you. Later on.” He winked again and she felt butterflies yet again. She couldn’t believe how flirty he was to her.

“Okay, anyway, are you ready?” She asked.

“Yes, of course. Go on.” He smiled and she felt butterflies again in her stomach. Maybe this was a bad idea. She thought as she tried to compose herself.

“Good afternoon, Sebastian.” She finally greeted him after hitting the record button and smiled at him.

“Good afternoon!” He answered, smiling wide at her.

“Thank you for doing this for us and giving your time amidst your busy shooting schedule.” She said.

“Oh no, thank you for allowing me to do this.” He said and she nodded.

“So, Sebastian, you have a new movie releasing soon called A Different Man, directed by Aaron Schimberg starring yourself, the Norwegian break out actress Renate Reinsve and the British actor Adam Pearson.” She said and this time he nodded.

“I had the privilege to see it yesterday thanks to you and the director Aaron, and I must say that it is a very interesting and out of the box movie. Could you tell me how you got involved with it?” She asked.

“Oh yeah. My agent sent me the script and I think it was such an interesting script. I mean, it’s very rare to see movies with this subject matter. The director Aaron had done another movie before this called Chained For Life that had a similar subject matter. In that movie he also cast Adam. And I watched the movie and I fell in love with it. The way Aaron told the story was very unique. I haven’t seen anything like it in a long while. And yeah, I thought that the movie was something that I would love to be involved in.”

“Aside from being the main actor, you are also a producer in this movie. Is that correct?”

“Yeah I am. It’s the first movie I ever produced.”

“What made you decide to be involved not just as an actor? But also as a producer?”

“Well, I’ve been thinking about producing for a while but never got anything I was excited about until this one came. Aaron needed some help and seeing his talent and his previous work I decided to jump into it and help him out.”

“I see. So, in this movie, you play someone with neurofibromatosis, and you had to change your face completely. How did it feel to be under all those prosthetics and looking in the mirror and saw a completely different version of you?”

“It felt surreal of course. It took a long long time to get the prosthetics on correctly the first time. I think it took almost a whole day. But then they figured it out and the next day I basically just had to put on like a mask and then they added some more stuff on my face to blend it in.”

“Oh, that’s really interesting. I’m sure it helped a lot in your performance looking completely different.”

“Yeah, yeah. It helped a lot in that I just needed to look in the mirror and just like that I felt like a completely different person.” He said as he snapped his fingers.

“And it showed. Being someone who have seen your work a lot over the years, I must say you have done the best job of your career.”

“Oh my gosh. That’s.. really?” He asked, his face reddened and he put one hand on the side of his face.

“Yeah. Really. It was your best work in my opinion and I wouldn’t be surprised if you get an Oscar nomination for it. I really wouldn’t.” She smiled.

“That’s.. wow.. it means a lot, coming from you. Really.” He smiled and she couldn’t help but blush again. She couldn't believe he would say something like that.

“Umm.. yeah. Anyway, could you tell me how Adam and Renate got involved?” She asked, deciding to ignore what he said. She was just going to cut that part out and pretended he never said it.

“Oh yeah, with Adam it was a no brainer really. Aaron had cast him even before I got involved. Adam was actually involved waaay before I did. As for Renate. I had seen her movie The Worst Person In The World and I loved her performance in it. It was so real and raw. I knew when I read the script I wanted someone like her to play Ingrid. So I suggested her to Aaron and he agreed and I sought her out and well, the rest is history.”

“I can see why you wanted her to play Ingrid.”

“Yeah, she possesses this instinct as an actor that I haven't seen in a while. It was really a pleasure to work with someone who can keep up with you and even challenge you in their own way. You know. It was very rewarding as an actor to be able to work with someone like her. She was really something else. Kind of like you.” He winked.

“Excuse me?” She couldn't believe what she was hearing.

“Yeah.. I'm sorry but.. umm.. I really have to say this. I have never seen any girl looking as pretty as you are, especially when you blush. You’re quite literally the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.” He said and her heart seemed to leap out of her chest as she heard him. Once again she couldn’t believe how flirty he was to her!

“Oh stop it, Sebastian. I will definitely edit this out.” She chuckled as her face continued to redden.

“Oh no, don’t. I want people to see that.” he teased again.

“But that has nothing to do with the interview so I will definitely edit it out.” she insisted.

“Fine, I’m just gonna repeat it along the way, on the record and off the record, later on.” he winked and she just shook her head.

“Okay, back to the topic of your movie.”

“You’re so serious. I like that about you.” He teased her again and she felt herself blush yet again.

“There it is.. the blush. I love it.” He chuckled.

“Sebastian, please.”

“Please what, Y/n?” he asked as his voice suddenly changed to be huskier, as much as she didn’t believe it.

“Please stop flirting with me. I’m trying to do my job.” she protested.

“I'm sorry. I'm being really unprofessional aren't I?” He sighed and she nodded.

“Okay, I'm sorry. I'll try to be more professional as long as you promise me something.”

“Okay.. promise you what?”

“That you'll go out with me.”

Her heart seemed to stop as she heard him. This couldn't be happening, she thought in disbelief.

“You're in Atlanta and I'm in New York. How are we going to do it?” She asked, suddenly feeling courageous enough to tease him back about it because she was certain he was just joking with her for whatever reason.

“You know I go back to New York every weekend. So, we can go this weekend!” He said excitedly.

“Okay. Sure. I need to ask my husband's permission first though.” She said as an idea popped into her head and his eyes widened.

“Your husband's permission? I should have known someone as gorgeous as you is already taken. I'm too late aren't I?” He said dejectedly and she couldn't help but chuckle. He looked so cute pouting like that.

“Well.. yeah. You are too late. I'm sorry. But, he's quite an open minded person so maybe I can ask him.“ she said teasingly.

“Oh good! Where is your husband? Let me ask him myself.” He challenged.

“Wait here.” She chuckled and she stood up. She went to her bed and picked up a life size human shaped pillow with Sebastian's face on it then brought it back to her working desk.

“There he is. Sebastian say hello to pillow!Sebastian.” She said, showing the pillow to the webcam and the real Sebastian on the screen threw his head back and laughed.

“Oh my God! Hello pillow!Sebastian! I would like to ask for your permission to ask your beautiful wife out, please. I can't stand looking at her being so pretty like that. I must have her. Please. Could you do me a favor and divorce her?” He asked and she laughed.

“He said over his dead body.” She replied after her laughter subsided and he pouted again, making her laugh again.

“Hey pillow!Sebastian, I literally bought you for her and now you have the audacity to steal her from me?! Unbelievable!” He protested.

“He's sorry but he said he loves me and he can't divorce me.” She teased him again and he pouted yet again.

“Sweetheart, listen to me. I can’t do this and sit here miles away from you when you look so amazingly beautiful like that just teasing me with your pretty face. You have no idea what I'm imagining right now.” He said, gazing at her with eyes full of love and dare she said it, lust.

“Oh, what are you imagining?” she asked. Despite knowing this was very unprofessional of him, she couldn't help but be curious about it.

“I'm imagining being there with you and placing my hands on the sides of your face and just.. kiss that pretty lips of yours.” he said slowly, his voice low and husky.

She shivered as she listened to him and felt butterflies again in her stomach.

“I miss you, sweetheart.” He continued, staring at her with longing and she smiled.

“I miss you too, Iubirea mea.” she replied, making him smile.

“There it is. I love when you call me that.” He smiled.

“I love calling you that too.” She smiled.

“So, go out with me this weekend?” He asked and she of course couldn't answer with anything else.

“Sure. I'd love to go out with you, my darling husband.” She winked and he laughed.

“Glad to hear that my lovely wife.” he replied making her smile.

Just then his camera shook and he turned to the side.

“Oh, great! We're here!” He said excitedly.

“Sorry, I have to go, sweetheart.” He turned to her.

“Oh okay. Yeah. I'll talk to you later?” She asked.

“Wait.” He said as the camera continued to shake. She could hear the sound of a car door opening and closing and then the camera turned to show the sky as Sebastian continued to move.

“Seb? Sebastian?” She called out.

It seemed he didn't hear her as his phone's camera continued to shoot at the sky and then it showed a ceiling as Sebastian seemed to be entering a building. She studied the ceiling and thought that it looked familiar. Then it seemed like he was entering an elevator. A familiar ding could be heard as the elevator stopped and Sebastian got out of it. She continued to watch with a smile on her face as Sebastian seemed to be walking. Then he stopped and turned his phone's camera back on his face.

“Sweetheart. There's a surprise for you at the door.” He said with a twinkle in his eyes.

She laughed and immediately ran out of her room and towards the front door. She opened it wide and there he was, Sebastian Stan, staring at her like he saw the sun for the first time.

“Hi.” He smiled as he switched his cellphone off and put it in his pocket.

“Hi.” She smiled back, her heart beating so fast in her chest.

“I was right.” He said as he walked slowly closer to her.

“About what?” She asked, feeling like she was going to faint seeing him so close to her.

“You are.. literally.. the prettiest girl.. I've ever seen.” He smiled as he gently placed both hands on the sides of her face and gazed at her with longing.

“Oh shut up and just kiss me.” She said and he laughed.

And with that he pulled her closer to him and gently kissed her lips, causing fireworks to explode in her chest. She pulled him into her apartment and closed the door behind him as her plans obviously changed that afternoon. Interviews can wait. Snow men can wait. At that moment all she wanted was to be with him. Sebastian Stan. The love of her life.

#sebastian stan #sebastianstan #sebastian stan fanfic #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x y/n #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan fluff

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spdrvyn · 11 months

Note

ya know who this is.. please make dating hcs of either miles (u pick but i like 1610 more) HES MY SILLY LITTLE GUYBWAAAH QAAAH WAHHH WAAAAHHHBBHBBHHHHBB

dating headcanons — MILES MORALES

(( golly gee, i wonder who this is! anyway, i know it's not really miguel related (woah shocker!) but i hope people are able to enjoy it anyway :3 spoiler free ))

× miles has zero, has NO experience with dating or romance before besides little crushes here and there. he doesn't know what kind of romantic gestures would be appropriate when you two first start dating, however he likes the little things. drawing things that you find pretty (like the view of the city, your favorite food, favorite animal) in his sketchbook and giving it to you the next day. finding little trinkets from shops and buying them for you even if it means not eating lunch that day.

× he is a hugger, a big hugger. if anything, he much prefers it over kisses! whenever you two see each other at school or meet up for a date, he greets you with a warm embrace and a gleeful smile. occasionally slumping against your shoulder whining about how tiring his day was. (swinging through the city, kicking butt, being spiderman and whatnot. however, he kinda has to keep those details out.)

× he's kind of bad with compliments, both receiving and giving. not entirely in a bad way though? whenever he tries to give you compliments, sometimes you're too much for him, too beautiful for him to take in, so he ends up stuttering and tripping over his words before apologizing profusely because he just can't find the words for how amazing you are. as for receiving them, he's so taken aback by it. i mean, he tries to compliment you and praise you a lot however when it's returned ten-fold? so casually as well? he melts, trying to cover his face with his jacket to spare himself some embarrassment.

× he was basically the same exact way when he asked you out as well. hell, he tried practicing in the mirror hours before hoping that he could put his artistic abilities through speech but he couldn't find the correct words in the moment. he resorted to writing it all down, he prided himself in how lovey dovey his confession was but when he tried to recite it to you all of a sudden it was like the words were just bouncing off of the page from how nervous he was. when you giggled in his face, he felt like the fear of god was being put into him until you said that you wanted to take him out on a date.

× he's a listener, he is addicted to the sound of your voice. he loves listening to you talk about mundane things, it brings peace to his half chaotic half normal life. you're his safe space, his heaven. at times, he's caught you off-guard mid-ramble because of how lovingly he was staring at you. to which you would respond by playfully pushing him on the shoulder.

× he's not the type to argue either, at least not with you. it's not like you two fought often but there have been times where he's stood you up due to unrelated circumstances or stopped replying to your text messages all night, it hurts you but he always takes responsibility even if he can't tell you why he's so busy in the first place. he feels guilty enough for keeping a massive part of his identity hidden from you, the least he could do is comfort you about it. even if he knows he's gonna have to tell you eventually.

#miles morales #spiderman 1610 #spiderman #spiderman: into the spiderverse #spiderman: across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse #into the spiderverse #spiderverse #itsv #atsv #fluff #romance #miles morales x reader #miles morales x you

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drabblesandimagines · 9 months

Text

Lessons

Joshua Rosfield x female reader Big ol' FF16 spoilers (though not endgame)

“My apologies for disturbing your meal, but would you entertain my company a moment?” You’d been too distracted at picking through today’s soup to hear Clive approach.

Or at least you thought it was soup, maybe it was stew. Is there a proper difference? You just asked for whatever’s hot. The novelty of warm food in your stomach never seems to wear off.

“Of course – I’m pretty much finished anyway.” You reply, placing the spoon back in the bowl and gesture to the seat opposite. “How can I help?”

The Fire Dominant sits and smiles sheepishly, lacing his fingers together as he places his hands on the table.

“It has been brought to my attention that you are interested in learning your letters.”

“Oh…” You’re embarrassed that, somehow, it’s landed under Clive’s remit. You’d only confided in a handful of your fellow Cursebreakers - it had been necessary when you obviously couldn’t read reports that had come in, or send updates in return, and discussed the possibility of learning with Dorys on a handful of occasions but it had never seemed a good time. You’d arrived at the Hideaway a few months before Clive had, spending a brief period getting accustomed to a free life before you fell in with the Cursebreakers, wanting to assist fellow Bearers in having the same second chance you had been given. Your former master had been a traveling merchant and it had been either you defend him from fiends and bandits on the road, or he’d have no qualms leaving you as bait to gain him passage. After going under Tarja’s steady hand, your Brand had been removed and you’d been sent out with a blade. The past five years had been filled with re-establishing the new Hideaway and Cursebreaker responsibilities.

“I didn’t mean for it to be brought to you, Clive. It was just a passing comment…”

“I wish you had. You’ve toiled with the Cursebreakers for years for those to live on their own terms, and that should include learning letters, if they so wish.” He hesitates a moment, looking a little bashful. “I am afraid I have come with a somewhat selfish notion in my proposition.”

“What do you mean?” If he needed a Cursebreaker who could read, there were plenty on hand…

“I heard from Dorys that you didn’t seem particularly keen on sitting in with the children in Miss Shirleigh’s lessons, and I know that Harpocrates is often kept busy with research on other matters. However, I am aware of someone who is a fine scholar and suddenly finds themselves at a loss of what to do with their time.”

“Who?” You frown, trying to think of who else in the Hideaway would befit a title. One of Mid’s Engineers, perhaps?

“My brother – Joshua. He’s been prescribed a moon’s cycle of rest by Tarja and it is going to be difficult to get him to comply. I thought if he had something to focus on in his period of convalescence, it might at least keep him within the Hideaway, and help you fulfil your goal.”

“But if your brother is meant to be resting, he surely shouldn’t be attempting to tutor me.”

“Resting from anything physical – I assure you his mind remains at full health. Please, at least think about it. He is getting through the contents of our shelves at a fair pace, I think he’d enjoy acting the tutor.”

You hesitate. “Have you broached this idea with him?”

“Not yet. I thought it best to speak with you first.”

“I am not sure. It doesn’t feel the best time. I mean, with the growing number of aetherfloods and akashic…”

“You’ve done so much for the Hideaway over the years – please, allow yourself to be selfish. And, if you still struggle to do so, please do it as a favour to me. I would be in your debt.”

“All right. But see how your brother feels first. If he doesn’t want to, please don’t push it.”

Clive grins.

You were nervous ahead of your first meeting with Joshua. Clive had offered his chambers as a makeshift classroom – Founder knows he was hardly in it – and he thought the two of you would appreciate the solitude it provided.

You knocked hesitantly on the doors before they were swiftly opened by a smiling Clive.

“Come in.”

The Phoenix is already sat at the solar’s desk – a bit more colour in his cheeks than there had been when you’d seen him limp past the mess, on his way up to the infirmary after their return from Kanver. The map that’s usually found spread across Clive’s desk is carefully folded away and instead blank parchments, ink pots and quills fill their place, and another chair has been sourced, sat the opposite side of the blonde.

Joshua gets to his feet with a charming smile, approaching you. He kneels swiftly, taking your hand and kissing the back of it in greeting. “My lady.”

“Joshua, did you not learn your lesson from Mid?” Clive laughs, noting your shocked expression as the blonde gets back to his feet and lets go of your hand.

“I cannot help it, Clive.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you.” You nod, trying to regain your composure. “And thank you, my lord, for agreeing to help me.”

“Not at all. And, please, call me Joshua.” He gestures for you to take the seat in front of the desk before looking to his brother. “Clive, if you’d be so kind…”

“Of course.” The outlaw nods, heading towards the door. “Enjoy your studies.”

The next few hours were spent with Joshua establishing how much you did know. Some letters were familiar, but your grasp on the full alphabet was patchy. Your penmanship needed attention – non-existent before this morning, truthfully - as he kindly helped position the quill between your fingers after enquiring as to your sword hand.

At noon, when your head had started to swim and your fingers cramped from copying out letters, there had been a hesitant knock at the door before Jote, the Phoenix’s attendant, entered, carrying a tray bearing a vial of medicine and some food.

“Your grace, forgive the interruption but it is time for your medicine,” she nods at the tray in her hands. “I also bid you do not overtire yourself with your tutoring.”

“Thank you, Jote. I assure you I am fine, but…” He pauses, watching you scribble out a poor attempt at the letter Q once more. “..I do believe that is probably enough for us to cover today, my student?”

“If that would be acceptable, m… Joshua.” You correct. “I do not wish to appear work shy.”

“Not at all. We have covered a fair amount this morning. Here,” he slides over some blank pieces of parchment, alongside your list of letters and another one with a single word on it. “Good tutors assign their students exercises. Practice your letters when you can, and try to say them aloud too. We can meet again tomorrow, if you’re available.”

You nod, “I can check in with Dorys and send word. Thank you.” You take up the papers in your hand, before pausing and pointing at the one with the single word upon it. “What’s this one?”

“That,” the Phoenix grins, charmingly, “is your name.”

More lessons pass, a little longer in nature as your hand adjusts, though a little spread out due to your Cursebreaker responsibilities. You’d been away two nights and word had been sent to Joshua for a lesson on your return.

You bid the blonde good morning before sitting down and retrieving a pile of papers from your pack with your other hand. “My apologies, I did complete the exercises whilst away, but we got caught in a storm and the parchment got a bit… soggy.” You slide the pitiful bundle of paper across the desk. It’s dried out now at least, but there’s patches of smudged ink on a few lines.

“I intended to re-do them before our lesson but, well…” You place your writing hand on the desk, revealing it to be bandaged up. “I can’t quite hold the quill. Tarja said it might be a few weeks before I could – sword hilt included, I must add. But I do hope this won’t hamper our lessons too badly.”

Joshua’s eyes widen and he takes your hand in gentle, inquisitive fingers. “What happened?”

“It was foolish of me. We were intercepting some Black Shields in Rosaria. I’d dropped my blade and one of theirs was aiming true for a Bearer. I panicked, I supposed, grabbed his blade with my hand and kicked him back.”

He winces at your tale. “May I take a look?”

“Erm, of course.” You watch as he deftly unwraps the bandage Tarja had re-wrapped this morning. Maybe he thought you were trying to get out of penmanship practice? He reaches your palm – black stitches hold the palm together, the cut thankfully clean rather than jagged.

“It looks painful.”

“I’ve had worse.” You reply, lightly. It’s true.

“I don’t know how much you have heard of the blessings the Phoenix provides.” He conjures a flame in his other hand, playing with it between his fingers. “One is the ability to heal, if you would permit me.”

“Oh, no.” You want to tug your hand back from his but slim fingers keep it firmly in place. “I would never ask that-”

“You haven’t, I have. May I? I would so like my favourite student to keep up her penmanship lessons.”

“Not if it causes you to suffer.”

“It won’t. Here.” He presses the flame into your palm and you brace yourself for a burn. A warm sensation envelopes your palm, like when you’ve warmed a blanket on the hearth in the ale hall, before an odd sort of feeling tickles over your palm. He removes his palm to reveal the line of thread Tarja had painstakingly sewed last night is free and not a mark remains on your palm.

“How does it feel?”

“Fine. But, Joshua, you’re meant to be resting, you shouldn’t have-“

“Do not fuss, please. It is my pleasure. I will, of course, let Tarja know of your miraculous recovery. Now,” he lets go of your hand at last, allowing you to pull it back and flex the fingers tenderly, and turns his attention back to the exercises you’d presented a few moments before. “You took these out with you?”

“Mm.” You nod, placing your hand back down in your lap before a thought crosses your mind. “I’m so sorry, I should’ve asked before I took them out of the Hideaway-”

“No, not at all.” The blonde chuckles. “They are yours to do with what you see fit. I am just surprised at the dedication to your studies.”

“I do not mean to waste your time. I know it’s not my finest work, but I didn’t want to show up empty-handed. I could re-do them now, I mean…”

“Relax. I can decipher these just fine, which means you can start on these, if your hand feels up to it. Try reading aloud as you copy, hm?” He slides over a new piece of parchment, filled with new words for the day.

You nod, eagerly, and pick up the quill.

“We are not going to read all of those today, are we?” The pile is nearly up to Joshua’s shoulder on the desk.

“No,” he smiles. “It is my fault – I was in the shelves earlier looking for some practice material and some wanted to share their favourite literature with you. This one is Clive’s suggestion.”

He lifts up a couple and picks up the book in question, placing it down in front of you.

“The Saint And The Sec… Sectary…?”

“Very good.” Joshua’s praise always makes your head feel warm. “It’s a play, so be wary that if Clive sees you reading this, he’ll probably make you run lines with him. He always plays Sir Crandell.”

“Oh, and what role did you perform?”

“I never made the cut, sadly. I could never remember my lines well enough and Clive would not let you keep a script in hand.” He smiles at the memory. “This, however, was my favourite.”

He takes a book off the top of the pile and holds it out in front of him for you to read.

“The Merry Moogle And Other Tales.” You frown, the title ringing a bell. “They read this to the children for bedtime stories.”

“Are you mocking my tastes?”

“No!” You look alarmed. “I-“

“I jest – forgive me. It truly is one of my favourites and is, in fact, the first book I read by myself. It is a selfish pick, really, I am looking forward to going through it again, if you’d be so kind?”

“I can try.” He pushes the book in your direction before getting to his feet and lifting his chair, walking around the desk and placing it besides you.

“I hope you don’t mind – reading upside down is something I have yet to master.”

“Oh, no. It’s fine.” You feel flushed, is it possible the Phoenix just emits heat wherever he goes? He leans in, flipping open the book.

“Excellent. Begin, when you’re ready.”

You nod, swallowing.

“There… once was a very merry… moogle…”

More lessons pass, growing longer in their duration. Dorys appears to have you on duties within the Hideaway rather than out, but you don’t complain. Clive has even had to chase the two out of his chambers twice to hold discussions, though he had immediately clocked the copy of The Saint And The Sectary on the desk the first time, regaling how he made a fine Sir Crandell in his youth. Joshua had rolled his eyes at that point, causing you to laugh and Clive looking a little bemused before he’d waved the two of you out.

Far too soon, though, Joshua’s convalescence is nearly at an end, alongside word that the Enterprise is mostly repaired and ready its return journey to Ash and the Mothercrystal that resides there. You’re nervous for all who will be boarding, but especially your dear tutor.

You’re sat side by side in Clive’s chambers once more, trying to ignore the fact that Joshua’s thigh is pressing up against your own, and you’ve just finished reading a passage from The History of Valisthea. Joshua admitted it was perhaps a little dry, but he wanted you to experience all sorts of genres in his lessons.

“I can’t help but notice that your confidence has increased tenfold in reading aloud and I do not think it is solely down to having me as your captive audience. Care to share your secret?”

You bite your lip in a smile. “I’ve been… I’ve been reading to Torgal.”

“Oh?” Joshua smiles adoringly at you, prompting you to continue.

“I was a little self-conscious of practicing in the bunks, but there’s a bit of decking that overhangs the lake that I’d taken to. He started to join me – I think to nap away from the children. He usually sleeps through it, but I see his ears twitch, sometimes a tail wag… Apologies, that sounds foolish now I’ve actually said it aloud.”

“Not at all. We’ve always thought Torgal a fine hound, and he proves it more every day.”

Joshua then leans over and reaches for a bit of parchment over the other side of the desk.

“Now, the true test is whether you can read my everyday handwriting,” Joshua teases, handing it over to you.

“You have fine penmanship.” The words he notes down for exercises are always clear and easy to read.

“That is just for our exercises together. I’m afraid I fell into bad habits on the road. Scrawls, more than anything.” He nods at the parchment. “Aloud, if you may.”

You wet your lips with your tongue, squinting a little at first at Joshua’s cursive.

“Forgive me for putting you to the test with my hand, but I am confident that you will meet this challenge as you have throughout our studies thus far. I must confess I have enjoyed our time together, and I am disappointed to see it come to an end.”

You look up from the parchment, wondering if this is the last time you’d ever be within each other’s company. “I’ll miss our lessons too, Joshua.”

“There’s a little more, on the back.”

“Oh.” You turn the parchment over and continue. “However, now we are no longer tutor and student, I would like to ask one thing that I will simply regret if I do not. May I… kiss you?”

You stare at the word again a moment, before looking up at him. “Did I read that right?”

“Do not doubt yourself now.” He says, softly, maintaining eye contact.

“Then my answer is yes, you may.”

He places a hand on your scarred cheek as he leans forward, his other arm slipping around your waist to bring you in closer before your lips meet. It’s clumsy, you know it’s clumsy – you’ve never kissed anyone before – but prove yourself a quick learner again, your tongue finding entrance into his mouth and deepening the kiss.

The two of you pull away after a moment and Joshua leans his forehead against yours, keeping you pulled in close.

“I am afraid I have failed as your tutor on this occasion, my darling.”

“How so?” You ask, quietly.

“I am unable to come up with a word to aptly describe the feeling in my heart at finally having you in my arms.”

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Ko-fi

#ghostdogwrites #ff16 x you #ff16 x reader #joshua rosfield x reader #joshua rosfield x female reader #joshua rosfield x you #ff16 fluff

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danikamariewrites · 2 months

Note

Can you please do a jealous possessive Ithan in love with the reader who is his mate?

Alphahole

Ithan x reader

A/n: Honestly I never really paid attention to Ithan but with CC3 he’s growing on me. Also I made this spoiler free and left out anything new from CC3.

Warnings: possesive Ithan, suggestive at the end

Since the bond snapped between you and Ithan nights out had become rare. You traded in partying for TV nights cuddled up on the couch. And you wouldn’t change a thing about your life now.

Your phone dinging pulled you from your thoughts. Tapping the screen you see a text from Bryce that has you squealing with excitement.

We miss you and wolf boy, wanna meet for drinks tonight to celebrate you two. Meet us at the Raven at 7🤩

You immediately thumbs up the text rushing to type out your very excited reply. Hitting send you jump out of bed, barging into the bathroom to interrupt his shower. It has been forever since you two went out with the group.

Telling Ithan the plan for the night was easy. Getting him to actually commit and leave the house though? That would be the real challenge. Your boy is too stubborn for his own good.

Putting the finishing touches on your makeup you hear Ithan growl from behind you. You meet his annoyed gaze in the mirror, giving him a taunting smirk.

“It’s just a few hours,” you drawl. He groans again. This time turning to dramatically rest his forehead against the door frame. Sometimes you don’t know who’s worse, him or Tharion.

You turn to face him. Arms crossed as you tap your platform boots against the tiles. “I know you want to see them, don’t make this painful.”

“Fine,” he huffs out. You giggle, moving to hug him tightly. Ithan runs a hand through your hair. He would much rather keep you to himself at home. At home Ithan gets all your attention and doesn’t have to share you with anyone.

Letting go you hold his hands, lightly swinging them back and forth, smiling up at him. Ithan’s eyes roam over body. A low growl sounds from his throat as his eyes move from your low cut tank top, stopping on your tight leather pants that accentuate your curves in all the right places. It was going to be a very long and painful night for the wolf.

As soon as you stepped through the doors you were swept away from him by Bryce and June. He let out a sigh, heading over to the other males at the table. Flynn handed him a beer jokingly saying, “Lost your mate pup.” Though his tone was light Ithan took the statement as a threat and gave the fae lordling a look to tell him so.

Ithan was getting more and more annoyed as the night went on. Every time he had you in his arms or tried to dance with you, you were taken from him. When he came back from getting you a new drink you already had one! Ithan just couldn’t win tonight.

He really hit his breaking point when Flynn pointed out a male flirting with you on the dance floor. Slamming his drink down Ithan stormed over to you. Fury was trying to diffuse the situation as you and Bryce glared at the male.

Fury spotted your mate first, pushing male into Ithan. His insult for you and Bryce died on his tongue when he came face to face with your mate. Letting that deadly predator show in his eyes the male cowered before Ithan. “You have one chance to apologize and leave.” He said in a low and commanding tone that could be heard over the loud thrumming of the music.

The male quickly and shamefully apologized running off as soon as Ithan’s iron grip was off his shoulder. Before you could throw yourself at your mate, the bond aching in your chest to be close to him again, Ithan pulled you into his side saying goodnight to the girls the two of you rushed out. Bryce’s laughter followed by a loud, ‘Alphahole’ reached your ears.

The two of you were silent on the very short ride home. Tension being pulled taught between the two of you. You wanted to put your hands all over Ithan. To reassure the stubborn male that you only had eyes for him. You could tell from the way his jaw was clenched that Ithan was thinking the same thing.

Back in your apartment Ithan picked you up, pining you to the wall. His mouth immediately on your neck leaving love bites and wet open mouthed kisses. You moan at how good his mouth feels against you. Ithan squeezes your ass, pulling you closer to him. “Mine,” he breathes out against your neck. “All yours. Always.”

#crescent city #crescent city fanfic #crescent city fic #crescent city x reader #crescent city x you #crescent city fanfiction #crescent city ithan #ithan holstrom #ithan holstrom crescent city #ithan holstrom x you #ithan holstrom x reader #ithan holstrom fic #ithan holstrom fanfic

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wisdomssdaughterr · 4 months

Text

FRIENDS? FRIENDS.

percy jackson x annabeth chase blurb

warnings: none, just some pre-percabeth cuteness! some minor spoilers for the TV show & the books but nothing major or all that important

note: percy & annabeth will forever have a place in my heart. I'd love to write more little drabbles of them! feel free to send it any requests! I'll also write for other character (but keep in mind I am just now reading the House of Hades so I haven't reached the end of the heroes of olympus series yet). also, please use your imagination a little as to where this would fit it post the lightening thief quest lol.

...

Moonlight reflected off the steady water, bringing a sense of peace to Percy as he dangled his feet off the edge of the pier. He traced patterns in the wood grooves and attempted to clear his head which hadn’t stopped spinning since he arrived at camp.

He should have been more alert, but he missed the series of footsteps that crept up on him until he felt a presence at his back.

Percy jumped, startled, and reflectively reached for Riptide.

“Hey,” Annabeth greeted, instantly disarming Percy. He let out a sigh of relief and dropped his hand back onto the pier.

“Hi.”

She looked wide awake despite the late hour. All of the other campers were asleep or tucked away inside their cabins. Percy had spent the better part of a couple of hours tossing and turning until he gave up trying to sleep and wandered out toward the lake, the only place at camp where he felt the most at ease.

It looked like Annabeth was in the same boat as him. Instead of her usual orange camp shirt and cargo pants, she wore a matching, soft pink sweatshirt and sweatpants. Little hearts were embroidered on the front pockets of the sweats and the neckline of sweatshirt.

With a light smirk, Percy said, “Nice PJs.”

She rolled her eyes in typical fashion and moved beside him before she took a seat. Annabeth sat close enough that her arm brushed against his. Percy didn’t know if she meant to sit that close, but she didn’t move away. She stayed with her arm nearly resting up against his and dangled her feet over the edge of the pier.

“They were a gift from the Aphrodite Cabin,” she said, rubbing her thumb over the little hearts on her collar with a small smile on her lips. “They help my bunkmate, Veronica, with my braids.”

Percy hummed in response before he said, “You look like you belong in their cabin.” He didn’t quite realize what he said until the words left his lips and his cheeks heated up instantly in embarrassment; however, he didn’t get the chance to say anything before Annabeth did.

“Are you calling me beautiful, Seaweed Brain?”

Percy silently thanked the gods it was dark on the pier and that Annabeth couldn’t see the red hue of his cheeks. He cleared his throat and shook his head. “No! I mean, that’s not what…not that you’re ugly…oh jeez.” Ducking his head, Percy contemplated throwing himself off the pier.

Annabeth was cool and she obviously was cool looking. It wouldn't have been a shocker if she had been claimed by Aphrodite, but because of her wicked brain and the fact that she was always six steps ahead of everyone, Athena made more sense. Athena was probably cool looking too; she was a goddess after all. Everyone in the Aphrodite Cabin was also cool looking because their mother was known for being the most beautiful goddess of all, or whatever, but they were no Annabeth.

A belly laugh erupted from her throat and echoed through the quiet air, taking Percy by surprise. She slapped her hand over her stomach and threw her head back as she managed to say between laughs, “You should see your face right now!” Percy couldn’t help but smile sheepishly.

Once her laughter subsided, she shook her head. “I’m just teasing you.”

“Very funny,” said Percy, desperate to change the subject. “What’re you doing out here, anyway?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” she replied. “You?”

Percy had gotten used to his mind racing and almost never turning off, but after they returned from their quest and he finally had a second to think over everything that had happened since learning he was a half-blood, his brain was in overdrive. There were a million more questions he had but was slightly scared to get answered. He needed to sleep off their quest, but every time he closed his eyes, he was bombarded with visions that made little sense and unsettling memories of every time he, Annabeth, and Grover nearly died over the course of one week.

“I just needed somewhere to think,” he answered.

Humming in response, they let their conversation drift off into comfortable silence for a couple of moments.

Percy wondered if her mind was also swarmed with too many thoughts, memories, and questions. It seemed unlikely, Annabeth having questions. If there was one thing he learned about her from their time together, it was that she knew the answer to nearly everything, and if she didn’t know the answer, she would figure it out before anyone else.

“Percy?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you something?”

He furrowed his brows and turned his head to look at her. “Uh, sure.”

“You remember when we were at Meduas’ and you were telling Grover and me about the prophecy the Oracle gave you?” He nodded, urging her to continue. “You said that you only picked me for the quest because you couldn’t see us ever becoming friends.” Her voice had become a lot softer than normal, which freaked Percy out. A part of him wanted her to insult him or start bickering with him instead. The small but noticeable twinge of sadness in her voice and the frown that rested on her lips twisted up his stomach in a really weird and uncomfortable way.

“Do you still feel that way?”

“Are you insane?” he asked, wide-eyed and confused. She simply shrugged and kept her gaze set on the rippling water ahead of them. “No. No way. I didn’t even fully feel that way I said it. I was just really worried about the Oracle and really, really confused.”

She met his gaze and narrowed her eyes slightly, not believing him.

“Okay, I guess I meant it a little but only because you were intense and I didn’t think you would’ve wanted to be friends with me, especially after you left me to fight Clarrise alone and then shoved me into the lake.”

“I needed proof that you were who I thought you were,” Annabeth defended, causing him to smile lightly.

“Yeah, and it worked. My dad claimed me because you didn’t really give him a choice.”

“I think the words you’re looking for is ‘thank you.’” There was a beat before she sighed and backtracked a little, even though Percy wasn't upset at her for it. He understood why she did it, and who knows when or if his dad would have claimed him if she hadn't. “Sorry. I maybe could have helped you a little or not pushed you so hard.”

With a wave of his hand, he dismissed her. “Nah, I get it. It did help, and you got to go on your quest. But then we kind of fought at the beginning and I figured you really didn’t like me.”

Annabeth moved her hands into her lap and picked at the skin around her fingernails, almost like she was nervous, which seemed unlikely. Maybe Percy was just really bad at reading people. Annabeth seemed good at it, though. She was kind of like Grover in that way; she could sense danger or a problem before it appeared.

“Though, I kinda got the idea that maybe you didn’t totally hate me by the end of the quest.”

She shrugged again, but her frown disappeared. “Maybe I don’t.”

“Cool,” he smiled until he realized maybe he was smiling a little too big and he needed to chill out. “Because, you know, if I have to go on another quest, I would…well, I’d probably pick you again.”

Annabeth moved to look at him. “Probably?”

“Definitely, actually.”

That got her to smile, and Percy felt himself relax. “I’d pick you too,” she said before quickly adding, “As long as I’m still in charge.”

Percy put his hand to his forehead in a mock salute. He was not going to argue with her, not after she was the main reason they didn’t die on their quest.

A yawn escaped Annabeth that she tried to muffle under the sleeve of her pink sweatshirt. The night had caught up to him too, and the fatigue of the past week settled in his bones. He rolled his shoulders back with a stretch before he stood to his feet.

Outstretching a hand toward her, Percy said, “We should head back.”

She didn’t hesitate to grab his hand and let him help her up. Her hand was really warm compared to his cold one, and he held it just for a second longer after she was standing up. Annabeth cleared her throat and tucked her hands into the pocket of her sweatshirt before she led the way off the pier.

Together they walked the footpath back to the cabins, listening to the croak of the frogs around the lake fade and the buzz of crickets grow louder.

They arrived at Percy’s cabin first. Annabeth paused alongside him and offered him another smile as she said, “Night, Percy.”

He grinned. “Night, Annabeth.”

She turned on her heel and started walking toward her cabin, still with her hands in her pockets and her head held high.

Friends. That was nice. He had another real friend that he trusted and who trusted him. If nothing else went right for him, at least he had that. Maybe that was all he really needed to survive as a Half-Blood. Maybe he would be okay.

#percy jackson #annabeth chase #percabeth #percabeth fanfic #percy jackson x annabeth chase #pjo fanfic #izzy’s library

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missygoesmeow · 2 months

Text

missy's tips for honour mode :) (it's very long I'm sorry) (oh and here be many spoilers) (but pictures too!)

please note I am not a pro gamer or anything. I sucked so bad when I first started this game (I had no idea wtf I was doing). Like seriously. I didn't know what an action was. what a bonus action was. "No movement left". WHAT DO YOU MEAN NO MOVEMENT LEFT. I had played DnD once before.

I literally bought this game because of Astarion.

I usually play one game and that is Overwatch. the only other time I stopped playing OW was to play Resident Evil: Village because of Lady D. vampire marketing works on me. specifically evil vampire. damn u Neil and Maggie.

if you have any questions about a specific boss or something feel free to ask! I didn't fight everyone though - like I did not do House of Grief because I didn't need to and also it's hard :)

I think a lot of it just came on down to...

ANYWAY. letsa go! this is very rambling!

Like I said in my reply to anon, the best tip is to do tactician FIRST. You’ll get destroyed otherwise. I didn’t finish my tactician run but I did get to act 3 and I did most boss fights (Gortash, Raphael, Cazador). Bosses have legendary actions in tactician and it’s fucking annoying. All the homies hate radiant retort….

Another tip is fucking collect everything. It’s hard to get gold and certain potion ingredients later on. Potion of Speed (you need hyena ears for this) is the BEST. I used them for my Ketheric fight (second phase) and killed him in three turns. I also used them for the final fight and used one or two with Raphael and Orin.

Smokepowder Barrels. I think people call this Barrelmancy? I didn't use them much. I hoarded them for one reason and one reason only.

To blow Raphael.

His soul pillar towers that is. To blow up his pillars. His big long pillars.

Okay I'm done.

(also I did use three in my last fight against the brain - popped them next to it and blew 'em up) Elixir of Bloodlust - sooooo handy with Astarion!

Invisibility Potion is a must - I used this to escape fights when three people were deaded (this happened a few times😅) and get my good friend Withers to bring them back.

bonus tip: don't go into a fight with half your spell slots because you think "she'll be right". she won't be...as seen above

HOLY FUCK WITHERS. You can pickpocket Withers. I used Astarion to get our money back anytime I resurrected, changed class or got a hireling - he doesn’t care if you fail either, just keep trying.

DON'T BE DUMB LIKE MISSY Don't be like me, don't half pay attention in cut scenes and accidentally press the wrong dialogue option. Or else your good friend Lae'zel will turn on you and you will have A Bad Time.

Gale has a stressful day💗

The githyanki are scary and actually now that I think about it, those were usually the fights I had to run away from like a leetle biatch.

Halsin has a stressful day 💗

I forgot that Psionic Backlash is like a thing that does damage and that if your entire worm filled party does it and the person you are casting is at like...say 19 health...they will die because that is not Passive Damage.

And then Jaheira will leave because you murdered her friend.

Oopsie.

(I lost Shart, Lae'Zel and Jaheira in this run) GENERAL STUFF

Always surprise the enemy if you can, it’s a massive advantage!

Get the eye from Volo. This run was not about looking pretty, it was about getting any advantage I could get. Let that man poke out your eyeball. And make sure it’s your Tav, you will mostly likely swap companions and it’s just better if it’s you. It's helpful in a lot of fights but especially Auntie Ethel

Become half illithid. I did this with my Tav, Gale and Minthara. Astarion was a little bitch about it so I didn’t give it to him but I wish I had made him do it.

She looks Not Great but she can fly (sorry Astarion but Z'hera only likes pussy)

Being able to fly is just SO helpful and cull the weak is OP! Also mmmmm worms :)

MY BUILD/PARTY

A Giant Woman (my tiefling) as a Paladin - Oath of Vengeance.

I broke my oath when I ascended Astarion but you can just get it back. Oathbreaker is still good (that’s what I was in my tactician run) but I wanted my channel divinity charges. I started with the Everburn Blade from the cambion Commander Zhalk on the Nautaloid (when you get Shart, give her the Command Spell and use “Drop” so you can just yoink it off him and save a fight). My final weapon was the Nyrulna which you can get in Act 3 at the Circus. To get this you must pickpocket the genie to take his ring and then play his game. He will accuse you of cheating and send you somewher. The prize at the end is this weapon. I love it. I just went invisible and walked through, I didn’t fight the creatures there.

Astarion - the classic gloomstalker/assasin. I had one level assasin and then did 6 levels ranger before going back to assassin. So he was 6 levels in each. With him ascended, he does INSANE damage. I never swap out that vamp, he’s too useful.

Shart/Minthara - I lost Shart in the Shadowfell - wouldn't let her murder Dame Aylin.

a simpler time. before I killed my beloved and my brain was full of worms.

I had to fight her (it was very sad). I changed her class to Life of Domain Cleric. I then made Minthara my cleric when Shart died (same build). She replaced my lover and my cleric <3

i love my new evil girlfriend

Gale - Evocation Wizard so I didn’t change him at all!

he's so hopeful. and Z'hera is very gay.

TIPS FOR POTIONS

If it’s throwable (like invisibility) group the gang together to throw one on the ground to get you all - saves using multiple.

Potion of Speed has an effect called lethargic that is active for one round after the potion ends. This means you miss a turn. HOWEVER! If you drink another one on the last active round of the potion, your Tav will become lethargic immediately and next round you’ll be fine :) I did this for the Ketheric fight.

It’s also helpful (because of lethargic) to not have all characters take the potion in the same round (if you give it to everyone). I never did, I usually gave them to Gale and my Tav.

I hoarded so many scrolls. I had so many dimension door scrolls at the end.

I did get the Necromancy of Thay and did all the things. And then I never used it :)

BIGGEST TIP ONCE YOU'VE UNLOCKING LEVEL 6 SPELL SLOT WITH CLERIC (ALSO AVAILABLE WITH DRUID)

I saw this on reddit! Pretty much what I did was get a hireling - Cleric - and have that Cleric cast Heroes' Feast on my party.

The affected entity is immune to Diseases, Poisons, and being Frightened, it makes all Wisdom Saving throws with Advantage, and its maximum Hit Points are increased by 12

Lasts until long rest!! I also then cast Freedom of Movement on everyone in the party. I then cast Warding Bond on someone - usually Gale because he's a squishy boy :) If I knew it was a BIG FIGHT! I got another Cleric to cast Warding Bond on another party member.

you can see Heroes' Feast (the condition is called Thoroughly Stuffed) and Freedom of Movement. These all last until long rest!

Pretty much any other companions were respeced as Cleric (though I made Jaheira a Wizard same as Gale so I could use her). I did this so that I could use Divine Intervention multiple times within the game!

I used Opulent Revival and nothing else

KEEP IN MIND.

anything can kill you in honour mode. even an elevator.

it crushed me. somehow.

thanks Larian

(if you want proper guides definitely go to Reddit!)

#missy the honourable #missy meows #bg3 #bg3 honour mode #this is very long and rambling #sorry!#but im no guy on reddit

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oh-yeah-i-exist · 7 months

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A Partner, An Equal (Astarion x Durge!Tav)

Synopsis: The first night of Astarion's second life, free from Cazador and with her by his side.

Author's Note: This is technically written with my Tav (named Eiji) in mind, but I didn't name her in the text so it's pretty much up to you to imagine 'her' as you will. Also, a great song to listen to while you read this is:

Because of the line, "I'll make you a star in my universe..."

Content: Astarion x Female!Tav. FLUFF, tooth-rotting fluff, because my sweet boy deserves only love and safety and comfort and everything nice after, and I quote, "two centuries of PURE shit."

Warning: Might contain SPOILERS for Act 2 and 3!

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Perhaps a graveyard was not the best place for their first night since Cazador's defeat, but the idea of having her there with him at the very beginning of his new life felt right to Astarion.

"We'd better get back before the others start fearing the worst," She says, zipping up the side of her under-armor. They are getting dressed together in the shadow of a large oak tree.

He doesn't jump anymore when she reaches for him. "Here, let me," she readjusts the collar of his undershirt to fold properly around his pale neck. With the little gesture done, her hands linger at his jawline as her gaze trails up to study his face.

"Something's the matter, my love?" He raises an eyebrow when she softly brushes her thumbs across his high cheekbones.

A dreamy smile spreads across her face, a distant look in her eyes. Oh, how she adores the lines around his lips when he laughs, the faint mole on his right cheek, the way his silver hair curls delicately over his ears. He once asked for nothing but shallow praise from her; it is as plain as the sky is blue that he's a beautiful man, a creature meticulously groomed to be the very object of everyone's desire. But that's who Cazador made him to be. That's not why she loves him.

"I didn't ever get a chance to tell you..." She begins slowly, as though she is trying to pull herself out of some reverie. "But I'm so sorry, for everything that happened to you. You didn't deserve any of it. I want you to know that you're perfect, just the way you are."

For a moment there, he was getting worried that she might be having second thoughts. But this incredible woman keeps taking his breath away, keeps exceeding even his wildest dreams. Without hesitation, he bends down and swiftly scoops her up in an embrace, holding her tightly against his chest. Bittersweet tears gather in the corners of his eyes, and he buries his face in her hair - during their intimacy, she let her hair fall out of their usual buns and cascade over her shoulder, as dark and silky as the night sky. She smells of lavender and campfire, a bouquet he has committed to memory a million times over. He all but melts against her as she gently places her arms around his shoulders, her fingers ghosting over the upper ridges of his scars to stroke the hair on the back of his neck.

"Thank you," He murmurs, pulling her even closer.

"You never have to thank me," she replies. "I love you."

"I love you, too," he nudges his forehead against hers, grinning like a fool. Precious, unadulterated bliss fills his cold, dead heart for the first time in centuries.

And he could have stayed like that for centuries more, had it not been for the sound of the crypt keeper coming around the corner.

"Come on, lest we get accused of desecrating someone's grave," she whispers, pulling him behind a tree and towards the exit.

"Oh please, it was my grave, and that gives me permission to do whatever I want on it," quips Astarion, even though he follows her back into the walkways of the Lower City. He knows these streets like the back of his hand, knows every out-of-the-way alley and hiding spot, knows exactly where the poor and naive can be found. His accursed brain won't let him forget the faces of those he met in this city, those whose lives his vampiric touch has ruined. Seven thousand in total, all innocents who had the misfortune of falling for him. Guilt threatens to engulf him once more, but the feeling of her fingers entwining with his own guides his attention back to the present.

"It's strange, you know," she looks around as they walk. Her dark brows crease together with a hint of frustration. "Something in me feels like I know this place, but for the life of me, I cannot recall. I try to reach into the darkness of my past but keep coming up empty."

Ah. Nearly everyone who looks into her brain comes to the conclusion that it is damaged beyond repair. Astarion was there when the party had encountered that frightful hack doctor in the Mindflayer colony, back in the Shadow-cursed Lands. Kressa Bonedaughter was her name, the vile wretch that took a bit too much pleasure in retelling how she had operated on his beloved. They couldn't have put that woman down sooner. But they did figure out that the Mindflayers were not behind the damage - she had arrived on the Nautiloid with her mind already in tatters. And from what 'Archduke' Gortash implied, Bhaal's Chosen, Orin might have something to do with all of it.

"If it is what you wish, I will not rest until we have your memories restored," says Astarion, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze.

She is unsure that there is anything to be done, but she is touched by his sincerity all the same. Looking away from her surroundings, she pauses for a moment to think.

"In a way, I don't regret it," she shakes her head, much to his confusion.

"How so?"

"Well... Whatever happened in my past, whatever it was that has landed me here," she explains. "It has led me to you. I wouldn't change that for the world."

"My, my..." he teases, though his lovestruck smile betrays the maddening giddiness that has befallen him upon hearing her words. "Aren't you quite the hopeless romantic?"

"It's the truth..." she mumbles, the tips of her ears growing red from the embarrassment. She begins rushing them towards the Elfsong Tavern before he can make another sly remark.

When they finally make it into the party's rented chambers, they make a beeline for one of the empty bunks. As quietly as two mice in a barn, they slip under the covers. Her body fits against his perfectly, her steady heartbeat luring him to slumber better than any meditative trance. And he knows, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he could go to the Hells and back, battle a gargantuan, all-powerful floating brain, and do damn near everything if it means he gets to spend the rest of his nights just like this.

#astarion x tav #bg3 astarion #astarion #astarion romance #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 oc #bg3 tav #bg3 #bg3 spoilers #astarion ancunin #baldurs gate 3 #astarion x mc #astarion fluff #Spotify #bg3 dark urge #astarion x dark urge

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inevitably-johnlocked · 9 months

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A Breakdown of My Thoughts On Good Omens S2

(That may or may not also be a meta about my predictions for the future interwoven in)

Hey All!

All right, I’ve officially watched Good Omens Season 2 twice, and am almost done my third time through, and I want to put out some thoughts before I start reading other people’s meta about S2 so that my initial thoughts aren’t influenced by those. I was GOING to post it to my GO blog @inevitably-ineffable-husbands first, but decided instead to make the initial post here since this is my largest audience (my GO blog is mostly a reblog blog, but it’s been pretty active the past week with people sending me asks there!).

During my second watch-through, I took some notes about stuff I wanted to expand upon. This got a bit messy, long, and disorganized so I tried to just clean up those notes so they’re more legible. I think I inevitably want to write separate meta about each section, especially after my next few rewatches (AND especially since I want to talk more about 3 or four Big Thoughts that I have about S3).

This meta turned out to be a lengthy essay-style meta with a few bits of point form and free thoughts, broken into sections for easier consumption, so I hope you will give it a read through. It’s longer than I intended (it’s about 5,000 words), so if you need to pause anywhere, I’ve conveniently broken it up into sections below the cut, which you can see the breakdown of here:

Before The Beginning

Crowley is A-Major-Angel Theory (or The Angel That Crowley Might Actually Have Been)

Maggie and Nina (Mirrors. It’s about mirrors)

The Ineffable Bureaucracy (MORE MIRRORS YAY I LOVE DYING!)

Crowley and Aziraphale (& Their Relationship Arc) (which includes my thoughts on THAT moment and why it was wrong)

The Metatron and Aziraphale’s Decision (I actually covered a large chunk of this on THIS POST so you can read just that if you want instead)

Other Things (That I Didn’t Know Where Else to Put)

Final Thoughts

Also, so it’s not hidden under the cut, here are the things I’m interested in expanding upon in the future, if you guys would like to read more. The first one is the only “for sure” one on my plate right now:

A Thought on AziraCrow from an A-Spec Perspective [REDUX]: An expansion on the above-linked meta I put out a week ago about their relationship arc and how I feel it’s being portrayed and what it means foor the future.

THAT Scene Small Thoughts: And its importance RIGHT NOW and why the confession will be so much more powerful in S3. Actually I think I MIGHT cover this in the AziraCrow meta, but I DO want to expand upon the scene anyway regardless.

And I don’t have many things to say as of finishing this meta, but I would like to put out my thoughts on why Aziraphale made That Choice. (EDIT: It would be an expansion on THIS POST which would include some points I made under the cut in the various sections, compiled together. I know I’ll have more thoughts as the weeks move on and as I understand the scene more and more).

Anyway, I hope you enjoy what I’ve written! The next meta I’d like to tackle is the Relationship Redux meta, provided that the asks I got in my inbox aren’t going to take up too much of my time.

Feel free to add your thoughts in the reblogs and replies as usual! I welcome other opinions and thoughts, and I will try my best to keep all the threads together. This blog is and will always remain a community project! :)

PLEASE be advised, in that case, that Spoilers WILL BE in the notes, and OBVIOUSLY there are spoilers below the cut for the entire season! Cheers, and thank you! Enjoy!

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BEFORE THE BEGINNING

I have running theory that’s kind of on strings right now, but I feel like Aziraphale feels responsible for Crowley’s Fall, that he feels he didn’t do enough to help prevent it, which may explain his actions in Episode 6.

Now, I’m not saying that the entire reason he spends so much time with Crowley is because of some underlying guilt, NOT AT ALL (just a small part of it), but more that he feels like he could have done more to dissuade Crowley from asking questions – It’s why he spends their entire lives trying to convince Crowley he is good! Aziraphale loved seeing an angel so happy with what they were doing, and his warnings were making Crowley unhappy. Instead, Aziraphale decided to compliment Crowley on his work to make him smile again. I think it’s absolutely something to note since this scene and the finale of E6 suspiciously bookend each other, meant to be compared and contrasted with each other.

When Azzie is presented with the opportunity to give Crowley back something he loved doing – being happy making galaxies – Aziraphale took it, because he knows how much Crowley struggles with his own sense of self.

Unfortunately, Azzie thinks Crowley’s inner turmoil is because of who he is and his status as a demon, not because Aziraphale is literally his whole raison d’être and why Crowley keeps coming back to him – he’s only ever truly happy being around Aziraphale.

Crowley, in turn, has become Azzie’s own reason for being, he just sadly hasn’t come to that conclusion yet at this point in the story. Aziraphale thinks that by being the Supreme Archangel, he will have the authority to make things RIGHT, not knowing the info that we as an audience have through Crowley that that is FAR from the truth. I’ll go more into it in my Metatron section below.

Basically I’m saying that this sequence at the beginning exists to show who Aziraphale is as a person, an angel who struggles with his OWN sense of self and his desire to do good and make people happy. Aziraphale is so consumed with believing that he can change things if only he has some control over a situation, then it can all be better; he fails to see that he already has everything he wants right in front of him. He doesn’t think he can TRULY be with Crowley safely unless something changes the status quo, and he naïvely thinks that taking the job is the best way to do so. I think next season we will see Aziraphale finally understand that he CAN’T be “free” until he accepts that he and Crowley ARE better as one.

Another note I wanted to make about this is just an aside commentary: Aziraphale ABSOLUTELY was smitten by Crowley. I suspect until he met Crowley, Aziraphale had never seen another angel be so joyous in his work. It intrigued Azzie and blossomed into something-unknown in him.

Azzie was smitten since before the beginning, and that he indeed pines for Crowley. He’s just terrified about what happens After if he were to do anything about it.

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CROWLEY-IS-RAPHAEL THEORY (or another Top-Ranking Angel)

This is one of my favourite theories that circulates in the fandom, and I went into a bit of detail about this on this post here, but I want to expand more upon it briefly (hah).

I think this season further proved Crowley was A Big Angel™ before he Fell (not necessarily Raphael, but it IS the prominent theory about his identity). It’s a Big Point that I think they’ve been planting the seeds for in both seasons so that we as the audience can figure it out; maybe not exactly WHO Crowley was (the general audience wouldn’t know about the theory), more that Crowley was indeed a higher ranking angel than all of them. This could be a big reveal in S3 for the general audience, and will be the reward for the “easter eggs” that the fans picked up on.

Here are the clues that I have so far, both from the fandom theories for S1, and my own observations of S2... I have not read any meta yet as of writing this, so I probably missed some if people are talking about it:

Raphael is notably missing from the main Archangels. It’s very odd, because he was a prominent figure in a story about Abraham

When we first see Crowley in S2, we see him as the primary creator of the universe. That kind of task isn’t given to just any angel. We knew in S1 that Crowley created stars, just not the full story of it.

The only Top Angel who recognizes Crowley is Saraqael and we don’t find that out until Episode 6. They mention that the two worked together during the creation of a nebula. Saraqael is just as old as Crowley and was there Before the Beginning as well. Michael, Uriel, and Gabriel don’t recognize Crowley when they come down during Job’s trials, meaning that Crowley probably Fell before they came to be Top Level Angels.

“A throne, a dominion or ABOVE” is who Muriel said were the only angel classes that could open the file on Gabriel, and Crowley literally just opens it without issue. Crowley faffs it off as an old password (but even then, why would he HAVE an old password for a confidential file?) but I think it’s more true that he actually had and hasn’t lost the clearance he had as a higher order of angel. Muriel NEVER stated that an Archangel can open the file at ALL. BUT I think Gaiman’s Archangels are technically top of the chain so they possibly are able to open the files as well. For shits and giggles, I actually looked into the orders of angels: Muriel’s listed angels are part of the top 4 levels of Angel rankings. Now, I know that the authors took creative liberty with Capital A-Archangels for story purposes, but it’s a very interesting thought, isn’t it? I wonder if Crowley was actually one of the first Supreme Archangels? Just something to nibble on until S3.

The INSANE power level of HALF of a bit of a small miracle from TWO people that can raise 25 dead people is very interesting thing to literally flash red in your face as if to say “THIS IS A REALLY IMPORTANT THING TO REMEMBER, DON’T FORGET IT”. Why? Why make this the catalyst of events in the series if it’s not important and won’t be brought up again? Was Crowley’s power the one that set off alarms in Heaven since his part was to hide Gabe from Heaven?

The writers have deliberately avoided giving us Crowley’s name in Before the Beginning. Crowley has a penchant for changing his name when he wants to distance himself from the past, and there’s a good chance he purposely threw away his Heavenly (dead) name to cast aside any memories of that former life. It’s not who he is anymore, nor who he wants to be ever again.

Crowley constantly references the problems with Heaven, stuff that Aziraphale seems to have no knowledge of.

Crowley has an uncanny sense of where Aziraphale is and what he’s up to at all times. Actually, he’s able to sense trouble from everyone regardless. NOW, this might be down to him just... being so smitten with Aziraphale that perhaps he’s purposely attuned his senses to him, but none of the other angels nor demons seem to be able to do this unless it’s with their own kind. Crowley seems to have it for everyone. This is an odd power for one “measly demon” to have.

I’m certain I’m missing a few other easter eggs here that were mentioned, but in the interim, I think these definitely the ones that are worth noting.

“One Character Split Into Two”

I’ve seen a theory that ties into the Angel Theory where Crowley and Aziraphale are actually two parts of the SAME angel, Raphael, and I only remembered it after I saw this quote from David and Michael’s interview:

“Well, now we’re playing one character that’s sort of split into two”

Interesting choice of words... Did one of them slip up here? I don’t think that this is the case, that it’s just me over-reading into an interview quote, but it is something I did came across in my readings of the Raphael Theory that I thought I should mention.

While trying to find a couple posts to link to for this theory, I came across this super interesting post regarding Aziraphale’s name meaning in Hebrew, and it does list ONE of the “unlikely” possibilities being that it means “Raphael is my strength”. While the author links this to be part of Crowley!Raphael theory, I kind of like it for the Duality Theory, where Crowley IS Azzie’s strength in the sense that he’s the Emotional Support Demon. Crowley IS kind and gentle and protective of Aziraphale. And Azzie, who gets his strength from Raphael Crowley, is the brains (or main single braincell carrier) of the operation.

Kind of like an overly-romantic version of soulmates, literally One Soul split into two people who are meant to find each other again and become whole.

Also, I go back to my point about their power being ASININE at less than half each. WHY IS THIS POSSIBLE? A theory: They are stronger than an Archangel’s miracle together, so it’s not absurd to speculate that it was stronger because it was finally at its full power with the SINGLE soul concocting the miracle.

Anyway, this Duality Theory is probably definitely not the case since we see them both Before the Beginning, BUT we can argue that the scene we saw was their first introduction after being split... Aziraphale just HAPPENS to zoom by, the only single angel in the area? Hmm.

I ALSO just want to say that perhaps when they body-swapped, that may have also activated dormant “together” powers within themselves? Just a little thought I had while writing this section.

Aziraphale is Raphael and Doesn’t Remember

And finally, there’s the theory that they will pull a Shyamalan and reveal that it’s Azzie that’s actually Raphael. I honestly think this is the least likely scenario, given that all the clues they’re putting in the show don’t at all point to this, other than the possible entomology of his name (I read somewhere that Gaiman initially was going to spell it Aziraphael to coincide with the naming conventions of the other Angels) could be a play on the Raphael name and it’s Aziraphale who’s actually the missing Raphael.

I don’t think it’s this at all, for the record. I just wanted to point it out since it is a theory that I’ve seen thrown around linked to the Raphael Theory.

Regardless of which theory it is, I just CANNOT get it out of my head at how often they kept bringing up elements of Crowley’s past, and I just.... mmmm. I know he’s more Important than he lets on. There’s just too many eggs dropped in this season for me to let it go without a bit of grumbling.

Or maybe I’m just looking too much into it. *shrugs* I can’t help it, reading between the lines is a hobby of mine I do so enjoy.

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MAGGIE AND NINA

UGH, I absolutely love character mirrors... I love seeing the parallels of characters and how they’re supposed to represent the protagonists in situations.

Regarding Maggie and Nina, upon rewatching the series, I see now that Nina is primarily Aziraphale’s mirror and Maggie is Crowley’s.

For Maggie, as an expansion on a drunken post during my liveblogging:

She’s smitten (”pathetically in love”) with someone just out of reach, hopelessly pining and watching from afar.

She’s STUPIDLY protective of and adores Mr. Fell and Nina.

She, like Crowley with Aziraphale, attempts to make Nina happy: She gives a record as a gift without thinking about the “after” (Crowley tends to do the same)

She’s stands up to the demons and for herself.

She’s “unloved and unloveable”, which Crowley believes himself to be

She’s the one who thought up the plans to get them out of trouble

For Nina:

Fussy and stuck in her ways

Doesn’t want to disappoint but can’t seem to do right by anyone

“we’re just friends, well, we hardly know each other” (which I believe is a line similar to one Aziraphale said in S1)

Afraid to start a new relationship for fear of not being good enough

Makes their love interest wait and hopes they’ll be there when the time is right (She will be)

Her relationship with Lindsay appears to me to be a parallel for Azzie’s relationship with Heaven, with them being "done” with Aziraphale for one too many indiscretions. Lindsay also accuses Nina of “cheating” which Aziraphale technically does with choosing Crowley over Heaven

Their inevitable NOT match-made is a gentle parallel to the painful NOT match-made by our heroes. There’s a bump in the road, and when they’re both ready, they’ll eventually get together.

Also, another thing I wanted to note here, is that Nina’s VERY heartfelt conversation with Crowley is super, SUPER important to AziraCrow’s arc, and I believe it is the catalyst to why Crowley made the decision to try to confess in Episode 6. Like, he genuinely looks like he’s re-evaluated a few things after Nina walks away. And because it was the Aziraphale mirror stating this, Crowley perhaps starts to get ideas in his head that maybe Azzie is ready to move forward, since “it certainly looks like [you’re a couple from the outside]”. Why not make it official then? Maybe Aziraphale IS just waiting for Crowley to make the move.

Food for thought.

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THE INEFFABLE BUREAUCRACY

I don’t have much to honestly say about this one, other than I am SHOCKED that it only took them 4 years to figure their shit out but our idiots still are at first base after 6000 years. Get your asses moving, idiots!

Seriously though, they’re the biggest pair of mirrors in the season, but funnily enough, I think Gabriel is Crowley’s, and Beez is Azzie’s.

Gabriel, like Crowley to Azzie, introduces human things to Beez.

Gabe questions Heaven and convinces Beez to question their side... essentially he “Falls” when the trial happens, abandoning Heaven.

Gabe throws everything away to be with Beez.

Beez is the one who learns from Gabe, just like Azzie learns from Crowley.

Beez compares themself to Aziraphale: “I imagine he took better care of you than I would have”.

Beez calling Gabe “you silly, silly angel”... Aziraphale called Crowley silly in the first half of the season.

And as an aside, just... the casual “I love you” from Gabe is like an unfiltered Crowley. Because I am certain Crowley will be the first to say it.

That’s just a super simplified version of it all, but just wanted to point it out so y’all can see where I’m coming from on why I think that.

And I REALLY BELIEVE that Aziraphale will repeat this or a similar line to Beez’s in S3:

“I just found something that mattered more to me than choosing sides.”

I think it will be the line before the climax of S3 that Aziraphale says when he finally rejects Heaven. Because that was a POWERFUL line, and it will solidify the mirrors and parallels that are all over this season. I feel like Heaven won’t suffer the same incident happening twice, so we might even finally get to see a ridiculously protective, vengeful angel Aziraphale, to rival all of Protective Crowley moments! WHAT a payoff that would be after two seasons of him just kind of sitting idly by not standing up for himself, eh?? GOD I want it.

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CROWLEY AND AZIRAPHALE (& THEIR RELATIONSHIP ARC)

I have just a few notes to immediately take away from S2, but I do plan on expanding more upon these thoughts in my Revision of my A Thought on AziraCrow from an A-Spec Perspective meta I wrote prior to S2.

In that meta I state very clearly how important their relationship and its portrayal is to me. I do concede that, because of this fact, I may be biased in my opinions about literally the entirety of S2′s relationship arc. I ADORE Aziraphale and I really see a lot of myself in him, and I can understand why he did what he did at the end, and why the “rejection” happened. But again, I will touch upon that with the revision meta.

Instead, I took some additional notes while I watched and rewatched S2 that I don’t think I can fit well into that meta without ham-fisting it in. I’ll try my best to break it into yummier sections so it’s not so messy.

Protective / Jealous Crowley (and his possible PTSD)

This point deserved its own little section, because it’s one of my favourite things this season. I love just how BLATANTLY PROTECTIVE and JEALOUS Crowley was, to the point of being near-murderous. I LOVE the confrontation scene with Gabriel so much, because it’s SO revealing to just how terrified Crowley is of Aziraphale being hurt and not being in Crowley’s life again.

I imagine he constantly replays the fire in his head: what if Crowley WASN’T there to save Aziraphale that time??? To step into fire for him??? He’s seen how bad No-Azzie would be with the Bookshop Fire, and I think he STILL believes that it was Hellfire that discorporated Azzie (not the accidental summoning circle). So imagine the psyche of a demon who is hopelessly in love with an angel, having to be face to face with the fire that he believes killed Azzie the first time and THEN have Azzie’s boss basically tell Crowley how little he thinks of Aziraphale? Ooof.

And I also will standby the fanon theory that it was Crowley who left all the fire extinguishers in the bookshop, and not Aziraphale. Bless Azzie, he knows that this is a “New Fear Unlocked” in Crowley and lets him do it to ease the anxiety.

And isn’t it funny that Crowley (aside from the 2 year lockdown) seems to have spent every waking moment keeping a steady eye on Aziraphale? He’s scared, which is why I think he might have some PTSD related to everything he’s seen that Aziraphale is blissfully unaware of.

Their Arc and The Kiss

It’s so clear to me now more than before that Aziraphale IS Crowley’s whole life, to the point of obsession. I think the final arc that Crowley has to go through before he can truly be with Aziraphale proper is learning to let Aziraphale also protect him, to loosen the stranglehold that his fear of loss has on him. That Crowley doesn’t have to shoulder everything by himself and be Aziraphale’s shadow. Because that’s what he is in S2 – a lot of scenes of them together in the modern day is Crowley trailing just slightly behind Azzie, always watching and waiting for trouble and being there for him.

I think Crowley has a genuine fear of loss of control similar to Aziraphale’s. Where Azzie’s is related to “well if I can do this thing then everything will be alright”, Crowley’s is “well if I can just keep Aziraphale safe, then everything will be alright” and that’s... not a good foundation for a relationship. Their Big Breakup had to happen for them to both realize this.

Aziraphale has NOT gone through his “lost my partner” arc like Crowley has with the bookshop fire. I go more into it in the Metatron section, but I think that Azzie’s arc will look more like Crowley being used as a leverage tool against Azzie by Heaven, and those seeds were planted in the final moments of E6. Perhaps something DOES happen when Crowley inevitably comes to his rescue, and he also “loses Crowley for good” (but we know that the totally-made-up-just-now law of parallels will bring him back, we hope).

They’re currently at the Miscommunication and Separation stage of their relationship. They’re both so scared of hurting each other that they DON’T communicate... they DON’T expose each other to “bad things” that they know and instead just focus on the good. The breakup had to happen the way it did for Aziraphale to finally Get A Clue – because I honestly don’t think he realized Crowley loved him until the kiss – and that Azzie himself wasn’t the only one with a crush on his best friend. It had to happen that way for Crowley to understand that his overprotectiveness and lying by omission only harms Aziraphale in the long run.

Listen, I think it’s possible that Azzie thinks that Crowley only did the kiss because he didn’t want Aziraphale to leave at that moment, just another “Crowley thing” that he would do. It was piss-poor timing that was at the tail end of too many emotions and anger, and it’s easy to see how Azzie could have interpreted the kiss wrong.

They both expressed wanting to be together, but misunderstandings will ensue because neither of them are good at communicating WHAT exactly "being together” entails. Crowley thinks Azzie means “working together side by side for a shitty company”. Aziraphale thinks Crowley means “just doing what we always do and having fun doing it”, both without shifting the status quo, when in fact they both mean “I can’t see myself with anyone but you and I want you forever in any way we can be, let’s please shift the status quo”.

Then Crowley made the situation worse (though I do think he was VERY brave in doing it because WE the audience know his intentions are true and honest) by adding a kiss into the mix when they’re both upset and angry at each other. Both are left crying (Aziraphale turns around when the Metatron arrives, and there’s NO reason he should unless it’s to wipe his eyes. And Crowley deliberately put his glasses back on, so I think it was to cover up the tears) and no one gets what they truly want.

I think we’ll get a payoff for this next season, when they’re finally BOTH on the same page and NOT misunderstanding each other. I think there will be a “did you mean it?” from Aziraphale, and then a verbalized “I love you (or a variation of those words)” from Crowley, and then the paralleled line of “our side” I mentioned in the Gabe & Beez section. I think there will be a better, more satisfying kiss next season. I really do have faith about that.

Other AziraCrow Things

I saw a meme that put it best: “Aziraphale fell first, but Crowley fell HARDER”. I think Crowley is more comfortable in his pining because he’s not constrained by the same hangups and “obligations” that Aziraphale has. Aziraphale is worried that it’s “sinful” to love a demon.

I mentioned this before in the Raphael section, but I want to reiterate the point about The Miracle, because it’s SUPER important that this was a big plot point. The fact that it was so strong for something apparently so minuscule according to them proves that they are better together, and now that Heaven is aware that their powers combined to create that miracle, they absolutely want to keep the two of them apart. They suddenly became very aware that Aziraphale and Crowley are RIDICULOUSLY stronger together, because if a tiny miracle can set off alarms in Heaven, what can two full miracles combined create? I feel like this is a BIG Chekov’s gun for S3.

I think a large part about why Crowley is offended by Aziraphale’s acceptance of the job offer is because Crowley is upset that he’s not enough for Aziraphale, especially when he rejected Beez’s offer for Aziraphale. His voice shakes when he asked what Aziraphale did. He’s hurt.

THE TOUCHING in this season is insane. It’s so casual and it’s EVERYWHERE. Their relationship, when it’s finally actualized, is going to be heart wrenching in a good way, the “good sort of hurt”. I truly do believe AziraCrow is endgame.

It amuses me to no end that the fact that these two idiots and their one braincell think that they can make a human relationship work when they’ve been mutually pining over each other for 6,000+ years with very little progress. And good lord, they both take their advice from fiction. It’s hilarious.

Aziraphale’s unending faith in Crowley’s “goodness” also kills me. I love that Crowley actually never wants to kill anything, he’s literally just trying to get by without getting caught, and he always gently encourages Aziraphale to do the same. He cares so much about being gentle with Aziraphale. The scene on the rock where Crowley is SO SOFT with Aziraphale melted my heart. It’s so sweet.

I LOVE that it was CROWLEY who got Aziraphale into food and drinks. It explains a LOT about why Crowley likes watching Aziraphale eat. HE did that. It was his first “gift” to Aziraphale (to his knowledge at this stage, when really it was Crowley’s smile at making the universe that really did it).

Crowley’s devotion to making Aziraphale happy while Azzie is just oblivious to how Crowley feels hurts a LOT, but I want to expand more upon this in my followup reblog to my relationship meta. I see myself SO MUCH in Azzie it’s goddamned scary.

Actually, I don’t think Aziraphale is oblivious to be mean, since he makes a point that “rescuing me makes him so happy”, BUT I think Aziraphale might misinterpret Crowley’s devotion as “Crowley wanting to do good” and not “omg he’s in love with me and wants me safe always”. Which I think is why Azzie is naïve enough to believe that Crowley actually WANTS to do good and not get in trouble for it, so thinks that Crowley will jump at the chance to go back to Heaven with him. Aziraphale always saw the rescues and the saving of children and animals on the same level – as a demon fighting against his nature – when in reality it’s a demon who just does what he wants because he cares about everything and Aziraphale happens to be at the top of that list.

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THE METATRON and AZIRAPHALE’S DECISION

This section will be short since I actually covered a large chunk of it in my Manipulation of the Metatron Meta Reply a couple days ago, so please go read that if you’re interested. The shortened, summarized version of that is this:

The Metatron is playing Aziraphale, and he’s only using Aziraphale to bring about Armageddon 2.0, using Aziraphale’s desire to be needed and useful against him. Azzie DIDN’T see what Crowley saw in Heaven when he accessed the files and I don’t think he knows about the Book of Life Threat that was the punishment for harbouring Gabriel, either. Only Crowley knew about that, but didn’t tell Azzie (again, a huge problem in their communication that needs to be worked out).

Heaven and the Metatron KNOW that Crowley is a liability and I suspect they also know how powerful they are together. They needed to drive a wedge between them, and knew Aziraphale was pure-hearted enough to believe that he could make a difference, AND that Crowley would never take up the offer that was presented given his vocal disdain for both Heaven and Hell.

And they chose Aziraphale as opposed to the other angels because the angels actually lust for the power, and that can be unpredictable. But because Azzie has ALWAYS only wanted to do Good with no ulterior motives other than to Make Everything Better, he is easier to manipulate. Crowley is the bargaining chip that will be used against Azzie if he attempts to go rogue like Gabe, that I am pretty certain about. I think that Azzie will find out about the Book of Life because they’ll place blame on Crowley for harbouring Gabriel. Aziraphale has no idea that Gabriel really didn’t have any power. The minute Gabe turned against them, a trial and ousting happened. Aziraphale got himself into a no-win situation, and upon discovering this, he’ll believe that, because he rejected Crowley, Crowley won’t come to save him this time, so to save Crowley, Azzie will go along with the plan. Crowley’s life will literally be in Aziraphale’s hands.

I’ve no idea how Crowley will find out about it (from Muriel maybe?), but Crowley’s POV will be the primary focus next season (since this season was Azzie’s) and we’re gonna see a vengeful demon and I’m here for it. Will there be a dramatic rescue or sacrifice? I think so. Not sure who the whump candle will go to, but my bet is on Crowley this time since we got Aziraphale in S1. Who knows. I’m all for “Aziraphale is hurt, so now Crowley goes feral”, but that’s a personal preference that I can get from fanfics, LOL.

Anyway, the long-short is that this job will be the wake-up call Azzie needs to finally see what Crowley saw, without the manipulation of words to confuse him. That Azzie can’t just “make things better” because he will never be allowed to make things better. As a Supreme Archangel, he will have the clearance and ability to find out everything Crowley did. Unfortunately, it will be too late... or will it? ...

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OTHER THINGS ON MY MIND (that I didn’t know where else to put)

Aziraphale NEVER FELL because they didn’t want it to look like an Institutional Problem. I even hazard a guess that NO angel has ever Fell since the Initial and Only Fall that sent Satan, Crowley and the other demons down. But Aziraphale doesn’t know that and I suspect that it’s this constant fear of Falling that keeps him complacent to Heaven. He’ll find out how they’ve really been dealing with problems when he’s in his new position.

And I think Azzie also never fell because Crowley made a point to never ever snitch. He knows they would eat him alive in Hell, so he protects Azzie from that as well.

I love that the Bentley clearly has a favourite and it isn’t Crowley!!! The car literally tries to follow Aziraphale. It’s so cute.

And on the subject of the Bentley... Crowley can feel everything going on with his car?? So like... is that a metaphor for Aziraphale being inside Crowley or.....? hee hee heeeeeee.

I loved that David got to use his natural accent in the Edinburgh scenes. IT’S SO PRECIOUS OMG.

And and and while Crowley was high off his rocker, he clearly says “Where are you??? 😢” and Aziraphale had to reassure him that he was there. So sweet.

Aziraphale and his inability to do literally anything humans do “the normal way” (mobile phone use, be a “newspaper man”, properly drive, learn French properly) while turning around and lowkey mocking Muriel is... something else. What a hypocritical dork.

The realization that they have a WHOLE-ASSED apology dance hit me like a tonne of bricks, and we KNOW it’s coming back in S3. There needs to be an entire cabaret from Azzie this time ‘round, LOL.

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FINAL THOUGHTS

I adored season two, more than season one for sure, and I loved that it built up upon the AziraCrow relationship. It was an interlude that lets us know that they’re sort of in a rut, stuck in a status quo that both are afraid of changing, and that they both need a catalyst event to happen to truly be together.

I remain more hopeful and certain for a satisfying conclusion to their arc than I ever have before. Which is saying a lot because privately, after Sherlock S4, I kind of was ready to not put my faith in another show to canonize a ship I love ever again.

But there’s a huge difference between this finale and Sherlock S4′s finale: GO S2 DOESN’T feel complete, and Neil wants to finish the story. I went into more detail about it on this post here, but essentially it boils down to S4 left me feeling hollow and empty because its 4th season felt so detached from what we already saw. It felt like the closing of a book with the wrong pages in it, with no confirmation in sight of concluding the series proper with the S5 they’ve been promising for years. GOS2, on the other hand, left us feeling like everything’s WRONG but in the right way, you know what I mean? Like there is a part two to this saga to be completed. And that Neil himself seems determined to finish the story regardless of what happens.

I like to think that both Michael and David know what Gaiman plans for the endgame of their characters, given that Gaiman HAS said he does “have the final fifteen pages of Episode 6 [...] written. Given what we got in S2 with The Kiss, and Michael and David’s adoration for this story and its characters, I am hopeful that Neil entrusted them with what he wants for AziraCrow. They in turn play those characters better for it.

So yeah, maybe I’m just putting clown shoes back on with this one, but I will remain... optimistically skeptical. Like, I REALLY want and believe that AziraCrow is endgame, that the Husbands will be actual husbands, but I also will remain skeptical that it can happen and not be upset if it doesn’t. I got a kiss (a terrible one, but a kiss nonetheless). I got a tonne of touching. I got them dancing together. I think that’s more than we ever could have hoped for, and it’s already leagues above what I am used to.

To conclude, here are some more questions, thoughts, and hopes for S3:

There are SO many “Chekov gun” moments in play in S2 currently, little things that really seem so pointless to have introduced (like the apology dance) and I am TRULY hoping that it’s true that Gaiman didn’t put things in this series unless it’s important later. I feel it will all come back around. Where S1 had open and closed plot points, S2 did NOT.

Why was Crowley able to get into Heaven without any issue? Is THIS part of the Ineffable Plan? Why does Crowley not want anyone to know who he was before the Fall? It’s clear Crowley POSSIBLY knows more than he lets on about Everything. I think he was at one time the Supreme Archangel... Gabriel’s banishment could foreshadow this, given that Gabe is deliberately used as a Crowley mirror in this season.

I hope for a stupidly emotional, makes-me-sob-fat-tears, reunion, confession and acceptance of each other. Oh, and of course, the infamous cottage in Sussex we all hope for. I am a SUCKER for emotional beats and I CRAVE it.

Oh, and a HUGE apology dance from Aziraphale. You introduced that shit, I want to see Azzie go all out in return.

I think Crowley will be the first one to confess verbally. The Gabriel mirror kind of sealed that for me.

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FINALLY, that’s that! Thank you for reading all the way through, if you did. Again, as I alluded to in my introduction, I may expand upon a few sections of this meta on other posts in the upcoming weeks as I catch more and more things, and start integrating other people’s meta into my own theories.

Apologies for any errors in this, it took me nearly 2 days to write and a very tired couple proofreads through it to clean up hanging text.

I hope you enjoyed my foray back into meta-writing, and please, do not hesitate to send me an ask to either of my blogs if you wish for me to expand more on a topic.

Cheers, and good day 💙🖤

#good omens #good omens s2 #spoilers #go spoilers #good omens meta #my meta #long post #go all seasons

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makethatelevenrings · 10 months

Text

Somewhere Only We Know - FOUR

Chapter Warning: swearing, spoilers for 2x03, mediocre writing

Series Masterlist

“Fucking hell,” you grunted as you tried to balance a camera bag, your work bag, and the box of treats in your hand while simultaneously attempting to lock your car door. Glancing over your shoulder, you realized with dismay that after succeeding at this, you would somehow have to open the door to the training facility.

“Oi, babes, let me get that for you,” Keeley, your hero and savior, called. She exited her own car and took the large box out of your hands which considerably lightened the load on your arms.

“Y’know, if you needed me to kill someone, I would do it without question,” you gasped out as you finally locked the door to your car. She grinned and bumped her shoulder against yours.

“Good to know. I’ll keep that in mind. What’s today’s treat?”

“Blueberry and strawberry muffins. Blue and red, like Richmond’s colors.”

“Fucking brilliant. Have I told you that yet? You’re fucking brilliant.”

“You’re just trying to butter me up for more sweets.”

Keeley batted her lashes at you and shrugged. “I might be, but I’m not lying. I wouldn’t be opposed to some brandy snaps if you ever make those.”

You chuckled. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

Keeley led the way to the locker rooms through the maze of halls. The blonde announced herself with a loud “knock, knock” before she pushed her way in. You set your camera bag and work bag down so you could take the box and free up her hands.

“Sam, I think I have something you might want to see,” Keeley exclaimed. “You want to look at your photos from the Dubai Air shoot?”

He had taken the photos a few weeks ago and they had the edits done in no time, giving you and Keeley a chance to come up with a few ideas on how to promote it.

“Ooo, yes please. I am very nervous, but also very excited. That’s similar to whenever Colin drives me anywhere in his Lamborghini.”

“Ah, it’s true. It’s way too much car for me,” Colin agreed. Having witnessed him trying to back out of a parking space yesterday, you knew it to be true. The boys gathered around to look at the photo and, of course, they all started ribbing him. In the short time you worked here, you quickly learned that these boys cared deeply for one another but didn’t hesitate to tease them endlessly. Despite the fact that you were still unsure about your place at AFC Richmond, you were warming up to them and, in turn, added onto the teasing when you had the chance.

“Sam, how does it feel to be the new face of teenage vandalism?”

“It’s remarkable. I feel honored,” he jested in earnest.

“Bro, why are you wearing your kit on the plane?” Bumbercatch added.

“It’s the only way they know he’s a footballer.” Jamie Tartt’s insufferable voice piped up above the crowd. Every head turned towards him, including yours. From what Colin had told you, Jamie hadn’t been the kindest guy in the locker room and it certainly seemed as though he had it out for Sam. Probably because Sam was a damn good player and Jamie was, well, an insecure twat.

His face fell and he recognized that his joke didn’t land. It’s hard to land a joke if all you were known for was cruelty. Hefting up the box in your hand, you lifted the lid to display the muffins inside to the boys.

“A little Richmond treat,” you announced before slamming the lid down before Jan Maas could grab one. “That you will receive after practice because there is no way in hell I’m being blamed for you all puking on the pitch.”

“But…” Bumbercatch whined.

“No.” You were firm but your eyes glinted with humor. “If you puke, you owe me a hundred. Do you want to be indebted to me?”

“No, ma’am,” they mumbled and began to disperse. You headed into the office to give Beard a muffin and to also store the box away until after practice. Keeley instructed the boys on joining Bantr as you placed a muffin on his desk.

“Your blueberry muffin,” you announced.

“I could kill a man for your food,” he replied, practically pouncing on the treat.

“I’m…not sure if that’s a joke or not.” But you thanked him nonetheless and tucked your box into the hiding place Beard made for you with the promise that he got first dibs. You walked back out into the locker room just in time to see Jamie fucking Tartt standing up and opening his big mouth. Oh, this had to be good. You leaned against the doorframe to the office and watched him put his proverbial foot in his mouth.

“I know I wasn’t the greatest teammate. I did some shitty things. I said some shitty things. But I want each and every one of you to know that I’m truly sorry and I’m ready to do whatever it takes to make it up to ya. Yeah?.” Was this some kind of Twilight Zone? Or was Jamie Tartt actually apologizing for his behavior?

Silence met his declaration and you almost started to feel bad for the guy when Colin piped up.

“You called me a jaundiced worm.”

“Right, yeah. I’m sorry about that, Colin.”

“In a profile for my hometown paper.” You held back the snort of laughter that threatened to escape you. Sure, Colin was probably the closest friend you’ve made on the team next to Keeley, but jaundiced worm was kind of funny.

“You hit on my mum,” Bumbercatch interjected. “In front of my dad.”

“I apologize for that, Bumbercatch. Please tell your father I’m sorry. And give Janice me best, yeah?”

You muffled your laugh into your hand and turned so your back was to the team. Christ, that was funny as hell. The room descended into shouts, both French and English, as everyone tore into Jamie. Hell, you did start to feel bad for the guy. But he asked for this.

Ted directed the team to go outside for practice and you pushed off the wall, intent on following so you could get some good shots for the various social media platforms. Grabbing your bags, you sidled up next to Colin.

“A jaundiced worm?” you choked out through a laugh. “I’m sorry. It’s not funny. It’s a creative insult, though.”

“My da thought it was next to the funniest thing he’s heard since Thatcher croaked,” he complained.

You patted his shoulder. “Don’t worry, if you were a worm, I’d still be your friend.”

A sniffle from behind you drew your attention to Dani who wiped a tear away. “That was a beautiful thing to say.”

That set off another round of laughter but this time Colin joined in. At least you were able to make him laugh after all the chaos. Practice wasn’t bitterly cold this week, but you were still bundled up in a jacket, gloves, and a Richmond beanie. You wished bitterly that you had a hot coffee or tea right now, but you knew they would be waiting for you back in your office. Fumbling with your camera, you tried to keep your fingers from growing stiff from the cold. Your focus was on the screen in front of you to see if you had enough photos from today so you could go inside.

That’s when you heard someone shout your name.

Your head snapped up just in time to see a ball flying towards you. With a yelp, you ducked and it slammed into the wall behind you before bouncing back and hitting your legs. It stung but it wasn’t as bad as a direct hit.

“Are you alright?” Sam exclaimed as he jogged over. You scooped up the ball and tossed it towards him. He caught it easily, but didn’t leave. This team was full of softies.

“I’m fine, Sam. Truly. I guess that’s a sign I should head in and start editing these.” You lifted your camera with a shrug and then bent down to pick up your bags. Before you straightened up, another voice joined Sam’s.

“I am so, so sorry,” Jamie Tartt apologized. “The ball just got away from me and I put too much power behind it and-”

“It’s not a big deal. No harm, no foul, right? I’m fine. Seriously.”

Sam shot Jamie a dirty look but you didn’t want that. You didn’t want the boys blaming Jamie for a genuine accident. You knew that standing on the edge of the pitch was always a risk. And you hadn’t been paying attention. That was your fault, not his.

“Go practice before Nate blows his whistle,” you said. Maybe you could go get some work done at the cafe Keeley introduced you to. That would get you away from the prying eyes and constant questions. As much as you appreciated working at Richmond, you weren’t the kind of person who would delve their entire being into their work. Everyone here seemed intent on being close-knit and connected. You were just the girl that posted shit on Twitter.

Keeley approved your idea of working at the cafe and reminded you that you didn’t need to constantly update her on your whereabouts. She was a very chill boss and if you kept delivering quality content, she really didn’t care where you got your work done. That found you at a small table tucked into the corner with your laptop in front of you and a half-drunk vanilla latte clasped between your hands. Steam curled off the top of the mug and you inhaled it, drunk on the heady scent of coffee and the warmth it provided.

You were so engrossed in your work that the plate being laid in front of you made you nearly jump out of your skin. Heather, one of the baristas, grinned at your surprise but apologized.

“I didn’t order this,” you protested.

“I know,” she retorted and jabbed her thumb over her shoulder. “He did.”

Jamie Tartt stood at the counter with a to-go cup dangling in his hands and a sheepish smile on his lips. He had some stupid baseball cap on his head that proclaimed him as an ICON and his flashy clothes made you roll your eyes but you gestured for him to join you.

“I just wanted to apologize for almost hitting ya,” he explained. “And I figured you like pastries and stuff so…yeah.”

“Sit down if you’d like,” you offered. He fidgeted for a moment before accepting your offer and sitting across from you. “I’ve been meaning to set up a meeting with you, to be honest.”

“With me? What’d I do? Don’t tell me the jacuzzi pictures are back.”

You suppressed the urge to roll your eyes once more and sighed. “No, I meet with everyone to discuss their social media presence, goals, and management they might work with. It’s to make sure I can cater to you all while building a steady presence.”

He sat back, his eyebrows raised, and nodded. “That…is smart. I’ve got a manager but, I don’t know, I’m not really sure he’s helping me.”

“Is he the one that convinced you to do a reality show?” You hid the disdain over that choice well because he clearly didn’t notice.

“Nah, that was all me. I won’t be doing that again, by the way. I don’t really have any goals, yeah? Nothing for the socials, that is. I should but…” He shrugged. “Gotta figure out what I’m doing with the team first.”

The day’s events flashed through your mind, from him being absolutely demolished in the locker room to the boys ignoring him on the pitch. Jamie looked genuinely defeated by today. His shoulders curved in, giving him the appearance of a boy protecting himself against the world. Something told you that it was a familiar position for him to be in.

“Have you ever considered that the team needs to see you be part of them rather than just hear apologies and see no change?” As you spoke, you unwrapped the muffin and cut it in half before putting one half on the wrapper and placing it in front of you and pushing the plate with the other half in front of him. Jamie opened his mouth to refuse, but you merely raised an eyebrow. He gratefully broke off a piece and ate it, chewing on the sweet as though he was chewing on your words.

“I dunno. I don’t think they’ll ever see me as anything but the twat I was.”

“Then make them see.”

Doubt painted his features, but you weren’t going to entertain his insecurities right now. Instead, you flipped your laptop around and showed him the photo you were editing. “Got any caption ideas for this?”

The two of you sat in the small cafe for nearly three hours, drawing up ideas for posts and analyzing pictures. Jamie was a genuinely funny person when he wasn’t insulting someone and you found yourself laughing at his quips more than you expected.

By the time you realized the sun had set, it was well past the time you normally get home. “Shit, I better get home. I need to prepare stuff for my other job.”

Jamie silently stood as you packed up all your stuff. You expected him to just say his goodbyes and leave you there, but he surprised you once more. He carried the dishes up to the counter and then doubled back to help carry your camera bag and laptop case, leaving you with just your purse.

“It’s dark. I’ll walk you to your car,” he explained.

“Thank you.” He acknowledged your thanks with a dip of his chin and then followed you outside into the cold winter air. You really needed to pull out your bigger coat because it was just going to get colder. Your teeth were chattering by the time you reached your car parked on the street. Jamie stowed your bags in the passenger seat and then he stepped back from your car and shoved his hands in the pockets of his hoodie.

“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said. You couldn’t stop the small smile from slipping across your lips.

“Yeah. Have a good night, Jamie.”

He waited until you were in the driver's seat before he walked off in search of his own vehicle. Cranking the heat on high, you took a moment to relax back against the soft fabric of your car seat and exhale a deep breath.

Maybe Jamie Tartt wasn’t the twat you thought he was.

Maybe, just maybe, you should practice what you preach and give him a chance to show you that he’s changed.

Tag List: @shiptheship @teigo-the-explorer @geeksareunique @queenofthekill @actuallybarb @for-fucks-sake-im-alive @maggiecc @alipap3

#jamie tartt fanfic #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt series #ted lasso fanfic #somewhereverse #jamie tartt #jamie tartt x reader

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skyeslittlecorner · 3 months

Text

Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Hell~

After all this time, maybe I should finally introduce myself. Skye here, an overworked college student who came here just to scream into space about sexy demons. Ah, and writer. In my free time I write fanfiction and other little things because I want to get rid of my shyness and learn to write in English a little bit. Brief proofreading, mostly I put whatever is in my mind on paper. Keyboard. Oh, you know. Despite everything, I try to write for you as best as I can. Except I can't, but I'm working on it.

About blog

As you can see, the blog is dedicated to What in "Hell" is Bad? game. The game itself is 18+, as is this blog, so please include age information in your bio. Also, this place is not spoiler-free, although I always clearly warn about them and place below the cut.

What can you mainly expect here?

🧡 Fanfics, both longer stories and short headcannons

🧡 Lore and characters analysis

🧡 Thoughts or shortcuts from events and the main story

🧡 Admiration for Andrealphus out of the blue shh i'm not obsessed-

🧡 I don't repost much, if I do it's mostly other people's art

Asks and requests

Status: CLOSED

If you want to talk or ask anything, go ahead! DM or askbox, do as you please. The mailbox may be closed for requests, but it is always open if you just want to chat.

🧡 Simple headcanons and scenarios - up to 4 days

🧡 Longer scenarios or for more characters - 5-6 days

🧡 Legit fanfics (usually ~800-1200 words) - 7-10 days

Currently in queue: 38 I post replies to one or two requests each day. Not doing it in order because some of them require more work, but this way you can approximately know when I will post the answer.

Of course, the time may vary depending on my private matters, but I will keep you updated. Any changes will be in this post so you don't have to search a lot between other things.

UPDATE (25.03.2024)

Ahem, as you see... the queue is quite long. I'm asking for patience in advance, but I promise that every request will be answered.

Since I also write competition fics and Easter is coming, waiting for your request may take over a month (!)

Masterlist

WHB Mc Shuffle!

🧡 Rules

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#whb #what in hell is bad #introductory post #masterlist #skye's note

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yeagerfate · 11 months

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what their hugs feel like.

pairings: eren, jean, armin, reiner

genre: angsty hurt/comfort

warnings: panic attack (in eren's), jean has to relocate reader’s shoulder, reader walks in on reiner when he’s about to shoot himself (sorry), i love them, you can tell jean and eren and reiner are my fav aot boys (i love them soooooo much mwah mwah), s4 spoilers in reiner's, s1 spoilers in jean’s, can you tell i wrote jean's, reiner’s and armin’s way after i wrote eren's. anyways reiner makes me so sad i want to hug him :( he is so

note: hi, this is my first post on tumblr! i am so excited to post some of my ideas on here. currently, my requests are open. if you have any ideas, let me know! reiner’s is by far my fav out off all of these and i really don’t like armin’s lol, i don’t have a beta reader so i tried to proof read this but idk if it worked, also my top 3: eren, ymir, and reiner/jean i can't choose. is this bad please tell me this isn't bad

EREN:

Eren's hugs are determined yet soft.

All he wanted to do in that moment was make you feel safe; an expedition had just ended. You were shaken from the titans you'd seen, eating innocent soldiers who were just doing their jobs

"It’s fine," Eren murmured to you as he held your hands tightly to ground you. It wasn’t fine, and he knew that, but he still told you it anyway. He just wanted you to stop being so terror-stricken

Your hands were shaking, your eyes were darting around like you were looking for a titan to come get you, and you were breathing heavily

"N-no it isn't," You replied, your voice small. "You don't understand, Eren. Those people-"

He had cut you off when he pulled you into a warm hug. "Shh. It’s okay,” He whispered. "We’re okay now, I won't let anything happen to you."

His embrace was welcoming and comforting, and for a moment you'd almost forgotten about what you'd just seen

Your face was hidden in the crook of his neck as you began to calm down. Eren slightly turned his head to the side to kiss your cheek sweetly, his eyes closing as he comforted you silently. His hand went up to cup the back of your head, and he began to rub his hand back and forth as you sobbed quietly

His free hand was drawing circles on your back. Your arms, however, were wrapped around his neck desperately

"You’re my girl," Eren whispers. "I promise I’ll keep you safe."

JEAN

Jean’s hugs are warm and tight. I imagine he has a firm handshake too but that’s off topic lol

During the Battle of Trost, You ran out of fuel for your ODM gear and had to make a run for it while a titan was coming at you. (Though you were saved by a strange, mysterious titan with long brown hair and green eyes. You thought he had a striking similarity to Eren but would never say such a thing out loud especially since you knew how much he hated the titans. Later on you found out you were right though. He does have titan powers!)

While you were trying to get away you’d dislocated your shoulder. Because you’d taken health classes during training, you’d immediately realized what had happened, and a terrible sense of dread ran down your spine. You really didn’t wanna deal with the pain of someone relocating your shoulder

Once you’d found Jean, your best friend who you had a huge crush on, You told him what had happened

His face dropped

“Please, I need you to fix it for me. I don’t want to let some random nurse do it in an uncomfortable, smelly tent after this is over. It hurts so bad, please, jean,” You begged. Nurses and doctors already gave you a lot of anxiety when you were a kid, and now that you were in a life-threatening situation it was even worse

“Okay,” He replied. “Okay, okay, okay…” He muttered to himself, and took a deep breath. He was extremely scared he somehow wouldn’t do it right despite his first-aid training and would hurt you even more

It seemed as soon as he started he finished, but it was the worst pain you’d ever felt in your entire life

You screamed in agony and discomfort, and even though you only dislocated your shoulder, it felt like your entire body was aching

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” He cried out. He immediately pulled you into a hug, wrapping his arms around your back and pulling you in

Tears streamed down your smoke and bloodstained face, and everything felt so overwhelming. You were just glad Jean had done it for you and not some stranger

“Holy shit, fuck, fuck, fuck, that hurt like a son of a bitch,” You gasped out. Your voice was hoarse from all the screaming

And a couple days later, when you finished truly recovering and you finally had time to think about what happened, a small blush had risen to your cheeks, thinking about the way your bestfriend had helped you.

Maybe, you did have a chance…

ARMIN

Armin's hugs are soft and sweet. They’re laced with love

Armin had been completely humiliated in combat training today. Shadis had partnered him up with Marco, one of the worst fighters in the 104th, and yet he still couldn't hold his ground.

He was so embarrassed he didn't even show up to dinner, which made you, Mikasa, and Eren even more concerned. Marco felt horrible

So, you decided to sneak into the boy's dorms. No one else was even there anyway, and you'd never really gotten in trouble before, so you weren't afraid of Shadis

"Armin," You called out, but your voice was cautious. You didn’t want him to be caught off guard

As you walked to his bed, your heart broke. Armin looked like he was both famished and in complete despair. His knees were tucked to his chest and tears spilled out of his baby blue eyes. His blonde hair was messy and knotty, and you could tell he was stressed. You sat next to him and the bed creaked obnoxiously

"How am I supposed to make it if I can't even do good in combat training? It’s so basic, I’m not gonna make it if I can't get better. what am I gonna do? I don't wanna be shipped off to the fields. I-“

"Armin, honey," You cooed, and placed your warm hand on his shoulder. You guided his head to lay on you. "You underestimate yourself. Who cares if you're not as good at combat training? We’re fighting titans, not people. You excel in the education part of training, and you're respected by your peers. I am so proud of you, Armin. I know you will succeed. and if you get shipped off, I’m going too."

Armin sniffled, and as he looked up at the confident look on your face, he knew that you were right. He pulled you in for a hug, and hid his face in your neck.

"Eren’s worried about you. He says he'll beat Marco up if you want him too!"

"NO!"

REINER

Reiner’s hugs are desperate and hesitant. It’s strange for him to receive affection after everything he’s been through

One day, you decided you wanted to surprise Reiner at work. You could tell something was off with your husband but you couldn’t quite tell what it was; you wanted to cheer him up

You didn’t even think of knocking. You visited him so much nowadays that it was an afterthought. And thank the Lord it was

The sight before you was horrifying. You opened your mouth, but not a sound came out. As soon as Reiner saw you enter his office, he freaked the fuck out

He dropped the gun, watching as it made a loud clatter on the wooden floor. His eyes were wide and his sweaty hands were shaking. He looked almost fearful; like the little boy he once used to be… the one who would get screamed at during training because he was so weak

“What… is this?” You dropped the cookies you had made specially for him, but you didn’t care. Suddenly, you were breathing heavily, and if you blinked one more time tears would fall. Your vision was blurry, and the entire room looked shaky.

“What are you doing? Honey… Reiner, please, please don’t leave me. I need you here, please, Rei, stay, stay,” You pleaded, and suddenly your arms were wrapped tightly around him, his face hidden by your stomach. He was still sitting in his chair, completely in shock

You were hyperventilating, shaking, and were about to throw up. What happened? Your sweet Reiner was going to do this to himself? You thought everything had been going good… had you not been paying enough attention to him?

A thousand thoughts were running through your head but they all were interrupted when you felt his strong, muscular arms wrap around your torso. His shoulders shook rapidly, his face hidden away in your shirt, and for the first time in your entire life, you saw him cry

“Sorry, ‘m sorry, please don’t-“ His voice was laced with anguish and despair and all you had ever wanted in that moment was to take his pain away. The sounds of his weeping broke your heart, and his deep voice almost sounded unnatural while crying. You were not used to it at all; he’d always tried to “act like a man” around you, and not worry you. All he did was bottle up his emotions, unbeknownst to you

“It’s okay, we’ll do this together, honey, it’s fine, you’re fine, it’s good,” You breathed out, your voice heavy. You both knew it was definitely not fine, but you’d work through it together. Reiner was your husband, after all.

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glamjrwi · 2 years

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Okay I’m making this while tired but I figure I can at least get it started and smart people can add on. if you’re here from jrwitwt first off HELLO!!! Welcome. I know there have been several posts going around saying watch your step, we do things differently here, and to get with it, that might seem a bit intimidating. So I wanted to make this non-exhaustive list of how tumblr works and HOW we do things different so you can get settled in :)

also these are just to the best of my ability and based off my time here i am by no means a standard, just a starting point

-You might’ve heard this one already but there isn’t much of an algorithm here. You can follow certain tags and blogs. The best way to find people is to just scroll through tags and check out blogs whose posts you enjoyed

-reblogging is standard. Likes are typically for letting a mutual(or anyone rlly) know you saw their post or during liveblog sessions(at least that’s how I use them) while we have replies on posts that might look like a comment section. It really isn’t most of the time. Comments are normally put in the tags of reblogs. It’s completely okay if your blog is just reblogs that’s super normal here. you don’t have to have an original thought if you don’t want to

-If you really don’t want to post/lurk and only follow ppl, change your pfp so we know you aren’t a bot. Blank blogs have a history of being bots and if we can’t tell you’re a person a lot of people will block on sight. Just fair warning

-We do a lot of blocking here. If you don’t like someone’s posts, block em and keep going. The filter tags system on tumblr really works(I’ve heard twt is fussy and not great) and most people tag things appropriately here so you Will Not see the shit you don’t want to

-TAG THINGS APPROPRIATELY PLEASE it’s a give and take. When it comes to spoilers, as long as the original poster tagged it you normally don’t have to tag it again in a reblog but you can out of courtesy

-Bonus point a lot of us use “jrwilb” as a tag when everyone is on the dash liveblogging a stream ep or just when they get around to watching it. Some people have personalized ones, and some ppl also main tag their liveblogs so it’s just a good one to know ahead of time

-People chit chat through asks frequently. You don’t have to feel shy abt it, esp if you are being friendly. But if you’re anxious a lot of people leave on anon asks so you don’t have to have your name attached

-We don’t really do callouts/negativity posts. If you see a take or headcanon you aren’t fond of going around. You can block/filter, or you can make a positivity post or post abt your own interpretation!!! A lot of people here love different takes and headcanons and try to value all of them. Again, if one squicks you really bad, filter/block it. If you really wanna complain, be sure to do it in dms or a private discord server

-our concept of what jokes are okay to post are very lax. there really isnt an official thing but i’ve tended to notice we dont really tend to do anything the council havent done. we joke abt gillion tits and eggs here because the council have done it. we have made very lewd jokes because . . . mcs and everything else grizzly does when he’s not playing dakota. so be prepared to be jarred by how . . . interesting it gets here

Okay that’s all I can think of for now. Members of councilblr feel free to add anything smile

#also if you are adding pls keep the tone friendly smile #i wanted to make a greetings post #for the twt refugees fleeing the discourse site #jrwi #just roll with it #what tags would twt ppl search hmmm #jrwi show #jrwishow #councilblr

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little-diable · 1 year

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A Tatooine Sunrise - Din Djarin (smut)

I'm so happy that I can finally post some Din stuff again. This has no spoilers and doesn't pick up on any details of S3, so no worries. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Din tells the reader that it's too dangerous to keep traveling with him, but while he thinks that he is protecting her, he is breaking both their hearts, forcing himself to realise that he loves her.

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected sex, some angst and crying in the beginning, mentions slavery, but a happy end

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!reader (1.9k words)

Cyar'ika = darling/love/sweetheart

“Are you insane?” (Y/n)’s voice echoed through the night, eyes set on Din’s frame. The child kept staring at them, gaze flickering between the two that have taken care of it for months now. Anger was radiating off (y/n), hands pressed into her sides to keep herself grounded.

“It’s too dangerous, I won’t drag you with me, not when you have a choice.” A humourless laugh bubbled out of (y/n), violently burying her teeth in her lower lip to keep her screams bottled in. Tears were blurring her vision, angry tears that added to her growing frustration.

“I’ve been with you for months, helped you whenever you needed me, and now you want to get rid of me? Just like that?” The last part was nothing but a whisper, quiet like the sounds the child made, awfully aware of the crackling tension and the escalating situation. Din took a step closer as he murmured a soft “Cyar'ika”, but (y/n) took a step back, now chasing the distance between them.

The horizon was drenched in a soft purple, soon the suns of Tatooine would rise, waking yet another day – a day she may no longer spend by Din’s side. The thought left her choking on her sobs, maker, how would she ever survive without him near, the man she had offered her heart to many faded galaxies ago – even though he was still painfully oblivious of her emotions.

“You lived through too much pain, I can’t be the reason for your hurt, not any longer.” Din’s hands were balled into fists, clearly struggling with the words that rolled off his tongue all too effortlessly. A sob wrecked through (y/n), hands scratching at her skin to get rid of the salty tears that left their trail down her cheeks.

“So, what? I try to survive on Tatooine? How do you think that will play out? I can’t go back to being somebody’s property, Din.” The memories of her past life had been buried the day she had joined Din and Grogu, not daring to think back to all those years. She had been grateful for the way Din had rescued her, ripping her free from the man that had owned her. Her heart was pounding, laying words on her tongue she had always kept bottled inside, not wanting to share the things she felt, but it seemed like it was too late, rolling off her tongue like a waterfall on Scarif. “Can’t you see that I won’t survive without you? I love you, Din. How stupid can you be to not see it? Or do you just not want to see it?”

He didn’t reply, hidden eyes set on the woman that kept crying, trembling due to the overwhelming anxiety that had settled inside her system. It felt like she had been ripped from a dream, forced to adapt to the daunting reality she now had to walk through, on her own. Her glassy eyes found Grogu’s frame, the child was staring at Din, making sounds that left her heart aching, but the Mandalorian spoke no further word.

“Alright, I guess that answers my question.” She turned on her heel, walking up the ramp of the Razor Crest. (Y/n)’s fingers were violently shaking, lungs aching from the pressure she used to keep her sobs from wrecking through her. Her feet carried her around the ship, picking up her things, trying to find what she’d need to make it through the upcoming days. Where would she live? Would she find work? One question after another found its way to her, adding to the weight resting on her soul.

“(Y/n), cyar'ika.” Din’s voice echoed through the small room, gloved hands finding her elbow, forcing her to turn towards him. Her glassy eyes found the slits of his helmet, not speaking up as he kept holding her, only the surprised gasp of hers could be heard as Din pulled her against his armoured chest. His hand found the back of her head, pressing her further against him as her sobs kept bubbling out of her. “I’m sorry. I can’t bear the thought of you getting hurt because of this life, but I also can’t bear the thought of being the one that hurts you. It was foolish of me to push you away.”

(Y/n) tightened her hold on him, squeezing the fabric parts of his arms, needing to feel the heat radiating off the Mandalorian. She didn’t reply, too exhausted to speak the thoughts racing through her mind. All she did was nod her head, praying to the stars that he wouldn’t ever try to push her away again.

–––

“You need some rest.” (Y/n) murmured the words, eyes set on Din. He had been navigating through the galaxy for the past hours, leaving her alone with Grogu and her still racing thoughts. He had landed a few moments ago, on a dark planet, not giving their position away. By now the child was fast asleep, exhausted just as she was, but her body wouldn’t let her rest, not without Din close.

“I’m not tired.” Ever since the second they had parted this morning, Din had kept his distance, hiding away in the cockpit. (Y/n) could only assume that he was embarrassed, perhaps even ashamed of the things he had said, how he had tried to leave her behind on Tatooine.

“C’mon, just for a few hours.” Her hand found his, interlacing their fingers to add more pressure to her words. She tugged on his hand, forcing Din to rise from the seat. No words were spoken as he followed her through the dark Razor Crest, stepping into the small room where she slept. Every now and then Din would join her, body pressed against hers, sharing their body heat, and yet he’d always leave after a few hours, putting his helmet back on before (y/n) rose.

Darkness swallowed them whole, allowing Din to get rid of his armour as (y/n) laid down, squeezing her eyes shut nevertheless. No words were spoken between them, forcing them to get caught in their daunting thoughts. Din’s cold hands found her frame, pulling her against his chest, allowing (y/n) to listen to his heartbeat, pounding faster than she had anticipated. Her breath clashed against his neck, breathing in his comforting scent, wondering what he was thinking of, which emotions he found himself hanging onto.

“I,” the vowel rolled off Din’s tongue, hand finding her cheek in the darkness, thumb caressing her skin. “I’m sorry, cyar'ika. I love you too, I always have.”

She raised her head off his chest, could only assume that he was trying to make out her frame in the thick darkness surrounding them like fog. Slowly (y/n) moved closer, deeply inhaling as if she needed to find the confidence to slowly press her lips against his. His surprised gasp forced her to part, wondering if she had overstepped, but Din didn’t let her get far, hand finding the back of her neck to pull her closer.

His beard scratched her skin, leaving (y/n) moaning against his lips as their tongues met. The kiss was fuelled by their emotions, needing to communicate what they had kept bottled in since the day they had met one another for the first time. With her hands finding rest on his chest, (y/n) rolled herself on top of him, not breaking their kiss just yet. She felt him twitch against her thigh, his clothed cock grew harder with every passing moment, desperate to feel her close.

“Been dreaming about this.” The confession rumbled through her as (y/n) started grinding her core against his cock, making both their limbs tremble. Din had a hard time understanding that she wanted this as much as he did, dreaming about her frame pressed against his, searching his warmth as he made her see the prettiest stars only those fortunate enough could see. “Can I?”

With her fingers dancing along the outlines of his underwear, (y/n) patiently waited for his reply, only tugging them down his legs as a soft “Please” left the panting Mandalorian. Din had his hands placed on her thighs, squeezing her skin as he shifted around, sitting up straighter to be closer to her. (Y/n) slowly stroked him, adjusting to the new sensation of feeling him pressed against her skin.

She found herself distracted for a moment as his hands disappeared beneath her shirt, wandering up to her chest, squeezing her breasts. Her moans only urged him on to use more pressure, praying to the stars that he’d be able to hold on long enough, one with the fantasies that were now turning real.

“Need you, fuck, want to feel you inside of me.” (Y/n)’s whispers coaxed a groan out of Din, tugging her in for a forceful kiss with one hand, while the other pushed her panties aside, circling her pulsing bundle of nerves with his calloused thumb. Her whines were the sweetest thing he had ever heard, Din was sure of it, forever etched into his mind.

“Marker, you’re dripping, baby.” Din’s throaty voice left her thighs trembling, unable to reply as she raised her hips, bringing his cock to her entrance. For a few seconds they were holding still, trying to ground themselves before (y/n) sank down on his cock, moaning his name. He perfectly filled her, bigger than she had anticipated, forcefully stretching her walls.

(Y/n) began to move, slow at first, wanting to cherish the new sensation, trying to pay his moans enough attention. But the moment Din’s hips started jerking, meeting her movements, she felt her rational thoughts being drowned out, no longer able to focus. She moaned for him, cried his name whenever he tried to bury himself even deeper inside of her, already addicted to the feeling of her.

“Such a perfect cunt, my pretty girl.” His praises left her walls clenching around his cock, squeezing him as her shaky breaths kept leaving her. Without a warning Din flipped them around, towering over her, wrapping (y/n)’s legs around his waist to fuck her even deeper. She was a goner the moment his thumb found its way back to her clit, adding just the right amount of pressure to the sensitive bundle.

“I’m close,” (y/n)’s whispers were swallowed by his groans, he was just as close, about to let go with his fingers tightly gripping her thighs and his cock perfectly rubbing against her swollen spot. With her back arched off the bed and her eyes squeezed shut, (y/n) came on his cock, whimpering his name. Din gave it a few more thrusts before he pulled out, releasing himself on her stomach with a heavy groan.

Both were panting, not letting go of one another just yet, and yet the silence between them began to grow. She felt him shift around, wiping her clean before he left her alone for a few moments. Her thoughts were racing, trying to catch up with reality and what had just happened between them. Only as Din found his way back to her, pulling (y/n) into his chest, lips finding her forehead, did she dare to relax.

May the suns rise again on Tatooine, may the stars burn out one by one, but she wouldn’t ever dare to let him go again.

#Din Djarin smut #The Mandalorian smut #the mandalorian imagine

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