#Completely unaware how he can bring a man to his knees with a singular smile or little laugh | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

onlyfortheplot · 4 years ago

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○○o☆○o。𝔸𝕞𝕠𝕦𝕣。o○☆○oo

Would you do a Akaashi Keiji fic with the “I love you” prompt of quietly picks out the things you don’t like to eat on your plate and transfer it to theirs without you needing to ask them to?- Anon

Pairing: Keiji Akaashi x Fem!Reader! Warning: Implied NSFW in the beginning A/N: This started off with a singular prompt and turned into a 1505 word fic??? Like okay, the mind will want what it wants. Anyway, anon, thank you for the prompt. It was fun to write! Asks are OPEN! Also I’m thinking about a Kageyama x Assassin!Reader AU next???

“Keiji, do we have to go?” you gave him a pout as you leaned against the doorway, watching as your boyfriend fumbled with his tie. Cute , you thought, watching your usually serene, perfect boyfriend struggle with something so simple. You smirked slightly, walking over and removing his fingers from the very messed up tie.

“Stupid, tie.” he muttered, as you skillfully removed the couple knots that Akaashi had managed to create.

“But, really,” you asked, slowly taking out the very last knot, “”do we have to go?” He sighed, taking your hands into his, kissing the inner palms.

“It's a reunion, honey, we can’t not go.” kissing each finger as he looked down at your blushing face. He smiled slightly taking the tip of your pointer finger into his mouth, the tingling sensation rolling through your body, as his tongue flicked over it. You let out a small, breathy moan.

“If you’re good, babygirl, I’ll reward you.” You blushed harder, jerking your hand from him and wiping the bit of spit that was strung on it. “I promise.”

“Or,” you smirked, batting your lashes as you continued to fix his tie, “you can reward me right now?”

He let out a low laugh, saying a small thank you as you patted the finished tie. He looked back into the mirror behind you, gripping your waist and bringing it into his side.You sighed, leaning into him, as you both stared.

It was going to be his very first reunion with his friends from high school. You were slightly nervous about it. It would also be your first time formally meeting them. You weren’t close, at least not very close, with most of the volleyball team, only knowing a few things. Their ace and captain was someone who kept Akaashi on his toes. And that he was a very, very good spiker. You fiddled with the edges of your knee-length dress. You really didn’t know what to expect. Even Akaashi— someone was usually so calm, even about the more stressful things— was nervous. And it showed. His hand gripped your waist harder as he stared into the mirror. And you could hear his heartbeat quicken, slightly, as you leaned more into his chest, taking in a long breath of his scent.

“Baby,” you whispered, looking towards him, “let’s have a good time, okay?”

He let a small smile, removing his hands from your waist and instead placing them on your hips, giving a squeeze as he gestured for you to leave the room.

“Let’s.”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

“Agashiiiii!” You flinched as a loud voice erupted from the otherwise quiet restaurant. You instantly clutched Akaashi’s hand. He looked down and gave a small squeeze of affection. He looked back as a very tall man, ran towards them, a large bottle of champagne in one hand and a single flower in the other. He stopped, abruptly in front of you, exceedingly clutching you both in a tight hug. You blushed slightly, feeling the foreign feeling of muscles squeezing your neck.

“Hello, Bokuto-san.” your boyfriend replied calmly, but you could tell how happy he was to see his best friend. You could see the forced restraint in his eyes, as it glimmered with a rare sense of utmost happiness and pride.

“Hey, Hey HEY!!” he pointed at you with the bottle, “You must be girlfriend-chan.”

“Hello, Bokuto-san,” you bowed slightly, “it is very nice to meet you.”

“No need, for formalities, Y/N-chan, you’re dating our setter after-all.” he grinned, shoving the flower in front of you, “For you, madam.” You giggled as he gave a mock bow, his hair tickling the edge of your nose.

“Why, what a gentleman.” He grinned, motioning for both of them to follow. Akaashi squeezed your arm, hard enough that you looked up. He merely looked forward, pulling you to his side, placing a hand around your waist.

“Keiji?” you silently grinned to yourself as he ignored you, following the captain instead. But, it was evident what was wrong. He was jealous. Or at least irritated enough that he squeezed your waist sharply. You giggled. How cute.

“Your seat, Madam.” Bokuto pulled out a chair, earning a stern glare from Akaashi. His eyes were cold, almost still, as he kept eye contact with him, clenching the chair from his grasp, and pulled it out himself.

“Keiji, it's just a chair.” she scolded, giving Bokuto a sympathetic glance. Overprotective men. Pulling out the chair yourself and sitting down.

“Where are the others?” Akaashi asked as he joined you, grasping your hand under the table. Bokuto laughed nervously, rubbing his neck, sitting parallel to them.

“Well, Konoha got stuck in work, so he’ll be here later. But, the others,” Bokuto paused, his grin falling as sadness conformed in his features. “They-they...”

“Bokuto-san?” Akaashi asked, half-knowing what was going to happen. He clenched your hand harder.

“They cancelled on me, Agasshi! They cancelled at the last minute. And over text too.” he whined, burrowing his face into his hands. Akaashi sighed, awkwardly giving a soft smile to the on-lookers. But, you could see the underlying stress in his actions. The twitching of his eye. And the rough grip of her hand.

“Bokuto-san, I’m sure we can plan another reunion soon.” Akaashi calmly said, “We can even—”

“But—but, I ordered food!” he frantically burst, arms swinging randomly, “I already ordered for all three of us!”

“Well—”

“Then, we’ll eat,” you interrupted, giving him a small smile,”I don’t mind Bokuto-san.”

He looked up, his eyes sparkling with fresh tears, “Really?”. You gave him a big thumbs up.

“Of course!”

“Agaaashi, your girlfriend is the best,” he sobbed happily, wiping a few stray tears from his face,

“I know.” he softly said, looking sheepishly at you. “I’m lucky.” You blushed, coughing at his blunt statement.

“Anyway, what did you order?” you asked, “I hope it's good!”

“Yakiniku! And some onigiri! I heard they were the best. Also I ordered...” you watched as he babbled off about food, your smile unconsciously dropped as he continued. Something in your stomach turned. Yakiniku? You didn’t hate. No. You have had it before. But did you prefer it? No. The smokey taste had never felt right on your taste buds.

“Y/N? Are you okay?” You looked up, shocked, automatically giving a nod as Bokuto grinned continuing to ramble on. Akaashi gave you a look, taking in your slightly hunched figure, and slightly clammy hands.

“And then we could—”

“Your food has arrived, sir.” Bokuto hastily shut his mouth, leaning back in his seat, making room for the piles of plates to be laid. You cringed backward as the dishes was laid on the table. Right in front of you. The scent was almost enough to make you gag. Almost. But, you didn’t want to insult Bokuto, or the people who spent their time making them. Instead, you grudgingly looked at the chopsticks, laid neatly beside her plate and pushed the meat to the side.

She joined in the small “Thank you for the food!”, clapping her hands once, before picking up her chopsticks. She watched, under her lashes, as Bokuto began to dig into the meat.

“So, Y/N, how did you two meet? In high school?” he asked, small bits of food spraying from his mouth, you laughed as Akaashi gave him a long long.

“Bokuto-san...” he started, stopping once he realized how useless it would be to reprimand him.

“What? It's good! Wait—” he swallowed forcefully “Why aren’t you eating, Y/N?” You froze, giving a strained laugh.

“Well, it looks like you’re eating enough for the three of us!” You joked, relieved as Bokuto let out a heart laugh. Even Akaashi let a small chuckle.

Under the pinning stare of Bokuto, you audibly gulped, grasping the chopsticks and picked up some vegetables. You sniffed it, the raw scent of meat flooded your senses. Opening your mouth, you stuffed the leafy vegetables down your teeth. You made a show of chewing, jaw clenching at each motion.

“That was good!” you said, hiding the bitter feeling of disgust that crawled in your mouth, running down your throat and into your stomach.

“Well, the ones we made back in high school were even better. We...” He rambled on, stopping momentarily to stuff his mouth full meat and vegetables. Completely unaware of the force smile, or the disgust becoming very close to revealing itself.

“Here.” he whispered, grabbing your plate and picking the pieces of meat, placing it into his own. Your eyes widened, blushing slightly as he gave you a knowing look. You should have known that he would know. Especially with the lack of response from your side. You gave him an appreciative look, eyes shining with love as he finally placed your plate down.

“Thank you.” you murmured, looking at your plate, clean of meat, and back at your boyfriend.

“I know.” he answered, intertwining your fingers with his own. “I love you.”

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thethoughtsfromthreeam · 5 years ago

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Astronomy Lesson

Pairing: The Mandalorian/ Din Djarin x Reader

Warnings: None

A/N: I dug around, but there seems to be nothing on Mandalorian astronomy and there is clearly a lot of gaps in the history, so I took full advantage. The stories told within this are my own invention, so if they don’t mesh with Mandalorian culture, well, is it a surprise to my regulars that I don’t really mesh with canon all that well?

Reminder: I ain’t ever seen Pedro Pascal in FUCK ALL, I’m just coming up with this as I go along, using imdb.com, wiki, and 84,000 tabs I got open to plan out this shit. I also write soft versions of his characters so if you’re craving asshole vibes, I ain’t got any but my own to offer.

Tags: @zeldasayer , @romanticgumchewer, @beskars , @coolmaybelateruniverse , @the-feckless-wonder, @lavenderl3mons , @pascalisthepunkest , @mandoandyodito , @randomness501 , @fioccodineveautunnale , @altarsw

---***---

Hyperspace was quiet, but beautiful and Din Djarin used those moments to find inner calm in a life that was anything but. The travel to the next planet, even in hyperspace, was going to take several hours and he took a chance to rest, maybe even sleep a little, until the cycle of bounty hunting began all over again.

He slept quietly for a long time before he was drawn from his slumber by the murmur of a voice. As he became more alert, he could hear her talking. At first, he thought it was to herself – she had a bad habit of doing it – and he smiled, but he realized that occasionally a small cooing noise seemed to respond to the words being spoken. He sat in the captain’s chair, facing away from them, but listened intently to what she was saying.

“Watch your fingers, we don’t want to prick them with the needle!” She smiled as the child tried grabbing the sharp object every time it pierced the fabric. He loved watching her work on various embroidery projects and seemed fascinated when the small pieces of thread became a big picture.

“Do you see that one? That is te gaid, five stars united to help protect the Mando’ade. Legend says that the Taung used their shields together to create great walls of protection in times of war. They don’t use shields anymore, but in the sky te gaid is to remind the Mando’ade the ka’ra will always protect them.” Her voice was soft, almost lilting as she recounted the story and the child seemed to understand as he ran his little hand across the image on the cloth. The white stood stark against the swirls of navy blue and black that she had been stitching over the last month.

Din’s breath caught in his chest when he realized what she was teaching the child. But he kept still, wondering if she had more to say. The child patted her hand and when she looked at him, he pointed at a long line of stars before looking back her, expecting the story for that constellation, too. She smiled as she kissed the top of his head.

“Ah, the bevii’ragir. Hunters since the early days of Mandalore use it to hunt for food and to protect their clans from attack. But it is said that the bevii’ragir gave life to the world. Long before the Mando’ade and even in the days before the Taung, the galaxy was a swirl of violence where no life could take root and thrive. In this miasma rose Kad Ha’rangir who saw that the chaos needed to be tamed. So, he went to war to bring order to the galaxy so that life may thrive.”

She stabbed the needle a little harder into the fabric to punctuate her story and the child giggled at the image. She made a few more stitches before she tied off the thread and continued her story.

“Kad Ha’rangir used his bevii’ragir to defeat those who threatened life and as he made his way from planet to plant, new worlds sprung up in his wake. Because Kad Ha’rangir had slew chaos with his bevii’ragir, the Mando’ade created their own so they, too, could keep chaos at bay. It was a bringer of life.”

And so the stories continued as the child pointed to new constellations – the verborir’ce that protected the Mando’ade from their enemies and now protected their identities, the Mythosaur that Mandalore the First slew to give Mando’ade their first home, the senaar, little birds that whistled sweetly but were very deadly; many more stories flowed from her lips as she worked on her project.

The two were so lost into their own little astronomy lesson that they didn’t realize that Din had turned the chair to watch them. She, hunched over him like a reverent mother with golden flowers in her hair mimicking the glow of a halo, and the child, gazing up at her with love. His heart clenched at the sight and nothing in his world ever felt so right as this singular moment did.

As she clipped off the last of the thread, she unscrewed the hoop to let the entire cloth layout – the project was done. She smoothed it on the arm of the chair, trying to reduce the creases before she ironed it later. He could see from where he sat an entire starry sky telling the history and story of Mandalore spinning out from the insignia of the mudhorn in the middle. Din’s sharp intake of breath at the sight caught her ears and she looked up, realizing he was watching them.

“Oh.” She blushed as she began to roll up the fabric, embarrassed because she thought he had been asleep. She wondered how much he heard while she had been talking. When he brought her on board in Byss to care for the child and the new needs of the Razor Crest, he just knew her as a seamstress with a knack for people.

He didn’t know she was a scholar and that she was versed in myths and legends from around the galaxy, hundreds of stories swirling in her brain at any given time. It was likely she knew more Mandalorian myths than he had forgotten over the years.

“Can I see it?” He sounded shy and she cocked her head. Her brave Mandalorian, shy? She smiled, her own uncertainty dissipating. She moved the child onto the seat next to her and scooched closer until her knees were touching his and she unfurled the project onto their laps. He looked for a long time, seeing familiar constellations once lost to him as the stories swam in his mind, a little hazy.

He pointed to a pair of constellations that he couldn’t recall, one shaped like a zig zag and one shaped like a simple home, but both incredibly close to each other. His head tilted in question.

“The cyare soldus – the loved ones. Do you not know the story?” He could feel his cheeks warm, as if they were on fire. Despite hearing her tell the stories she just shared, it didn’t dawn on him that she understood Mando’a. He had been calling her cyare for months now, thinking he was being clever using his mother tongue to hide his endearment towards her. He hadn’t been, apparently.

Nothing about her face showed him that she knew what he was thinking and instead an excited giggle rose from the child as he climbed back onto her lap when he realized she was going to tell another story. He settled in and she leaned back to begin the tale.

“The story of the cyare soldus is one of love and devotion. A powerful Mando’ade named Ukra won many battles in the name of Mandalore, but for all his victories to protect his clan and the Mando’ade, he was very lonely. He prayed to the Maker each day to guide him into the arms of his riduur, to give him new meaning in the world. But none came.

“Then one day, Ukra was alone at a market on a planet neighboring Mandalore when he saw her, his riduur. Her name was Adas and she sat a loom, weaving the cloth used to make the capes favored by the Mando’ade and she hummed a tune as she worked. But she stopped when she felt someone staring at her. She smiled at him and despite not being able to see his face, she knew he was meant to be hers.”

As the story flowed over them, Din could feel a faint burning in his ears as a sense of familiarity began to grow.

“But before he could talk to her, a thief barreled through the market and as he was cornered, he drew a blaster and fired wildly into the crowd. Ukra saw Adas was in danger and he leap over the table and pulled her to the ground, using his armor to protect her.

“Ukra turned and shot the thief, killing him instantly and saving the market from the danger. He turned back to Adas and helped her up. He asked her to come with him, to be his riduur, but she declined. She said that she had heard of the great Ukra and felt that she, a simple weaver, could not be the great wife a man such as him needed.”

She paused a moment to catch her breath and the child cooed in excitement, as if clamoring for her to continue. Both were unaware of the shifting of Din in front of them, as he began to think not of the story she told, but of a share memory from the recent past that seemed hauntingly familiar.

“But Ukra was not deterred. For seven days, he returned to the market and asked Adas the same question and seven times she refused. He begged her to tell him what he needed to do to make her his riduur and she told him to return in three days and she would.

“Three days later, Ukra returned to the market to see the loom still and no Adas to be found. He panicked and began asking everyone where she had gone. Someone took pity on the Mandalorian and told him to seek her out in the temple. And so, he went.

“There, in the darkness was Adas and Ukra dropped to his knees, again begging her to tell him what he needed to do. She told him he must complete three tasks. The first was to find a golden flower shaped like the Maker’s star. The second was to bring her three skiens of the fine wool of the ovis of Kashyyyk. And finally, he must bring her three of the purple gemstones found in the caves of Naboo.

“He agreed and for a year and a day, Ukra travelled the galaxy in search of the items Adas had requested. Upon his return, he found her at the market as always and when he presented his bounties to her, she nodded and told him to return to the temple in ten days.

“On the morning of the tenth day, Ukra arrived at the temple. He looked but could not find Adas. She called his name from behind him and he saw her, adorned in a new dress made from the fine wool of the Kashyyyk ovis. At her throat was a necklace, sparkling with the gemstones of Naboo, and in the swirls of her hair rested the flower that resembled the Marker’s star, seemingly a beacon guiding one home.

“Adas spoke, ’I agree to become your riduur Ukra because you have shown me your love and devotion. She walked to him and took his hand in her own, saying the vows he longed to hear from her. We are one whether we are together or apart, we will share everything, and we will raise our children as warriors. Ukra removed his helmet and they kissed under the star of the Maker, who answered his prayers.

“Legend says that Ukra and Adas welcomed many children into their home, creating a large clan that protected the Mando’ade for many generations. When they were old, they prayed to the Maker that they should die together and the Maker made it so, placing them in the night sky to remind the Mando’ade that the devotion of the cyare soldus will secure the future of Mandalore.”

As she ended her story, a large yawn came from the child and she giggled at him. He laughed too as his eyes began to droop, clutching the necklace that rested on her breast. He adored the sparkle of the lavender gemstone and played with it often. It was his favorite thing to hold when she told her stories, almost like a child clasping a dolly.

She brushed her lips over the small head and began to whisper in his ear as she lifted him off her lap and placed him gently into his carrier. She arranged the soft blankets around him and smiled as his large eyes closed into a soft slumber. The adults were left to face each other.

During the story, Din had sat quietly, realizing their own story mirrored the she told. He knew she had been perfect for the job when he saw her, and covert research told him his instincts were correct. When he asked her to come with him, she refused several times however, demurring that she was a seamstress and not a warrior like himself.

He spent several days trying to get her to change her mind and still she refused, even the face of blaster fire that swept through the shopping area she was working in. It was only when he brought her the child and explained what he needed of her, she relented and agreed to join him. After ten days, they left Byss to continue the search for the child’s home planet and his people.

With her story done, she rolled up the fabric and tied it with a bit of ribbon. She placed it carefully into her sewing bag before settling back into the chair to look at him. He had been awfully quiet, and she knew he was thinking about them and the story she just told them.

“What will you do with it?” His voice gave away his curiosity. The piece was at least two feet long and she had put so much time into it, surely, she had plans.

“I will frame it, then it can be hung in your bunk.”

“You made that for me?” He was surprised and she laughed at his tone.

“Of course. The resol’nare dictates that you are to raise the child in the Mandalore tradition. You have nothing here that will teach the child the ways of the Mando’ade. And all training begins with a good story, after all.”

“But we will find his people.” He argued, not wanting to give into the hope that her words gave him.

“After a year of searching, Din? Surely you must realize the chances are now slim and that you were meant to raise him as your own. You have been devoted to him and he will always see himself as a Mandalorian above all else.” She stood up, brushing lint off her fine wool dress, and bent down to gather her bag to take it to her small bunk.

There was that burning sensation in his ears again. A year. His head tilted so he could look up at her and she could feel the atmosphere shift between them. She looked at him, a small smile on her lips.

“You are as one, Din. He will share in everything with you.”

“No, cyare, whether together or apart, we are as one and will share everything.” His voice was resolute as he stood, and she could feel his eyes on her before she nodded at him, setting her bag down on the chair behind her. A year and day had been building towards this.

“We will share everything.” Her voice was just as firm, and he dropped his helmet, so it gently touched her forehead. He placed his hand in between them, palm open to her. She took it in both of hers and his fingers curled to hold her close.

His cyare. A woman who had known his words. Known his intentions. Had known him.

“We will raise the child as a warrior.” His voice caught as he said the last of the vows. But hers remained strong, so much like herself.

“We will.”

---***---

Translations and Notes:

Te gaid – the shield

Bevii’ragir – a spear used by hunters among the Mandalorian, its history isn’t well charted but is said to be ancient.

Verborir’ce – the helmet

Senaar – bird

Riduur - wife

#din djarin #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #the mandolorian x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #fanfic #star wars

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zayashmaya · 6 years ago

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Gods and Monsters - 4 - Honeymoon (part 1).

Marvus x Reader; SFWish

Other chapters here!

In which the limo becomes the ultimate wingman.

There are violets in your eyes There are guns that blaze around you There are roses in between my thighs and fire that surrounds you It's no wonder every man in town had neither fought nor found you ...

- Lana Del Rey

You were propped up on Marvus’s lap from the moment the chauffeur closed the door behind him. It was a rather intimate gesture, but Marvus had insisted, and you knew him well enough by now to expect this sort of behavior from him. You even questioned him once about his tendency to always touch you, and he had claimed it was because he enjoyed your warmth, so you happily obliged his cold-blooded yearnings.

Marvus had chosen his singular seat that was strategically placed between a mini fridge and a bartop upon which rested several bottles of faygo. You discretely scrunched your nose as he took a generous chug. Not even the atmospheric tunes playing from the speakers could appease your rising hatred for that drink.

But Marvus mistook your leering for thirst, apparently. “Wanna lil taste?” he offered, jostling the faygo with a slight shake.

Would it be rude to refuse? Would it go against his religion, even? “Is this the same faygo they serve during service … ?” you asked, remembering how Chahut had prompted you to partake in the ritualistic consumption.

“Na b dis ain’t the cheap shit, u gotta try it.”

You hesitantly accepted the bottle, using both hands to tip it up. The cold, acrid nectar electrified your taste buds with its overpowering sweetness. With the amount of sugar and other obscure additives mixed into this noxious concoction, no wonder the purplebloods were prone to sporadic bouts of madness.

The limo rolled over a bump and made you spill some of the faygo from the corner of your mouth. “Damn it,” you muttered, wiping it away with your hand as you leaned over Marvus’s lap to set the bottle down, unaware of his gaze on your lips.

Before you could settle back into place, Marvus caught hold of your wrist. You felt your pulse quicken — was he upset with how you’re conducting yourself, wasting his favorite drink?

Judging by his cheeky grin and hooded eyes, you knew that was not the case.

Your anxiety disappeared instantly, only to be replaced with frozen shock as his tongue darted out to slowly lick away the sticky faygo on the back of your hand.

“Wh — I — Marvus — “

“Can’t let it go ta waste, ya no wat i’m sayin?” he cheekily said as you wiped off his spit on your dress. “So, wat b da verdict?”

God, you still felt the residual chill on your hand from his tongue. It had been so wet and smooth —

“Yo buddy, u gud?”

What would it feel like in other places —

You snapped out of your wandering thoughts and prayed you weren’t blushing too hard. “Wh — what? Oh, it’s … it’s something, alright,” you meekly replied.

Marvus chuckled. “Don't stress it babe, i can see u ain’t too keen on da wicked elixir. It b written all over your face.”

You smoothed your hands over your cheeks and cursed the heat blossoming forth. “Don’t tease me, Marv,” you whined, turning away from him.

He gently grabbed your wrists and pried your hands away with ease, smiling at your mock pout. “I juss can’t help myself. Look at dat cute redness all over u. How’s a bro supposed to resist makin u flush, ‘specially when i no it’s all for me?"

Revealing one’s blood color to another was considered to be an intimate display of trust, as you’d learned when you first met Vikare. Maybe Marvus was just eager for some reassurance of your friendship? Troll culture sure is confusing.

A short buzz saved you from further provocation. Marvus seemed almost disappointed by the interruption, judging by how his smile fell into a flat line. But he excused himself all the same, busying himself with his palmhusk while grumbling about not getting enough free time.

You were tempted to check out the television, but the remote was cast away on another seat, and Marvus had tightened his hold around your waist while he spoke to someone who might have been his manager. Trapped as you were, you simply leaned onto his shoulder and looked outside, letting the ambient rap streaming from the speakers set the mood.

Through the tinted windows you could make out towering high-rises and neon signs flaring with Alternian government propaganda. A particular sign caught your eye for a brief moment as it passed by — written into a giant billboard in magenta were the words, the revolution will not be televised, because it does not exist.

Marvus snapped his fingers in front of you, prompting you to look up. He was startlingly close, you realized, and you very nearly got lost in those impossibly dark eyes before he asked, “Whachu thinkin abt, babe?”

You regarded him silently.

Here you were, legs propped up over the lap of a dangerous highblood. He had finished with his phone call, grazing his knuckles over the expanse of your leg. Strange, how you felt completely at ease with him, despite knowing what he was capable of. You were not an idiot — Marvus could command thousands of mindless trolls with the same flair of a ringleader in a circus, fanning the flames of crowd-induced mania simply for his own convenience. Blood spilled for his sake, sacrificial lambs led to a euphoric slaughter.

The propaganda sign was still burned into the back of your retinas, a haunting after-image that colored your world a dizzying lime, and you were reminded of Tyzias’s hushed whispers of a caste long-forgotten, lost to the depths of a magenta shadow.

Dead. The limebloods were all dead, as decreed by the Condesce.

Limelight, you thought. The focus of public attention. How ironic.

Marvus would one day have to carry out the Condesce's whims. He was certainly fit for it, having honed his craft as a global superstar. All of his life had been dedicated to his adoring fans, painstakingly perfecting his performances with an avid devotion to not only the populace, but to his very namesake, to whom he was destined to become.

And that is precisely why you pitied him. How different could his livelihood have been, how evolved beyond its empty meaning could it become, if only he could create music for music’s sake. Not for an inevitable life of servitude, forced to use his powers to control the masses.

If only he knew what true freedom meant. Not that your world was perfect by any means, but still, you wondered.

“I was thinking about music,” you replied.

He quirked a brow. “Don’t leave me hanging like dis now, i gots to b knowin wat’s cooking in that funky think pan of yours.”

“Well,” you started, wondering if what you were about to say was considered heretical. “I was just wondering what music means for your people. For my people, it’s traditionally been used for all sorts of reasons, but at its core, music has always been a form of self-expression, rebellion, and spreading messages of awareness. You know, like … problems with our society, and stuff.”

You paused and glanced at Marvus. Nothing about him seemed out of place — except behind his ever-present grin and hooded eyes hid a keen glint of intuitive understanding. “Dont lemme stop u bb,” he said with a wink. “I like to hear u spit sum faxxual truths at me abt alien culture.”

“You’re not going to rip me in half for saying these things?” You knew he wouldn’t, but it was your turn to tease.

Marvus had the decency to look scandalized. “Daaayum, dat hit me rite in the blood pusher,” he dramatically replied, slapping a hand over his chest. “I ain’t never given u no reason to think i’d hurt u!”

You smiled softly at his genuine concern, shuffling around for a moment to bring your knees on either side of his hips. Marvus looked a little out of sorts with your repositioning, eyes roaming over your further-exposed thighs as your dress rode up from straddling him.

“I know you wouldn’t hurt me,” you quietly said, placing your hand over his. “But I’ve been on this planet long enough to know danger when I see it.”

His fingers entwined with yours. “Damn strait, cuz.” He brought your hand up to his lips and gave a quick nip to your fingertips, gently so as to not scratch. You snatched it back with a giggle. “But btwn u and me, i think u’d give me a run for my cas$$shmunny, hunnie.”

“How so?”

He tapped two fingers against your temple. “The danger b all up in here.”

“The only thing dangerous about me is my lack of a brain — er, a think pan.”

“Na don’t sell urself short like dat, i b tellin u dat u wouldn’t have survived without sum street smarts.”

“That’s what I thought in the beginning,” you wistfully said. “Until I started realizing how my life has turned into an endless stream of do-overs. At this point, I’m more inclined to think that there is a higher power watching over me, guiding my way.”

Marvus hummed in answer, short and deep and with a hint of questioning. “Hey babe, lemme axe u sumthin.”

You wordlessly nodded, sobering up from the sudden change in mood. This was, perhaps, the first time you had ever seen him with such a thoughtful look on his face.

“You really believe in the Dark Carnival, sis?” His eyes appeared to flash with each passing lamp post, like a dangerous creature prowling in the darkness.

Long ago, you might have hesitated. Longer still, you might have faked your devotion in favor of friendship. Now, though … now you knew with resounding certainty.

“I really do,” you answered.

“How do u no for a fact?”

“Because I’ve been there.” Marvus frowned and leaned back against his chair. You did not let his skepticism deter you. “I died once, you know. I don’t really remember it, but I know it happened because whenever I’m in church, I can practically feel myself being lifted into another plane of existence. And — and there was a carousel,” you animatedly recalled, each bit of recollection stringing together lost memories until it felt like you were there again. “There were two angels who came to get my body, and there were weird mannequins occupying the other horses on the carousel, and there were paintings of clowns with smiles and frowns … And a purple figure holding something, and there was a lot of red and green — “

Marvus placed a hand against your cheek, and you felt your zealous excitement cool down to a happy daze. “Either u hittin da incense too hard, or dat was a mutherfxxn prophetic vision.”

“I dunno,” you slurred, leaning into his touch. “But it was real, Marvus. It was fucking real, and the only time I’ve ever really felt at peace since I got here.”

“Shiiiiit, lil mama,” he breathed in awe, running his fingers through your hair before grabbing your waist. “I ain’t gonna doubt u no more. If da messiahs deemed u fit for such an honor, then i fxxn bow to u.”

You giggled. “You do that anyway! Since I’m so short, ya see.”

“Yea, short n sweet,” he rumbled low, and you felt his touch run down your sides to end up at your thighs. At this point, you were fairly convinced he had a fixation.

It took a moment to catch up with his words. There you go again with your blushing. “Wh — what are you saying … “ you trailed off, shyly looking away.

“Only truths,” he replied. “Cuz all i see is truths all over u. Your skin b glowin like its covered in sum kinda special stardust n shit. Makes perfect sense tho.” He bared his sharp fangs in a wide smile, his eyes raking up and down your form as you felt his hands grip your thighs a little tighter. “Them leg struts b a muthafuxxin miracle, babe. And that’s a true fact, strait up.”

You felt the gears turning in your head while you processed what he said. Was he … ?

“Oh!” You leaned in towards him and bunched your hands into the fabric of his coat. Marvus craned his neck to bring his face closer to yours — for what reason, you couldn’t imagine — and it almost looked like he planned to close his eyes before you excitedly spoke, “You’re talking about that sparkly powder you guys use during prayer, right? And you use this stardust to pray for miracles, ergo my strut sticks, which apparently even the Grand Highblood approves of. That’s pretty poetic, Marvus. You really have a way with words! Although I guess you have to be, since it’s quite literally your livelihood."

Holy hell were you rambling.

Marvus reared back, eyes wide and mouth pursed in confusion. Whatever he saw in your oblivious face had him soften his expression, a light smile playing on his lips. “Pfft. Yea, lil mama.”

The limo suddenly lurched. You were propelled face-forward into Marvus’s chest, and you were tempted to compare his pecks to airbags, but that was too gauche, even by your standards.

“Sorry!” you squeaked, ready to scoot back to put some respectful distance between you, but his hands found their way around you and held you in place.

This was intimate. This was far more intimate than his usual touchy-feely self. You were frozen in hesitation, a bundle of nerves and unexplored emotions rising to the forefront of your mind. “Marvus … ?”

You couldn’t see his face, but you could feel him. Solid, sinewy flesh pressed against your cheek, cold to the touch and yet pulsing with a living beat.

“Wanna know another fact?” he quietly asked. You slowly nodded, and he continued, “You’re kinda one dense mofo, too.”

Well, that took a turn you were not expecting. Marvus loosened his grip to let you look at him face on. Your nose wrinkled in confusion as he watched you with an amused expression. “What do you mean?”

“Babe. Do i rly gots to spell it out for u? Maybe free-style some sicknasty beats to get dem thots cookin in ur think pan?”

You opened your mouth to speak before closing it to think for a moment. The prospect seemed rather exciting; how many people had the privilege of having this talented troll customize a rap for them? “I wouldn’t turn down a verse from you.”

“ :o) “ He reached out to carefully tuck your hair behind an ear — your heart fluttered — and leaned in to murmur:

”Lover lovin herself all up on me, Luscious hips, all curves and dips, And a burning touch That I just gotta worship like an effigy Ya hear me baby — “

Your hands clenched into fists against his chest.

“Red flushin and rushin like a river that flows I wanna b known how far down it goes."

You felt your breath leave your body.

Marvus finally leaned back to gauge your reaction. God, he was so close, hypnotizing you with those deadly bedroom eyes. You couldn’t look away. “Catch my drift now?”

It was at this very moment that your predicament became utterly, embarrassingly aware to you. “You wanted to pail me this whole time?!”

“Ye ;o) “

“But — but why?”

He furrowed his brows and tilted his head. “Whutchu mean why?"

You felt your cheeks burn as the onslaught of past remarks about your appearance surged forth to the forefront of your mind. “Because I’m not attractive to your kind,” you bluntly replied. “I’ve been compared to a mutated lusus, for goodness sake!”

“Hahaha lol!”

“That’s not funny!” You lightly smacked your palm against his shoulder.

Marvus settled down from his laughing bout, completely unperturbed by your attack. “U ain’t gotta give those muthafxxkas any of ur time or energy. Who gives a damn wat they b thinkin, they ain’t the ones who get to have u at the end of the nite. I like u for ur cute lil booty — “ He shamelessly patted your behind, and you admitted to yourself that it wasn’t an unwelcome advance. “ — and most of all, i fxxks whichu for how chill n funny u are. So don’t be all up and worried bout any of dat. Wouldn’t have u here otherwise.”

It was time for one of your famous, long-winded internal monologues.

Did you want this? Did you feel attracted to Marvus Xoloto?

Hell fucking yes, don’t ask yourself such stupid questions.

With that out of the way, on to the next point of consideration — were you ready to accept his propositioning?

Oh, how badly you wanted to say yes. The urge for friendship had long ago morphed into a consuming hunger for stronger bonds. You had even caved in to your whimsical desires and became rather well acquainted with troll anatomy … except everything crashed and burned right after your romp.

Lanque’s cutthroat critique bore into your heart and grew there like a festering wound ever since that fateful night. As such, you could not help but wonder whether Marvus would find you boring, too. Even worse than that, you wondered whether he was doing this to satisfy some sick curiosity about your body. Just another exotic thing to cross off his bucket list.

You did not want to believe those dark thoughts. Marvus had never treated you badly before — in fact, all evidence pointed to the contrary, that he was genuinely into you. But try as you might, your self-confidence was at an all time low. You were afraid to open up again.

Marvus patiently waited while you chewed on your bottom lip and looked away. As soon as your face darkened, he was there to reel you back in with a tap against your nose. You snapped out of your thoughts and drew your attention to him, afraid to see him irate or disappointed by your silence. Instead, you found him to be his usual smiling self.

“Don’t stress it so hard, cuz. U ain’t gotta do anythin u aint keen on, ya dig? I’ma getchu home like i promised, and we gonna forget dis happened.”

It should have been enough. You should have been happy with his suggestion, eager to put this all behind you and remain platonic friends, because you were still hurting from your last tryst.

So why did you feel bothered?

Marvus pressed a button off to the side of his armrest, and the driver’s voice crackled through a nearby speaker. “Yes sir?”

You were about to miss out on an important situation, your senses told you. And you needed to make a choice.

Some other you chose the sensible route. Some other you would return to your watchtower and never get this opportunity again.

But you were strong enough to push through your doubts, right when it mattered most.

You grabbed hold of his loosened bowtie —

“Sup buddy, we gotta — “

— and yanked him down to your level, smashing your lips against his.

#homestuck #friendsim #hiveswap #marvus xoloto #marvus/reader #marvus x reader #marvus xoloto/reader #marvus xoloto x reader #sfw #fanfic #gods and monsters #not quite bucket time #but get ready

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