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deniigi · 3 years

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hi I have something for y’all called a disaster.

I wrote an Inimitable!Spiderman/Modern Star Wars AU because no one can stop me, not even myself. it is like 47 pages long. I am handing it tenderly to y’all.

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Title: impossible scenario

Summary: Peter runs into some drunk assholes arguing, calling each other Han and Luke. He lets it roll off him until he can’t anymore and eventually finds himself for the first time on the other side of someone more chaotic than himself.

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There was an argument happening under a fire escape. Peter knew about it because a concerned dude wearing a fuckin’ Yankees cap had flagged him down with waving arms and told him that someone needed saving, Spiderman. Some tall asshole was kidnapping a young blond dude, the guy and his too-cool-for-him girlfriend explained. They’d heard the two scuffling.

Peter maybe stared for a beat too long at them because the gal pointed two blocks behind him and said, “That way. I think the blond guy might be drugged. He’s slurrin’ something strong.”

Peter liked her shoes. They looked like Miles’s, but blue.

“Spidey?”

Miles told Peter all the time that he wasn’t cool enough to wear Jordans. MJ and Johnny had agreed. Such sad times.

“Spidey.”

“I got it,” Peter sighed.

The gal tsked.

“Man, you’re too young to be this jaded,” she said.

Peter sighed.

“You’re the third person to say that this week,” he said. “You think I should go back to therapy?”

There was a pause.

“You know that answer, dude,” cool-gal said. “Go save the twink.”

Twink. Got it. Thank you, citizen.

“There are websites for that shit, Spidey.”

Bye now.

“Apps, even.”

Bye, bye.

“BetterHelp or Headspace or somethin’—”

“Two blocks, you said?” Peter asked.

Two blocks away, there was indeed a man with dark hair trying to lift a violently intoxicated twink up onto the first steps of a fire escape. Peter examined his options. There were many ways to ruin a potential kidnapper’s day. His favorite involved coke and mentos, although he’d received feedback that that was a waste of perfectly good food. Down the list was also the option to walk over and scream bloody murder so that the kidnapper shat themselves and dropped their target.

That was good, but Peter was tired and the thought of mustering up the energy to scream at a noticeable volume made his thighs turn to Jell-o.

That left snark and violence.

Today, he would not choose violence. Only for today.

He strode out of his dark temporary residence between two dumpsters directly towards the tall dude and his mark. The mark was a messy one. Bless his heart, he was unwittingly making himself the most noncompliant victim to have ever victim-ed. Every time the tall guy got him almost vertical, he gave up his corporeal form to become drunk slime and ooze back to the ground with various moaning sound effects.

It would have been funny if not for the kidnapping context.

The fact that Peter had been standing there under the beams of two separate side-building security lights and neither of those two had noticed yet was also objectively funny—or would have been, if Peter had the capacity for processing humor at the moment.

Alas. This was what he got for telling Tony that he’d evolved beyond the need for sleep. He got caffeine-pilled. And there would be no true rest until that shit wore off, exhausted as Peter’s body yearned to be.

“Kid, work with me here,” the tall guy said.

“I can’t, I’ll die,” the shorter one moaned.

“Luke.”

“I’ve done my time—thirty years in AZKA—”

“Keep your voice down, oh my god.”

Peter was just standing here, fellas.

“Luke.”

“Why’s it always me? Why’s it always gotta be me? The hell did I do to piss off the whole galax-galaxy? HA. My bad, my bad. The whole universe?”

God, what a mood.

The tall guy dropped his grip on the smaller one and loomed over his puddle of ooze with poison in his gaze.

“People are going to die, Luke,” he said.

“So what? They’re always dyin’. Everywhere I go, people’re dyin’ and when it’s not them dyin’, you know who is?”

“Kid.”

“ME.”

“So you’re just gonna wallow there, feelin’ sorry for yourself?” the tall dude snapped.

“Sure am,” the puddle of ooze hummed.

This was not a kidnapping. This was a come-to-Jesus in the back alley of a bar. Peter was not needed here. He turned around on his heel and stopped when he heard a sharp intake of breath.

“Is that?” someone whispered.

“Don’t mind me, pal, just your friendly neighborhood—” he started.

“Look what you did,” Tall and Handsome hissed at Ooze-Man. “Someone went and called Spiderman on us.”

Peter lifted a brow as Ooze-man ripped its chest up from the asphalt and composed itself back into a human shape with fluffy blonde hair and huge wide eyes.

“Omigod, it’s Spiderman,” the guy said. “Wait, no. Gimme a hand. No, not that one, fuck off, nevermind, I don’t need you.”

He drew himself up to standing, only leaning slightly on his buddy there and gave Peter as lopsided smile.

“Hi, there,” he said with a twang that Peter couldn’t place. “Were you lookin’ for someone, handsome?”

Ah, they had reached the time of night when all the drunks needed to tell Peter things he already knew about his ass. He loved this time.

Not to mention that this dude looked eerily like Johnny. Scarily like Johnny. So much like Johnny that Peter almost wanted to take a picture of him to send to Sue so that she could print up some lost and found posters.

“Just lookin’ at you, babe,” he said. “This guy botherin’ you?”

The tall guy blanched and then grabbed at his face in horror. Peter swallowed his laugh.

“He sure is, hon. You got time to rescue me?” Blondie crooned.

“Luke, please. Please.”

“Because I’m in real distress,” ‘Luke’ said with a pout mighty enough to fell Thor.

“You sure seem like it,” Peter said. “C’mere. I’ll walk you home. Leave that tool, he ain’t worth your breath.”

He held out an elbow like proper gentleman and was pleased at the hand that Luke laid over his heart in response.

Peter could imagine Johnny’s face in six different expression of jealous horror at a selfie taken with this look-alike. Each was beautiful in its own special way. As payment for being referred to counseling by the public, he at least deserved to receive at least two of those faces.

“You mean that?” Luke asked him.

“He doesn’t,” his tall companion said.

“I sure do, where do you live? I’ll walk you,” Peter said.

“Oh my god, I’m gonna cry, he’s gonna escort me,” Luke said, all choked up and fanning his eyes lightly.

This tall friend grabbed him before he could escape, though, and pulled him back behind his own body.

“Listen, Spidey, this is a misunderstanding,” he drawled. “I know this idiot—he is technically my idiot— and I’m the one escorting his ass home. Thanks, though. You’re a real menace. Beat it.”

MMMMMMM.

And here Peter had been planning on being jaded and miserable this fine night. How could he now when this dude was ticking every box that made him feel alive?

“What’s your name, dollface?” Peter asked across the short distance.

“None of your business,” Tall Guy answered abruptly.

“Luke,” Luke said around him. “Are you gonna save me?”

“In just a minute,” Peter said, striding forward with a hard roll in his shoulder and deep drop in his knees.

It was amazing how Tall Guy wanted to take some steps back all of the sudden. Peter couldn’t help but let a smirk widen his face as he advanced.

“Okay, hang on now,” Tall Guy said with both palms out in front of him. “You don’t know what this is about, Spidey. You don’t want to get involved with this, trust me. He’s just bein’ dramatic. No need to get testy.”

“You sure do a lot of talkin’ for your friend there,” Peter noted through his grin.

“Yeah, Han,” Luke said.

Ha.

Han. Han and Luke. Ned was gonna be enraptured when Peter told him about this later.

“Luke. Back me up.”

“Why should I?”

“Because,” ‘Han’ finally snapped. “I’m not doin’ this because I want you to suffer, alright? I don’t want nothin’ to do with it either, okay? No one does. But it’s this or—”

“Or everyone else,” Luke finished for him in a strangely toneless voice.

Han sighed.

“It’s always everyone else,” Luke said.

“Not here.”

“Why’s it always everyone el—No, no, here. Why not? We’ve got fucking Spiderman in our midst, how much more surreal can this moment get? No. You listen to me, Han—”

“I’ve been listening to you all damn evening and you know what I’m hearing?”

“—I lost my life for this. I lost my home, my aunt, my uncle, my hand—”

“I’m hearing you making this about you.”

“—everything I ever knew, and I tried to make it right, didn’t I? I made the school. I gathered the kids—”

“And it’s not just about you this time, kid. It’s not about you, it’s not about me, or Leia, or Chewie or—”

“—I lost my kid and the love of my life, and I finally get a second chance at finding them and giving them the goddamn happy ending they deserve, and the next thing I know—”

“Luke, you’re the only one,” Han said.

“I WAS NEVER. THE ONLY. ONE, HAN,” Luke roared out of absolutely nowhere, sober as a saint. “I was never the only one. EVER. Ahsoka. Go find her. She’s everything that I’m not and more. She’s the real—”

“Luke.”

“Stop saying that name. I HATE that name. I would do anything for twenty goddamn seconds where I didn’t have to be him.”

“You don’t mean that,” Han said quietly. His shoulders had rounded out and become black and heavy under the weight of their shadow. Luke’s eyes, however, looked like topaz.

“I mean it,” Luke said.

Oho.

So shit had gotten real tense, real fast, so Peter about to make a decision that was gonna make Shelley so proud of him she would weep when he finally slunk back in through her office door.

He was leaving. He was turning around and taking a wee jog. Maybe turning a corner, having a little jump over a fence, up a wall, to a place as far away from this one as superhumanly possible.

Bye, bye.

“This galaxy needs you, Luke.”

Peter stopped five paces away.

“They need you,” Han repeated. “And I need you.”

Peter slowly looked back to see that Luke’s face had twisted sharply out of the light, towards the alley wall.

“I’m sorry that we met again like this,” Han said quietly. “I’m sorry it’s always you. You don’t deserve this. No one deserves this.”

“Shut up,” Luke said.

“But if you don’t do something, then it won’t be just me and you and all these random others sliding back into that cesspit we all barely crawled out of.”

“Stop.”

“You’ll never find him if things go back the way they were.”

“You—you don’t know that. There—maybe—”

“Luke. Listen to me. Please.”

“Maybe there’s a chance—”

“Luke,” Han said reaching out and putting a hand on Luke’s shoulder and clenching it hard enough that Peter should see the bunched fabric, “Do you want Din to live through this shitshow a second time? Hasn’t he suffered enough?”

Peter shivered. The pressure at the base of his neck was building. The Spidey Sense wanted to hiss in his ears like white noise. It pinned him where he was, staring over his shoulder at those two solid shapes, one digging a hand into the flesh of the other.

His stomach turned.

Luke said something that Peter couldn’t hear. Han pulled him toward his own body by the grip he had on his shoulder. At first, Luke seemed to stagger, like he was walking on black ice. He stopped a single step away from Han’s body, still with his face angled severely away. Han said something to him.

There was a long pause, then Luke seemed to fall forward. Han caught him and crushed his head into his shoulder, lowering his own until it was almost touching Luke’s ear. They clung to each other.

Luke was crying.

The Spidey Sense started to crackle and pop in Peter’s ears.

“I gotchu, kid,” Han said in a rasp. “I gotchu. We’re gonna get through it.”

Peter blinked once and finally unlocked the muscles in his neck. He wasn’t meant to witness this. He held out a wrist and fired a line.

It was weird.

It was just weird.

Something wasn’t right. And Peter couldn’t make his stomach not writhe about it.

Luke.

Han.

An offhand mention of like, characters. Character names. They were character names. Leia, Chewie.

Peter had heard of people who lived their lives honestly believing that they had been other people—fake people—in past lives, but like, damn man. Why would you put yourself in a position like that were you were moved to actual tears for some elaborate street-drama?

Maybe it had been a joke? That was the only thing he could think it could be. Maybe the universe had gazed upon his hubris at work and gone ‘ah yes, I know what this young man needs: emotional confusion at midnight on a Thursday. That’ll fix him.’

If that was the case, then yeah. Good job, universe. Good job, larpers. Y’all are equally sick.

But if not—and Peter no longer lived in a world where he could rule out any possibilities—then he had just witnessed—Dude, he’d just witnessed—

He couldn’t even think it. It was beyond him. It was so far beyond him that like he might have a real stroke taking the thought seriously.

There was only one person who could hold that kind of information unscathed.

Only one.

PP: Ned. I need you to listen to me and tell me I’m not crazy.

NL: no promises but go on

PP: I think? I just saw? Luke Skywalker? And Han Solo? In an alley behind Kitty’s?????

NL: fascinating

JS: Say more

PP: who let you in here?

JS: you?

PP: SECURITY

NL: Peter say more

PP: I can’t there’s a nerd in here and it’s vibrating at the wrong decibel. SECURITY???

MJ: yeah?

PP: I’m trying to have a breakdown. Can you remove Matchstick please?

MJ: what kind of breakdown

JS: he thinks he met Luke Skywalker

PP: Security has failed me. God?

NL: Peter can you name three things you can see.

PP: I am not manic. I am in touch with reality. I’m just having anxiety because I just fucking saw two people calling each other Luke and Han fighting behind Kitty’s. Like real fighting.

JS: nicknames?

PP: I—

PP: oh my god nicknames

PP: Johnny I’m so sorry I ever doubted you. never leave my side

JS: 😊

MJ: wow that’s cringe. Imagine naming yourself after SW characters

NL: does kitty do a cosplay night now????

PP: idk it was wild. People thought that ‘Han’ was trying to kidnap ‘Luke’ but when I got over there, Luke started flirting with me and then shit got real and they started arguing over like him hating his name and not wanting to do something and losing everything or some shit

NL: that’s a lot. I’m sure it was nothing, though, peter.

PP: yeah it was. My SS has been going nuts ever since I left. You think they bugged me?

JS: yes I will come search your body imminently

MJ: my job storm, back off

JS: after MJ has finished prelim checks, I will then search your body for you out of the kindness of my heart ❤

NL: that’s weird, the SS doesn’t usually freak out about cosplayers

PP: ikr?

NL: lol imagine if they were serious

MJ: don’t say that

JS: well now we have to lean in. thanks ned

JS: they were definitely real. God they were so real. You hear that Fate? You got us. They’re definitely real.

PP: BUT WHAT IF THEY WERE?

MJ: cue breakdown

NL: that would be so fucking funny. Luke Skywalker and Han Solo trying to save the world from the hellscape of nyc. The rats alone would thwart them.

PP: ned I’m freaking out

NL: oh you mean you’re actually freaking out?

PP: deeply

NL: oh shit sorry. I’ll be over, have you slept yet?

PP: NO

MJ: on it

JS: can I join?

NL: no johnny

MJ: no johnny

PP: 😭

JS: one day our love will build a bridge, peter. In the meantime I am stroking your ear comfortingly from midtown

Need and MJ’s weight pinning him to a mattress brought sleep but not necessarily comfort. They both thought that this was a sick joke someone had played on him that was now destroying his psyche. They thought that the couple pointing him back towards the cosplayers had been in on the joke.

Peter would have agreed with them if it wasn’t for the Spidey Sense. Everything else lined up perfectly.

Ned sighed in the morning and told Peter to go talk to Wade.

Wade’s hallucinations were, by far, more auditory than visual, but he stayed quiet while Peter talked his ear off over the phone in his locked office. He waited until Peter had run out of words to describe the feeling of impending doom and then huffed a bit of a laugh into the receiver.

“Them Star Wars people are unreal, Pete, you know this,” he said. “Look at Ned.”

Ned was perfect.

“Take off those rosy shades, hon. Now, look again.”

Ned had perhaps memorized the entire scripts of the first three movie and 90% of the spaceship names and the jedi lineages.

“Uh-huh. Keep going.”

Peter didn’t want to.

“We all gotta do shit we don’t want do.”

Fine.

Ned’s goal in life was to go to his wedding in a stormtrooper suit.

“Keep going.”

Every Lego project they’d built together since 13 years-old had been a Star Wars-related one. When Ned had decided to move out of his parents’ place, he’d shed actual tears over MJ and Peter mutually suggesting that he sell some of his memorabilia.

“Will this delightful buffet before our very eyes, what is the likelihood of your two pals being drunk larpers in too deep to quit?” Wade asked.

73%.

“Uh-huh.”

“Thanks, Wade.”

“No problem. Although, now I gotta see this. You said they were behind Kitty’s? You think I can get a stormtrooper costume in 8 hours?”

“They’re not still gonna be there, Wade,” Peter huffed. “It’s 10 am.”

“You ain’t know that. What if Luke Skywalker’s a useless drunk, huh? You ever think of that?”

No.

“What’d he look like?”

Peter groaned.

“He looked like Luke Skywalker,” he said. “Blond hair, blue eyes—sort of like a chipmunk that forgot its stripes.”

“I’m onto you, Skywalker.”

Peter hung up to Wade’s cackle. He slouched low and tapped his pen against his desk. Then against his fingers.

He stared at the edge of his keyboard.

“What’s the weirdest thing you could imagine, Pete?” he asked himself.

PP: sam

SC: yeah?

PP: do you like star wars?

SC: nah

PP: you’re perfect

PP: do you believe in past lives?

SC: like spiritually or culturally? I know I was a cult-kid for a min there but before that we were Buddhists and like, past lives are part of the package

PP: that’s cool. What do you think of people being reborn as themselves again like, 500000000 years later? From a galaxy far far away?

SC: I don’t think about those people

PP: okay well, hypothetically. Let’s say that you were going to imagine someone who embodied that whole spirit. Who would it be?

SC: Buddha

PP: not buddha

SC: is this a riddle? Is it Jesus?

PP: THOR. Thank you this has been helpful ily bye

Mr. Stark asked him over a cup of viciously black coffee why Peter was seeking out the demigod of his present nightmares.

That usually meant that he and Thor had disagreed on basic physics principles again. Peter took that also to mean that the demigod was still in the building. Possibly loose.

“He’s with Banner,” Mr. Stark said scathingly.

“Thanks, you’re amazing,” Peter said as he sailed out of the room.

Thor was sitting on Dr. Banner’s lab table, despite Dr. Banner telling him to get off no fewer than two times in the five minutes that Peter was in there, schmoozing and making pleasantries. He warmed Thor up to the home-run hit by asking him all about past lives and present lives and what the soul was on Asgard. Thor was only too happy to explain a load of nonsense that made Banner roll his eyes and poke at his muscles with a thermometer.

“So, hypothetically speaking,” Peter drawled in a very casual lean, “With the infinite galaxies and universes, etcetera, there could be one where Star Wars people exist. And so hypothetically, they could get reborn into a universe like ours.”

Thor blinked at him.

“You remember the laser swords?” Dr. Banner deadpanned.

Thor lit up.

“I suppose it’s possible,” he told Peter indulgently. “But if that was the case then it would be a long tragedy, no?”

…yes…

Say more, Thor-man.

“Well,” Thor said with a big, happy smile, “The series of events that unfolded in that story seemed to me to be one of triumph and tragedy. With one would come the other—that’s how these stories work, yes?”

…yes.

“So if Master Luke Skywalker and his companions arrived into our space here, then they must experience the same in order to be themselves,” Thor said, bobbing his head in pity. “Perhaps what would look like a new start for such people would result only in terror and disappointment until the same conclusion was reached.”

Peter felt his own grin twitch.

“So it’s not impossible?” he asked.

Both Thor and Banner looked at him quizzically at the same time.

“Peter?” Dr. Banner asked. “Is this coming from somewhere?”

Peter’s grin twitched so violently, it turned into a grimace that even superstrength would not let him maintain.

“Can I borrow one of you?” he asked.

Wade was not happy to be met outside of Kitty’s in the middle of the day, especially because his stormtrooper outfit, in his words, ‘did no justice for the size of his balls.’

Peter was ignoring that. He dragged Thor past Wade’s righteous anger until he was standing on the place where the other two had stood the night before. Thor stood there gamely.

“There,” Peter said. “Any like, energy signatures?”

Thor glanced around and shrugged.

Wade scowled at him and hounded him off the spot so that he could stand there instead.

“I feel nothing,” he said, devoid of emotion.

“Same,” Thor said.

Damnit.

“Perhaps you are—”

The Spidey Sense smashed through all of Peter’s sense and screamed at him to get to the street.

Get to the street. Get to the street. Get to the—

There.

Across the way. Chipmunk, no stripes.

That was the guy from the day before. He was on the opposite sidewalk smashed in with the crowd, dragging a hand through his hair and laden with a backpack and two separate totes. He was wearing a strange set of clothes—a mash of casual and formal—and seemed to be in a hurry, the type of hurry that involved pushing past folks at a half-jog and not stopping at streetlights.

“Got ‘im,” Peter hissed.

“No shit?” Wade asked over his shoulder.

Thor made a sound of interest.

“I see him, too,” he said. “What incredible energy, I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Wh—

Peter whirled on him.

“Don’t you fucking say that,” he warned. “I’m gonna go distract. You two, on my six.”

Peter broke four traffic laws on his way around the block. He swung himself around a corner and fucked up the collar on his labcoat and counted to four before stepping out right into ‘Luke’s path.

They collided. Luke stumbled back and dropped one of his totes.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Peter blustered. “Are you okay?”

Luke swore and dropped down without answering, collecting the odd ends of metal that had clattered out from his bag and now rolled loose over the pavement. Peter stooped to join, gathering rings and pipes of all sorts of sizes in his hands. Oncoming folks gave them a wide berth.

It took a moment for Luke to realize what Peter was doing, but when he did, his shoulders went stiff as a board.

“DON’T TOUCH THOSE,” he snapped, just as Peter made to pick up a little plastic bag with a wad of tissue inside it.

Peter froze.

“Oh. Sorry,” he said.

This time, Luke finally met his eye.

“Oh, Jesus. No. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” Luke blustered, “Thank you. I’ll—I’ve got them. Thank you, though. It’s okay.”

He took the metal out of Peter’s hands and stuffed them back into his bag. He snatched the plastic bag before Peter could touch it and put that on top.

“Excuse me,” he said as he stood. “Thanks again.”

And just like that, he hurried off past Peter down the pavement.

Peter watched him go.

“Catch?” Wade asked softly from the corner.

“Negative,” Peter said, reaching into his sleeve and holding up the thin aluminum tube he’d hidden up there by the edge of his shirt-sleeve.

It was shiny and longer than he’d expect for any plumbing project. The inside appeared to be coated with some sort of heavy, non-reactive material, and half of the outside had grooved bands carved into it.

“Someone’s building something,” he said.

“Mid-century sink?” Wade asked, taking the tube.

“Nope,” Peter said.

NL: That is a lightsaber hilt

NL: where did you get that? It’s like mega accurate. Was it etsy?

PP: I stole it

NL: give it back

PP: I can’t I stole it from Luke Skywalker.

NL: Peter.

NL: we talked about this.

PP: He’s Luke Skywalker. I swear on the grave of my mother

MJ: this is a problem. This is now an intervention.

PP: I will prove it. If he’s Luke Skywalker, then he will do ANYTHING to get this thing back.

NL: and if not?

PP: then I will wait two days before politely tracking down his home address and then I will return it via wall crawling

JS: UM

JS: SORRY

JS: PETER CAN YOU CALL ME?

PP: no

NL: no

MJ: no

JS: are

JS: are you sure??? Because there’s a guy in Reed’s lab right now talking to him and Sue, asking SUPER politely for access to—I shit you not—the crystals we picked up from that space trip the other day???

NL: …

PP: …

MJ: …

PP: AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

MJ: fake

NL: no way

PP: WHAT’S HIS NAME, JOHNNY BOY????

JS: I can’t

PP: nope you gotta

JS: I can’t I’m gonna cry I didn’t ask for this

MJ: out with it

NL: please say it’s obi-wan

JS: HHHHHHHHHHH

JS: nope

JS: just a guy named Ben 🙃

PP: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH

PP: I told you motherfuckers

JS: right. So like. Awkward. But you uh, know that hilt thing you have?

PP: …is Obi-Wan Kenobi about to beat my ass, Johnny?

There was something about putting the hilt into the palm of someone more famous than Captain America that made Peter’s knees weak.

It did not help that Luke Skywalker had flirted with him the other night.

It did not help that Luke Skywalker didn’t recognize him as Spiderman.

Nothing helped, really, especially when those big topaz eyes lifted and Peter could see that their rims were red and raw.

“Thanks,” Luke Skywalker—the embodiment of hope itself—said in a soft, defeated rasp.

Every alarm in Peter’s head said to save him. Save him from what? How? Who knew.

Ned and MJ seemed to feel the same way, if the pressure on each of his arms was anything to go by.

“Well, that’s all cleared up, then. Thank you so much for your help; it is deeply appreciated,” a stupidly pleasant gentleman with a perfectly combed beard and lovingly coifed light hair said to the room at large.

Obi-Wan Kenobi—pardon, Ben Kennedi—was far more handsome than any movie could ever dream to make him. What they’d done to him in the 1970s, Peter saw now, was a fucking crime. He watched as this beautiful human being set a warm hand on Luke Skywalker’s—pardon, Luke Naberry’s—shoulder and used it to steer him towards the Baxter Building’s front entrance.

He watched as the two of them, like true Master and Padawan, stepped out onto the landing and opted for the stairs. For one fleeting, unbelievable second, Luke looked back over his shoulder at all of them before taking the next step after his Master.

He was right the other night.

He wasn’t the only jedi. Not anymore.

“So that just happened,” Sue acknowledged for everyone after the door had clicked closed and the sound of footsteps had faded off to nothing.

“I’m going to cry,” Reed announced.

“This is single-handedly the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Ned said.

“Obi-Wan Kenobi walked into our kitchen,” Reed told Sue like she hadn’t been there right next to him.

“The empire is trying to establish itself under our very feet,” Sue said back a little viciously.

“The real empire,” Reed whimpered.

Wait.

No, go back.

“For real?” Peter asked.

Sue and Reed looked back at the rest of them and then exchanged a look.

Peter was sad now. Depressed and laid out on his side staring back at Valeria’s huge eyes on the floor while Ned and MJ and Johnny asked Reed and Sue two hundred clarifying questions.

Peter didn’t need the specifics. He was thinking back on the conversation that he’d witnessed between Luke and Han Solo—Han Solo who was tall with dark hair and dark eyes and an accent straight out of New Jersey. Solo who had probably been charged with forcing Luke to face the facts in front of all of them because he was the one who Luke trusted most.

But it had shattered them—both of them.

The New Hope had given up everything. He was tired. His heart was torn. He was jaded just like Peter had been that same night. He’d been avoiding the tightrope that Peter had already started crossing, though, probably looking for every possible way to not have to set the first foot on that wobbly line.

He’d walked it before.

Valeria reached out with a chubby, round hand and touched the side of Peter’s face.

“Spiderman,” she said with terrifying understanding, “Someone needs help.”

He wriggled in close enough to bonk heads with her.

“Baby Storm,” he whispered, “I think you’re right.”

MJ thought that Peter needed to leave things alone. She pointed out that he had plenty of problems without getting involved in universe-saving. She gestured to Johnny and volunteered him for the job.

Johnny refused on account of needing to be the prettiest blond in any room. He claimed that if he wasn’t, he had to fight for dominance.

Ned was on the other end of the spectrum. He had 43 reasons why Peter should get involved with things, and 40 of them ended up in the same place which was ‘it would be cool.’

One of Ned’s better reasons, however, involved pointing out that Peter had already stolen half of a lightsaber. He was good and involved now, whether he wanted to be or not. And that was enough for Peter to decide to go on a hunt to give a formal apology.

He recruited Ned to help him locate Luke Skywalker.

That didn’t work.

They tried Luke Naberry.

That didn’t work either.

They ended up going through every possible iteration of every Star Wars name they knew and then filtered out the people who’d been named by exuberant parents and then filtered out anyone who didn’t live in New York and they ended up with fat lot of still nothing.

It was like Luke Skywalker didn’t truly exist in this world.

Until MJ found his Instagram by typing in ‘guys who look weirdly like Luke Skywalker.’

She held the phone aloft in triumph and they all gathered round to gape in awe at her intelligence and research skills.

Luke’s Instagram was nothing but pictures of coffee.

He had one selfie and this selfie was enough to have gotten him onto a BuzzFeed article. In it he was holding—you guessed it—coffee. Iced coffee. One in each hand.

He was shaking them, and one had been labeled with his name—hence the public connection made.

“Someone needs to tell him that coffee is not a food group,” Johnny observed.

“Maybe he works nights,” MJ said.

Ned lifted an eyebrow.

“Maybe this is his job,” he said.

There was a pause.

Some snooping revealed that Luke was an honest to god food website editor. He was a cameraman.

Repeat. Luke Skywalker, cameraman. He filmed all the food hosts for his company’s Youtube channel. He edited videos. He more or less blended into the background of everything, while having his finger prints on damn near everything.

This was a man after Peter’s own soul. They were kindred spirits in hidden identities, content creation, and suffering under a boulder of responsibility too great to cope with.

He had to find him now.

And after they had his Instagram it wasn’t too hard. He seemed to hang out in various parts of the Bronx and Peter just so happened to know some folks out that way.

Louis told Peter that he would never speak to him again if he found, befriended, and then didn’t share Luke Skywalker (the man, the real man, I’m not fucking with you, Louis). But he also recognized a place on Luke’s instagram that he seemed to be working his way through the menu of. He sent along an address and told Peter not to forget his promises.

Angel asked why he was looking for Johnny Storm in the Bronx.

Peter left Louis to rattle sense into her.

He took a walk on Saturday morning. A long walk. A long train ride, then a walk, then a half hour of squinting, and then, lo and behold, he found a blond guy banging his head into the center of an out door metal table across from a woman with heavy braids trailing down the sides of her neck. She was much older than him and drummed white-painted fingernails across her cheek as she thought.

Peter hid and called Ned and MJ for an ID. He peeked the phone’s camera out enough for them to see the other two and then snatched it back.

Ned was about to flip a table.

“That’s clearly Ahsoka Tano,” he said. “She—the braids, dude. Dead give-away. And she put ribbons in them, like what even is discretion?”

Peter didn’t know that person. He continued not to know this person, even as Ned dragged him through a trainwreck of Star Wars lore.

“So she’s a friend,” he said.

“She’s like a jedi, but not like a jedi, she was a jedi, but then she said ‘fuck the order’ and—”

Great. Peter was approaching.

Ned held his face in his hands. MJ told Peter to report back on his findings. Peter ended the call and inched closer, weaving through the crowd and slipping into the coffee joint to see what nonsense they were selling.

It was nonsense with lots of syrup. He could never say no to syrup.

He watched the two outside while waiting for his order. Luke gesticulated to his friend and she spoke, giving reasonable gestures back. He stopped her and dug out his phone and that little plastic baggy full of fluffy material. He answered his phone. His friend took the little bag and held it up to the light.

She frowned at it.

Luke pushed away from the table and walked away to take his call. Peter’s order was called. He grabbed it and swerved out towards the patio.

“Hello,” he said at the edge of Luke and his friend’s table. “Is this seat taken?”

Luke’s friend stared at him.

“It is,” she said. “Move along, hon, you’re ten years too young.”

Wow.

“For your friend?” Peter tried. “Could I leave my number?”

He had this lady’s attention now. She was looking him up and down, appraising. Peter tried not to flex. He stayed cool. Matt-levels of cool. He smiled winningly.

“Alright, why not?” she said, digging through her bag for a receipt and a pen. Peter beamed as he leaned down to scrawl his number down on the back. He got halfway through before he heard a step stop nearby.

“Look alive, kid,” Luke’s friend said. “Hey, Luke, this guy was just—”

“You again?” Luke said.

Peter lifted his head and brows.

“Hi,” he said. “I just wanted to apologize.”

There was a long silence.

Luke’s friend looked between them and then gave Luke a long, judgmental stare.

“You don’t have to,” Luke said. “Thanks, though. How did you find me here?”

Mmm. Beginner’s luck.

“Here,” Peter said, offering his number on the receipt. “If you ever need someone to talk to who gets it.”

Luke’s friend bit her lip and looked away in secondhand embarrassment. Peter ignored her for now.

“Thanks,” Luke said. “You don’t and you won’t. But you’re very pretty.”

Nice.

“You’d be surprised,” Peter told him. “Gimme a text. I’ll leave y’all alone now. Enjoy your coffee.”

He left. But not before hearing, “but that ass, Luke.”

Ned told him that there was no way that Luke was ever going to text him and he was disappointed in Peter’s hostage-taking skills.

But he was proved wrong two hours later and, for his crimes, had to admit Peter’s brilliance publicly.

LS: hi sorry. This is Luke. This morning when you stopped by our table, did you happen to see a little plastic bag on it?

Why yes. The one in Peter’s pocket right now? That bag?

PP: hi!! I did, actually. You guys aren’t very subtle 😏

LS: it’s not coke

PP: I’m not judging

LS: no, it’s not coke, I swear. It’s something INFINITELY more important. Did you happen to see if it had fallen on the ground?

PP: ah, no, sorry. I didn’t see it

PP: OH NO

PP: oh my god I’m so sorry, I think I took it with me when I accidentally took your friend’s pen.

LS: I

LS: what’s your name?

PP: Peter ❤

LS: Peter, you have a fucking problem

LS: I’m starting to think that you want something from me. And listen, you’re a handsome guy, but I’m not available and my type isn’t kleptomaniac. What do you want for it?

PP: well you got me

PP: to talk

LS: about what?

PP: mostly about why you look like you’re a wet phonebook in a bad gutter

LS: a phonebook???? What era are you even from????

PP: I could say the same to you, sir.

LS: I

LS: wh

LS: alright touche. The point is that I’m not going to talk to you. I just need that bag back. It’s a life and death situation.

PP: what are they? They aren’t coke crystals.

LS: how would you know?

PP: what are you, a cop?

LS: NO. This is going nowhere. What. Do. You. Want?

PP: To. Talk.

LS: I’m not going to talk to you.

PP: then why did you ask me to rescue you?

He held his breath.

LS: I didn’t

PP: you did

LS: I didn’t ask you for shit. This is it. What’s your last name.

PP: Man 😊

LS: Man what

PP: That’s my last name.

LS: Peter Man.

PP: oop, nope, sorry. That’s someone else.

LS: …so I’m calling the police, now. That’s what we’re saying?

PP: depends. Do you still need to be rescued?

Come on, Skywalker. Come on, remember.

LS: I never asked you to rescue me.

PP: You did. Think back.

LS: I didn’t

LS: I just made a joke to

LS: WHAT AFAJSDFA DTTH E FUCK

Peter cackled and let himself fall onto his back.

PP: Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii ❤

LS: YOU’RE

PP: Just your friendly neighborhood guy ❤

LS: YOU

LS: you

PP: me

LS: THAT’s how the storms knew you

PP: yep 💋

LS: I don’t even know what to say

PP: it’s okay, you don’t have to say shit. The main thing I wanted you to know was that I hear you. And if you need it, I’ve got you.

LS: You’re literally trying to rescue me??

PP: it’s my job

LS: IT ISN’T. How have you never been arrested? how did you find me? Did you track my phone? Is it some kind of spider thing???

PP: yes

LS: I am legally obligated to kill you with the force now

PP: harder daddy

LS: ADaaSDASFSDFSdd

LS: oh my god Han is going to lose his gourd

LS: I’m sorry I just I can’t believe you of all people stole my damn hilt

PP: I’ve got……………………..sticky fingers

LS: go die

LS: no I didn’t mean that sorry that’s a thing with me and my sister. I mean, okay. You got me. Hero of NYC.

Peter’s cheeks were starting to hurt.

PP: I’ll bring them back to you.

LS: Please do, Ben’s about to have a stroke.

PP: you mean obi-wan?

LS: he’s convinced his cat ate them. There’s a staring contest happening. No one has blinked in two minutes and I don’t want to be here for the internal investigation.

PP: where do you live?

Luke sent an address. Peter held his phone high and walked it into the living room where Ned was bitchily composing an Instagram post. He and MJ looked up at the same time.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Peter said. “Luke Skywalker and Co. live in a cemetery.”

It wasn’t a cemetery. It was a funeral home, but close enough.

Luke was waiting outside on the stoop in a cardigan about four sizes too big for him. It was there probably to protect him from the equally large ragdoll cat in his arms.

Peter smiled. Luke stared at him and then shook his head and went through the screen door. Ned gave Peter a biting look.

“Made friends, I see,” he said.

“We’re doin’ great,” Peter told him, hopping up the stairs. “Look at us, totally—”

“Insidious.”

Peter stopped and turned nervously to see through the screen door where Obi-Wan Kenobi had seized both of the cat’s cheeks. Luke continued to hold it with maximum doneness levels.

“Where have you been?” Obi-Wan asked the cat seriously.

“We have guests,” Luke said. “Take your beast.”

Obi-Wan snatched the cat out of Luke’s arms with contempt all over his face.

“You are a villain of the highest order,” he told it.

“Ben. Guests. Please evacuate. I am hosting negotiations,” Luke said.

“We should have named you ‘Sith.’”

“Ben.”

Peter was not going to laugh at Obi-Wan Kenobi. That was too surreal.

“Come in,” Luke said, returning to hold open the screen. “I hope you’re not allergic. There are two of them.”

T-two?

“The other one is Junior.”

Peter stepped over the threshold and found himself in a room that looked like a human birdhouse. It was full of surfaces that were almost completely empty, as though an enrichment object had once lived there but had been removed as punishment. Luke waved Ned and MJ in and accepted their apologies on Peter’s behalf.

Peter ignored them to lock eyes with a creature more stunning than any he had ever encountered. It sat on the kitchen counter by a single clear jar labelled ‘Not Spice.’ It blinked grumpy green eyes.

“Oh, it’s these people again?”

They all looked behind them to see Obi-Wan peering around a doorframe with the first cat draped over his shoulders.

“Kleptomaniac,” Luke said, pointing at Peter. Peter waved.

“Huh,” Obi-Wan said simply. “I will distract Ahsoka.”

He vanished. Luke grimaced after him.

“Let’s go talk in the back,” he said. “There are no bodies, I promise.”

The funeral home had a little deck and a yard small even for this far out in Queens. It was crammed full of plants that appeared to be in a competition to bloom. Luke invited them to sit and then left to make coffee.

Coffee, yes, how had Peter forgotten.

He peeked over the side of the deck down where there was a large stone set in the center of the garden.

“A seeing stone,” Ned whispered to him.

“Oh, how did you know?”

They all jumped.

Peter swore that Obi-Wan hadn’t opened that sliding door. How had—what—

Ned was at a loss for words in the face of one of his greatest heroes.

“I—uh. M-movie? I mean, sorry. It was in The Mandalorian, second season, with the—”

“Yet more television,” Obi-Wan said derisively.

They all stared.

“Can you teleport?” MJ asked him.

“I thought you were bothering Ahsoka?” Luke asked, from inside. He squeezed past the man and his cat with three glass mugs in hand. He set them down on the little square table off to the side of the desk railing.

“I was, but then I got curious,” Obi-Wan said. “And I lost Junior.”

Luke stared at him.

“I’m going to lock you in the basement,” he said.

“Try, try, and try again,” Obi-Wan told him, petting his beloved cat’s head.

“Do you even know who Spiderman is, old man?”

“More television.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Peter had to keep a conscious watch on his jaw, lest it fall open in the face of the most handsome, clueless man on the planet. He watched as Obi-Wan, disgusted with all this ‘television’ nonsense skulked back off into the guts of the home. Luke shut the door behind him.

“So,” he said, holding out his hand. “We’re talking. Fork ‘em.”

Ah.

Fair was fair.

Peter produced the plastic bag from his pocket and handed it over. There was a shout somewhere inside followed by someone going ‘What the fuck is wrong with you?’

“Ben keeps our home ghost free. He terrifies all the wannabee haunters,” Luke said simply. “Thank you for these. I imagine it’s somewhat of a shock to learn that it’s all real.”

It was, but it wasn’t the weirdest thing Peter had encountered by far.

“How long have you lived in New York?” he asked conversationally.

Luke gave him a weird brow.

He seemed smaller than before in that enormous cardigan. Certainly smaller than the movies made him seem. His face was a little thinner too, and his lips seemed to slope into an almost permanent pout.

“About twenty years,” he said. “We were born in California, but Anakin moved us here when we were eight.”

Anakin? Like, Darth Vader, Anakin?

“’Luke, I am your father’—yeah, that guy,” Luke said with a scoff. “Except, you know, he ain’t dead. And he’s the only one who can make Ben remember that tea isn’t a meal, so we keep him around for that and to scream back at Leia.”

Peter was already completely lost to the dynamics of this household. It wasn’t like the books and movies—Ned’s twitching for his phone to take notes was proof enough of that.

“That’s awkward,” MJ said. “So did y’all do like, collective counselling for the past life shit?”

Luke deflated and moaned into his hands.

“It’s not past life shit if your damn name is the same,” he said. “It’s complicated.”

It sounded like it.

Imagine growing up with your apparently-Star War-obsessed father and uncle who’d built a home and a business (presumably) around that shit, only to find out later that they’d done it because it was literally their religion.

What a trip.

“When did you find out?” Peter asked gently.

“Oh, you know. Last week,” Luke said with a bitter grin. “Quit my fulltime job. Dumped my ex. Broke my lease and now here I am. Once again. Back at this place.”

“Do you want a hug?” Ned asked into the awkward silence.

“You’re very sweet,” Luke said. “If I touch another human, I will start crying and never stop.”

Yikes.

Barely holdin’ on by a thread there, buddy? How’s the hyperawareness going?

“Why does it matter, is my question. For you, I mean,” Luke said with a suspicious squint. “You fought a goblin guy, didn’t you? With a hover board?”

Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuh, yeah.

Yeah, Peter sure had done that.

“And like, the bird dude? Didn’t you down a plane?”

Perhaps.

But Luke had blown up the Deathstar, no?

“These things are not equivalent,” Luke said flatly. “I joined a rebel alliance. There were loads of us.”

Mmm. Perhaps so.

“God, how old are you even? You look 22.”

Peter gawked.

“I’m 27,” he said.

Luke did a double-take.

“That’s a lie,” he accused. “Tell the truth or be compelled.”

“By the Force?” Ned asked hopefully.

Luke blinked at him. He pointed at the glass sliding door which revealed Obi-Wan holding Junior the cat above his head by the kitchen sink.

“The Force,” he said.

Ned’s face fell.

“Do we not have the Force, here?” he asked.

Luke flinched.

“Listen,” he said abruptly, “We’re workin’ on it. This isn’t our original galaxy. The rules are all different. The only one who’s managed to make even a spark happen is Obi-Wan so far, but as soon as we find Master Yoda, it’s over. We’ll already have won.”

“You lost Yoda,” MJ mused.

Luke stammered and caught himself.

“We lost a lot of people,” he snapped. “It happens when you shift galaxies. Anyways, that’s what the stone is for.”

MJ glanced back at the stone and then leaned her forearms onto the small table.

“So, let me get this straight,” she said. “You jedi folks all popped up over here by some cosmic accident. You don’t have the Force. Most of you don’t even remember who you are. You lost your most experienced Master, and you’re going to fight the Sith?”

Peter stirred his coffee nervously.

Luke’s eye twitched.

“We don’t need the others,” he said. “We only need the Force. To fight the Sith. Yes.”

MJ frowned deep and held her chin with both hands.

“So you need the thing you for sure don’t have the most,” she said.

Luke opened his mouth, but not before the window by the door snapped open and Obi-Wan leaned out to say, “We always have the Force.”

Luke covered his face in despair.

“I was listening from the kitchen window,” Obi-Wan told him lovingly.

“GO FIND CODY ALREADY,” Luke roared at him.

“I did, he’s right here,” Obi-Wan said soothingly, stroking his angry cat.

“The other Cody.”

“Oh, I am trying, don’t you worry.”

“Ben, so help me God—”

“Force.”

“SO HELP ME FORCE—”

Star Wars had really left out the part about Luke’s explosive temper. Peter winced, but Ned laughed and the sound seemed to have a calming effect on Jedi-on-Jedi crime about to take place in the kitchen. Obi-Wan appeared pleased with this development and emboldened. He wove past Luke out onto the desk and came over, cat and all, to point down to the seeing stone in the middle of the garden.

“Others who feel the Force’s energy will be drawn to it,” he told Ned fondly. “It’s how we got Luke back home.”

“It’s not,” Luke said. “You called me.”

“And so others will also come,” Obi-Wan said with confidence. “The most important thing is that we believe in the Force. And from that, we will find guidance and power and—”

“He means Yoda,” Luke translated. “He’s been putting frogs on it as an offering, even though me, Ahsoka, and Anakin told him that this is a human’s world. A human’s world, Ben. Even if he did eat them, he’s not eating them raw.”

“Don’t be discouraged by Luke’s attitude, he is very stressed,” Obi-Wan told Ned and Ned only affectionately. “I told him not to be, you see there are four of us here already, and the Chosen One is among us.”

“Anakin told you to stop calling him that,” Luke moaned, massaging his temples.

“He was the first to be aware of our present situation,” Obi-Wan said.

“He took a hallucinogen and had a paranoid breakdown,” Luke pleaded. “Ben, please. Go inside. Think of your blood pressure.”

“Perhaps, but it was a useful breakdown, was it not?”

“I am so sorry for him, he’s getting senile,” Luke said to the rest of them.

“Your energy is different,” Obi-Wan informed Peter out of absolutely nowhere. “Are you also Force-sensitive? Were you drawn to the stone?”

Er.

No.

Sorry?

“He’s Spiderman,” Luke said, gesturing pointedly. “Remember Spiderman?”

Obi-Wan did not. Peter suspected, actually, that Obi-Wan still used phonebooks, if he used phones at all, that was.

Luke took a deep breath and let it out.

“Okay, let me just lay it out,” he said. “We’re doing the best we can with what we have. You don’t have to get involved with this. We appreciate your help, but what would help us even more is if you stay out of it, alright?”

Yeah, okay. Sure. Peter could respect that.

“Amazing. And don’t tell other people.”

Understood.

“Unless they’re Force-sensitive,” Obi-Wan said. “In which case, ask them how they feel about rocks.”

Luke just stared at him coldly this time.

“You didn’t used to be like this,” he said dangerously.

“No, I used to be stressed,” Obi-Wan told him. “But you and Ani are doing that for me, so I have resolved to be a free spirit. Nice to meet all of you. Have more coffee. I don’t like this one; I will have it out of the house by sundown.”

He left, and possibly for good this time. No one knew what to say in his absence.

“So,” Peter tried, desperate for something to break up the tension. “You said a few days ago that you were looking for someone?”

Luke finally stopped making growling faces towards the sliding door. He lit up like a bulb.

“I am, actually,” he said.

Luke was looking for a very particular person named ‘Din.’ He described him as ‘six feet tall and covered in armor.’ He asked if they knew of such a person.

Peter had to shove a hand against his mouth in case he made an unwanted connection between this description and Obi-Wan behavior.

“Haven’t,” MJ said. “Who is he?”

“My husband,” Luke said.

Ned choked.

Peter choked.

MJ tilted her head.

“You have a husband?” she asked. “I would have remembered a husband in that series.”

Luke leaned his chin on his palm and gazed sideways over the city. He seemed to sigh.

“I don’t know why he isn’t connected to me in the media created here,” he said. “It’s probably because he’s always been very shy.”

Oh, aw. Peter loved that. The contrast between them was heart-warming.

“We had a son together,” Luke said. “His child. He brought him to me. One of my students, at first.”

Hang on a minute here.

Peter exchanged a glance with Ned. Ned tried very hard to pick a way to approach this sensitively. He landed on asking, “What was his name again?”

“Din,” Luke said. “Din Djarin.”

Ned cringed.

“He was a Mandalorian,” Luke explained. “Very, very, very shy. Like, he would rather chew off his own leg than make small talk with a stranger. I think, before I knew all this, I was still subconsciously looking for him. All my exes are the same type.”

That—

Okay, so like.

Did these people own a TV?

“Do we look like we own a TV?” Luke deadpanned. “No. If Ben senses anything bigger than a datapad happening in this place, he’s driven to madness and breaks it.”

UH?

“He doesn’t actually break it,” Luke sighed. “He just finds a way to make it unusable—putting clothes on it, disconnecting the monitor, that kind of thing. He thinks they waste electricity.”

What a guy. Peter wanted to put him and May in a room and see what conspiracies they could spin together.

“Why do you ask?” Luke asked.

Ned cleared his throat.

“Do you have a, uh, datapad, then?” he asked.

“DIN. That’s DIN. He’s got his own show. Oh my god, that’s—stay right there. Don’t move.”

Bless this man. Peter wanted to hug him so bad. They’d lost him to the staircase leading up from the second floor to the attic. Peter wondered who he was showing the tablet to.

Maybe Obi-Wan?

“I told you this already,” a voice up there said.

“LOOK AT HIM.”

“You’re killin’ me, smalls. We had this exact conversation last week. Did you forget?”

“You knew where he was.”

“Alright, alright. Downward march.”

Anakin fucking Skywalker came down the stairs with a handful of Luke’s shirt in one hand and the tablet shoved under his other arm. He paused and frowned at the three of them in the kitchen frozen in shock, and then apparently decided that that didn’t matter. He carried on dragging Luke with him towards the kitchen counter. He dropped the tablet onto it and Peter realized that the lower half of his sleeve on that side was empty.

He watched as the guy let go of Luke and chased the not-angry cat off the counter, cursing.

“Alright, this?” he said, tapping on the tablet. “Is the link I put here.” He rapped the same finger on what Peter now saw was a whiteboard covered in rows upon rows of symbols that he’d never seen before.

“Din here? Din here. You see?” Vader told Luke with untold patience.

“I can’t read that,” Luke moaned. “You lied to me.”

“It’s up in the kitchen, Luke.”

“You’re a liar and a cad. Do it in Basic.”

“This is Basic.”

Oh, dear. All that fanfic about Luke meeting Darth Vader and having a breakdown was looking real embarrassed now, wasn’t it?

“If it’s Basic, why can’t I read it?” Luke demanded.

“Because, like I told you last night, the night before, and the night before that,” Vader said painstakingly, “It doesn’t all come back at once. It’s going to take time.”

“We don’t have time,” Luke snapped.

Vader leaned his head back with half-lidded eyes. Luke didn’t look even remotely like his kid, even with him looking all pre-quels-like now.

“We talked about this, too, remember?” Vader asked.

Obviously not. Luke was distressed. He had eyes only for the tablet now.

“No, of course not, silly me,” Vader said. “Why are humans here?”

“Ahsoka went home,” Luke said.

“Thank you, that was not my question.”

“What was your question?”

“Why are non-order humans here?”

“I told you, Ahsoka went—”

“Son, I will kill you if you continue to act like Obi-Wan,” Vader said without missing a beat.

“You can try,” Luke said offhandedly. “But only one of us has two handed grip.”

There was a long stare.

“It’s Obi-Wan,” Vader told him. “Why do we have living guests?”

He gestured back to Peter, Ned, and MJ like they were flies on a set of blinds.

“Oh, because that’s Spiderman and he stole your kyber crystals,” Luke said.

Vader rounded on Peter, and Peter actually felt fear.

Vader blinked once.

“This may as well happen,” he decided somehow placidly. “I’m going back upstairs. Where did your grand-master go?”

“Into the mist,” Luke said. “Can you feel Din?”

“Negative, ghostrider.”

“When the Force chooses you first out of favoritism, can you feel for Din?”

“Ah yes, can I feel for your Force-repellant life partner with all of the Force energy that I do not have? Yes, I sure can.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“Anytime, primary monstrosity of my loins.”

UM?

This felt a little hostile for Peter’s tastes. Not that it wasn’t earned. Clearly it was earned. It was just horrifying.

“Guests, you are dismissed,” Vader said in their direction. “Unless you’re drawn to the rock outside, in which case, you may stay. Otherwise, do not darken this doorstep again, or else we will leave you with the other dead in the morgue.”

“Thanks for bringing the crystals,” Luke said from behind him. “And for talking. I do feel better, actually.”

They left the funeral home. Obi-Wan was outside by the mailbox as though waiting for them. Peter wasn’t sure he had any emotional energy left to approach him with.

“Thank you for speaking to Luke,” he said as the three of them attempted to pass unnoticed. “It’s good for him to talk to others his own age.”

Uh-huh. Good night, sir?

“Good night, Peter, Ned, and Michelle.”

They hadn’t given their names.

They definitely hadn’t given their names.

Ned wasn’t sleeping for two years. He made this clear with a lot of clapping gestures and then rolled around on the floor, talking about all kinds of shit that Peter couldn’t decipher. MJ watched him and flicked her eyes up to Peter with concern on her forehead.

“That family is cinematically dysfunctional,” she said.

Correct.

“They’re barely their own characters.”

Correct.

“What now?”

Peter wasn’t sure. The best he could think of was to just keep an eye on the situation. Maybe check in every couple of weeks?

“If you say so,” MJ said. “I think you made Ned’s life, by the way. Good job.”

Peter tried checking in every two weeks. It started because he happened to hear of a tunnel collapsing in Queens nearby the funeral home. He texted Luke to ask if he needed a save and all he got back was a ‘well, not anymore.’

After that, Peter kept a close eye on happenstances occurring around the city. There were more than he bargained for. And when he glanced at Luke’s Instagram after the first week after the tunnel collapse, he noted that two of the nails on the hand Luke held his coffee to the camera with had gone completely black.

That was worrying.

Peter was used to be the danger-prone asshole in his friendgroup. He did not like this role-reversal. MJ asked him sarcastically what the problem was.

He texted Luke again.

PP: how many nails do you have left bro?

LS: we put a hole in one to release the pressure

PP: that don’t sound great bro.

LS: it’s fine. Oh, but good news

PP: oh?

LS: the most predictable thing ever has happened. The Vader has regained force power

PP: that’s worrying

LS: ? why?

PP: won’t he go dark?

LS: ah, no. He fucked up and raised me and Leia with Ben this time after our mom died. He had his chance to go dark and traded it for 8 consecutive hours of sleep instead.

PP: I truly don’t know what to say

LS: It’s fine we did 12 years of family therapy after the accident so we are no longer on the DSS watchlist

PP: I know less what to say

LS: he won’t find din :/

PP: is that your priority right now?

LS: aren’t you supposed to be spiderman or something? Don’t you have chaotic things to say?

PP: you know normally I do, this is literally out of character for me. but I think you also might be absorbing my chaos.

LS: that’s fair. I have that effect on people. Hey, is your buddy Ned available to chat? He knows more than I can remember about my old life. Can I borrow him?

That sounded like a horrendous decision.

PP: yeah let me get you his number.

LS: thanksssss

Ned reported a few days later that his services were needed at the funeral home. He was leaving them all now to befriend Luke Skywalker as was his true destiny.

He came back a few hours later and reported that his services had been helpful and he was pleased to say that Darth Vader was now the official herder of ‘wans’ in the house. This included all Obi-Wans and padawans.

He seemed to be the only guy there who could like, retain information given to him for some reason. He accepted this as his lot in life and went around repeating the same things to the others ad nauseum until they finally stuck for them.

Peter wondered if that was his personal hell.

Ned didn’t think so. He thought the guy was pretty chill about it and had probably been doing it for a while now. He did it more for Ahsoka Tano and Luke than he did for Obi-Wan. Although that was probably because Obi-Wan appeared to be on a hunt that made all non-relevant information given to him slip off his back like water.

Another two weeks. Another text.

PP: hey luke, I saw you drowning on the news. You okay?

LS: GOD my ex-workplace keeps calling welfare checks on our house. We’ve had more cops here then flies these last few days.

PP: ex-workplace is one way to refer to your old job. Sounds like they cared about you. What did you do?

LS: preschool teacher.

Peter was going to lose his shit right here on this bed.

PP: was that your calling?

LS: that was Luke Naberry’s calling. Luke Skywalker’s calling is to make the lightsaber go vrrrrrrm

PP: you honestly terrify me

LS: thanks han says the same thing. OH. HE FOUND CHEWIE.

PP: no shit??

LS: yeah I told Ned, not you. But yeah. He found him lugging boxes for a bodega. And now they both work at the same bodega. Which like, objectively, is a bad thing because Han was a UN translator.

PP: I’m

PP: sorry

PP: what?

LS: I know he was all respectable and shit. It was awful. I can look at him again without feeling like I’ve failed in every part of my life.

PP: dare I ask what your sister does?

LS: lawyer

PP: not senator?

LS: we’re not old enough to be senators.

PP: every moment becomes more concerning than the next. You fascinate me. This is why they put you in like, all the films.

LS: because I’m sexy yeah

PP: that too

LS: not to you. I’m off-limits bub. I’m married.

PP: how’s that going for you?

LS: Hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

PP: I see. So no Din yet?

LS: I will find him if it kills me

PP: that’s so romantic. Hey you should watch that series. They gave him a little green yoda in it. Really cute.

LS: that’s my son you piece of shit

There was no winning here.

MJ asked him a few weeks later if he was still keeping up with the Jedi drama since the whole city had recently decided that Peter was a snack.

Obviously he hadn’t.

She told him not to worry, Ned had. She told him to talk to Ned, so he went and talked to Ned with a heatpad in one hand and a coldpack in the other.

Ned patted at him sympathetically and informed him that Luke had reunited with the Force. It was going poorly for him, mostly because the Force wasn’t used to people being in touch with it in these parts of the universe. It kept telling each of the jedi that there was a disturbance and then luring them to each other to fight to the death.

Luke described it as the Force-equivalent of an auto-immune disease.

They’d taken to gathering in the living room of the funeral home to meditate in a circle, as though to calm the Force’s anxiety while scenting each other for protection.

It had a 40% success rate. Everyone was sleeping in locked rooms for the time being, just in case someone got compelled to do something rash.

Peter asked Ned if he’d finally lost his crown as King Chaos of NYC.

Ned patted him on the knee more firmly than before and said that he could regain his crown by introducing a calming element into the jedi household.

Peter had his pride to defend, so he asked what that element ought to be.

Din Djarin, the Mandalorian, the leader of all Mandalorians, was bound to have a name that looked nothing like the one they had for him. Luke nearly exploded when Peter approached him to asked him (and his taped fingers) more about who Din Djarin was outside the name.

They proceeded with caution, however. So far, Peter and Ned had discovered only dissonance between Luke’s account of his life partner (his ‘heart, stars, sun, and sand’) and the guy on the screen for the tv show. That was to be expected, given that they had met Luke now and learned of his somewhat explosive personality.

But even still, Luke’s description of Din Djarin as ‘kind, compassionate, tender, shy, emotionally stable, dependable, sweet, caring, and hunky’ seemed slightly biased.

Peter just wanted to know how tall this guy was. Hair color. Eye color. Skin color. Blood type. That kind of shit.

Luke said that Din had brown hair, brown eyes, Type Who Knows What blood, and was about six feet tall. He had no idea how much he weighed. He’d never had need for that information. He knew that Din was human, which was probably helpful in a galaxy far, far away. He knew that he spoke Mando’a as his first language, then Basic, then a whopping fifteen others. And he knew that Din was probably looking after their son.

Vader asked Peter over a mug of coffee (also labeled in the funeral home’s cabinet as ‘not spice.’) if Spidersenses could overcome a dearth of information. It took Peter a few moments to realize that he was sympathizing with him.

“You’re not going to find Din,” Vader told Luke. “You need to look for the kid. You’ll find the kid first, you always have.”

Luke took his coffee and poured it down the drain.

Peter decided that he didn’t want to get in between that burgeoning battle. He told Luke to text him if he remembered anything else.

Wade was pissed that Peter had been meeting and ‘cavorting’ with Luke Skywalker without him. He claimed ownership of the Din Djarin mystery in order to cram himself into Luke’s good graces. But quickly, he ran into the same stumbling blocks as Peter.

Din Djarin was six feet tall with brown eyes and brown hair.

That was what they currently had to go on.

Wade would have torn out his hair if he had any, but he stopped himself and accepted the challenge. Peter watched over his shoulder as he chicken-pecked his way into a list of social security numbers held by the NYC State ID issuing department and started methodically filtering names that did not sound like ‘Din.’

He started broad with all ‘D’s and then narrowed it down further and further and further until he was left with a shitload of Daniels.

He stared at the screen before him and vibrated.

Peter massaged his shoulders before he cracked.

It helped. Wade started filtering by height, then by eye color. Then by hair, and only ended up with several hundred people.

He vibrated again, but this time, Peter couldn’t help him.

He sighed. Wade said that there had to be a better way to do this. He got up.

Wade made about four thousand missing posters with the name Din Djarin on them which he recruited the whole team to plaster up around NYC. This was not a request.

Miles asked him why they were doing this for a tv character and had to be let in on the gig.

He lost his shit.

Louis tried to retain his shit.

Angel still didn’t know how the whole jedi thing worked.

Dave hummed and haw’ed and took his time in calling bullshit. Wade asked him to look deep into his eyes and ask if he was entertaining bullshit that fine evening.

Dave changed his opinion and took a stack.

There was no way that shit was supposed to work. There was just no way. A) because Wade had the worst ideas of all mankind and B) because Peter had the worst luck of all mankind. So the two of them together should have destroyed all the prospects of success for that job.

But instead, while they were hatching a new plot involving setting up a sham sociological study for people who responded to Star Wars names, Wade’s phone went off.

He grabbed it and opened the message and lo and behold right there was a note that read,

“I hope you are not a reporting body because this is going to sound certifiably insane, but I think I might be the guy you’re looking for?”

Wade screamed.

Peter scolded him not to get too excited too soon. They had to see the man first.

Wade texted furiously, asking for a picture and got a message back that said, “please do not dox me.”

They got no answer until Wade promised not to dox the guy.

And then they got an image of a man with brown hair and brown eyes with olive skin. His face was remarkably square. The picture wasn’t just him, though, he had in his arms a little boy with a head covered in tight ringlets. His eyes were so dark they were nearly black and he was maybe two years old.

The caption said, “apologies, my son needed to be in the picture.”

Wade cooed and entered Dad Mode to ask how old the baby was and what he liked to do and Peter lost the fathers to that small talk for a while before Wade oh-so-casually asked, “So you feel like you’re from outer space?”

“It sounds strange,” the guy on the other said wrote back, “But I do. Like every day I wake up and look in the mirror and something is wrong. I feel like I’m always forgetting something when I leave the house. I watched the tv show of the guy who’s name was on your fliers and the kid in it reminds me so much of my son. It’s eerie. They make the same sounds. He made the same sounds before we even watched that show.”

Wade whistled.

“I think this is him, Pete,” he said. “He called Baby Yoda a ‘kid’ not a yoda.”

Peter stared. He hadn’t even caught that. That was smart as hell.

“So what now?” he asked.

Wade sniffed.

“Get Skywalker to send you a selfie,” he said.

PP: Luke are you pretty right now?

LS: My face is intact

PP: take a selfie and send it to me

LS: cannot do that. Face is intact is a baseline situation. Let me find an old one. Oh, they all have my ex in them. This is awkward.

PP: it doesn’t matter I can crop it.

LS: no I have to be cute or I’ll perish hold on

PP: are you sure you’re not Johnny Storm?

LS: yes, he’s got loads of muscles. Sent.

Selfie acquired.

Luke looked very smiley in it. His eyes were blown out from the lighting, but it showed his sloping smile and his low, back-set dimples. Peter sent it to Wade. Wade sent it to his new friend.

They waited.

They waited five minutes.

Then ten.

Then half an hour.

Then nearly two.

And finally, Wade’s phone rang. He picked it up and set it on speaker so that Peter could hear.

“Hello?” Wade said.

There was a long pause.

“Where did you get that picture?” a low, almost smoky voice demanded on the other side.

“A friend,” Wade said sleazily. “You know him? He’s a cute little thing, ain’t he?”

It took the dude on the other side of the line worryingly long to respond.

“What do you want?” he finally asked.

Wade brought his head down in interest.

“What’re you willing do to?” he asked.

They waited. Peter didn’t know what was taking this guy so long to—

“Anything.”

Ah.

Okay. That.

That sounded about right.

Wade cackled.

“You know his name?” he asked.

“I do,” the man said.

“What’s his name then, pal?” Wade asked.

“It’s none of your fucking business.”

Holy shit. Holy shit. Peter clutched the back of the couch. Wade was grinning so hard, Peter could see it through his mask.

“You want him, you need to show me that you know who he is,” Wade said. “I ain’t got ‘im here, but I know where he is. Come on, big boy. Who is he?”

Peter could hear the man take in a deep, shaky breath.

“His name is Luke,” Din fucking Djarin, the Mandalorian himself, said.

Din fucking Djarin’s name at the moment was Danny Jabaran. He stood six feet tall with a medium build and that baby of his in his arms.

He was not afraid of Wade.

He was not afraid of Peter.

The suits didn’t scare him; this man was a space warrior. The leader of the space warriors. Peter was humbled to stand in his presence, old jeans and tattoos and all.

“Vigilantes,” he acknowledged.

“Deadpool,” Wade said, offering a hand. “And this is?”

“Grogu,” Djarin said.

Baby Yoda lifted his big liquid eyes up to Wade and blinked twice. Then he wriggled around and hid in Djarin’s neck. Djarin put a hand on his back and didn’t drop eye contact.

“Tell me everything,” Djarin said.

Ned screamed. Michelle screamed. Peter reminded them that he had neighbors and invited Mr. Mand’alor to sit on the couch for a bit while he called Luke.

Michelle claimed the spot next to Djarin and asked Baby Yoda Grogu for his little hand. He studied her and hid again, making a prolonged sound of distress that Djarin cut off by saying, “Hey. Manners.”

This somehow made baby Grogu turn back to Michelle to stare at her offered hand.

He took it. She shook with him and then took hers away.

Grogu perked up and reached for it again.

“You’re the Mandalorian,” Ned said.

Djarin looked right at him.

“A Mandalorian,” he corrected.

Ned blinked back tears.

“You’re so cool,” he creaked.

Djarin frowned.

“You...are too?” he tried.

Ned wept into a fist.

Peter left them to call Luke in his bedroom. Luke picked up on the third ring with the start of an ingrained greeting that sounded a whole lot like a customer service recording. He caught himself, though.

“I have someone I’d like you to talk to,” Peter said. “I think you might want to sit down.”

Luke’s unusual quiet on the other side made Peter grin.

“Are you sitting?” he asked.

“I’m sitting.”

“Alright, one moment,” Peter said, walking out into the living room. Djarin had edged far, far away from Ned, as far as he possibly could without being rude. He looked up when Peter came over and sat down on the arm next to him.

“Say hi,” Peter said.

Djarin frowned at him and then the phone.

“Who’s that?” he asked.

Peter waited. Djarin lifted his head over to see the phone’s screen.

“Hello?” he tried.

“Din?”

The Spidey Sense crashed through Peter like a tidal wave.

Djarin had gone completely still.

“Din? Is that you? Can you hear me?”

“Shit,” Djarin said, lifting a hand to cover his eyes. “Goddamnit. Jesus.”

“DIN.”

“Dank Fucking Farrik.”

“Oh my god.”

Baby Grogu’s face snapped toward the phone with huge eyes. He grabbed at Djarin’s collar, then his jaw and started bouncing a little in his arms.

“Bu?” he asked.

Djarin couldn’t make himself move.

“Grogu?” Luke asked. “Hey, baby, is that you, bubba?”

Grogu grabbed Djarin’s face urgently, so that he couldn’t hide his raw eyes anymore.

He pointed at the phone.

“Yeah, I hear ‘im, kid,” Djarin said.

“MMMMM. Gib.”

“Ah. That’s not ours. We don’t grab. We ask,” Djarin reminded as Grogu pleaded for the phone. Peter snickered and gave it to him. He just held it, staring.

“Do you wanna see him?” Peter asked. “Luke, can we maybe video chat?”

“Y-yeah,” Luke said. “Hold on. Oh god, my face. Uh, hey Din are you still near-sighted, hon?”

Djarin huffed a laugh that turned into a whole-body tremor.

“I got contacts,” he said a little hysterically.

“You got WHAT?” Luke yipped, “Okay, no. No, I gotta. Be still, this heart. Okay let me just take off the butterflies. On moment, Grogu, Daddy’s just gotta dunk his face in the damn sink.”

MJ bounced her eyebrows at Peter as he gently took the phone back from Grogu and tapped on the camera. He offered it back the kid and received a deep gaze of wonder in return. Djarin turned the screen right-side up in his hands.

Luke finally turned his camera on and revealed himself to be very swollen in the jaw with damp hair and a cut very close to the rim of his left eye.

Grogu screeched.

Luke laughed.

“Look at you,” he said, “I’m gonna cry. Oh my god. Where’re your ears, pal?”

Grogu analyzed this reaction for 2 full seconds and then shoved the camera right into his dad’s forehead. Djarin took it from him and liberated himself so that he could see Luke who was clutching at his face, absolutely already sobbing, bless him.

He looked up to see Grogu and instead got Djarin and finally just broke right in half.

Peter swallowed back the growing lump in his throat. His eyes were starting to warm a little.

Djarin found a watery smile in himself.

“I know you’re not cryin’ because of me,” he said gently.

“Where’s your helmet?” Luke sobbed, wiping viciously at his eyes. “People are watching, you harlot.”

“I know,” Djarin said. “I lost it.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Luke.”

“This is all my fault. I should’ve—I should’ve—”

“Luke,” Djarin said again, full of warmth, “You died for us.”

Luke shook harder than ever.

“There is no greater sacrifice a warrior can make,” Djarin told him. “I was honored for you to have made it for me and our son. This has always been the Way.”

“This is the Way,” Luke stammered.

“I missed you,” Djarin said. “Where in God’s name have you been?”

“I was a preschool teacher in the Bronx, man, I dunno what happened,” Luke said tipping his face up to force the tears back in.

“In the Bronx? Where?”

“Uh, off Allerton and Lurting?”

Djarin started shaking with laugher.

“I work off Laconia and Mace,” he said.

“You what?”

“We’ve been blocks apart this whole time.”

Awwwwww.

“I’m going to stab myself,” Luke moaned. “I’m going to stab myself in the arm. I was right there and I sold out for my part-time gig barely weeks ago. Oh my god. I’m going to—move, old man, I’m suffering—Wait. Din, did you find your parents?”

Djarin stood up and held the phone out straight.

“Where are you right now?” he asked.

Look at all these people hugging each other.

Look at them crying all over. There was a baby in there, wailing because he was so happy to be back in the arms of his other dad.

Aww. AWWWW. Peter was getting emotional again, he was going to see himself out.

“Wait. Peter.”

He looked up to find Luke holding a hand to him.

“Thank you,” he said. “You really are a superhero, you know that?”

Yeah.

Sometimes, he did.

The city had plenty of problems as it was, yeah, more now with a bunch of jedi running around, linking up with each other and spreading memory like mushroom spores. But it didn’t feel that much different.

What it felt like now was Ned showing Grogu how to hold his hand at the seeing stone in the funeral home’s back yard to make the Force happen while Obi-Wan reported cheerfully that the cat perched on it was still not levitating.

It also felt like watching Luke freak out over text to Ned and Michelle about his ex losing their mind at him dumping them after two years to marry this random mechanic within a week of getting together.

Peter got to see this from new angles, too, one of which was the bottom of the funeral home’s attic stairs, which Anakin Skywalker liked to sit on while his grandkids—both Grogu and Han Solo and Leia Organa (pardon, Leia Naberry)’s son—came over to show him things that he was very well aware of. These were stolen from him by Auntie Ahsoka and her friends who Ned knew and Peter did not.

And there was something warming about how even these folks—people from a galaxy far, far away, occasionally needed a Spiderman.

#spiderman #starwars #dinluke #inimitable verse #ficlet #this is the niche of the niche but I know like 5 of you read both my mando and spiderman fics #so this is for you doll #and also the fact that I have a fucking PROBLEM

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tggbb-hershey · 4 years

Text

Bennett x cup oneshot, need i say more?

Bennett downed another shot. The sounds of his friends’ cheers slowly drowned out as his eyes fixed on the shot glass before him. He hadn’t realized how beautiful it looked under the fluorescent light coming from the overhead fixtures. He had the overwhelming urge to get its attention.

Bennett rested his elbows on the table and stroked his jaw. He observed the cup, trying to make sense of its moves. Did it just look at him? After a moment, he took a deep breath and mustered up the courage to say something that sober Bennett would be proud of.

“Has anyone ever told you..” he started, “that you smell like crab and creamy vino ravioli?’

His mother’s crab and creamy vino ravioli.

“My mother would make it for me and she was one of my biggest inspirations. She’s not around anymore, but that dish of hers always made my day. There was something so special about it.” He thought for a moment, then leaned in and locked eyes with the cup. “But there seems to be something even more special about you.” He murmured, gazing at it.

“Bennett, you’re so strong for holding on without your mother all these years. You know how much I look up to you, right?” Declan sniffled next to Bennett.

Bennett turned to glare at Declan’s pathetic drunk form, his head laying sideways on the counter with his arms splayed out. “I’m a little busy here. Can we do this another time?”

“Time isn’t real!” A drunk Jordan wailed from Bennett’s other side while spinning around on his bar stool. Bennett ignored him.

“Actually, you think time isn’t real because of how weirdly its measured, when its really just the concept of change-” Naomi slurred before getting up and running to vomit in the nearest trash can. Bennett kept an eye on her, watching her run to the trash can, wretch her guts out, and stumble back, wiping her mouth.

He turned back to the cup. “So what’s your name?” He asked it, regaining eye contact.

“I’m naming them after the only good thing in my life, Delilah. Oh, and Naomi. Their name’s Delilah Naomi.” Said Declan, for some reason with an arm raised as if he were answering a question in class. He was now upright but slumped over, his eyes barely open. “They’re not yours to name,” Bennett growled.

“What’s in a name?” Jordan wailed again, still spinning.

Naomi, from Jordan’s other side, leaned over to look at Bennett. “Its Cupulus, like calculus in case you’re not that smart-”

She suddenly covered her mouth and widened her eyes, then turned around and grabbed the purse of a lady who happened to walk by and vomited into it. The lady. horrified, wrenched her bag away and tried to leave, before Jordan stopped spinning and pulled her purse back to add to Naomi’s creation. They waved her awkward goodbyes as she pulled away and hastily left, occasionally turning back to glare at them.

“No,” Bennett said. He looked back at the cup, trying to hear its melodious voice within him. “Their name’s Y/N.”

Bennett savoured the sound of its name. A beautiful name for a beautiful cup. “I apologize for not noticing you before... Y/N. I didn’t mean to overlook you like that. If anything, I know how it feels to be used and left empty...” He stroked the side of the cup. “But i want to make it up to you.. if you’d allow me to.”

It didn’t answer, but its glassy exterior shifted to a deep red. This was probably due to the lights changing, but Bennett took it as a good sign. A blush. He looked down at the counter and trailed his finger over the glass surface absentmindedly.

“You’re red now. Am i making you...” His eyes shot back up at the cup, and he gave it the slightest smirk. “flustered?”

im ending that there before it gets worse im so sorry

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oddsnendsfanfics · 4 years

Text

Unraveling at the Seams Pt 3

Genre: Fan Fiction Pairing: Alex Høgh Andersen/OFC, Henry Cavill/OFC Warnings: Language, Sexual Innuendo, Possible NSFW Rating: M Length: Multi Disclaimer: a strict work of fiction, I own nothing except the original characters and the plot line. In no way am I affiliated to any of it.

A/N: Allow me to give you all a little something, for my birthday.

thank you @flowers-in-your-hayr for the header :D

Catch Up Here

The weekend had been slower than usual, a welcoming relief from work for all who were involved. Jordan had casually asked Nell and Ivan over to watch a game on Sunday, only to be declined due to Ivan's own involvement in a local youth football league. They had a match Sunday morning and Nell wasn't confident that her son would be up for that much excitement for one day – not if she wanted him in bed at a decent hour for school the next morning.

“I thought they usually came over to watch the matches.” Alex tried his best not to look like a stalker, peering around the corner and out the window that looked into the courtyard at Jordan and Sophie's. On the stairs across the yard, Nell sat with her phone in hand, staring down at the screen.

“They do, but I think they're busy this afternoon.” Jordan replied ignoring the fact that Alex was spying on the neighbours. “Now come on, get over here and watch the fucking game.”

“Uh, in a second.”

“Dude, don't be that guy. Stop oogling the poor woman, you do enough of that at work.” Marco smirked and tossed a chip at Alex.

A middle finger extended in reply to Marco; Alex chuckled and left the window.

Would it look too desperate if he went for a smoke?

What would Nell think? He knew what Jordan and Marco would think and say.

Marco teased his friend relentlessly about the costume designer and his crush. Nell was lovely and fun to talk with, she made the long days less mundane and was always smiling, unless you were Alex. Marco had worked with her as long as Alex and Jordan, living with Alex gave him an edge on exactly how his friend saw the woman across the courtyard.

The crush had been on-the-spot.

They had walked in for their first fitting and Alex was slack jawed, nearly tripping over himself in her presence. Nell ignored him, a wise move Marco thought, though it caused Alex to be a bigger pest. Two years he had been admiring this woman and was still struggling to get a decent conversation in.

“Why don't you ask her out?” Sophie joined the conversation, glancing over her shoulder at the window to see Nell still sitting on the steps.

Nell was guarded, sure, and at the end of the day she was still a woman. On more than one occasion Nell had revealed how lonely she felt. Ivan and her job were the only things she had in Ireland, possibly the only two things she had regardless where she was.

“Don't torment him.” Jordan smirked. Nell would never agree to a date with Alex.

She didn't date actors, anymore, nor did she want somebody who was barely able to function around her. Alex was a great guy and a fantastic friend; Jordan had a few doubts about his abilities to truly woo and keep a woman. The other actor rarely went on dates and when he did, they never lasted longer than one night.

Marco snickered. “Can you even talk to her?”

“I can talk to her.” Alex defended. Quietly he took the ribbing. Sophie knew Nell the best out of the four people in the room, her suggestion had felt like less teasing and that had the wheels turning in Alex's mind.

He could casually ask her the next time he brought her a coffee at work. Or should he go big and grand? Send her a bouquet of flowers, asking her when they arrived?

He had saw a bouquet of peach roses on her work top one day, he remembered the dozen roses vividly. They were bright and cheery, they had everybody commenting on them. Nell would blush and say they were from a friend. Probably her boyfriend at the time.

Alex had heard through the grapevine that the costume designer hadn't dated anybody in a serious manner, in a long time. Men were fickle about women with children, a shame because Alex loved kids. Ivan, from what he could piece together, was comical. The little boy was smart and had no issue telling adults how it was.

“What's going on in that thick head?” Marco launched another chip at Alex. “Day dreaming about your girlfriend?”

“Fuck off.” Alex quipped, tossing half of the crumbled chip back at Marco. “She's not my girlfriend.”

“But you want her to be.” Marco winked at Jordan and Sophie, extending his arm around his body and turning his back to them. Imitating a couple making out. “Oh Alexxxxx.”

Laughter filled the room at Alex's expense. Cheers and whoops from Jordan enjoying Marco's performance.

“Cut it out, leave him be.” Sophie defended Alex's dignity against the other two. “Let him alone.” even she giggled at Marco's over the top theatrics.

“At least somebody in the room looks out for me,” Alex wasn't at all hurt or insulted by the joking.

“Why don't you ask her out?” Sophie's tone told him she was on a serious level now. “Ask her for coffee or something. Invite her to a nice brunch. She was telling me how much she misses getting dressed up and going out on Sundays.”

“Ask her, mate. Tell her we'll watch Ivan for the morning and go have fun.” Jordan's eyes never left the tv as he spoke.

“I don't know.”

What would he say? How would he do it? He couldn't simply walk up and ask her. Could he? Nell would likely laugh at him, shoot him down, and never speak to him again. Alex had a reputation of being able to talk and make friends with anyone, but women were sometimes his faltering point. Especially ones he had a particular interest in.

“What? Come on, you may as well ask. What is the worse that could happen? She says no and you have to pick up your pride? Shameful.” Marco was now changing his tune about this.

If Alex were to go out on a date, then maybe Marco wouldn't have to listen to him moan about how he had shit luck with women. Alex needed to get laid, this could be the ticket to such things. Marco hated how his roommate became a whiny little bitch because he was getting sexually frustrated.

“I don't know. What would I say? What would we do? How would I ask?” Alex scratched the shaved part of his head. “Do I tell her she can bring Ivan? Will she think it's a joke? Do I bring her flowers? I don't know.”

“Calm down, is the first step.” Sophie coached. Placing a hand on Alex's arm, she tried to soothe his nerves. “I will help you.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Help him with what? How not to get punched in the face?” Jordan teased. “Nell is proud, don't be cocky.”

Until now, Alex's only fear had been that she rejected him. Nell wouldn't physically harm him, would she? No, Jordan was being a dick nothing more.

“What do you even know about her?” Marco questioned, remembering he had a beer on the table. If they were going to plot this poor woman's nightmare, he wanted his excuse to be he was drunk.

“She has a son. She's from somewhere in Canada,” Alex thought for a moment. He didn't want help, despite Jordan looking as if he wanted to fill in all the blanks. “Uh. She's lived here before, but moved to...was it London?” Sophie nodded eagerly. “She has siblings? She likes scotch and peach roses.”

“Very good.” Sophie applauded lightly. “But don't bring up the roses. She hates that.”

“Really? She had a big bunch of them on her work station a few months ago.” Marco tipped his beer.

“It's a thing between her and Henry. You don't want to remind her of her ex on a first date.” Sophie carefully guided the wayward men.

“What kind of dickhead name is Henry?” Alex snorted. Now he had the name of the guy who had hurt her.

Fuck you Henry!

“Henry of England. Henry Winkler, Henry Ford, Henry Cavill, Henry Thomas, Henry...” Marco thought hard for a moment. “No that is all I have. Needless to say, they all sound like douchebags.”

“Why do you know so many Henry's?” Jordan was puzzled. Marco shrugged, leaving the conversation at hand to explain he knew a lot of random shit. Launching him and Jordan into a new conversation, allowing Alex and Sophie to focus on the task at hand.

Tapping his fingers on the table top, Alex sat staring into space. He needed something to go on, a solid plan for asking. Something tactful, but classy. Walking into the design room wasn't going to cut it. Walking across the courtyard and knocking on her door was plain stalkerish.

“So, what now?” He turned to Sophie, needing all the help he could get.

On the front step, in the warm afternoon sun, Nell knew she was being watched. She couldn't see the person watching her from inside the townhouse, she could feel their stare. It was the same familiar stare that followed her at work.

Oh Alex.

“Are you with still with me, Janelle?” She focused on the screen at a sweaty man, eyes dancing, and dark curls smashed under a ball cap.

Fuck him and that blue tank top. Nell tried not to laugh, thinking of how his chest reminded her of the try hard harlots who would wear the push up bras in attempt to get their bosom to their throats.

The video call had come while Ivan was upstairs playing, which meant Nell would have time to take the call, getting any details she had yet to reveal to her son. If there was time, she would pass the phone off and let him talk with his father until one of them decided to run off and do something else.

“Copy that, Mr. Cavill.” She calmly replied, glancing up. Her peeping Dane was gone. “You look a little out of breath. Hard run today?” It was no secret the man moved like a sloth while running.

“Don't want to discuss it.” Henry shook his head at her teasing. Nell could outrun him with a broken leg and took great joy in reminding him. “Are you outside?” Behind her head the front of a house loomed and there was a sliver of sky beyond that.

“I am. It's too nice to sit inside.”

She would never tell him that she didn't want Ivan to hear her, in case it was another disappointment call. More than once his father would say he wanted to visit and then have to cancel. Schedules changed, it was nature of the job, having to explain that to a child never got easier. Leaving the poor boy with disappointment for days.

“Is it still as lovely there in summer as I remember?”

“Humid, but beautiful as always.” Nell nodded.

“I can't wait. I think I may have you book a room. Put it under your name and I will cover the costs. Perhaps something that will be suited for Ivan to stay with me? Unless of course you would prefer he comes to stay with me at home?” Henry shrugged. “If you want some time to yourself.”

“What are you saying?”

“You need to get out more. Find a hobby? Have some fun.” She hardly left the house outside of work.

“I have fun.” Nell blurted out. Henry, wisely, didn't say another word. Nell huffed. “And you can come here.” Ivan enjoyed London, but it wouldn't hurt for him to spend time with his father in his own environment for a change. If they were here, then Nell felt she could keep her wits about her. “I mean, you can stay here. At my place.”

Nell spotted Sophie pass by and waved. Waving back, the peppy blonde smiled and disappeared. Later on, Nell would venture over with a bottle of Château Montus Madiran that she had picked up, when she'd got the first phone call to say her summer plans were being ruined. One drink gone and the rest of the bottle was glaring at her every time she passed it.

“Will you be comfortable with that?”

“I will stay in a hotel,” Nell offered without thinking. “My place is fairly quiet and this will give Ivan a chance to show you all of the things he's constantly talking about.”

Sending a handful of video games or action figures to London was simple enough. What they couldn't send was the park and the duck pond that Ivan was constantly telling his father about. Packing an entire youth football league would also be a challenge. Nell would love to watch as the upscale home was overrun with muddy children, maybe another time. Who was she trying to kid, Henry would love that. He'd be the ring leader.

Ireland would be a bigger challenge. Taking Henry out of his element. He would spend his time looking over his shoulder, worrying about not only his, but Ivan's privacy. In London he had a handle on who would be coming and going, in Dublin there would be an unknown and uncomfortable factor. Nell would enjoy that.

The one time there had been any issues, was when a debate sparked online. Was the boy a family friend? A God-Son? His own child? Eventually people grew bored of arguing with one another, settling the debacle when a wizard of a publicist asked for the child's privacy. Ivan was young and aware that he had to be mindful when he spoke to people or went places with his father, though he never seemed bothered when the odd person would stop Henry and ask for a moment of time. It was normal, in a strange way, to the boy. He would wait patiently often milling around close by. Henry's mammoth of a dog warning off any body who dare look at Ivan.

“And Kal?” Obviously Henry had to have a place for the bear masquerading as a dog.

“My place is pet friendly, no worries. Kal can come as well.”

“Excellent, I know how much he loves Ivan.”

The black and white dog was the object of Ivan's affection as well.

Nell had vetoed the idea of having a pet, a child and an animal were too much for one person to wrangle and look after. When Ivan was older, if he still wanted a pet, then they would discuss it. Whatever they ended up with as a pet, would certainly not be a 100 and something pound dog. Kal was lovely and if he suited Henry, fine. Ivan could love on and play with the giant canine on his father's time.

“I have the dates, I was hoping that the end June until the second week of July would work? If they don't, then we can discuss and find something that works for both of us.” Henry wasted no time getting back to business. He had a limited time frame and wanted to chat with Ivan as well, before he had to go.

“I'm done the second week of June and don't have to be back until mid July. Send me the exact dates, I will make sure to set something up.”

“If I am putting you out in any way, you would tell me? I don't want to disturb your plans.” Of course he was diplomatic, too.

“You're not.” Lie. “It will be nice to have you here. Ivan will love it. Though, I'm not telling him until you're here. I want it to be a surprise.”

“Brilliant. I love that. I won't say a word, we can surprise him together.” Henry beamed. He understood that the surprise element was a matter of protection. Schedules were hectic at times, if he failed to make it, Ivan would be crushed. How did one boy get so lucky, having a mom like the one his son had. “Hopefully the wild boy finds dear ol' dad a good surprise.”

“I am sure he will find it a fantastic surprise.” Nell smiled softly. “And I am sure you want to talk to him?” Henry nodded. “He's upstairs, hold on I'll take you to him.”

Monday came fast and hard. Nell hadn't realized how little she managed to get done the previous day, until 3:30am hit and she was anything but prepared for work. Ivan's lunch was ready and his school uniform clean, the least she could do for Bridie who was coming over at the ass crack of dawn to take over the household for the day.

In an absolute state of disarray, having woke from a restless night tossing and turning – a pattern that was unavoidable whenever she spoke to or saw Henry – Nell drug herself out of the house and to set. It was going to be the longest day. Fingers crossed there would be a lull and she could steal on of the extra beds set out for the actors. Nobody would notice if she stepped away for a short cat nap.

Today was going to be...interesting to say the least.

“Morning, Nell.” Alex held out a take away cup from her favourite cafe. He was the first person Nell had saw since arriving. “I uh, Jordan told me how much you liked their coffee. It's my favourite, too.” he added fairly fast.

“Uh, thanks.” Nell accepted the coffee with a smile. How sweet of him. Deep down Nell could admit Alex wasn't that bad. “How was your weekend?”

“Same shit, different weekend.” Alex chuckled following Nell into the room. Holding the door open for her, like the gentleman his mother had raised. “And yours?”

“It was okay.”

“That's good.” He took a sip of coffee, hoping to find courage and words at the bottom of the hot, dark, liquid. “Busy week ahead.”

“Extremely, I'll be shocked it any of us leave here before next Monday.” Nell commented setting her coffee down on the nearest table, flipping on lights and checking stations as she went. “Are you here or one of the other sets this week?”

“I am all over.” Alex confirmed with a sigh. He loved his job. It was rewarding and more than he could have ever dreamed, like any job when you were this close to a break, each day drug on for an eternity. In a few short weeks, he could kick back with family and friends at home in Copenhagen.

“Keeps the days from ever being boring.” This morning talking with Alex had been easier than any other. Something about his lack of idle chatter was refreshing. Or maybe it was Nell's need for a distraction.

Coughing, he rubbed the back of his neck. Monday morning, first thing, was an unlikely time and place to ask a girl on a date and yet Alex had to try it out. He'd stayed up almost all night going over this moment in his head. Laying awake, he'd almost gone into Marco's room to get some coaching from his friend. Thinking better of the rash decision, Alex had let Marco sleep.

“Nell.” He went suddenly shy. Nell hummed and tilted her head in his direction, a sign that he had her attention despite her looking over a set of notes from a previous shoot. “I uh, I have something to ask and if you say no, then I will never ask this again.” He bit his bottom lip. Asking somebody for coffee had never been so difficult. A sign he was into her more than he expected. Or so Sophie had told him.

“Would, I mean, if you want...” Alex stammered. “Do you want to get together and have coffee? Outside of work? Maybe? Sometime?”

“Are you asking me out?” Nell's reaction was calm and reined in. Lifting her head to look at Alex, she held his gaze.

Alex had expected her to burst out laughing or her to tell him to fuck right off. There was still time for either or both to happen.

“Kind of, but not on a date or anything. Unless you want it to be. It's more of two people hanging out and getting to know one another.”

“Hmm.”

“Sophie told me to.” He blurted out before he could engage his mind to mouth filter.

Nell held his gaze, uncertainty was settled and Alex knew he had been defeated. Time to quit his job, move away, and change his name never to be located again. He had royally fucked it up this time. What made him think she would ever want to speak to him outside of being polite at work? Damn it, Sophie filling his head with fantasy and fairy tales.

“What if you join me for that scotch, instead?” Nell dropped the ball as easily as breathing.

All the air that had been held up in Alex's lungs escaped. A smile broke on his face. “I would like that. Yeah.”

“Good, what about Friday at eight?”

“Yeah. Yes. I will pick you up?”

“It's a date, then.” Nell held up her coffee, in a cheers manner. Where the hell had that come from? She should have put a stop to this, but...why? A harmless drink never hurt anybody.

“You need to get out more. Find a hobby? Have some fun.” Henry's words echoed in the moment.

A date. Nell had been the one to call it a date. Not him. No, not Alex. Wow Monday was going great and it was only 5:45am! Huh, Monday. Whoever said Monday sucks had never been in this position.

@funmadnessandbadassvikings , @kawennote09, @smutgoblin , @nickysurfer28 , @peaceisadirtyword, @igetcarriedawaywithyou , @lif3snotouttogetyou, @akamaiden @angelaiswriting, @neeadinghugs, @thoughtsmeander2tumblingblindly, @ilvebeenabad , @naaladareia, @imgoldielikehawn @tephi101, @sdcyumyum @unacceptabletatertots, @sparklemichele , @titty-teetee , @smolasianwinterbean , @capitanostella , @captstefanbrandt @bloodyivar , @normanallthewayforever , @blackcoffeeandgreenteaforme , @imyourliquor-youremypoison , @nikky-the-writer , @seremedyxiii , @laketaj24 , @deleteidentity , @tornupandbored , @hoeghfabulous , @ateliefloresdaprimavera , @mydarlingwhim , @kenzieam , @jar-of-love , @angelswannawearmyredshooz , @manuugxlvis , @lost-in-my-thoughs , @ivars-snowflake , @lisinfleur , @fumblingthroughchaos @pebblesz892 , @nelson-and-murdock , @nothingeverdies, @bluearchersstuff @itsspecial-itsnotforeveryone, @ivarlothbroks, @badassbaker @cris101071 @fucktrucks @ohjules @mrsadrianraines @angelic-kisses13 @whenimaunicorn @marthasantos95 @atlanticowe @hows-my-hair @omgshuddupmeg @moviegirl50 @havenoffandoms @gearhead66 @happydaysandersen @rekdreams-fandom @lovemylife2618 @supernaturalvikingwhore @heavenly1927 @zoe-rachel-crisp @blogandreea11 @shileen91 @geekandbooknerd @mzliterarydreamer @youbloodymadgenius @ainatirb-j @carlya65 @sawendel

- if you want to be added?removed, please let me know

#unraveling at the seams #alex høgh andersen #henry cavill #alex høgh imagine #henry cavill imagine #Alex Høgh Andersen x ofc #henry cavill x ofc #Alex Høgh Andersen fanfiction #henry cavill fanfiction #ivar's heathen army #jordan patrick smith #marco ilsø

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stonerbughead · 4 years

Text

Maria watches friday night lights (#16)

Okay y’all I’m back after a little break and I am ready to be Sad with Matt Saracen in 4x05!

There’s nothing like an episode starting with that football announcer and a pan of the field!

Also me and Jeff are watching The Wire rn (we’re almost done with season 2 and if you know what that means you know I’m very excited to see young Michael B. Jordan again)

Watching an underdog team get excited when they’re doing marginally well (like they are here where they still lose but score two touchdowns) is so much funnnn! it reminds me of playing field hockey so yeah it’s not a coincidence I finally got the inspiration to write my longtime bughead field hockey AU idea while watching FNL! tryna manifest this underdog East Dillon energy as I work on my last chapter of that fic

Omg they’re saying a prayer for the Saracens’ family? I hate forced Christianity but this is still really kind.

Damn when all you have is Christmas videos sent home from your dad to remember him by. Matt had such a conflicted relationship with his dad, my heart aches for him :(

AW Bad Movie Night with Julie and Landry? They’re such good friends. Landry is “twinkle toes” according to Julie and “the golden foot” according to Landry lol.

“Why is it called a breakfast of it’s at 1?” Laughing at Eric Taylor’s deep sigh; “I don’t know why they do that, son.”

Ugh this show is so good for moments like this transition from Vince receiving a phone call from a helpful Eric to immediately realizing they’re out of milk and trying to find his mom, who’s strung out outside the apartment :( poor Vince

Tim heckling at the pageant would be me lmao

Not Buddy trying to justify the war that killed Matt’s dad at his wake nooooooooo fuck imperialistic wars

Omg Becky don’t call Tim at a wake, I can’t! where is this going?? it remains cringe

Ugh poor Matt being upset to hear his dad was “funny” from the other soldier. He didn’t get to see the person other people got to see and it’s not okay and it’s not fair. “I just don’t want to talk about my dad anymore.” Mood.

How fucking dare the McCoys show up. “Are—are you serious?” Correct reaction!! YES SHUT THE DOOR IN THEIR FACES, MATT!

Haha Luke called him J.D. McDick. He.

Awww Tami helping Matt figure out funeral arrangements is the kind of gesture that makes my heart happy

YES to Tami saving Matt from being preyed upon by a scummy dude trying to make $$ off a veteran’s family! Damn capitalism sure makes for a cold fucking society huh?

I love Vince getting carjacking lessons from his friend lol

Awww I love Smash Williams doing well on the tv while Eric is cuddling and watching football with baby Grace. This show has enviable continuity

Eric being there for Julie during this turmoil is really nice. My partner’s dad died when we were younger (like 20) and being there for him was really overwhelming as a young girlfriend.

Literally despise JD McCoy blech

Tim and Landry and Billy helping Matt through it the best they know how—beers on the football field. “Are you really reminiscing about three years ago?” LMAO

UGH Matt’s fake eulogy to his friends. All the pain!! All the feels!! Oh god wait are they gonna break in to his dad’s casket

BILLY STILL HAS A BEER CAN IN THE FUNERAL HOME IM SCREAMING

ohhh Matt no your dad probably looks really bad my love :( :( oh it’s all hitting him isn’t it as he opens the casket THE FEELS

Fuck JD. These assholes are paintballing people’s trucks and shit not on a field? Wtf is wrong with these privileged fucks?? Yes Luke go off on them!

Tim is such a good friend! He felt “completely useless” after seeing his friend see his dead dad’s body. :( so many feels

Ugh no Becky, don’t kiss Tim. This should not happen. Yeah he’s stopping it. Just be friendssss I can’t

Okay she ran into Luke? That’s an age appropriate suitor for ya, Becky! Yes go to the car wash with him!

Awww did Matt show up to the Taylors late for dinner, drunk? Poor babe. They saved him a plate 😭 they’re really trying to be there for him.

“I’m having a moment. I don’t think I’m okay.” POOR MATT. “I hate him. And I don’t like hating people. I just put all my hate on him so I don’t have to hate anyone else.” This is so painfully sad.

“I can’t just let him hurt like that.” JULIE. MY HEARTTTTTTTTTT

Eric walking Matt home to make sure he’s safe 😭

Ah shit even Lyla is at the funeral?

There’s some military American exceptionalism propaganda in this eulogy as to be expected but otherwise so proud of our boy

@lockitin you were right — the actor who plays Matt Saracen truly knocked it out of the park in this episode! Amazing.

#matt saracen #maria watches friday night lights #mine #friday night lights 4x05

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nightwingvixen23 · 4 years

Text

That Time That

The Great

Justice League

Council Meeting

Team Up

Went To Fuckin’ Shit

*Numerous superheros from several sovereign locals seated at a large round table/having been called together by Superman for a Paramount Assignment/still waiting on others to arrive*

Superman : *quietly to Batman* I am quite pleased at your arrival

Batman : And why wouldn’t I come to such a severally roundabout meeting that you called with such extreme urgency, especially when it was intuitive that it involve so many others ? *stiffly* if anything I should have been signed in the planning process as well

Superman : *charming smile* Now don’t get all grouchy on me. We do all so love the Dark Bat routine, but come now....

Batman : *growling* Don’t you dare talk down to me; I won’t have it ! I am just as much a part of the head of the Justice League as you you are. If a Paramount Assignment such as this needs to be set up, then I must be in the know next time

Superman : Yes. Next time

Wonder Woman : And I as well

Batman and Superman : *startled*

Wonder Woman : *leaning down over the back of Clark’s chair/Laso of Hestia glowing threateningly close by* I am a steel bullet in this League, I shoot fast, I prove fatal, I hone a strength in imperative demand. I hone a seat at the head of this League as well and I do not wish to feel the lesser. Now, you would not wish to upset me Superman...or you would, you say ?

Superman : No. Of course not at all. No body. I only thought it to be wiser and quicker if I were to just counsel this Council of War myself. I will be sure to inform you both of the matter fully ahead of time if it should arise

Wonder Woman : total attitude shift/cherry grin* Good ! Exactly as I thought! *pats Batman on the back a little too hard...or, hell, hard enough to pop his shoulder damn near outta place that’s for fuckin’ sure* Nice to see you in such daylight as always Batman !

Batman : *cracking shoulder back into socket* You as well Wonder Woman, and in such high spirits

Wonder woman : What can I say ? I am as bracing as it’s clear risen shine !

Aquaman : *looking up from texting* Hmpph...looks like the last to arrive are finally here....*side eye’s Batman* ...hehehe...

*arguing ensuing from outside the hallway/glass structure breaking/ unmistakable whining complaints*

*alert and terrified eyes at the table of gathered superheros*

Red Hood : *literally kicking the Council Room doors open to shove an armful of ‘Bat Brats’ in to and on to the floor/grins over at Bruce* Aye Batman !! Found ya some little birdies ! I know how ya like’em when they’re fiesty !

Robin : *snaps at Jason’s hand*

Red Hood : Whoooaaaa, easy there buddy, easy, we’re all friends here ! Hey, how ‘bout later, if you’re a good boy, I get ya some high quality bird seed ? Hm ? A little snacky snacky for a good little birdy birdy ?? Tweet tweet ??

Robin : *grabbing sword*

Nightwing : *scrambling off the floor* NooOOOOoooo!! Be civil ! This is an important meeting !

Robin : I AM BEYOND TO BE IMPLIED AS SOMEBODY’S FUCKING PET, LET ALONE A GOD DAMNED BIRD !! *slicing through the air/nicking the edge of Red Hood’s jacket*

Red Hood : oh you mother fu– YOU’RE GONNA PAY !

Robin : COME AT ME FUCKER ! *slashes sword too close to Red Robin*

Spoiler : Hell no ! *picks Red Robin up/slings him over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes* NO ONE fuckin’ touches Red Robin ! You slice one piece of baby soft flesh on this body molded by Zeus himself, then honey, we finna throw hands

Red Robin : *arms and feet dangling, head upside down* um...thank you for your concern, Spoiler. I appreciate this act of chivlary

Spoiler : *walking with him to their designated seats* no prob babe. Just doin’ what any woman would do for their man

Dick : *manages to pry sword from Robin* YOU, mister, are on NO sword punishment !

Robin : Then how am I supposed to fight you idiot ?!

Dick : That is exactly what I am saying, you are not. March your little butt out of those doors, right this second

Robin : *looks to Bruce*

Batman : *having seen all of this far too many times, had lost interest, looks up* ..... ....Yes. Robin. I am relieving you of duty during this Mission. We have quite the brigade of superheros, and seeing as you are behaving in a way that reveals you are unable to control yourself around Red Hood, whom will be helping us in this undertaking, I uge you into heading back to the Batcave. I will be in communication with you shortly

Robin : *aghast* WHAT ?! How DARE you ?! He called me a fucking BIRD ! He was going to feed me BIRD SEED !

Aquaman : Well I mean *huffs a laugh* aren’t ya kinda a bird ??? Robin ??

Robin : *about to square up to Aquaman*

Superman : *puts a hand to Robin’s chest* Don’t try. You won’t win this one.

Robin : *takes a deep breath/fakes a smile* Okay. I will do as you command, Batman. Good luck during this Critical assignment of yours

Batman : Now do you see ? That is exactly as you should behave when it comes to all situations regarding things not going as you expect. I’m proud of you for this—

Robin : *walking backwards out of the Council Room holding both middle fingers up in the air* FUCK ALL YA’LL

Superman : *to Batman* ...you were saying ?

Batman : shut up

*meanwhile...*

Arsenal : *makes kissy face at Red Hood*

Red Hood : *makes heart hands at Arsenal*

Arsenal : *blows a kiss at Red Hood*

Red Hood : *catches kiss gently/devours it in an intense fake make out session/moaning loudly* yeah babby fuck yeah mmm

Arsenal : *smug* yeah you know how I like it R

Nightwing : *uncomfortably turned on*

Green Arrow : *looking from Batman to Red Hood to Arsenal then back to Batman again*

Red Hood : *blows kiss at Arsenal*

Arsenal : *making out with imaginary kiss*

Batman and Green Arrow : *covering their faces in shame*

*several hours later*

Superman : *standing from his chair* The beginning of this Gathering was quite sketchy there for a while, but as further along we progressed, things have gone so according to plan and for this I would like to applaud

*eruption of appluss*

Red Hood : *applauding by kicking Red Robin under the table by rythem of applause*

Red Robin : *pinches his thigh*

Red Hood : *whispering* Hey, just a little heads up; you might think that hurts and annoys me, but in reality, it’s kinky as fuck and turns me on

Red Robin : *snatches hand away/blushing down to his neck*

Nightwing : You okay there Red Robin?

Red Robin: No. Tell your salacious booty call to stop being a pervert

Spoiler : *’I’m watching you’ hand motion to Red Hood*

Red Hood : *’blow job’ hand motion to Spoiler*

Nightwing : *slapping the back of Red Hood’s head*

Red Hood : I’m telling you guys, you think you’re teaching me a lesson, but in reality, for me? This is one hell of a game of foreplay

Superman : *still addressing all superheros* —I need the lot of you to take this seemingly insurmountable load I have given you off of your backs, if only for a short while, it is well deserved. For come a few days time, we are to dive into launching this aforementioned operation, something that we all know, will to prove to be the challenge in which I have attested it to be. There is no denying it. No sugarcoating it, as you say, no dressing it up to be something enjoyable. It will be hard, grueling, and many of you may just meet your match. But let us have tonight. I am having drinks now served to the table as well as commencing the signing of our Alliance. During which is wrapped up, we shall all then take our congregation out into the common room if that at all pleases you

*Everyone giving their praise*

Red Hood : I think it sounds like a drag

Nightwing : I think you should shut up

Red Robin : I think it sounds nice

Spoiler : I think I just wanna get drunk ‘cause girls just wanna have fun bitches

Red Robin : Kay I take mine back. I choose that one.

*silent Council Room/documented Alliance being passed around to be signed*

*waiters arrive/champagne flutes bearing pink liquor are sat astride everyone who gives thanks before drinking*

Spoiler : Yum. This tastes exotic, bet it costs more then Nightwing’s ass

Red Hood : I was wrong about not wanting to come. I’m glad I came, yanno, for the liquor

Nightwing : *way too fuckin’ loudly after taking a gulp and giggling*

*big eyes all around*

Batman : *at a loss*

Wonder Woman : *greedily eyeing the impending drama*

Aquaman : Well then shit, come sit in my lap and have my glass too baby, I’ll take care of ya after the meeting

Nightwing : *light weight ass is already tipsy* Kaay

Red Hood : *pulling Nightwing onto his lap* no ! I said NO ! no one is allowed to touch, smell, or even LOOK at Nightwing when he gets drunk and slutty; somebody has already been hired for that specific job position and you’re already lookin’ at the son of a bitch !!

*everyone confused as fuck*

Red Hood : It’s me, you idiots, I’M the son of a bitch

Superman : *looking at Nightwing*

Red Hood : *withdraws pistol/points it at Superman* I SAID NO LOOKING SUPERSHIT !

Starfire : *comes through the doors* I do apologize am I late ?

Superman : *hands still up in surrender to Red Hood* Oh ! Well, this meeting is all done and set. I was ready to ask of your team up for this Assignment but was well informed that you were on your own secret Mission

Starfire : Nonshell !

Aquaman : *grumbling* nonsense

Beast Boy : *nudging Aquaman* Yo, don’t disrespect the princess Aquadude

Aquaman : It’s nonsense, not nonshell

Barry : But you would think it would be totally nonshell where you come from

Beast Boy : He’s got a point

Cyborg : *jumping on the the Council Table/gulps down a glass full of champagne/tosses glass over shoulder/distant shatter of glass followed by a pissed as fuck Hal Jordan* HEY! If all ya’ll folks wanna chill the fuck out ! *picks up Starfire and Beast Boy in one arm/picks up Raven and a tipsy as fuck Nightwing in the other* I HAVE AN ANNOUNCEMENT TO MAKE ! *internal audio radio system on* 🎶 Back Streets Back, ALRIGHT! 🎶

Beast Boy : Awe yeah man, turn it up !

Starfire : Oh ! hehe I do so love the love, as they say !

Nightwing : Jaaaybaaaeeeee loookie, I hav friendzzzzzzz

Red Hood : Give me back my half dressed and inebriated boyfriend right fuckin’ now !!

Raven : ...ugh...kill me….

The End

88 notes · View notes

meduseld · 4 years

Text

Meet The Rooks

I have a headache and a ton of work stress, I am sublimating into this!

So anyway, my Far Cry 5 Deputy OCs are both named, of course, Jordan Rook.

The boy version is played by a so-tired-by-this Michael Cassidy

(Don’t tell me you don’t see Rook there)

And the girl version by a god-i-just-want-to-do-right-why-are-you-like-this Kate Mara

(Just look at that face)

They’re similar, but not the same. Lowkey, sarcastic, prone to answering with “....right” and moving on without further acknowledging what you (probably a Boshaw or Drubman) said. Likes drinking a little too much so they don’t very often and if you do it’s the sort of thing that makes headlines. A little too drawn to the Seeds for their own good, with their own kind of damage.

But Michael!Jordan? He’s like Raylan Givens when he’s in hyper competent mode. Not overly charming but people just. Like him. Still, he gives off that lowkey always angry vibe. If he shoots you and you say something like “I think I’m dyin’!” he *will* answer something like “everybody’s dying”. Big issues with authority and religion, the kind of guy with no family ties to speak of and who will always regret he never beat the shit out of his father when he had the chance. Sundays were for church as a kid and the religious aspect of this both draws him and pisses him off. Aware he wasn’t straight from a young age and still has a ton of messy feelings about that. The kind of guy who enlisted because there were no options, made it through basic and quit because he was too smart and rebellious in a subtle rather than overt way to stay. Guy with a badge that *hates* guys with badges. Good with babies, dogs, drunks and idiots. Very vague when asked *why* he chose Hope County because he doesn’t want to admit it was just some sort of gut urge. Guy with definite opinions, knows himself pretty well even if it takes a while to know him yourself, and quickly gets a read on people. Wears the gloves because he doesn’t like touching people and very, very badly wants to be touched. You can see how he’d become the Judge.

But Kate!Jordan? She’s the silk hiding steel lady to a tee. Soft spoken but quick on the draw, it takes a while to realize she has something to prove. So quietly righteous that people want to help her, they easily admire her. Her anger burns cold, not hot. She won’t quip after shooting you, she’s not quick to anger but if you have to be put down? So be it. Her father died when she was young and it hurts that she doesn’t know if he’d approve or be proud. She loves her mother and older sister but they aren’t close. Hope County was an escape from the past, a new start, a true duty. She didn’t care much for religion but she’s turning over those Sundays in church like a stone in her mind now, Eve and Sin and her childhood pastor’s voice replaced with Joseph Seed’s in her head now. Figured out she wasn’t straight in high school with “friends”, a lot more okay with it than her counterpart above. Always drawn to guns, more than she should. Just wants to do the right thing. Not good with babies or displays of emotion (doesn’t even like to examine her own feelings), great with dogs. Wears the gloves like armor, a shield between her and the world. It’s a great tragedy if she does become the Judge, but she’d be likelier to choose death over giving in. Not truly impossible that she would though, but a personal loss would be greater than the loss of the world.

And anyway, those are my Deputies.

#Far Cry 5 #Deputy #Rook #OCs #Seed Family #The Judge

5 notes · View notes

kyn19 · 4 years

Note

1 THROUGH 98! I WANT TO KNOW THE ANSWERS AND I CAN'T STAND GETTING THEM PIDDLING BIT BY PIDDLY BIT!!!!!

Lmaooooo what a fuckin Mood. Thank you!!!!! Also, you’re getting Drunk Kylie answers which are arguably the Best answers. For the courtesy of everyone’s dash, answers are below the cut!! <3 <3 <3

1. coffee mugs, teacups, wine glasses, water bottles, or soda cans?

Coffee mugs! I have a sizable collection lmao #WriterLife

2. chocolate bars or lollipops?

omg such a tough one, both are aces. seriously I can think of so many combatting pros & cons!! the only fair way i can currently conceive is which i would want weed in. Which is lollipops bc (#UnpopularOpinion) pot makes chocolate taste bad.

3. bubblegum or cotton candy?

both are great, but def bubblegum.

4. how did your elementary school teachers describe you?

“Pleasure to have in class” in true Gifted Child fashion

5. do you prefer to drink soda from soda cans, soda bottles, plastic cups or glass cups?

i’ll rate them in order: 1) can (absolutely preferred), 2) bottle if alone but plastic (lez be honest, Red Solo Cup) if with company, 3) glass (do not like)

6. pastel, boho, tomboy, preppy, goth, grunge, formal or sportswear?

#1 goth all the way. Pastel and Formal guest appearances

7. earbuds or headphones?

headphone, bc earbuds usually hurt my ears.

8. movies or tv shows?

first of all, how dare you. second of all, tv shows ONLY BECAUSE if all my fave movies were given tv shows so that they could last longer i would choose so

9. favorite smell in the summer?

idk i guess pool chlorine? dislike summer

10. game you were best at in p.e.?

bruh fuckin none. elementary school: too long ago to recall. middle school: escaped having to take gym at all. high school: had a medical excuse to take online PE. least athletic girl u know

11. what you have for breakfast on an average day?

i don’t have bfast bc eating close to when i awaken makes my tummy upset

12. name of your favorite playlist?

hmm 4-way tie between “#motivate #bitch” (gets me pumped to work) and “Friends Of The Illness” (my playlist of songs about and/or artist who are mentally ill) and “Ominous/haunting” (speaks to my creepy side) and “Bad Bitches” (self-explanatory amirite)

13. lanyard or key ring?

Key ring. Straight up I use an extra shoelace as my key ring string, despite owning multiple lanyards.

14. favorite non-chocolate candy?

god another fkn hard one. Listen y’all, you dont understand how much of a sugar fiend i am. candy is my JAM. Starbursts, Sour Straws, Skittles, Jolly Ranchers...who can choose?!

15. favorite book you read as a school assignment?

“Ceremony” by Leslie Marmon Silko. Highly recommend!!!!!!!!!!!

16. most comfortable position to sit in?

laying down lol sitting is for suckers

17. most frequently worn pair of shoes?

combat boots like the gay i am

18. ideal weather?

low 70′s degrees (F*), intermittent showers during the day but clear starry skies overnight

19. sleeping position?

mostly fetal, mostly on my side but chest is towards the bed, one arm under the pillow under my head

20. preferred place to write (i.e., in a note book, on your laptop, sketchpad, post-it notes, etc.)?

Laptop. I used to love writing in notebooks, but ya girl got weak fingy joints nowadays

21. obsession from childhood?

pfft as if they aren’t the same obsessions i have now

22. role model?

so many!!!!! Jameela Jamil is the first that comes to mind

23. strange habits?

lmao i am ass-deep in idiosyncrasies, if you ain’t read the blog title already

24. favorite crystal?

i don’t know anything about crystals. does blue topaz count? cuz that’s my birthstone and i like that one a lot. i even had the foresight to pick that as my engagement ring’s stone in my utterly preposterous & failed relationship

25. first song you remember hearing?

oh wow, no idea. music has always been huge for me. probably either a Britney Spears or Mary J. Blige song???

26. favorite activity to do in warm weather?

stay inside lmao

27. favorite activity to do in cold weather?

WEAR SWEATERS & DRINK HOT CHOCOLATE, BITCH!!!!!!!!!

28. five songs to describe you?

oof ok, hard, but here goes:

“Here” by Alessia Cara

“Wannabe” by the Spice Girls

“I’m Just a Kid and Life Is A Nightmare” by Simple Plan

“No Daddy” by Teairra Mari

“Brick By Boring Brick” by Paramore

29. best way to bond with you?

i am straight up not easy to make friends with (bc my own bullshit, not trying to be pretentious), so bonding is hard. the best way is probably a combo of queer + memes + loves food + correct morals + being the dominant talker

30. places that you find sacred?

Libraries, locally owned coffee shops, Walmarts at 3am, playgrounds in the middle of the night, side of a rural road at 12am, my bed

31. what outfit do you wear to kick ass and take names?

Blazer + shirt with a titty window + high waisted plaid pants + platform booties

32. top five favorite vines?

OMG I LOVE VINES OK OK OK OMG I LOVE SO MANY SO HERE ARE JUST THE ONES I QUOTE THE MOST OK:

Josh Kennedy: “What’s up my name’s Jared I’m 19 and I never fucking learned how to read”

Sarah Schauer: [dont remember the beginning] “didn’t you..?” “sleep in this? yes. mama needs A DRINK”

Evan Breer: “What’s up my & my boys are going to see Uncle Kracker - give me my hat back Jordan, do you see Uncle Kracker or no - *gasp!*”

Drew Gooden: “Road work ahead? Um yeah, I sure hope it does...”

Nathan Enick: “Yo how much money do you have?” “69 cents” “Oh you know what that means!” “...i don’t have enough money for chicken nuggets :( ...”

33. most used phrase in your phone?

bruh like how even am i supposed to answer this?? like texts or Siri requests or????? bc if it’s Siri requests then it’s 100% for arithmetic

34. advertisements you have stuck in your head?

Stanley Steamer. you kno the one

35. average time you fall asleep?

3:30am

36. what is the first meme you remember ever seeing?

bitch i’m a 90′s child of the internet, i was around the web before YouTube launched, i was there when the first modern memes were fucking conceived. i will say the biggest repository of meme culture that i was a part of was YouTube and icanhazcheezburger.com & its side-sites.

37. suitcase or duffel bag?

duffel - Tie-Dye Girl from the Lindsey Lohan “Parent Trap” made quite the impression on me

38. lemonade or tea?

Lemonade! hate the leaf water

39. lemon cake or lemon meringue pie?

Lemon cake! Not a meringue pie girl saly

40. weirdest thing to ever happen at your school?

I’ve been to a lot of schools yo lol. My undergrad college was def the “weirdest” ofc, bc it was an art school lol. An instance that stands out was a string of “Solid Gold Clit” graffiti after a Sophia Wallace visit to campus right before i started there.

41. last person you texted?

My bff triad pals @backwardswriter and @bristarshine

42. jacket pockets or pants pockets?

damn tough call. Probably jacket pockets bc i’m more likely to have those as a lady who wears lady-targeted pants

43. hoodie, leather jacket, cardigan, jean jacket or bomber jacket?

Hoodie

44. favorite scent for soap?

Plum!

45. which genre: sci-fi, fantasy or superhero?

Fantasy, though sci-fi is a solid 2nd. Not much of a superhero gal

46. most comfortable outfit to sleep in?

.....underwear only. Sometimes an oversized t-shirt too.

47. favorite type of cheese?

Mozzarella!!!

48. if you were a fruit, what kind would you be?

I would want to be like a pomegranate, but i’m probably a nectarine

49. what saying or quote do you live by?

“If you hope for the best but expect the worst, you’ll never be disappointed.”

50. what made you laugh the hardest you ever have?

bitch i’m a giggle monster, i taught myself to be easily amused as a survival mechanism.

51. current stresses?

My own lack of discipline.

52. favorite font?

oooooof i have so many ok. too name a few: Centaur, Garamont, Book Antigua, Times New Roman, Montserrat.....mostly Serif fonts bc I’m an old books bitch

53. what is the current state of your hands?

I don’t love my hands (how homophobic of me, I know). Currently they’re kinda dry and full of sandwich

54. what did you learn from your first job?

what kind of boss I like. also that my customer service voice is frighteningly pleasant

55. favorite fairy tale?

Original tale: Thumbelina. Adaptations: Snow White.

56. favorite tradition?

uhhh Thanksgiving feast I guess? i am not a traditions gal

57. the three biggest struggles you’ve overcome?

I am very very fortunate to not have a lot or a severity of these. The ones that I’ve had the worst of are: gender discrimination/harassment as a woman, hardcore emotional abuse in a relationship, and heavy heavy mental illness

58. four talents you’re proud of having?

Tangible talents: writing, lying. Intangible: A+ imagination, useless trivia.

59. if you were a video game character, what would your catchphrase be?

“I support you!”

60. if you were a character in an anime, what kind of anime would you want it to be?

like if Tokyo Mew Mew and Higurashi No Naku Koro Ni had a baby

61. favorite line you heard from a book/movie/tv show/etc.?

Again, how dare you. Like literally, asking me to pick a favorite line from something is like asking what my favorite breed of dog is. Legit impossible

62. seven characters you relate to?

Ananka Fishbein (Kiki Strike series), Mermista (She Ra & the Princesses of Power), Luna Lovegood (Harry Potter), Gwen (Total Drama), Rori Gilmore (Gilmore Girls), Villanelle (Killing Eve), Andrea (St. Trinian’s)

so like all very- to semi-weird white girls lmao

63. five songs that would play in your club?

[by the term “club” i assume that i’m limited to pop and electronic music. even with the limitation, though, a super hard question]

“Talking Body” by Tove Lo

“Hot in Herre” by Nelly

“Because the Night” by Cascada

“Nails, Hair, Hips, Heels” by Todrick Hall

“Break Free” by Ariana Grande ft. Zedd

64. favorite website from your childhood?

pretty much any doll franchise’s site (Barbie, Bratz, My Scene, Polly Pocket, Diva Girlz, everGirl, etc you name it)

65. any permanent scars?

Yep. One by a dog scratch (it was honestly a weak/shallow/innocent scratch, i still have no idea why it scarred at all), and a few from a car crash last year

66. favorite flower(s)?

i don’t really like flowers? i usually just say Forget-Me-Not’s for ease

67. good luck charms?

bitch idk but i’m knocking on wood just from thinking bout it

68. worst flavor of any food or drink you’ve ever tried?

you ever taste that chocolate Laffy Taffy? vile bruh

69. a fun fact that you don’t know how you learned?

I am annoying enough to know how i learnt all my facts, but the funnest fact I like to annoy people with is that ducks have corkscrew penises evolved from their main form of mating being rape

70. left or right handed?

Right (like any ol’ simp)

71. least favorite pattern?

polka dots

72. worst subject?

MATH and also PHYS ED

73. favorite weird flavor combo?

One time whilst high, I put nacho cheese Doritos on a tuna sandwich. Winning combo, I’m telling you

74. at what pain level out of ten (1 through 10) do you have to be at before you take an advil or ibuprofen?

My pain tolerance is straight up unpredictable, so like anywhere from a 3 to a 9

75. when did you lose your first tooth?

5 years old

76. what’s your favorite potato food (i.e. tater tots, baked potatoes, fries, chips, etc.)?

Mashed potatoes

77. best plant to grow on a windowsill?

I am not a plant person. Moss.

78. coffee from a gas station or sushi from a grocery store?

fucking neither but i at least like coffee so i guess the former....

(i know, it’s tragic and barbaric that i dislike sushi, i wish i had another answer for you)

79. which looks better, your school id photo or your driver’s license photo?

Neither lmao - I got them within a month of each other (six years ago) so they’re essentially the same photo.

80. earth tones or jewel tones?

Jewel!

81. fireflies or lightning bugs?

I mean those are the same bug so I assume this is asking about which terminology I typically use/prefer. Which i would say both bc I’m a cultured ho

82. pc or console?

I don’t game so I guess PC lmao

83. writing or drawing?

Writing but I like both

84. podcasts or talk radio?

damn neither lmao I can’t focus on non-music audio only. I guess talk radio, just bc I can do like ten minute radio segments at least lol

84. barbie or polly pocket?

both were lit but I had more Barbies

85. fairy tales or mythology?

not to sound like a broken record but FIRST OF ALL HOW DARE YOU? second of all, I essentially consider them in the same category at this point in modernity, so my answer is Yes.

86. cookies or cupcakes?

Cupcakes, but both are exquisite

87. your greatest fear?

spiders, heights, clowns, seeing bad things happening to animals, that my consciousness will exist even after death, y’know normal stuff

88. your greatest wish?

to transfer myself into one of my fave fictional worlds

89. who would you put before everyone else?

dogs, next question

90. luckiest mistake?

i make a lot of those honestly, so who knows

91. boxes or bags?

LISTEN I LOVE CONTAINERS OF ALL SORTS, YOU CAN’T MAKE ME CHOOSE, IM PANSEXUAL FOR A REASON

92. lamps, overhead lights, sunlight or fairy lights?

FLASHLIGHTS, BITCH

93. nicknames?

Ky, KyKy, Moonshine, SugarTits, Goog Bones

94. favorite season?

Autumn (yes i call it that instead of Fall bc i’m a pretentious ass bitch lol)

95. favorite app on your phone?

Tumblr, c’mon

96. desktop background?

Currently a digital art painting of a flowing stag in a swamp that I downloaded from DeviantArt. I change it every few months though (to other downloaded digital art from DA that I collect periodically lmao)

97. how many phone numbers do you have memorized?

Seven - mine, my mom’s 2 numbers, my grandma’s, my pop’s cell and office (also my old office) numbers, and my childhood house phone number lol

98. favorite historical era?

Golden Age of Piracy, specifically bc the piracy lol

Thank you so much for the asks, this was so much fun!!!

#asks

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winterisakillerwrites · 4 years

Text

Love & Great Buildings - Chapter Seven

Chapter: 7/19

Character/Relationship: Tom Hiddleston/Rosemary Mathews (OFC)

Genre: Romance/Angst

Summary: Three years have passed and a chance encounter brings Tom and Rosie together again. Can time make any difference or are they doomed to repeat their mistakes.

Rating: M

Author’s Notes/Warnings: This is part nine of Last Minutes & Lost Evenings. Many thanks to @redfoxwritesstuff for listening to me ramble incessantly about this story and being a sounding board when I needed it. You are a lifesaver, even if your stories break my heart.

CHAPTER SEVEN

An exasperated sigh fell from Rosemary’s lips. It was barely noon and already she wanted to ram her head into a wall. This paperwork will be the bloody death of me. She rolled her neck, grimacing at the crack that action released. She was far, far too tense. Another hour, she reasoned. If I can make it another hour and then I can walk away for a bit. She nearly jumped out of her skin as her phone buzzed suddenly to life on the edge of her desk. Absently she reached for it and couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face as the familiar name flashed on the screen. With a shake of her head, she swiped to answer the call. “Tom.”

His warm laughter filled her ear and pulled another smile to her face. “Rosie, darling, how are you?”

“Lay off the charm, Hiddleston,” she joked, rubbing the back of her neck absently with her free hand. “Now to what do I owe the pleasure of this call?”

Another warm laugh. God did he have any idea the chaos he could unleash with that laugh? She shook her head trying to clear that errant thought away.

“Gods, you do wonders for my ego.”

Rosemary smirked, “I do my best.”

It had been two weeks since she and Tom had shared Chinese take-away in her small flat. The conversation that first night had been slightly stilted after the emotional levity of the hour before, but it was still infinitely better than she could have hoped. And, in all honesty, than she had expected. It was still nowhere near the ease they had shared in years past, both too much and yet too little time had passed for that to occur once more. But it had been a start and for that she’d been grateful.

Tom hadn’t lingered long after they’d finished their meal, thanking her profusely for both the food and her time. He’d hesitated briefly at the door as she’d walked him out before leaning in and pressing a chaste kiss to her cheek. She’d stood frozen, butterflies rioting in her chest as he wish her a pleasant evening and closed the door behind him.

And over those two weeks they had spoken often, mostly by phone though they had occasionally met at various cafés for coffee. Things were simple and unhurried between them. No pressures just the slow process of getting to know each other once more. And for that she’d been incredibly grateful.

She had been adamant with herself that this time she wouldn’t throw herself blindly into him, into them. They had rushed headlong into their doomed affair without a second thought, and in doing so, had both paid the price. She could not, would not, do that again.

“…So what do you think?”

Rosemary shook her head violently, forcing herself back into the present, and realized she’d missed nearly everything he’d said. “I’m sorry, Tom, what?”

Tom’s chuckle echoed in her ear, “I was asking if you were possibly free for lunch today.”

She paused, weighing her answer. They had made great leaps in such a short time and she very much wanted to see him. They had met several times for coffee but hadn’t shared a meal since that first night.

The knock on the doorframe was so soft that at first Rosemary hadn’t been sure she’d heard it. But then it sounded again. Her head jerked up. Jules stood silently in the doorway, a rueful smile spread across her features. She started slightly at the sight before silently waving Jules into the office.

“Can I take a raincheck on that lunch?”

She heard a shuffling from Tom’s end. “Sure,” She wondered briefly if the disappointment she heard in his voice was of her own invention or actually there, but quickly brushed the thought off. “Just let me know when?”

“I will. Talk later?” She let her own hope color her words, refusing to think further into why that troubled her.

His warm laughed echoed again in her ear. “Alright, darling. Speak soon.”

Rosemary let out a small sigh and placed the phone back onto her desk. She turned her attention towards Jules’ uneasy form. She’d walked into the office at Rosemary’s insistence but remained hovering near the doorway. “What can I help you with, Jules?” The unease on Jules’ face unnerved her and a sudden fear bubbled through Rosemary. “Is everything alright with Ingrid and the baby?”

This seemed to calm Jules slightly and she relaxed her shoulders, walking towards the desk and settling into the chair across. “Yes, she and the little one, she had a boy, did I not tell you?, are fine. She was discharged last week. The baby, David he’s called, is still in NICU but Frank says the doctors think he should be ready to come home in another week or so if his lungs keep developing at the rate they are. So all good there.”

Rosemary smiled, reaching out to grasp Jules hand and squeeze it gently. “That’s fantastic, I’m so glad everything is well with them.”

Jules offered her a genuine smile. “Me too.”

Silence fell between them once again.

“Is everything alright with the shop? Please tell me that Jordan isn’t completely messing up the shipments…again.”

Jules laughed, shaking her head. “No more than usual. Everything is fine, Evan’s holding up far better than I expected him to. He may be worth his salt after all.” Both women chuckled. “Online orders are holding well too. And things are good here?”

Rosemary nodded. “Yeah, Hanna is well worth her weight in gold.” She paused, smiling. “The shop here is doing far better than I hoped it would.”

“I’m so glad. I know Stories has been your baby for a long time now. You’re doing Agnes and Henry proud, you know.” She offered Rosemary a warm smile.

Stories Untold had been a small but well maintained bookshop under Agnes and Henry Goode, something they had started after retirement to keep each other occupied and to fulfill a childhood dream of Agnes’. Both Rosemary and Jules had been two of the first people hired on. They had watched the shop grow and when Agnes’ health had gotten too poorly for her or Henry to continue with its upkeep, Rosemary had jumped at the chance to take the shop under her own wing with their blessing. It had been a challenge and one she’d frequently feared she’d ultimately fail at. Jules had been beside her through the thick and thin. Having her support and her belief had meant the world.

“I hope so.”

Jules took a deep breath, seeming to come to a decision. “I’m sorry.”

Taken aback, Rosemary stared at the woman sitting before her.

When she didn’t respond, Jules carried on, “I know you’ve been angry with me and things haven’t been right between us, not since that last lunch…Or well since the morning after our quest to drink greater London out of wine,” She laughed nervously and ran a hand through her hair, “Anyway, I miss my friend. And I want to try to mend this.”

Rosemary did not speak for several minutes, staring first at the desk before her then at her hands. Jules was undoubtedly one of her closest friends and the strain between them had been a difficult burden to bear. Most of the anger she’d felt had faded, more of tiny flame than the raging inferno, but there was still an unease between them that unsettled her. She had always trusted Jules’ judgement, as opinionated as her friend was Jules usually saw things with a level head. And while she could understand Jules’ hesitance in trusting Tom and his motives, Rosemary found it difficult to reconcile. “I miss you too,” she finally spoke, raising her eyes to Jules. “And I know I’ve not been the easiest person to deal with; taking my anger out on you was unnecessary and not at all fair. But can you understand why?”

Jules nodded slowly, “I don’t like Tom. You know that, not after what he did. He didn’t see the mess he left, I did. And I know how you were with him and I couldn’t bear to see you hurt again. You are as good as a sister to me, Rose, and it kills me to see you hurt. But I pushed too far and, drunk or not, I shouldn’t have done what I did. I’m sorry for that. Really I am.”

“No you shouldn’t have.” Her tone was harsher than she had intended. She shook her head briefly and carried on. “But I do understand. At least partially. You care. You are the closest thing I have to a sister as well. But Jules, I am an adult. I can make my own choices as to what I can and cannot handle. And if I fall flat then that is on me. Trust that given time I can pull myself up and dust myself off and move on.”

Jules smiled softly at Rosemary and nodded. She was silent for several moments before locking her eyes on Rosemary and asking, “Are we okay?”

Rosemary shrugged. “We’re friends, that hasn’t changed. But I’m still…I understand why you pushed, but it doesn’t mean that I’m fully sure I can completely forgive you for doing so.” She paused, reaching her hand out towards Jules’ and grasping it firmly in hers. “But I don’t want to be angry with you anymore. It’s not solving anything. I just need you to trust me and my own judgement. Please.”

Squeezing her hand in return, Jules chuckled and then nodded, “I can’t guarantee I won’t make a right mess of it, but I can try.”

“That’s all I ask.”

“So,” Jules started, her eyes glancing briefly at the phone then back towards her friend, “who��s the raincheck on?”

Rosemary smiled softly, knowing that this would certainly put their new found truce to the test. In for a penny…She straightened in her seat, resting her elbows neatly on the desk, her hands folded before her. “Tom.”

She could see Jules slight start at the name. “Oh. So you patched things up?” The concern and hesitancy in her voice was clear as was the fact that she was holding back.

“We’re trying,” Rosemary answered honestly. She shrugged. “We’ve been talking off and on for the last few weeks or so. It’s been…” she struggled to find a suitable word, “honestly really nice.”

Jules nodded but did not speak. Rosemary could see the wheels turning in her head. The silent ‘are you sure this is a good idea’ that screamed in her eyes. “So,” she started, leaning her hands on her thighs, “how did this happen?”

Rosemary let out a soft sigh, “He came by my flat. He apologized, I apologized. We talked, we were honest with each other.” She paused, shrugging lightly. It was nice to talk about Tom to someone. Even if Jules appeared dubious, at least she’d told someone. “He is a friend, or at least I want him to be. I missed him, Jules. Missed being able to talk to him. Can you understand that?”

“I don’t know, Rose. Really I don’t…I want to trust that you know what you are doing because usually you do. You are one of the most level headed people I know, but with him…You’re a smart woman…Just be careful, okay. Don’t let him talk you into something you aren’t ready for. Please just try to keep your head.” Jules held up her hand at Rosemary’s stuttered protests. “You are my friend and I worry, but you are more than capable of making your own decisions and knowing what you want. Just make sure you think it through.” She smiled warmly at Rosemary, her hands resting in her lap. “That’s all I’m going to say.”

“Somehow I doubt that.” Rosemary sighed, “I understand what you are saying, Jules. But it’s my life, my choice. He is my friend. That is all, I’m not going to make that same mistake again. You need to trust me and trust that I can learn from the past.”

“Okay. Okay.” Jules pushed herself up from the chair and looked knowingly at her friend. “I was going to head out to grab a bite before heading back to the shop. You interested?”

Rosemary smiled softly in return. “Any chance of a change in venue?”

She watched Jules’ red brow quirk and a wicked grin spread across her face. “From our usual? Perish the thought!”

With a roll of her eyes, Rosemary stood and beckoned her friend. “Come on then.”

—

“So sorry it’s taken me so long to ring back.” Rosemary settled herself onto her couch, trying to suppress a groan. Lunch with Jules had been nice, still a bit tense round the edges, but nice all the same. She’d missed her friend and being able to start to mend that bridge had taken a weight off her mind. There was still a ways for them to go, but for now she had her friend back.

The rest of the day had been relatively uneventful, frustrating mounds of paperwork notwithstanding; Hanna had been taking on more and more of the daily routines and was now practically starting to run the shop on her own. She would give it another week or so before she began to transition back to the original location and then flit back and forth as needed. It was almost bittersweet.

“Darling, that is quite alright.” His voice was warm in her ear and she fought the urge to groan again. “Busy day, I take it?”

Rosemary nodded and when it dawned on her that he could not, in fact, see her response answered, “Yes. The shop’s doing well. Both are actually.” She laughed softly. “I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop, you know?” She sat fully upright, frowning as her stomach gave a grumble of protest. It had been several hours since lunch, something her body was obviously not pleased about. Alright then let’s see what we’ve got to work with. She pushed herself to her feet and stumbled into the kitchen.

“I do,” Tom answered. She could hear the smile in his voice. “But I seriously doubt that it will happen. You have a good head on your shoulders and from what you’ve told me you have good people working with and for you. I think you’ll be alright.”

The fridge wasn’t as barren as she’d feared. Thank god for small miracles. Pulling out the container of Alfredo sauce she’d found, and cautiously sniffed just to be safe, Rosemary went in search of whatever pasta was to hand.

Rosemary sighed as she pulled open the cabinet door. “I know, I know. But you know my mind sometimes.” Tom laughed at this, pulling smile to her face. She pulled down a box and studied it Spaghetti it is then. “I saw Jules today, we hadn’t had a chance to catch up in a while. So that was lovely.” Phone balanced precariously between her ear and shoulder, she carried her boon to the stovetop. She grabbed the pot sitting on the back burner and headed for the sink, quickly filling it. As she turned to make her way back towards the stove the phone slipped and fell with a clatter to the floor. “Shit!” She dropped the pot hastily on the stove and dove for her phone, mumbling curses under her breath. “So, so sorry. I am the worst sort of klutz,” she apologized. She hit the speaker function and placed the phone carefully onto the counter.

“You quite alright there, Rosie?”

Rosemary laughed, trying to cover her sudden flustering nervousness. “Yeah, I was just attempting to multi-task and failing horribly. Apparently I cannot handle talking on the phone and cooking at the same time. I kind of dropped you.”

Tom laughed heartily. “Oh my dear, what am I ever going to do with you?”

“God knows.” She set the pot to boil and headed back into the living room but not before grabbing a package of crisps. “I don’t even know what I’m going to do with me.” She ripped open the package and settled onto the couch. She popped a few of the crisps into her mouth, it wasn’t much but god she was starving.

“So how is Jules? You’ve not spoken of her recently?”

Rosemary sighed, resting her head back against the headrest of the couch. “She’s well. We had lunch today. It’s been awhile since…” She trailed off, rubbing her temples with her free hand. “We had a bit of a falling out a month or so back.”

“Seriously?” The confusion was evident in his voice. “Over what?”

She hesitated.

“Rosie?” Tom urged. She could plainly hear the dawning knowledge in his voice and his need to hear her actually say it.

A deep sigh fell from her lips, “You…Technically. She was drinking with me that night…She may or may not have been the catalyst for that stupid call.” She sat up more fully and rested her forehead against her upturned hand. “I was upset and angry with her for putting the damned idea in my head and for being so against me even talking to you…I told her off and we stopped talking about everything save the bloody shop.”

“Oh Rosie…”

“Don’t Tom.” Her voice was tighter than she’d intended. “It’s over. She and I will be fine. We always are. We’ve talked and I’ve made it clear that I am capable of making my own choices. So don’t worry about it.”

A hissing from the kitchen snapped her attention back to the present. “Shit!” she shouted as she jumped from the couch and scrambled into the kitchen.

“What?” Tom’s voice shouted in her ear. “What’s wrong?”

Hitting the speaker button again, she placed the phone on the counter. “The blasted water is boiling over,” she hissed as she grabbed the pot and lifted it from the heat. Once the water settled, placed it back on the burner. She grabbed the package of spaghetti and emptid it into the pot.

“Careful or you’ll burn the place down.”

“Ha, bloody ha, Hiddleston. I can actually cook you know.” She stirred the pasta into the water and left it to return to a boil, setting the kitchen timer before walking back into the living room. “It’s not my fault I was distracted.”

Tom laughed, “If you insist, darling.”

“And if I do?” She queried, settling back onto the couch. He laughed again. “So Tom, about that rain check? Are you free tomorrow afternoon by any chance?”

He groaned and she could clearly see him rubbing his temples with his hand. “I can’t.”

She tried to stifle the initial wave of disappointment. “Oh...”

“I have a lunch meeting with my manager tomorrow. But I’m free the day after. Would that be alright?”

Rosemary smiled. “That would be perfect.”

#Tom Hiddleston #Tom Hiddleston RPF #Tom Hiddleston x oc #Tom Hiddleston x ofc #Tom Hiddleston x original character #tom hiddleston x original female character #Tom & Roise #Love & Great Buildings

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yaachtynoboat711 · 5 years

Text

Fonder 5.1

A/N: I AM SOOO SORRY FOR THE HIATUS! I missed you guys. The secret’s finally out! The mystery of Mr. Gatsby’s identity is being revealed! There may be smut included in this chapter also. Thanks @babygirlofwakanda for helping me out with that! Lastly, the italics (besides the sounds) are Yaa’s inner thoughts. 😬😬😬😬😬 Reblog and like!

Word Count: Get your popcorn ready (~3.5k)

Warning(s): SMUT, slow burn, plot progression, introduction of a new character, few errors/typos

NEW YEAR’S EVE 10:34 p.m.

“I-I-...I don’t understand. It was you all along...but you’d just hopped in my DM’s right before I got here!”, Yaa attempted to collect the thoughts that had scattered on the floor.

Gatsby chuckled, “ Yeah, I know. It’s ok to be confused. I’m the last person you’d expect it to be, I’m sure.”

“So why me? All these fine Hollywood jawns and wannabe socialites rippin their own panties off just to get to you...and you choose the one non-celebrity on the other side of the country?”

Gatsby sipped some champagne as he listened to Yaa, nodding his head as he began mentally creating his response to her outlandish claim. He finally sat his fluted glass down on the desk.

“Not to sound like a creep, but ever since Tanisha told me about her bomb ass lawyer friend, I’ve had my eyes on you. Don’t worry; I haven’t been that close. I learned enough about you to still have many questions left over to ask you. You’re a complex and multi-faceted woman that deserves to be exalted. Plus, from what I’ve also heard, you’ve been eyeing me too. Why’d you think the riddles and passwords were how they were?”

He was right: she’d had her eyes, heart, and womanhood set on him for years. It began way back in the summer of 2002. Her almost 12-year-old self had no business watching anything graphic and raw, yet alone watching The Wire. Her parents encouraged to watch it surprisingly. Then it happened—he came on the TV. Though she hated cornrows, even in the early 2000s, she found herself head over heels for the peanut head with the cornrows—Wallace. She hated the fact that he was a teenage drug dealer but hell, that was life in the Pit. The season finale left her distraught, crying for days as though he’d broken up with her or something. She followed his work and had proclaimed her love for him for 12 years and now here he was—Michael B. Jordan—standing before her explaining how he wanted her. Funny how life works.

She burst into a fit of nervous laughter; he joined.

“What’s so funny, Yaa?”, Michael asked.

She subdued her laughter as much as she could. “I’m laughing because I know this has to be a drawn-out prank or some shit. The man I’ve been mentally dating half of my life isn’t in front of me right now, and he damn sure ain’t telling me he finna risk it all for me. Not against his own will at least.”, she stammered.

He raised an eyebrow at her disbelief. His shoulders bounced as his cocky grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. “So, you think this is a game? Hmm?” He kneeled down and lifted her chin for her honey brown eyes to meet his calming dark brown eyes. “Talk to me.”

She nodded her head yes. “Show me this isn’t a game.”, she challenged.

“Say less.”

He lifted her chin some more. He went in for the kiss—an offer easily accepted. Jackpot. There was a jolt of electricity between their lips. As their kiss deepened, his hands held gently her neck, lightly brushing against her coarse honey blonde locs. Her arms linked tightly around his neck. His hands scooped under her large ass, picking her up and causing her to break the kiss. Her eyes flew open as she began looking down at the floor. The second time she’d been picked up and the skinny nigga was the one on the cusp of changing her life. Her embrace around Michael’s neck tightened significantly as she braced for an abrupt drop.

“What’s wrong, sweetie?”, Michael teased.

“Last time I was picked up, I couldn’t dance for a month. You’re scaring the shit outta me.”, she sputtered.

There went that cocky,raspy laugh. Michael dropped her down and quickly caught her before she could get anywhere near the ground. “Oh, so you scared the skinny nigga can’t hang? C’mon now. You should know I’ve been waiting on you for a minute. I’m not going to let anything happen to you, baby girl. Best believe that.”, he reassured. With that being said, he walked confidently across the room to the couch with his scared thick lawyer in tow, carrying her 200+ pound frame like she was a bag of nothing. That Creed training made him a monster.

He stared into her eyes once again in awe. In such a simple expression, there was enough fire and passion in her eyes to light up the fireplace across the room. He slowly gave her lips more kisses, savoring them like the last of a 5-star meal.

“You got all of these sweet kisses, girl.”, he groaned, “Must’ve been saving them for a special reason or someone.” Not by choice, baby boy.

“I’ve waited for a long time for this”, she chuckled into his lips. Knock knock knock.

Michael’s head dropped and Yaa looked up into the dimmed lights palming her face, both clearly frustrated with the mood-killing visitor at the door.

“Who is it?”, Michael yelled as he re-adjusted his black double-breasted tux and bow tie. He walked towards the door, still awaiting a response.

“Me, nigga!”, the nearly hoarse voice replied defensively.

Michael smacked his teeth and opened the door. “The fuck you want, Steelo?”

“Mannnnn, it’s almost 2015! Folks lookin’ for you an- oh, heyyyyy how you doin’? I’m Steelo.”, he slurred. His attention was suddenly brought to the clearly annoyed Yaa.

“I know who you are. Nice to finally meet you.”, Yaa said.

He redirected his intoxicated “focus” back to his best friend. He’d recognized Yaa. “Hold up, that’s her?”

“Yeah, that’s Khalida, the lawyer. We’ll be out in a sec—”

“—YOOOOOO! She bad as fuck,bruh. Thick too? Niggggggaaaaaaa...I heard them fat jawns be changin’ liv—”

Without saying a word, Michael pushed his drunk best friend out the door like a dolly and locked the door. “Look, he’s drunk as fuck and I’m sorry that h—”, Michael apologized.

Khalida placed two fingers over his lips. “Fat isn’t a bad word. No need to apologize. Now, come on— we have a new year to celebrate.”, she replied.

Michael’s deep dimples and smile stretched across his face as he watched Khalida walk out of the door. “You comin’ or not, Gatsby?”, she teased.

11:09 p.m.

By the time Yaa returned to the action, there were more faces—famous faces—in the crowd. All in attendance were dressed to the nines with their CRISP finger waves, feathers, furs, pearls, and enough cigarette holders for an old Hollywood film. Yaa walked to her VIP section to find her best friend Tanisha lit off of her spirit of choice—Bombay Sapphire gin. Steelo and some of Michael’s other friends had joined her in the booth. Tanisha sashayed to her friend to greet her.

“BIIIIIIITCCCCCCCCHHH! Where the FUCK have you been?”, an impaired Neesh questioned.

“I was talking to Gatsby. You literally saw me leave. Second, I’m finna beat yo ass.”, Khalida yelled over the music.

Tanisha stepped back and put her hands up. “What for?”

“You know why. Gatsby ends up being my childhood crush?! Howwwww in the hell were you able to pull that off?”

“Sis...just know that I got the connect. Now shut up and drink--we gotta New Year to ring in.”

Without further protest, Yaa opened the new bottle of D’usse and poured it into her glass. A few glasses and three tequila shots later, she was feeling nice. Not drunk, but nice, tipsy at most. She’d stepped out of her shell of skepticism and began socializing a lot more.

During the course of the night, Michael and Yaa had been getting cozy with each other. They never left each other’s side. They exchanged flirty looks and “you goods?” When they weren’t refilling cups in the VIP section, they were deep in conversation, topics varied as their sobriety faded away. Then, it happened: his curious hand trailed northbound on her leg. Usually, Yaa would smack the taste out of any man’s mouth for feeling up on her, sober or drunk. But let’s face it: she was feeling him and it was obvious the feeling was mutual. She bit her lip and winked at him in response.

“So we just gon’ pretend like yo whole hand ain’t up my dress?”, Yaa playfully questioned.

“Yup.”, Michael replied with a grin. He was so proud of himself. “Finally able to get my hands on you.”

Yaa rolled her eyes. “Don’t getcha skinny ass hurt fuckin around.”

She got up, leaving him awestruck at her model-like walk.

“10...9...8...7...6...5...4...3...2...1… HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” Gold and silver confetti and balloons fell from the sky. Cheers from every corner of the room paired with the popping of champagne corks. Yaa hugged Tanisha and kissed cheeks in celebration of the New Year. Yaa felt two taps to the right shoulder. Ready to curse, Yaa whipped her body around to see that the tapper was none other than Michael. He rubbed the back of his neck and flashed his smile, revealing his pair of ridiculously adorable deep dimples.

“I-uh...know we kinda just met like an hour and a half ago...but I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind having the honor of sharing this New Year’s ki—”. Yaa grabbed him up by his lapel and kissed him passionately, yet drunkenly. She laughed.

“Happy New Year to you too, Kari. Sorry, but I’ve always wanted to call you that.”, she laughed.

1:47 a.m.

Thud. For all it’s worth, Yaa’s back as going to be sore for the next couple of days from the impact of hitting her back against her chest of drawers. She also couldn’t have given half a fuck about her neck or her back. Hell, sis was finally getting dick. The more violent her and Michael’s tongues were becoming in each other’s mouths, the more familiar their hands were becoming with each other’s clothes and bodies. Still focused on his Dom Perignon-flavored kisses, her hands anxiously searched for his belt. But before she could unbuckle his pants, the D’usse demon jumped out. She smirked seductively as she boldly grabbed his print and freed herself from his arms.

“Oh shit.”, he mumbled, “So, you nasty nasty.”

The devilish smirk she gave was all the response he needed. She slowly got on her knees and freed his dick from the constraints of his pants, licking its length on both sides. Her head bobbed to the beat of the music playing in her head. Watching her bob on his dick, he began undoing the bottom of her chignon so that the rest of her hair wouldn’t get in the way of his undoing.

Thud. His head went against the wall as his undoing was becoming apparent. He cursed under his breath and kept his bottom row of teeth tucked underneath his bottom lip to keep from moaning aloud. Yaa would have cared less for his current state. She continued to slurp and coat his rock-hard member with spit. Keeping eye contact, Yaa continued licking him like a melting popsicle. He growled to keep from moaning, along with a chorus of “Shit” being recited under his breath.

Forever came to an end as Yaa slowly got off of her knees. He helped her up, only to be blindsided by her sloppy kisses. She began walking backwards with him towards the king-sized bed but stopped at the edge of the bed.

He placed her on the edge of the bed. Michael kissed her lips gently and slowly began to make his way to her promised land. His kisses became wet as he made his way down to her neck—her spot. He kissed her collarbone tattoo, licked his way down to her large breasts, and paused at her nipples. With his hands now caressing her breast, he wrapped his tongue around her nipple and began sucking with enough pressure to make her moan. While he sucked on her nipple like a pacifier, Michael dropped his hand from hoisting up her other breast and began to timidly creep his fingers down her baby-soft skin and the scrunched fabric of her dress. Feeling his hand touch over her thigh, he began to aggressively pull up the bottom of her dress. There was a slight discoloration created on her skin from the irritation from the material being forced against it, but Michael didn’t stop until the bottom of her dress pooled around her stomach. Once he realized where the material had settled, he pulled his lips from around Yaa’s areola, fixating his eyes on her lower half. Quickly noticing that she was panty-less, he felt a smirk tug at his lips--better--he peered up at his flushed lover. “So that’s how you rollin’, huh?”, he questioned as he slowly rolled his bottom lip underneath his teeth before winking up at Yaa and sinking to his knees. Staring at the awe-striking sight of her glistening folds, Michael admired the intimate view as he could replay the numerous times he tried to capture this very image many a late night.

He pushed her legs further apart until her kneecaps were damn near touching the mattress before trailing his way up her inner thighs. Placing soft, gentle kisses and occasional nibbles against her hot skin, he increased his pressure, making her feel the individual pricks of his coarse facial hair making Yaa a squirmy, wet mess. Timidly reaching her glory, Michael brought his hands up and steadily separated her lower lips with both of his thumbs before pressing his mouth forward. “Looks like someone’s been waiting on me.”, he said with a cocky confidence.

Chest rapidly rising and falling, Yaa couldn’t form a coherent word, phrase, or sentence. She gulped heavily before rolling her head back as Michael’s lips connected to her folds. She gripped the sheets up as his tongue controlled her every move. He finally licked her wet opening with a flat tongue going from the bottom to the top. His tongue was a weapon— it was both long and thick. He licked his name on her bud—slowly torturing her it with every dip, twist, turn, curve, and dot of each letter in his name. He then inserted two of his thick fingers into her opening as he licked the letter "C" and began pumping his fingers at a moderate pace. Desperately panting from his actions, Yaa began to shriek once she felt Gatsby toy with her clit. This raggedy ass nigga finna suck you dry and ain’t shit you can do about it at this point.

His fingers picked up the pace the moment he noticed her unraveling, his tongue explored deeper into her womanhood. She struggled to feel for the nearest pillow, but when she found it, she quasi-covered her mouth to subdue her moans of pleasure.

The sounds of Yaa’s hitched breathing and impending sexual eruption ricocheted throughout the master bedroom. Her back was arched completely off of the bed and she held a firm grasp of his head. If it wasn’t a moan or gasp, Yaa let out a “fuck”, “shit”, or an “Oh Lorddddddd.” Hearing Yaa unravel brought Michael much pleasure—the match to his sexual fire. He occasionally laughed at her undoing; he finally had the object of his affection under his mercy, quivering at his touch. Right as he could feel the pressure change for her release, he pulled his fingers and tongue away from her now swollen bud. She quickly leaned up on her elbows to see why he was stupid enough to pull out right as she was about to release. He smiled maliciously as his soaked fingers neared his mouth. “Nuh-uh. I gotta taste this first, it makes the kisses taste sweeter.”, Michael explained as he slapped her hand away from his. Bitch, no the fuck he didn’t! The two locked eyes as he sucked his two drenched fingers like he’d just ate the last extra wet lemon pepper wing.

He motioned for her to sit up. Before he could even ask, Yaa leaned in to taste her sweet essence on his tongue. A shiver shot down his spine as her candy apple colored nail gently traveled down his back. Their kiss led to Yaa laying on her back once again. Michael bit his lip as he hovered over her. He snatched her by her ankle to the edge of the bed, sliding himself between her legs. “Missionary’s a bold first choice, don’t you think?”, Yaa asked as she handed him a condom. He chuckled, “Nah. I’m just tryna see sumn, that’s all.”

His thumb rubbed against her wet clit as his girthy member slowly entered her tight, slippery entrance. Yaa inhaled sharply as she felt her body tremble and his thick length push against her tight bounds. “Fuck!” She cursed, as she felt him move slow trying to feel each and every ridge of her plush opening. Their fingers intertwined within each other as he went further into her. The lustful gaze into her honey eyes only intensified the overwhelming sensation of euphoria emanating from her core. With her back now arched completely off the bed, her new position gave him more room to dig deeper into her guts. Her mouth was agape as she tried to breathe through her stimulation. His rhythm steadily increased with every stroke.

Watching Yaa’s scrunched facial expression, Michael moved his hands to grip her waist as he quickened his pace. Taking his off of her face for a second to peek at their connection as he smirked at the sticky surface of his and hers wet organs. With the erotic scene unfolding before him, Michael slowly rolled his bottom lip underneath his teeth once the sounds of their moist skin slapping against each other reached his ears. She was helpless—her eyes burned from the tears of pleasure and she struggled to grip onto the gold link chain that dangled from his neck. Her moans and whimpers continued to fuel his drive. Chuckling darkly at her body’s responsiveness he said, “Yea, this is that shit I was talking bout. Just listen to that shit speaking out to me, fuck.” before fluttering his eyes closed and pounding into her.

3:34 a.m.

Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. The sound of the headboard repeatedly being knocked against the wall served as a light sound buffer to Michael and Yaa’s moaning. Michael’s thick hand applied the perfect amount of pressure around her neck as he continued to deliver those dangerous strokes. Just as they were able to sync their rhythms, he pulled out. This nigga done lost his Black ass mind. She opened her mouth to complain, only to be interrupted by the sudden shift from her back to her tummy. “On your knees. Now.”, he commanded as he smacked her ass. She as she was told—only to be rewarded with the reunion of his lips to her lower lips. No, he didn’t, bitch! The byke?! He eatin’ it from the muhfuckin’ byke?! This is Daddy!! Fuck a Winston,chile. His alternating kissing and sucking on her swollen bud caused her to fall flat on her stomach from the overstimulation. His hand went underneath her to lift her back up. He centered himself before sliding his member back into her. He slowly increased his tempo as he twisted her locs into his fist.

Yaa’s voice was hoarse. Had been hoarse half an hour ago. She had been depleted of any common sense she’d thought she had and was running on adrenaline. Michael, though appearing to be the victor of the night’s bout, was still at odds with his challenger. She was tired but still fighting like hell. He sweated profusely—like a champ battling it out in the 11th round. She wasn’t going down with a fight. He flipped her around one last time. This time, he pinned her legs past her ears—a position that both were surprised by.

“You ain’t tappin’ out?”, he asked between pumps

“Why and you about to tap out yourself? Let’s tap out at the same time since you so damn excited.”, the raspy-voiced Yaa boldly replied.

“Aight, say less.”

He went into overdrive. He quickly moved her legs from near her ears to around his waist. Not even two minutes later, the pair released within seconds of each other,his body collapsing onto hers.

“Don’t move.”, Michael whispered in Yaa’s ear as he tried to get himself together.

She shook her head. “Bitch, I don’t wanna move.” She paused, “Actually, I need to finish wash my face. Move.”

The moment both feet landed on the ground, gravity betrayed her. Her knee gave out, causing to limp and almost fall. Thankfully, Michael’s body was turned away from her. After returning from the bathroom, she limped to the bed. Oh, heating pads are the move all day today. This was the beginning of something different, and what a way to begin a new beginning than on New Year’s Day?

A/N: Yeah, sorry for the trash ending. I got too impatient.

I’m in the kitchen, TAGS ERRYWHERE!

@muse-of-mbaku @kumkaniudaku @eriknutinthispoosy @whoramilaje @mbakusthrone @mbakuwife @crushed-pink-petals @inlovewithmakeupcomicsanimelove @jackburtonsays @randomwordprompts @forgottenthoughtsandmemories @bartierbakarimobisson @wakandan-flowerz @blackpantherreblogs @babygirlofwakanda @eerythingisshaka @washyourlinens @turn-thy-paige @doublesidedscoobysnacks @wakandas-vibranium @dramaqueenamby @oshasimone @destinio1 @teheeboo @sarahboseman @iamrheaspeaks @ljstraightnochaser @chaneajoyyy @thememoireeofme @lovelynervouschaos @cay-cah @coonflix @katasstrophey @mareethequeen @jozigrrl @great-neckpectations @jellybean531 @yofavcocoa @storibambino @maya-leche @blackgirloneshots @royallyprincesslilly @texasbama @certifiednatural @abeautifulmindexposed

#thefonderseries #winston x yaa #winston duke x oc #destinedtobeduke #dukeandthedoctor

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finderskeepersff · 5 years

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58.

“Handsome” she said “you late” I complained a little “says you that always wakes me up with late night calls, awwww what? You got me flowers” I shrugged looking down at them “you know how sweet that is to me, I feel special” she is making me blush “quit making a scene, come” she is making a scene for nothing “you better hug me” Sofia demanded “take the flowers then” Sofia is doing it on purpose cause she know I don’t do this shit “come” Sofia opened her arms to me “you make me love you more and more” hugging Sofia “you said love” I mumbled “your persona comes apart and I love it, just be quiet and let me hug you in peace” she said which made me smile “Cassius? Are you with us? Hello” snapping back into reality, the reality is so bleak to me “are you ok over there?” licking my top lip as I got up from the seat, pulling my hood up. I don’t want to be in these group thing, I am forced to do it. I only speak when I want too, pushing the doors open. I just want to be outside, I like it outside here. It has beautiful flowers, I like flowers. I don’t know, they look pretty. Walking down the path, I just rather be outside as I refuse to sit there and speak about things I wish not to discuss. Sitting down on the outside steps, lots of open space. It’s so nice to see, like in Brooklyn you don’t see this shit and it’s nice “routine Cassius, what are you doing here?” Henry said behind me “are you ready to go outside of here, get you a nice haircut?” shaking my head “who would have thought, I made money just to pay for my rehab at the end of it, fucked up huh” I chuckled “we spoke about this Cassius, stop acting things are so bad and are negative, it isn’t so please” I don’t want a shave.

“I want you to start actively wanting to see people, you are capable of this and I know this Cassius” looking out of the car window “what if I jumped out of your car right now and walked off?” I asked “then I can’t stop you but I know you won’t, you like to test me. It would be sad to see you go. The confidence you had was not you Cassius, you need to understand that we need to rebuild on that. You gained confidence from drugs, you dealt with it through that. Even now you are holding back, you aren’t being true to yourself and this won’t work, will it? It’s painful, it’s hard to accept what you are, you need to accept it. Being a recovering drug addict is not a bad thing, you are not confident in yourself and it’s stopping you from progressing. I am taking you out because I want you to see your partner Sofia, I need you to let her come. She needs to understand you, you need to also open up about issues” Henry talks too much “maybe I don’t want to get better” he is making me get better, maybe I don’t want it “who is the real Cassius, tell me this? Tell me, tell me before you turned thirteen, who is that Cassius? We got time” I wish I never came with him “erm” I laughed “that Cassius was a loving kid, he erm. He just wanted to play with my niggas, you know. I loved numbers, I was so good at it. I would do my work, like niggas wouldn’t do they work but me, I did. I was laid back, I was good. My dad kind of hated there was four of us, used to be like I got more mouths to feed. He would come in drunk but me, I was good. Life was great” I grinned.

I am waiting to sit in the chair to get my hair done “Cassius you keep shying away from the mirror” Henry said “I don’t fuck with me bro” I laughed “why don’t you? You are a great guy Cassius, you need to believe that Cassius. You have to believe that” shaking my head “I want to be a new person, I don’t want to be Cassius anymore. You know, teenage Cassius was a fucked up dude. I was such a mess, I ain’t no drug dealer, I never was and then I became it. I ain’t no killer Henry but now” I chuckled “I guess I am, my dad. He was never happy, you know. Never proud of things, I kept proving points but still, I was not good enough” I still don’t think I am now “and how did you deal with that? I think Cassius you need to take this energy and anger elsewhere, we have a gym. It’s a great thing to do, you right now. You are thinking about your dad and then now drugs ain’t you? You need to disconnect it, you don’t need to deal with it that way, would you be shocked if I told you that I was once a user?” looking up from the floor and at Henry “yeah I was” he laughed “don’t look at me like that, I was a mess, no job, no family. I was on the streets. I did things I regretted Cassius, but I learned to forgive myself. I moved on, I am living proof and now I want to help people like you. I know you hate group talks, I did this for you” I didn’t think he was, he looks so normal “come on son, you next” looking away from Henry “go on and get your hair cut” getting up from the chair “you trying to grow an afro? Your hairline looking dumb” this old dude is harassing me already “been through a lot” sitting in the chair “what you want done?” he turned the seat around, I have to look at my face “clean cut, shave it all” looking away from the mirror.

“You feeling cold now?” Henry held out a water bottle to me “a little, I feel a little naked now” Henry sat next to me outside the barbershop “if you happy, I am happy with it” it’s whatever, I would let it grow out even more “you are still holding a lot back, we may have helped get you off drugs but you need to help yourself, only you can do that” opening the water bottle “my dad sold me, I killed the guy that was acting more of a father to me. He felt sorry for me but that guy was a pimp, my dad sold me to him. I am cute, I will get dealings. My dad went home, he got his hit. He went home, left me there with this guy I didn’t know. I was scared, I just did what I needed too. I did it for my ungrateful brother’s that hate me. To protect my mom, but I was sold. I had grown women wanting to fuck me, I had people drugged the fuck up right in front of me. I was working all night that I was sleeping in class, so I killed him. Then I started, for years. Taking some here and there, I think with my dad. I have this link to him, he was my hero. I was a daddy’ boy, I was the boy. So proud of me, but he was just not a nice guy. I do think both of my parents were crackheads, I mean who let’s their son be out at night doing that. They expect me to be ok, I had no relationship with any woman. I didn’t want kids, I knew what I was but then Sofia happened” I sighed out “going back to what your dad did to you, it was never right in any sense. I think what it is, you are so hurt by your dad” nodding my head “imagine it, going out at night with your dad. He wants me to go out, I mean that was before he beat up a woman for some drug shit. I went with him again to be sold, it’s laughable. I was a mess, I became a mastermind at my work. I was nineteen where I ran up on niggas double my age, took their shit. And I fucked their daughters, then I took their spot. I did it again, and again. Then it got to a point where I had everything at the age of twenty one, I became this nigga where people heard my name and would be scared. I had girls here and there, through a lot of it Celine was there but I couldn’t love her, it was never there. I was such a bad guy Henry, I was so angry at this guy that fucked me over, I tied him up. Made his daughter choose me and then fucked her while he watched she always a hoe that I fucked before, I mean you see the bigger picture here, he dead too. I am crazy” shaking my head “she also died” looking over at Henry “that is because you had so much power, power got to your mind. Come on, let’s give that mind a rest” I am tired now.

There is some real weird people in this place, they probably think I am weird but these are weird as fuck “she asked me for a hit” I pointed at some white chick “she said she would suck my dick too” watching this white bitch walk by “they all have their issues, I wanted to ask. So you came out after being locked up, what happened? You didn’t want a relationship or love, you tell me what happened when you saw Sofia?” I laughed to myself “erm so I saw her, like I walked into my home it was my brother’ girl, so when I walked in uninvited to the home it just happened. She was wearing a green, like a green colour, it was erm shiny like. And erm it was low cut, like I could see side boob, now I just came out of jail, I ain’t seen boobs in a while. I had a good time with my hand that night but she had her hair in a bun and when she got up, Henry, my man. She had this long slit, it went like” pushing my seat back, touching my thigh “here, I was like what? She didn’t wear a lot of make up it was on but not too much. And I was like wow, that was it. I was attracted to her instantly, her whole vibe. Her” I paused “her aura, I think they say it. I just felt it, and I had to just put it out there. No way in hell that was Jordan’ girl, like no. But yeah” I smiled to myself “I was one happy nigga seeing her” Henry smiled at me “you felt love? Did you feel it?” he be asking me some shit, licking my top lip “erm” I laughed “I think, I don’t know really. I just liked her a lot, I just felt that protectiveness over her, I knew my brother. I know he ain’t the type to be nice, so uh yeah. She had sex with me, I mean we did it. The rest is history” I laughed “you are very giggly Cassius when it comes to Sofia, I must say you are smiling a lot” kissing my teeth “because the questions are funny” is he stupid.

Henry cleared his throat “we have made some movement, talking more. We need to talk about things so we can be able to work on the issue, the root cause is of course your dad. There is more to tell, I know that but I am happy with you Cassius. You are talking more, so tell me. With Sofia being with your brother was this something welcomed with the family?” I snorted laughing “nah, they would bad mouth her. But they don’t know her like that, I did fall for her beauty but it’s what she showed me that made me love her even more, for her to expose these things to me made me love her more. I didn’t know what love is or was, love ain’t for me because I don’t know what that shit is. I said it to my mom, I was like thank her, I am here for her because I was already back into my old ways, all the well trying to keep up with Sofia and being normal for her, you know how tiring that is, mentally” Henry nodded his head “which brings me to say Cassius, you’re going to say to me I played you or whatever. Do you think it is time for us, you and I together to see Sofia, bring her here to see you. There is no way you can be helped outside if the person you live with doesn’t understand you, she seems like an understanding person so what do you think?” he did play me “I don’t want to speak to her, I think it’s best if I keep away” Henry sighed out “fine” he got up from his seat, he patted my shoulder “let’s give you your tablets and then you can sleep” I just can’t face Sofia right now.

Staring at the tablets “do I need them though? I ain’t crazy?” Henry side eyed me “I never said it was did I? These are just to calm your nerves and also so you can sleep, the last thing you need is to not sleep. We want a better lifestyle for you Cassius, night is for sleeping yes?” I don’t want them “I will see her” walking off, I don’t want the tablets. Night is not just for sleeping, that be the time I am working so it’s bullshit. I just don’t want that shit “fuck you!” I said to the white bitch before she even spoke to me, she get on my nerves. I do feel at peace but I am also scared, I can’t stop this. I will always be around drugs, I have the urge now. Turning back around “I want them tablets actually” I want it, I rather sleep because I am having some thoughts “meeting with Sofia still stands? Or did you change your mind on that?” shaking my head “she has asked about you everyday, called everyday. I feel you need the support as much as you don’t want her here, you need to do the hard work but she can support you” that sounds like something Sofia would do.

#Chrianna #Chrianna FF #Fanfic #Fanfiction

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winterisakiller · 5 years

Text

Love & Great Buildings - Chapter Seven

Chapter: 7/19

Character/Relationship: Tom Hiddleston/Rosemary Mathews (OFC)

Genre: Romance/Angst

Summary: Three years have passed and a chance encounter brings Tom and Rosie together again. Can time make any difference or are they doomed to repeat their mistakes.

Rating: T (for now)

Author’s Notes/Warnings: This is part nine of Last Minutes and Lost Evenings. Many thanks to @redfoxwritesstuff for listening to me ramble incessantly about this story and being a sounding board when I needed it. You are a lifesaver, even if your stories break my heart.

This story and its preceding one-shots can be also be found on AO3 under the username winterisakiller (sparkinside)

Tag List: @tinchentitri @noplacelikehome77

Previous Chapter

CHAPTER SEVEN

His warm laughter filled her ear and pulled another smile to her face. “Rosie, darling, how are you?”

“Lay off the charm, Hiddleston,” she joked, rubbing the back of her neck absently with her free hand. “Now to what do I owe the pleasure of this call?”

Another warm laugh. God did he have any idea the chaos he could unleash with that laugh? She shook her head trying to clear that errant thought away.

“Gods, you do wonders for my ego.”

Rosemary smirked, “I do my best.”

“…So what do you think?”

Rosemary shook her head violently, forcing herself back into the present, and realized she’d missed nearly everything he’d said. “I’m sorry, Tom, what?”

Tom’s chuckle echoed in her ear, “I was asking if you were possibly free for lunch today.”

“Can I take a raincheck on that lunch?”

“I will. Talk later?” She let her own hope color her words, refusing to think further into why that troubled her.

His warm laughed echoed again in her ear. “Alright, darling. Speak soon.”

Rosemary smiled, reaching out to grasp Jules hand and squeeze it gently. “That’s fantastic, I’m so glad everything is well with them.”

Jules offered her a genuine smile. “Me too.”

Silence fell between them once again.

“Is everything alright with the shop? Please tell me that Jordan isn’t completely messing up the shipments…again.”

Rosemary nodded. “Yeah, Hanna is well worth her weight in gold.” She paused, smiling. “The shop here is doing far better than I hoped it would.”

“I’m so glad. I know Stories has been your baby for a long time now. You’re doing Agnes and Henry proud, you know.” She offered Rosemary a warm smile.

“I hope so.”

Jules took a deep breath, seeming to come to a decision. “I’m sorry.”

Taken aback, Rosemary stared at the woman sitting before her.

Jules smiled softly at Rosemary and nodded. She was silent for several moments before locking her eyes on Rosemary and asking, “Are we okay?”

Squeezing her hand in return, Jules chuckled and then nodded, “I can’t guarantee I won’t make a right mess of it, but I can try.”

“That’s all I ask.”

“So,” Jules started, her eyes glancing briefly at the phone then back towards her friend, “who’s the raincheck on?”

She could see Jules slight start at the name. “Oh. So you patched things up?” The concern and hesitancy in her voice was clear as was the fact that she was holding back.

“Okay. Okay.” Jules pushed herself up from the chair and looked knowingly at her friend. “I was going to head out to grab a bite before heading back to the shop. You interested?”

Rosemary smiled softly in return. “Any chance of a change in venue?”

She watched Jules’ red brow quirk and a wicked grin spread across her face. “From our usual? Perish the thought!”

With a roll of her eyes, Rosemary stood and beckoned her friend. “Come on then.”

—

“Darling, that is quite alright.” His voice was warm in her ear and she fought the urge to groan again. “Busy day, I take it?”

“You quite alright there, Rosie?”

Tom laughed heartily. “Oh my dear, what am I ever going to do with you?”

“So how is Jules? You’ve not spoken of her recently?”

“Seriously?” The confusion was evident in his voice. “Over what?”

She hesitated.

“Rosie?” Tom urged. She could plainly hear the dawning knowledge in his voice and his need to hear her actually say it.

“Oh Rosie…”

A hissing from the kitchen snapped her attention back to the present. “Shit!” she shouted as she jumped from the couch and scrambled into the kitchen.

“What?” Tom’s voice shouted in her ear. “What’s wrong?”

“Careful or you’ll burn the place down.”

Tom laughed, “If you insist, darling.”

“And if I do?” She queried, settling back onto the couch. He laughed again. “So Tom, about that rain check? Are you free tomorrow afternoon by any chance?”

He groaned and she could clearly see him rubbing his temples with his hand. “I can’t.”

She tried to stifle the initial wave of disappointment. “Oh...”

“I have a lunch meeting with my manager tomorrow. But I’m free the day after. Would that be alright?”

Rosemary smiled. “That would be perfect.”

Next Chapter

#tom hiddleston #Tom and Rosie #Love & Great Buildings #tom hiddleston x ofc

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