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kirosai · 2 years ago

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❦ a shining beginning.

content warnings!: sagau, yandere themes, some ooc for the harbingers, cult au, original sagau (reader teleported into genshin), gn!reader

❥The fatui are the ones to fear. The enemy, the antagonists, but, even then you’ve always taken a liking to them. the heartbreaking stories of the harbingers, the motive of the tsaritsa and even the short world quests of the Fatui agents.

❥It was a faraway dream for you, and anyone else to meet the harbingers. They were fictional of course! So… what exactly do you do when you wake up in the shining walls of the Zapolyarny Palace?…

that doctor. dottore. he always prayed upon you in his experiments, hoping they were successful as can be. a man of ice they would call him. but naturally, he’d bow to you. How utterly ironic the man that wants to detest the seven would bow to you. though, you were the light that guided him throughout all of those tireless nights filled with despair. as did you with everyone else. so it’s only natural, right?

so if you could see under that mask you’d see nothing but amazement and respect towards you. i’d bet money on him removing his mask if you wished him to. he’d halt any experiment, any mission, all for you. technically he could say that it’s.. a way of worshiping you, yes? not even her majesty the tsaritsa deserves an ounce of the worship he gives to you on a daily.

tartaglia, or childe as we know, we’ve all met him! you understand don’t you? he’s nothing but loyal, following you around like a guard dog, taking whatever praises he could get out of you!. except. it was all through a wall. a wall he couldn’t break.. you could only think about his reaction to you here. here! right in front of him! The light that guided him through the abyss, the reason for living! you.!

all of his life, until you was pure darkness, you gave him the push he needed! the blood he sheds is all in the name of sacrifice for you. the effort, the tears, the lives, all for you! so please treat him kindly! all he wants is your love and he’ll do anything to get it! although, don’t push him too hard, won’t you grant him the mercy oh kind, enchanting creator?

pantalone. that banker with his smile, his words, sugarcoated for others, but pure sickeningly sweet honey for you. he bought the most expensive gifts for you, diamonds, sapphires, rubies, all that you could imagine. his demeanor to many is nothing but fake, sugar coated lies to make them shut up. but.. you. you were different. you had the one thing he searched for all his life; warmth from this mean, cold world.

your heart was pure gold. at least, as he saw it. nothing he’d seen before. your presence was unexpected, yes, but he secretly hoped that you wouldn’t leave. all he wishes for is to bask in your ever so divine presence. although, yes you deny any sort of yourself being a god. he brushes it off as just a simple test of loyalty, it pushes him more to keep accommodate you to the best of his abilities so you feel the need to stay. oh dear what have you gotten yourself caught into?

with his act of.. er. of trying to understand divine knowledge. scaramouche had missed your first appearance. He felt guilty, and more so angry. not at you of course, but at himself. do not fear. he’ll be back, after hearing the news about your return to teyvat, he’ll be running back like the puppet he is. afterall, you are his true creator.

he might beg for forgiveness, or he might just bow, no matter who’s he is in front of, he’s at your beck and call. and the others respect that, one thing they can all agree with is you. after all, this is just the bare minimum of what they will and can do for you. he just wants you as much as everyone else. being one of the lucky ones meeting you first in the story, he got self awareness sooner than the others.

arlecchino, we’ve heard of her i'm sure. her loyalty to the tsaritsa is… questionable. although to you, it’s undeniable. something that the others may have a more difficult time of letting go of would be nothing but child’s play for her. she holds no true loyalty for the tsaritsa. and her majesty probably knows so, though she does nothing, because she knows how much you love arlecchino. to upset you would be a death wish.

so being able to see you in all your light and glory was eye-opening for her, looking back she never understood how she could’ve lived without you. as a child she dreamed of meeting you in person, now it’s finally happening! even a regular person could see it in her eyes. oh her eyes! how beautiful they are, she’s heard about you denying being the creator of teyvat, the god of gods, the beginning and the end, oh how she could go on and on! but, going forward, there is no reason to deny the absolute truth your grace!

“Wake up.” a gentle voice whispers.

A shame, you were having the best dream.

A bed, unknown at the least, although it was comfortable. It felt safe, oddly enough. Laying on your mattress, it was lined with white silken sheets, the soft smell of lavender filling your nose, it had the softest place you’ve ever slept on. it felt.. Unfamiliar.

Ah well, might as well keep sleeping. Maybe your bed was just extra comfortable today..

Wait

Muffled speaking outside the door, the whispers were untranslatable. In a foreign language you guessed. Observing your space, you realized you were in a large room, palace-like, the soft crackle of the fireplace to your left seemed to be the only warmth of the room. not your own room, or even house to say so. It was cold, but beautiful.

Oh! Of course. You must still be dreaming haha. Why else would you be here? Might as well just go back to sleep and wake up. right?

Which is what you do, but the horror of finding out you couldn't, you tried everything you could.. In the span of 3 minutes you tried, going back to sleep, pinching yourself, closing your nose, then just closing your eyes really, really hard.

But, none of those worked, so it must be.. you were actually here. In real life. D-did you get kidnapped? Oh my god you got kidnapped! You have to find a way out, it’s just like those wattpad fanfictions!- holy crap your-

*creeek*

“Your grace? ah, you’re awake. Is everything alright? You gave us quite the scare there. Hmmh.” an all too familiar face.

Staring in awe, realization settles in. Wait… WAIT. That's Pantalone, from genshin impact?? this can't be real! And did he just say “your grace” is he talking about you??

“W-wait? huh? Where am I? and, what do you mean “your grace” ” you can only imagine what you look like right now.

“You’re in the Zapolyarny Palace in Snezhnaya of course. and why else would I be calling you your grace? you are the creator of Teyvat. Though, if you prefer another name, I'll be happy to oblige. ” a soft smile rises to his face.

Gosh.. his voice is so euphonious. He walks closer to check your temperature, removing his glove and placing a hand on your temple.

“Seems like your fever is gone.” his smile deepens. Dimples.

And before you can say anything someone else walks in.

All and behold another harbinger, Tartaglia!

“You seem to be getting comfortable. You were sent back to check on their grace, not to hog their attention.” the ginger says.

Flabbergasted, jaw probably hitting the floor, you still cannot understand what in the world is going on.

Pantalone turns to him. “Their grace’s fever has gone down. I’m just doing my duty, no need to be jealous.” his oh so perfect banker smile is put back on, but it seems a little less genuine towards Tartaglia.

“Uhm.. excuse me? But I think you have the wrong person, I'm in no way a god, just a regular person, also, what is happening??!”

the two stare at you, then each other, and back at you again, and then stare at each other.

“Ah... It seems as if the fever has contracted memory loss. Alert the second about this Tartaglia. Other than that. I will help their grace meet the others. maybe that will run their memory right.”

Tartaglia opens his mouth, but whatever he has to say never comes out, curiosity of what he was planning to say plagues you. Though he walks out before the thought can get any further. He’s most likely going to Dottore as told by the ninth.

“Now your grace, I understand your confusion, but let's go to the others. and I'm sure Her Majesty the Tsaritsa would just be delighted to know you are awake.”

a small nod comes from you, excitement spreads through your body, oh my gosh oh my gosh!! You’re going to be meeting The Harbingers and The Cryo Archon!! Although, it seems you're unable to look at the bigger picture of what your story has in store for you.

WHERE THE SAGAU FANS GO????

repost from old blog!

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neonpaperlanterns · 8 months ago

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Hii! I have a not-so-detailed request! Hope you don't mind! Can you do Dogday (already with his legs stiched) with a short reader? I think that standing he'd be pretty tall, so let's say reader barely reaches to his chest. Reader is not a child, though! It's just that DogDay is inhumanely tall, and that combined with someone who struggles to reach for stuff that's higher up than usual makes the size difference pretty evident. Thank you!

[A/n: I derived part of this story from personal experience. My partner is taller than me and while logically I know those bowls fit better on the top shelf it doesn't make it any better.]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Too Big and Too Small

“You did this on purpose.” You’re standing in your kitchen, staring up at your cupboard. You had come in here because you had wanted something sweet. There were cookies on the bottom shelf, you distinctly remember putting them there because you knew you would want them soon. But somehow the box has made its way up to the tippy top.

Which inherently wouldn’t be a problem but your step stool is conveniently missing.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Narrowing your eyes you cut a glance at what you're sure is DogDay’s faux innocent expression. Or at least you intended to but instead your gaze settled on the faded yellow fur of his chest. Your lips purse as you lean your head backwards. He’s smiling at you, ears perked and tail swishing back and forth languidly.

The sight made your lip twitch. He looked so happy and sweet. It was making it difficult to hold onto your indignation. But you were gonna try.

Putting your hand on your hip you used the other to point accusingly at the cookies.

“You put those up there.” It was said as a statement.

“Pfft, no. Why would I do that? I bet it was Kissy.” He waved his hand about, deflecting.

“Kissy would never.” She might but you weren’t going to agree with him. “And don’t say Poppy because even with the stepstool she couldn’t reach.” You watched as his face lit up.

“Then maybe it was a joint effort.” DogDay bounced on the balls of his feet. Clearly this was the only explanation because he would never do something like this. It’s getting harder to hide your amusement. Realistically how could you ever be annoyed when he looked this happy? The answer was you couldn’t.

But!

You really did want those cookies.

“Alright, sure, whatever, whether the girls did this or not. Could you help me? ” You heard him chuckle, it was a pleased sound. Like he got away with his mischief. Which you guess he was getting away with it, considering.

DogDay beamed as he bounded over to the cupboard. He easily reached the top shelf. Honestly he was almost too big for the kitchen. His head nearly brushed the ceiling and he had to hunch over to get through doorways. Really your home wasn’t suitable for him or Kissy. Maybe you should move? Find a better place for them. One where they could move around freely. Where they could go outside without concern.

“Here ya go Angel.” DogDay chirped, bringing you out of your thoughts. He held out the box of cookies proudly.

“If ya need me to get anything else for you, no task is too tall.” a large hand came down to encompass your head, ruffling your hair. You smiled though you had to wonder if he put anything else where you couldn’t reach. Not that you minded.

If putting things where you couldn’t get them and playing your knight in shining armor made him happy, you weren’t going to ruin that for him.

“Thank you. Could you go grab Poppy and Kissy. I got something I want to ask you guys." Nodding vigorously, DogDay took off down the too narrow hallway. Figure hunched as he rounded the corner, disappearing in to the rest of the house.

Yeah moving was a good idea. They deserved it after all.

#poppy playtime #dogday poppy playtime #reader insert #kissy missy #poppy #dogday x reader #short reader #dog day got his legs back and he is using them for evil #thoughts of moving #cookies #mischief

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rayveneyed · 3 months ago

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cw: mentions + depictions of death, crime, alcohol.

it's difficult for nanami kento to leave behind the life of a cowboy -- but, truth be told, he's only ever wanted to live a quiet life.

god as his witness, he’s seen his fair share of trouble — train heists and bank robberies and turning sheriffs topsy-turvy, mostly at the behest of his more excitable companions. he's seen blood and guts and bullet wounds the size of his fist, and he’s damn sure seen too many good people bite the dust far too soon. the adrenaline and the money weren’t ever worth it -- but haibara had wanted to stay, and so he did.

haibara dies. it's no glamorous death. it's shitty, and dull, and it happens in the blink of an eye -- shot from his horse as he galloped down the side of a train, hitting the sand with a sickening crack. they hadn't even been able to recover his body, and it ruins kento beyond anything. haibara was his brother. they'd known each other since they were old enough to know what knowing someone meant.

his heart was never fully in it, but that was the nail in the coffin. he couldn't smile. couldn't find the will to continue on as he had before, like nothing had happened. what was it that made him survive, when so many died? why did haibara die -- good haibara, ditsy, smiling haibara -- while nanami lived? why was he seemingly deserving of life, when others weren't?

he didn't know. he doesn't know, but here he is, with a beating heart and a furrowed brow and a pistol that doesn't fit all too well in his hands anymore.

it's all enough to have him yearning for a home and a bed and the country, with it's silence, with it's peace. the country, like he lived in when he was a boy. the country, where haibara had run through the grass and caught cicadas and geckos.

if he can't swap places with haibara, he thinks, then surely he can try to repent for all he's done. turn his life around. live as an honest man.

so — with a heart as light as a lump of stone — he retires from the outlaw life. says goodbye to the crew. sets himself up in a quaint town with a little cottage to himself, some land to farm on and some cattle to wrangle. it’s far away from the big cities, but there’s a train station the next town over and everything he needs a short horse-ride away: a general store, a saloon, a doctor. he can live simply. he can live honestly.

and so it starts. no use in making a name for himself as some sorta recluse, he reckons, so he forces himself to get to know the town, settle in. he’s a quiet man by nature, but they’re kind as most small-town folk are; the doctor is a weathered old man whose daughter is married to the town sheriff, and their niece helps out at the general store. the sheriff himself is stout and balding, with little experience in shooting a gun, but he's a good man. there’s a group of old, weathered farmers that seem to take him under their wing, though he tells them time and time again that he’s no spring-chicken when it comes to tending the farm — that was his father’s work, after all, before he died. and there’s families and kids and men his age, mostly farmers or sheriff’s deputies or soldiers. girls just barely women, tittering and blushing when he nods a good day to them.

life is good. he can live like this, he thinks. he milks the cows and sheers the sheep, hoists lambs over his shoulders and sweats, sweats, sweats. gorges himself on whisky and beer and hearty food, spares some money for a little piece of toffee if he has it. walks himself home from the rowdy saloon with his jacket over his arm and his cheeks flushed, eyes counting fireflies in the evening sun. it’s all hard work -- he's left aching and sore each day -- and it’s good work, anyways. at least out here no-one’s hankering to put a bullet between his eyes.

and yes — he gets lonely sometimes. he’s so used to running with a pack of seven or eight, staying up ‘til dawn, trading stories ‘round the fire. laughing more than he knows how to, hiding smiles around the rim of a cup of moonshine. now, his nights are filled only with the calls of cicadas, the sound of dried grass brushing against itself in the wind. the days are long and hard and he has little to return to by its end.

probably why he spends all his time at the saloon, drowning out the quiet with the noise of it all.

probably why he spends all his time glancing at you out the corner of his eyes.

now, look here: kento doesn’t consider himself the kinda man deserving a wife — but you’re… you’re kind. kind and pretty, serving up drinks and putting the town drunkard out on his ass when he gets too riled up (if kento doesn’t get to him first). slipping the kids sugar cubes when they sneak in past their bedtime.

his first day in town, you never made strange; you remind him of his old crew, in some ways, with your open brightness, your ability to welcome him so easily. you’d told him that his first drink was free of charge, a smile on your lips like a secret. and you walk past his home on your way to work, your dress swaying ‘round your hips, your face all dewy and plump — you're a summer evening, strawberries sweet and syrupy, and he can't help himself: he glances over sometimes, and you always call his name in greeting, like you were expecting it.

(in the back of his bad, no-good mind, he wonders if you talk about him the way the other town girls do — if you giggle over the size of his arms, or the colour of his hair, or his voice. he shakes the thoughts away with a disapproving grunt.)

but it doesn’t matter — it doesn’t matter that sometimes you end up late for work, stuck standing at his fence and talking for far too long; doesn't matter that you bake him loaves of bread, using the excuse that there's too much at home. it doesn't matter that he fixes the porch of your house and you make him lemonade, batting away your younger siblings with a tea-towel and scolding them for bothering him -- doesn't matter that, for a second, he imagines a life like that.

and it sure as hell doesn't matter that, when the old doctor swings an arm around his neck and teases him something terrible, drunk off his head and slurring — “i reckon you’ll be wantin’ a wife soon, big man like yourself!” — that his eyes cut to you. and it doesn’t matter that you’re already looking at him, knowing.

men like him don’t deserve lemonade or apple pie or sweet summer strawberries. not now, not ever.

#angsty cowboy nanami pls come home #nanami x reader #kento x reader #jjk x reader #nanami x you #kento x you #jjk x you #nanami kento x reader #nanami au #kento au #jjk au #anime au #anime x reader #anime x you #YIPPEE YIPPEE YIPPEE #i started playing overwatch again and rediscovered jesse mccree #that is my only explanation

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vintageshanny · 7 months ago

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Taste of the Ocean

Content: A somewhat dejected Elvis invites his girlfriend on a vacation to cheer him up after filming Blue Hawaii. Smut ensues. (Please suspend disbelief that some of these actions might not be practical in the ocean, and you will enjoy this a lot more 😉). Written in response to the request below. 18+

Hi. May I request an early 60s Elvis in which he is with female reader at Hawaii for vacation and he is like very horny for her, even though she doesn't provoke him. Very detailed and passionate smut please and thank you.

April 1961

“This was a nice idea, honey,” Elvis said as he stared up at the crescent moon casting a glow over the water. “I’m glad ya talked me into a midnight swim.”

“Me too,” you smiled. “It’s nice that you decided to stay a few days after filming for a vacation. Thanks for inviting me.”

Elvis turned his gaze from the moon back to your face, looking slightly surprised. “Of course, baby. Y-y-y’know how much I missed ya.”

You actually were never really sure how much he missed you, if at all. He always seemed to enjoy your time together in Memphis, and he said all the right things, things that you were fairly certain he believed in the moment when he said them. The first time you’d heard rumors of him and a co-star, he’d insisted that the studio put these stories out to get people talking about the movie. You wanted to believe that was true, but you weren’t so naive as to think he would never be tempted to seek the comfort of another woman when he was gone on these movie shoots. Especially after everything he’d been through these last few years. You’d made a conscious decision to trust his words to you over any rumors and give him all the comfort and support you could in the moments when you were together. He always gave so much of himself, it only seemed right that he deserved this in return.

In his uncanny way of reading your thoughts, Elvis smiled sheepishly as he brushed a wet lock of hair off your shoulder. “Thanks for always bein’ here when I need ya, baby. It’s been a really stressful shoot,” he added with a sigh. “Each movie I make seems ta get worse.”

“You know what helps with stress? Floating on your back,” you said with a smile.

“Is that right?” Elvis smirked. “This isn’t jus’ you tryin’ ta get a better view of me in these tiny swim shorts I swiped from the set?” he teased.

“What? I would never!” you giggled, feigning innocence, glad that your blushing face was at least partially obscured by the cover of night. “I’ll even demonstrate for you.” You leaned back, letting your body float on the water, rocked by its gentle movements. “See? All the stress is just melting away,” you announced with a grin.

Elvis looked down at the peaceful expression on your face, your beauty seeming to glow in the moonlight. His eyes moved down to where your breasts swayed up and down in time with the water, barely covered by your white bikini top, then continued over the curve of your hips to that spot he knew was just for him. He could feel his swim shorts growing even tighter as he took note of the curly little hairs escaping from your swimsuit bottom.

“This is a nice bathing suit, honey,” he murmured as he fiddled with the strings that tied at your hips, a warmth continuing to consume him.

“Thanks,” you whispered, smiling a little bit. You didn’t normally wear such a risque suit, but you’d wanted to make sure you’d get his attention back from…wherever it might have wandered in the last couple months. “Why don’t you try floating?”

“Baby, I’m floatin’ on cloud nine jus’ lookin’ at how beautiful you are.” Elvis slowly started to pull on the strings that he’d been playing with. “There’s really only one thing that could make me feel even better.”

Your eyes popped open as you realized that Elvis had deftly untied and removed your bikini bottom. “What are you doing? Elvis, someone might see!”

“Shh, honey, it’s dark and ain’t nobody out here but us.” He tucked your suit bottom into the front of his shorts, his hardened dick having created a convenient little tent for it. “Lemme show ya how much I’ve missed ya.” You shivered a little as Elvis’ fingertips ghosted over your fuzzy mound and pushed your legs open, letting the moonlight bathe your throbbing pussy. “Damn honey, look atcha all wet for me already,” he groaned, spreading your lips and running a finger through your soft folds.

“It’s, it’s cuz we’re in the ocean,” you sputtered out, trying your best to stay still and keep floating.

Elvis leaned down and licked right down your center with his thick tongue before pulling back with that big goofy grin. “Nah, baby, that ain’t the ocean, that’s the sweetest pussy I’ve ever tasted. Ya been savin’ that sweet cream for me?”

You nodded, moaning with pleasure as Elvis dove back between your thighs. As you started writhing with pleasure, he used one strong hand to support your back so you wouldn’t sink under the water. The other one wrapped around one of your thighs and kept you firmly pressed against his face, his tongue dancing over your clit, alternately flicking and sucking it. Elvis continued lapping at you, the saltiness of the ocean mixing with the sweet and tangy flavor of your arousal. By the time his tongue pushed its way into your tight little opening, his nose rubbing against your sensitive clit, you were ready to explode with desire. All you could do was hope that your intense moans didn’t carry too far through the warm Hawaiian breeze.

After licking up every last drop of you, Elvis gently released his hold on you, your legs sinking down onto somewhat solid ground, your toes burrowing into the sandy ocean floor.

“Is that the kind of stress relief ya had in mind while floatin’ on your back?” Elvis’ breath tickled your ear as he pulled you close. You could feel under the water that he desperately needed some relief of his own.

“Better than anything I could imagine,” you whispered back. “Now it’s your turn.” You reached for his waistband, letting your fingers trail over his bulge, his body giving an involuntary little shudder.

“Oh, honey, ya ain’t gotta do that out here,” he protested weakly.

“I want to,” you insisted softly. “I missed you too, y’know.”

“Oh yeah?” he smiled. “What did ya miss the most about me?”

“Well, for one thing, I had no one to make me laugh like you do.” You tugged the tiny swim shorts down his legs and helped him step out of them, gripping them in your hand so they wouldn’t float away.

“And seeing me naked is gonna help with that?” Elvis’ mouth twitched as he tried not to laugh at his own joke. He leaned back and allowed his body to float to the surface, his pulsing dick on full display.

“No baby,” you teased back, wrapping your hand around him. Your insides tingled at the way the brown hairs at his base seemed to float around in the water. “This is no laughing matter. You could injure someone with this. It’s dangerous.” Elvis’ loud burst of laughter quickly turned to a moan as you took him in your mouth, your tongue caressing every inch of him. You could feel his sensitive tip graze the back of your throat as you took him in as deep as you could. As his body started thrashing about from the pleasure, you tried to support his back the way he had done with you, but before you could get a good grip on him, the force of his movements had pulled you both under the water.

“Wh-wh-what are ya tryin’ ta do, mama? Drown me?” He came up spitting out water and laughing so hard he could barely breathe.

You giggled too and spit out the salty water that had filled your mouth. “I’m sorry, you were moving around too much!”

“Well what do ya expect honey? Ya takin’ me all the way to the base makes me feel some kinda way. I-I can’t control it.”

“Hmm, maybe we’ll have to find a different way to relieve your stress,” you purred in his ear, wrapping your legs around his waist.

“I think I know jus’ the thing, baby,” he growled softly, giving your ear a nibble as he reach down and lined himself up with you under the water.

“Oh, God,” you moaned out as he pushed inside of you, stretching your opening around his thickness.

“It’s jus me, baby, but ya ain’t been the first ta get us confused,” he teased as he held your body down on his cock.

“Ha,” you tried to laugh at his joke, but the feeling of him deep inside of you had you in some kind of alternate reality where all you could experience was pleasure.

“Ohh, baby,” Elvis groaned as he gently lifted you and brought you back down on him. He could feel his dick twitching inside of you, releasing all the tension and stress that had built up inside of him. “Oh, shit, uhh, that feels so good honey.” With one last thrust upward, he stilled his movements and just hugged you tightly to him, burying his face in your neck, his soft lips pressed against your skin.

“How do you feel now?” you whispered, stroking his wet hair, feeling his chest heave up and down with the release of emotion.

“The best back float I’ve ever done,” he said, looking up at you with a smile. He tried to ignore the thought that popped into his brain next. You’ve had your moment of freedom in the ocean. Now on to the next crappy movie. Instead he squeezed your hand and asked, “Ya ready ta go inside?” You nodded and held his swimsuit out to him. “Gonna be fun tryin’ ta put these wet shorts back on in the water,” he chuckled.

“Wait, where’s the bottom to my suit?” you asked in a panic.

“Uh oh, it was wrapped up in my shorts, honey, and it ain’t there no more.” You could see Elvis trying to stifle a laugh.

“It’s not funny! How am I supposed to get out now?” you yelped.

“Hmm, I guess we’re jus’ stuck out here forever,” he smiled, pulling you in for a hug. “But at least we have these flotation devices.” He sneakily started to untie your top as well. “Might as well take this off too,” he murmured as he flung it to the side and wrapped his lips around one of your bare nipples, grazing it gently with his teeth.

“Mmm,” you moaned, holding tightly to him. “I think I’d love being stuck here with you.” You could feel his arousal growing again.

Tag List (let me know if you want to be added or removed): @whositmcwhatsit @missmaywemeetagain @lookingforrainbows @thatbanditqueen @be-my-ally @ellie-24 @from-memphis-with-love @arrolyn1114

#elvis #elvis fan fiction #elvis fan fic #elvis smut #elvis x reader #i love this man

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vidavalor · 14 days ago

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Way too long venty anon from a couple days ago: two more points that occurred to me (sorry! 😂)

I feel like 'you're so irrelevant that we can kick you out and then bastardise your material to create something better suited to our purposes' is a much better message to send than 'you're so important that even if we get rid of you we need to keep your scripts or else throw in the towel entirely'?

One of the major concerns I've seen floating around is that it'll be un-queered... but honestly, why? And also, how even?

(P.S. I feel like I should add that justice is of course the most important thing and that above all, his victims deserved better, but I've - fortunately - yet to see anyone dispute that him facing consequences for his actions is good, compared to so so many people bitching, beyond any reasonable sadness or initial shock, about how this is going to be a half-arsed, sloppy, way-too-short rush job that'll ruin everything and if amazon wasn't going to provide all 6 episodes they may as well have just cancelled, which, imo, is both untrue and lacks situational awareness - not to mention, is infuriating - so that's the part I chose to address, as we do seem to have at least reached the bare minimum of a n*il needs/needed to go consensus)

Hi, welcome back! 💕 Vent away. *pours your drink of choice* I saw your first message & will get to that next. I'm doing things backwards like Good Omens this week, apparently. Also, if you aren't someone I'm already talking with via DM & you feel comfortable doing so, you're welcome to message me. I feel like we'd get along. 😂 Everyone but bots, trolls & NG is always welcome to DM or Ask-- whatever people feel most comfortable with.

On Point # 1 (& the PS)-- Yes, it is a better message to send, absolutely. I'm hoping that people are getting to the places you've mentioned in the P.S. I took a look a few days ago (against my own advice to other people lol) and booked it out of there pretty quickly. I saw people making petitions demanding more episodes, embarrassing the people from the show who fought to get this movie, when they should be thanking them and Amazon. What really horrified me, though, is support for petitions demanding the rapist's unfinished scripts (if they even exist). Just... no. No. I've also seen a lot of posts that just aren't mentioning his survivors at all or that it's good that he's gone and that are blaming Amazon for the movie when it's the rapist who is the problem here, not the (shit behemoth) company who was convinced to give the story an ending. I've also seen many, many people who have been great and lovely but just the brief glimpse I dared out of hope to take the other day did not really boost my spirits. On a lighter note...

2-- There are people saying it'd be "unqueered"? *tries very hard not to spit coffee everywhere laughing* *is unsuccessful and there's now some on the desk, luckily not my computer* *brb mess to clean up*

Ok, I've returned. *exhales, still laughing, but now with less hot caffeine everywhere* WHAT THE FUCK?!

Imagine believing a) that's even fucking possible and b) that anyone would think there'd be any fiscal or any other kind of benefit to trying? What... even is... "unqueered"? Do they realize that this would be like trying to take space out of Star Trek? Like taking a ticking clock out of 24? Like saying The Doctor doesn't need time travel or the Tardis? Queer is the foundation upon which this story is built. It's a reason for its entire existence. There is simply no way for this show to not be queer. They never would even try such a thing because the only reason why there's a movie and not a cancelation is because the people involved in this show were able to convince Amazon that it was financially beneficial to Amazon to make it and that argument would have been built around the existence of Good Omens' legion of a very queer and queer-friendly fanbase.

Also, even if they were to do something as completely idiotic from a business standpoint as to try to somehow unqueer the queerest show in existence, have these people suggesting they might ever heard of these guys called David Tennant, Michael Sheen and Jon Hamm? 😂

I'm presuming these "unqueered" people are the same people who think it just became queer when they saw Crowley and Aziraphale kiss, which... *winces really hard*... I'm not going to dignify that. I am Gabriel and Beez below at such a notion.

These people with the "unqueered"... I'd imagine that their expectation is now that Amazon-- the people who hired the four, other writers who wrote the majority of the queerness that is S2, mind-- is going to hire someone to, what? Retcon the kiss and end the series with Crowley and Aziraphale praying hard at mass? That they'll be all: Just kidding, Good Omens fans! This blasphemous and queer tv show based off the novel written by Terry Pratchett is now being written and produced by these fine folks we hired from that Christian Hallmark channel! We know this will definitely make you all want to tune in and give us your money!

I can see it now, Lovely Venting Anon... all of Good Omens is a fantasy Wensleydale made up about the world within his snow globe. When his never-seen Peanuts parents show up and find out that fantasy involved queers, they send him to boarding school (totally going to unqueer him, that) and that's most of the movie. God returns and is seen for the first time but She's revealed to be the head of the boarding school and is now played by Candace Cameron Bure.

The big finale is a scene wherein Crowley tells Aziraphale that he is exclusively male and straight and Aziraphale says that's good and wishes him luck with a non-erotic handshake, informing him of his own intent to be straight and exclusively male forever himself, especially now that he's off to do his new assignment of writing speeches for Nigel Farage, all happily at the behest of the show's big hero... The Metatron. They agree that food and sex and secular music and books are sin and pray together (actual praying, you hopeful gutterbrains, not Hozier praying) over the closing credits.

This gives way to a secret, bonus scene for the hardcore fans-- the only appearance in the film of characters played by Nina Sosanya and Maggie Service. It's a flashforward to the future in which they are both now living in Arkansas and married to conservative Christian men. We see them discussing their quest to overtake their local school boards and shut down all the libraries. Nina, in particular, is really excited to be the founding member of Blacks for Trump in her area. It ends with Maggie gathering her anti-trans signs and heading out with a smile to distribute them around town.

I mean, it's not quite what I've been theorizing the plot of the movie is but ya just never know...

People need to *relax* about the movie being written by other writers. Four, other writers wrote the majority of Season Two and it was great! I know people wanted a whole season-- so did I-- but I'm more than happy with a movie that I honestly didn't really expect was going to wind up happening, though I was more hopeful than I might have been for another show. The movie is the length of the last two episodes of S2 and we've had all the run up to it already with S2. They'll dive right in. It's a bonus finale to what we've already seen. It's going to be very queer and very Pratchett and very good. Just breathe. 😂

#good omens #aziracrow #good omens meta #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #good omens finale

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ryanguzmanscowlick · 2 months ago

Text

WIP Wednesday - You ever meet someone and you just … click?

Aka, a head injury leaves Buck with memory issues and Eddie decides to write Buck the love story he deserves in the void where the truth used to be.

“W-we …” Buck squints at the exhausted, beautiful man sitting next to his bed - Eddie - that just squeezed Buck’s hand and told him, I love you. Told him, we love each other. “We’re together?”

Buck barely remembers his own name, his sister’s name. The last thing he remembers with crystal clear clarity is dropping out of the Seals because they weren’t as interested in helping people as he’d thought. He knows without knowing how he knows that he walked out of the Seals a long time ago, though. He knows without knowing that there’s a gap.

If only he knew what to fill it with.

Eddie swallows and stares down at their hands instead of in Buck’s eyes. “Yeah. For a while. About, uh- about four years.”

How’s he gonna explain this to Christopher?

Hell, how’s he gonna explain this to anyone once word spreads that Buck is awake? How long can he keeps this charade up?

Four years. That’s … that’s serious. It makes sense, in a way, because when Buck looks at Eddie something big and heavy and fragile at the edges balloons in his chest. It feels like love. “How old am I?”

“You turned thirty-two a few weeks ago. Nineteen days ago.” He’s glad Buck is asking the easy questions, so Eddie can have an internal breakdown about the deep shit he just got himself into.

Still, he catches the moment the number hits Buck and really sinks in, the terror that floods his eyes like Eddie hasn’t seen since the last seconds he remembers of the day he got shot.

At least Buck won’t remember that either.

“I-I was-it’s …” The last age he remembers is twenty-six. Twenty-six. He knew something was wrong. He knew he was missing pieces but-

In a blink, Buck goes from frozen to hyperventilating and Eddie swears under his breath. “Okay, okay, Buck, it’s okay. I got you. Breathe. C’mon, Buck, you gotta breathe.” Eddie reaches for him and Buck flinches.

Eddie’s hands hover in mid-air, shaking and conflicted and all his medic training has fallen out of his head. “Baby, please. Let me- let me help. Let me hold you.”

His skin is buzzing and his mind is racing and everything is so fucked but under it all he feels a yearning for Eddie. His body remembers that Eddie feels like home even if his brain doesn’t even remember who the fuck Eddie even is.

His chest is starting to burn and the beeping around him is starting to pick up. He really doesn’t want more people in here. This hospital room is too small and overwhelming as it is. “Eddie …” he croaks, reaching to catch his hand again.

Eddie folds over the bed railing to pull Buck’s head to his chest and knot their fingers together. He presses their joined hands into Buck’s chest, Buck’s ear over his heart. “Breathe with me, okay? Just like me.”

He takes a deep breath in, holds it in, lets it out. Another breath in, holds it, lets it out. He repeats until he loses count and then starts over again until their breaths perfectly sync. Until they both stop shaking.

Until Buck sniffles into his shirt. “I don’t remember.”

Eddie hates that he knows exactly what Buck’s voice sounds like when he’s seconds away from a sob. He presses his mouth to Buck’s temple and murmurs there, “It’s gonna be okay, Buck. It’s gonna- we’re gonna help. We’re gonna make sure you know everything you need to.”

The hospital room door opens. “Evan?!”

Eddie closes his eyes and silently rips the Holy Spirit a new one.

“M-Maddie?” Buck claws at Eddie’s shirt to pull himself up. “What are you doing in LA?”

Maddie stops short halfway through rushing to Buck, like snagged cassette tape. Her eyes dart back and forth between Buck and Eddie wrapped around him, his lips centimeters from where they’d been when she walked in. Confusion in her eyes looks a lot like it does in her brother’s. “What? What do you mean? Where else would I be?”

Buck’s eyes shine with tears. “I-I don’t know.”

#evan buckley #eddie diaz #canon divergence #buddie #my buddie fic

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muffinsin · 10 months ago

Note

it's the head chambermaid reader x Bela anon here. Thank you for answering my request, I must have already read it like ten times (definitely more, but I lost count) with how good it is.

as a continuation of the story; after that one time, Bela keeps an eye on reader to be sure they are Also resting enough. They are pretty much constantly caring about each other, but never admitting to any feelings.

things change one day as reader finds Bela just straight up passed out on her desk. she had received more work from her mother and had decided to push her limits with a few nights in a row of sacrificing sleep to get it done. Absolute fussing ensues and Bela in her still sleep-deprived state blurts out she likes reader and asks reader to cuddle with her as she catches up in very needed sleep.

Starting to ship this so much!😚 (part 1 here)

Let’s see! :)

Masterlist 1

Masterlist 2

Days pass into weeks, weeks into a month

Each day, your care and admiration for Bela only grows

Each day, her care and admiration for you grows

She feels herself falling for you harder and harder, yet is too stubborn to admit it

Neither of you share your feelings, yet both notice the glances

The longing eyes as you meet her golden ones

The greedy hands sliding over skin as you massage one another

Bela eagerly awaits her short massage each day

She makes it a point to return the favor one day a week, in which she massages you until you fall asleep in her bed

She is always too flustered to join you, but never wakes you, barely even touches aside from the necessary touches for the massage

You don’t dare touch her further than this either- she is the eldest daughter of countess Dimitrescu, after all

Even as the grand chambermaid, she might have your head for touching her eldest and heiress

You can tell Bela enjoys your touch though. Often her fingers brush against yours when she takes her usual wine glass from you or hands you the bottle of massage oil

You ignore this, even as it makes your heart skip a beat

In turn, Bela ignores hearing your heart skip and your heartbeat quicken every time you are around her

All of this changes one day

Work is, dragging on

It’s a difficult time for the wine business, as it always is towards the end of the year, and works keep piling up more and more

The moment Bela finishes a task and attempts to move on to another, the next few are dumped on her

Still, she must finish them. She wants to, as soon as possible

So what are a few sleepless nights? She’s not human, instead infected by the cadou. Invincible to most things. Surely a little bit of sleep deprivation won’t hurt

Or at least, that’s the plan

But you notice how she reacts a little slower to your approach than usual on the first day

And how she eats by far less on the second

How bad the bags under her eyes get, betraying her exhaustion after three days without any rest whatsoever

How her body sways when she gets up sometimes and how her head falls forwards on the forth day

She doesn’t allow herself any breaks, even. Not even your massages anymore. She must finish her work

As such, you find her in a little bit of an unusual state one day

As normal, you intend to ask her about a massage

She has turned you down in the past days, but you still ask, hoping she will agree to a well deserved break one time

Instead, you find her with her head on her desk, papers under her smearing ink over her cheek, chin and temple

Her golden eyes are closed, her breath even. It seems sleep has forcefully taken what she thought she could evade

One hand dangles off the desk, the other rests on it next to her hand. Her pencil is still held loosely by her fingers

Cautiously, you set a hand on her shoulder

Her dress hangs onto her loosely, and betrays the coldness of her skin

She’s shivering, too. You were too distracted by her lack of eating today to re-light the fireplace for her

Carefully, you squeeze her shoulder

“Lady Bela?”, you ask, firm but gentle. She doesn’t move a muscle, too exhausted to awaken to easily

Normally, a simple hand on her shoulder would wake her should she fall asleep during your massages. Today is no such day

You squeeze again, face flushed upon feeling her skin under your very fingertips

She’s soft, though you know this already after massaging her

She also smells of lavender. It’s soothing despite her nature

You sling your arm around her, blushing at the feeling of having her essentially in your arms

When she is curled up like this, she is a lot smaller than she seems, you notice

Gently, you attempt to shake her and awaken her. A stir, yet she doesn’t open her gorgeous golden eyes. Her eyebrows furrow, however, and a whine far too adorable for you to handle it slips past her lips

She’s whiny when she’s tired. You’d have never guessed

You shake her again, careful of course

You know to be cautious around a sleeping predator, even if you know she would never hurt you

However, when her golden eyes open, they are not dangerous looking, and she does not seek to harm

Instead, she lifts her heavy head, immediately pushing it against your stomach as you stand next to her. She attempts to lift her arms, yet they seem to heavy to stay wrapped around your midsection, and drop again, dangling in the air

You don’t notice you’re holding your breath as your hand comes up to her head, feeling soft, blonde hair beneath your fingertips

She hums tiredly and buries her face a little more into your uniform. You notice there is indeed a little bit of ink that rubbed up on her pale cheek

“You must get to bed”, you coo

This seems to bring her out of her tired trance

She shoots up, attempting to muster her energy again. You notice her eyes daring to slip shut, however

She looks surprised to see you, a small blush adorning her pale and dirty cheeks

“I-I need to get this…done…”, she murmurs, sleep nearly catching up to her again already

She grips her pencil tighter and rearranges the papers, blinks a few times as if trying to read the surely blurry text under her

You decide, sweet requests won’t do this time

Bela gasps upon feeling you behind her, your hands on her arms. You lean down and gently grasp her wrists, prompting her to let go of the pencil

“Allow me, Milady”, you whisper. Her head nearly falls forward as you pull her to her feet

“You must allow yourself some rest”, you reason, an arm quickly shooting forwards when she dares fall, her limbs weak and unused to standing up. The poor thing really has gone past her limits

You realize with a blush how close you are to her, and are silently thankful Alcina Dimitrescu herself is too busy to interrupt Bela unannounced

Surely, the protective mother would be unhappy upon seeing her eldest supported by an arm around her stomach and a human body pressed up tight against her

You shake the small thought of fear away, instead focus back on the blonde

“N-No..”, she slurs out tiredly, her arm making a final attempt to reach for the papers on the desk. You easily catch her wrist and pull it back again

“You have been pushing yourself, Bela”, you whisper. You gasp at your own words, realizing a moment too late you neglected her title

You must’ve forgotten your place, among all the massages and longing glances, but Bela doesn’t seem to mind

She makes a small noise at the back of her throat as you sit her down on the bed, gently pushing at her collarbone to have her fall backwards into her many pillows

Golden eyes barely have enough strength to stay open, yet she watches you every move

You gently remove her heels, and just that. You don’t dare remove her clothing, even if it must be more comfortable to sleep without the corset and tight dress

Instead, you pull up her thick comforter, making up for the lack of a lit fireplace in the room

You surprise yourself with your next action, as you lean down almost automatically, without thought, to place a small, innocent kiss to the top of her head. “Goodnight, Milady”

She whines again, hand weakly reaching out and gripping the side of your uniform

“Stay” she asks you quietly

You sit down at the edge of the bed, eying her as she attempts to sit up too. You gently push her back down and can’t help but smile as she retries, with the exact same result

“You must sleep”, you remind her gently

She seems to think about this

“Will… you hold me…?”, she asks quietly and tiredly in response

You blush and are rendered speechless for the moment. This is a most inappropriate request…

But as golden, tired eyes look at you, full of emotion and longing, you cannot deny the woman

You climb into bed properly, taking off your shoes beforehand as well, and slide under the blankets. Immediately, Bela pulls herself to your lap

She’s warmer under the blankets, and soft

You can’t help but put one arm around her to stroke her back

Purely to warm her up some more, of course

She rests her head against your stomach, and you yet again are forced to smile when quiet, purr-like sounds emit from her

You’ve heard them in the past, but never this loud. They only increase in volume when your hand sets on the top of her head and your fingers tangle in her hair

Her eyes are still struggling to stay open, more so than ever. Is she waiting for something?

It seems, your answer comes swiftly when her lips part

“I like you”, she whispers, words slightly slurred due to her tiredness. They still have your face heat up

“You’re..special…”, she adds quietly. Her words are partly muffled as she turns to cuddle into your stomach

You’re unsure what to say. She’s not only in a vulnerable, sleep deprived state, but most of all she is your superior

“Thank you, Bela”, you whisper. You feel a tug inside your chest, as if demanding you share your feelings for her

Perhaps the best time would be now, when she is unlikely to remember should her reaction be bad

“Not…everyone can…make me fall for…them”, she says quietly, her words muffled and slurred, her golden eyes shut

Your eyes widen at this. She has…romantic feelings for you? You were never too sure

Bela seems to be done talking, instead cuddles closer one last time for the night. “Stay….with…me?”, she asks quietly

“Of course, Bela”

#cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #resident evil village

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adamnablelittledevil · 3 months ago

Text

Just finished Part I of The Vampire Lestat and here are my first impressions (I skipped IWTV *for now* since the show has already covered it... I'll read it eventually):

I can't tell yet if I like it or not.

So far, I enjoy the concept and the characters seem to be compelling. In terms of eventfulness, there hasn't been much, but I do have some interest in these people. They all appear to be complicated and have a lot of baggage, which I guess makes them appealing and gives the story potential. Let's see where this goes.

I don't hate, but I also don't love Anne's writing style. I don't think she narrates and describes things very well, she lingers on stuff I don't care that much for and doesn't provide details on things I'm actually curious about? There are some abrupt changes that annoy me sometimes as well.

I do believe this might be an attempt to get ourselves in the mind of Lestat and how he process to the world around him, though? It would make sense considering how chaotic he is.

Another thing I like is how he got so obsessed with the 20th Century, music and theater. The descriptions really give me the idea of someone experiencing the world for the first time (in a while) and considering how isolated he was growing up or after everything that happened with Louis/Claudia, it makes sense that he is so fascinated by all these discoveries. And it's really immersive and sweet to see how he in awe he is with all of it.

He also speaks like he is somebody born in the 1700s. So I give her credits for that as well.

Pretty sure Lestat is neurodivergent at this point (ADHD is basically a yes from me, maybe he has dyslexia and/or autism too).

And his memory is trash. So often he doesn't know if he actually did something, or if it were someone else, or if it was just a thought... I'm like, ARE YOU OKAY (he isn't)? By the way, this is painfully relatable because I also have poor short (and long-term) memory. Heaven help him (and moi).

That boy is a water sign if I've ever seen one.

He cries A LOT. I don't remember ever seeing any (book/show/movie) character cry that much, specially in such a short time lol. And the fact this is coming from a man and not a woman... There you go with defying gender norms, king!

Lestat having Borderline Personality Disorder isn't even a headcanon at this point, but a FACT.

He probably hasn't been hugged enough times in his life and it SHOWS.

Even with the abuse in his family, his frustration with his mother and the "malady of mortality", he manages to stay optimistic in a way that feels so childlike and naive that makes my heart warm and ache for him. I'm like, you deserve better.

Again, I don't know if I'm enjoying or not, but I do like the fact I can imagine Sam's Lestat doing all of this on season 3. Picturing Sam bringing these moments to life is the BEST PART of the reading.

Would I still read these books if the show never existed? That's what I need to find out.

I can see why some people got so invested in this character, though. At least for now. Some stuff hit close to home and I find myself rooting for him. I imagine that for the ones who read it at as a teenager, it must've made them feel less alone and seen to some extent.

At this moment, it's Lestat > Gabrielle > Nicholas for me.

Lestat's father isn't a person I care about, but depending on how the show adapts him, I guess it could be a good opportunity for a blind actor. It would be killing two birds with one stone, because it would develop Lestat's backstory, but also give space for a category that barely gets any job in the industry. I would love to see a powerful guest star that is a an actual disabled person playing a disabled character. Sure, we would hate him, but if someone manages to show their potential, book more roles and maybe even earn an award or nomination, why not?

Whenever Lestat talks about kissing his mother I get confused if the incest is already happening or not lol. Because I normally would just imagine a platonic kiss on the cheek or forehead and I haven't seen anything explicitly inappropriate. I don't know if it's because I'm reading the Brazilian Portuguese version, or if Anne wasn't that clear, or maybe I'm slow and naive, but nothing big seems to have happened? But I'm familiar with those spoilers, so... Anyway, whatever. It's not like I was counting the days to read about incest, so I don't really care about it being evident or not. I just mean that for now they seem to be more of a "parent that didn't want kids, but cares for him in a distant, but still real way and child that seeks for any crumbs of love and affection" kind of relationship.

Speaking of that, Lestat is SO DESPERATE for love, omg. Nicki was basically the first person besides his mother that was nice to him and he told the guy ALL OF HIS LIFE STORY AND FELL IN LOVE almost immediately? Get up!

Peak BPD/ADHD/maybe autistic/water sign/Scorpio behavior. MY GOD.

Still don't know how to picture Gabrielle and who I fancast playing her. I do think I have some sense of who she is now, which is nice. I also have some actors that could pass for Sam's parent and have the appropriate age to play her in my mental library, but I can't form a face yet. Not the face of a real actress or even an imaginary face, it's just a blur so far. Which sucks because I loooooooooove imagining fancasts, specially for a show as great as this one, but I'm just waiting for the revelation to come to me lmao.

#interview with the vampire #the vampire lestat #lestat de lioncourt #gabrielle de lioncourt #nicolas de lenfent

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bubybubsters · 1 year ago

Text

Impossible (part two)

A/n: Good day, actually no horrible day but whatever, Im still writing. Im sorry for the wait guys.

kinda short sorry.

prolouge one three

Pairing: reader x eris, reader x azriel, azriel x eris

Wc: 1000+

⚠️: curse word

*****

Eris’ POV

Eris held back a yawn as he and Azriel waited for Rhysand to show up. He’d begged invited you to join them but you’d merely said you’d think about it before retiring to your room. Technically his room but he hadn’t gone back, instead going to tediously long meetings with his council members. He’d been up more than 14 hours, he had a right to be tired (and to a nap). Next to him, Azriel didnt seem remotely tired even though he’d been up at least two hours more than Eris.

Eris studied the shadowsinger out of the corner of his eye. He seemed relaxed, watching servants go in and out while carrying supplies for a toilet.

“Are you going to continue watching me creepily or be polite and look away?” The shadowsinger didnt even bother to look at Eris as he spoke.

She’s not yours

Eris sighed, looking away. “Do you love her?”

Now Azriel turned to look at him, face cold. “That’s none of your business, High Lord.”

“It is my business because you are in my court and probably stuck here for a long period of time.” Eris turned to face Azriel as well, face hard as he thought back on the shock of the morning.

Azriel opened his mouth, about to respond when a very angry Rhysand and Cassian stormed through the doors, sending the servants scurrying.

“What happened?”

Eris and Azriel looked at eachother and Eris smiled, shoving the spymaster forward to face his High Lord. Azriel shot him a dirty look over his shoulder and grimaced as he faced Rhys.

“Hello Rhys, how is your evening?”

Rhysand raised one eyebrow, “You’re not usually one to make small talk Azriel. What the Hell is going on?”

“I accidentally made a promise to stay in this room until me an Y/n worked our… problems aside.”

Rhys sighed, strolling forward and pulling Azriel into a brotherly embrace. He whispered into Azriel’s shoulder, “it’ll be fine Az but if she rejects you, let her go. She deserves her happiness as well and if it’s not with you than believe she will choose someone worthy.”

Eris smiled, suddenly glad Rhysand was good with words. He agreed wholeheartedly with the High Lord and really hoped Azriel would follow the advice.

Cassian eyed Eris before joining the group hug, wings wrapping around his brothers. Eris sighed, smile falling. How he wished he had a relationship as whole and strong as that. He had Lucien of course, but he was usually with Helion, learning how to be a High Lord.

Refocusing his attention on the Illyrian warriors he nodded in greeting to Rhysand and the Illyrian nodded back, albeit warily. Eris couldn’t even blame him for that, he had talked to Morrigan at his mother’s bidding and the two had understood eachother (mostly). But she hadn’t had courage to tell the Inner Court the true story of what happened on that day so until she told them, Eris was still a half enemy.

“Will you take care of my spymaster as long as the lovebirds need to… sort this out?”

Eris nodded, “Will you repay the expenses of building a triple sized bathtub for Azriel?” He smirked as Rhysand eyed the half finished bathtub that was barely 3 quarters of Azriel’s wings spread out.

The High Lord groaned, “yes I will.” But turning to Azriel he mumbled, “that’s coming straight out of your salary.”

Cassian laughed, clapping Azriel on the back. “I finally get payed more then you, brother.”

Azriel mutters something Eris couldn’t hear and the Illyrian’s say their farewells. Azriel watches them go for a while and Eris turns to see how the construction of the giant bathtub is going, still wishing for the impossible (improbable).

She’s not yours.

“You were nice today.” Azriel’s words sound more like a question which honestly offends Eris slightly.

“What do you mean? I’m always nice!”

The spymaster just rolls his eyes and goes to sit against the wall, wings spread out. Eris sighs joining him. “I wasn’t nice, I was civil. But it’s not for anything other than her.”

Azriel visibly tenses, “she’s my mate Eris not yours. The mother paired her with me.”

This time Eris rolls his eyes, “of course, of course. I won’t make a move until she rejects you, after all you are the one who chose Elain over her.”

“Shut it. Why can’t you be civil with me? Why must you be so…uncivil?”

Eris snorts at the choice of words, laughing as the shadowsinger glowers at him. “I cant be civil with you because you’re her mate. Not me. I swear sometimes I can practically feel the Mothers hatred.”

Azriel shook his head his words.

They sat like that for a while before Eris made up some lame excuse to leave which Azriel scoffed at.

Smiling to himself, Eris shifted, starting to stand when he heard a noise that immediately made him hard glance back at the spymaster.

The spymasters head was tipped back in ecstasy and Eris realised that his untamed, slightly curly hair was brushing against the tip of Azriel’s wing. Eris started to pull away but hesitated as Azriel didn’t make to move. He unabashedly took in the spymasters handsome face.

As Eris watched, Azriel slowly opened his eyes to look at his wing where the two touched. Eris froze. Maybe he should have pulled away, what if Azriel got defensive about his wings? Stiffening slightly Eris took a step back and tensely glanced around. All the servants were gone and the remaining fourth of the bathtub had been finished. How long had they been here?

Turning back to Azriel he spoke, “I-”

Their eyes met and something reached out from Eris’s chest, near his heart. Eris blinked, tugging on the invisible string that ended with a certain shadowsinger.

Azriel responded in kind, tugging on the bond as the two males gawked at eachother. They couldn’t be mates, Azriel was already paired with you.

Silence and then Eris practically sprinted out the front door, head spinning from the encounter.

They weren’t mates. They couldn’t be. No. No. This is just some shitty dream that his brain made up.

but… if he was Azriel’s mate and Azriel was your mate. Didn’t that mean you were also his mate?

no.

She might be yours.

Impossible. Right?

*****

masterlist

A/n: 😁

Reblog, comment or like please! (Or else it will be impossible (improbable) for me to pass my next exam.)

Taglist

@thelov3lybookworm @profound-imagination @cleverzonkwombatsludge @the-sweet-psycho @impossibelle @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @a-frog-with-a-laptop @stargirl1714 @wallacewillow0773638

#bubybubsters #acotar #fanfic #acowar #azriel #azriel x reader #eris x reader #azriel fanfic #eris vanserra #azris x reader #azris #azris fanfiction #azriel x eris #acotar fanfic #eris vanserra x reader #eris acotar #autumn court heir #high lord eris #autumn court

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justagalwhowrites · 1 year ago

Text

Beskar Doll - Ch. 5: Burn it to the Ground

When a Mandalorian and his cargo are on a mission, try not to get in their way. A continuation of Beskar Doll Ch. 1-4 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: The Mandalorian/Din Djarin x Female Reader

Warnings: Slavery, Torture (victim totally deserves it though), canon-typical violence. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ only.

Length: 6k

The Mandalorian drove, guiding the speeder deftly through the clogged skies of Coruscant. You were glad he was the one behind the wheel, you’d never been very good at piloting anything. Sosha was the pilot. So was Dagres. They could get you through any dogfight but you could shoot their way through a column of stormtroopers….

You shook yourself mentally and brought yourself back to the present, looking at the man beside you. It was strange, seeing him outside of his armor. He cut an impressive figure, tall and broad and intimidating. You doubted anyone would try to pick a fight with either of you tonight.

Seeing him in this helmet was disconcerting. He could hide less in it, the lack of seal making it so more of the sounds of him just living came through. Grinding teeth, soft sighs, small catches of breath - it was exposed and you couldn’t help but listen for it. You liked the reminders of him being there, of his existing as a mortal being and not some impossible thing carved from metal. You wondered what he looked like. Was his face as hard as his body or was there softness to it? His desperation to help his brother’s daughter made you think there must be softness in him somewhere, it had to show through somehow. In his lips or the tilt of his head or his eyes. It would at least be in is eyes. What color were his eyes? What color was his skin?

He maneuvered onto a quieter skyway and you sat up straighter, your heart pounding against your ribs. It had been years since so much had sat squarely on your shoulders. You couldn’t fail. There was far too much at stake.

The Mandalorian brought you to the lush platform of what looked to be a palatial apartment, a line of speeders ahead of you waiting to go in. You looked at him. His hand gripped the shifter of the speeder, you could see his knuckles straining against the fabric of the gloves. You put a hand over his.

“It will work,” you said quietly. He turned to face you. “We’ll get her.”

The speeder quickly made it to the front of the line, a young man in tight clothes cut to accentuate his muscles offering you a hand out of the speeder. You took it, smiling at him, but he wouldn’t look at you, keeping his eyes on the ground. Enslaved. You took note.

You waited as Mando got out of the speeder and you smiled adoringly up a him, taking his hand in both of yours and pressing yourself into his arm.

“Welcome,” a woman smiled broadly at you both. “We are so glad you could be here tonight. Please let us know if there’s anything in particular you’re looking for.”

Not just a dinner then, you reasoned. The girl was probably here. You had to get her out before someone bought her. You had to get them all out.

“Come on love,” you guided him toward the front door, observing how other pairs interacted. You could easily tell who were equals and who weren’t. “Let’s find the perfect one for you.”

There was a short line at the massive front door, all sleek glass and metal and two stories tall. Another man dressed in revealing clothes stood by the door, a data pad in hand. The Mandalorian looked at you. You gave his hand a squeeze, pressing yourself tighter against him. You could do this.

“Good evening, miss,” the young man said, barely looking up at you. Enslaved, too. Higher station than the one at the speeders but subservient none the less. “Names?”

“Duraan and Amira,” you said, smiling coquettishly. You turned your attention to the Mandalorian, running your hand over his chest, and waited for the man to tell you that you weren’t on the list. His hand slipped from your grasp and went around your waist, pulling you tightly to his side with a small grunt. Your eyes widened for a second. You hadn’t expected him to play the part that well, you were impressed.

“I’m sorry miss,” the man said. “Your name isn’t on the list.”

Mando looked down at you as you looked back toward the man, your face falling a bit.

“Oh no,” you said, voice lightly flirty with a hint of apprehension. “I’m sure I responded to the invitation…”

“Do you have your invitation?” He asked. Your face fell a bit more, eyes darting to the Mandalorian before quickly moving back to the man at the door. You put your hand over Mando’s at your waist, holding it to you so he wouldn’t take it away as you leaned away from him to speak closely with the door man.

“I didn’t have a place for it in this dress,” you smiled flirtatiously before letting the mask slip, letting the fear that was actually gnawing at you show as you lowered your voice. “Please… I can’t afford another mistake, I’ll do anything…”

His eyes softened, buying your act. One slave asking another for mercy they were able to give. He gestured to the door.

“Enjoy your evening, Amira, Master Duraan,” he said. You straightened, pressing yourself back against the Mandalorian’s side, your hand going back to his chest. He gave the man a stiff nod and you passed through the entry. You’d made it inside. Now for the hard part.

Mando guided you to a darkened corner, his grip on you loosening as you drifted into the shadows and watched people milling around. You left a hand on his chest as you surveyed the area, trying to read the connections between people, see if there was anyone who looked to be in charge.

“We’ll need to talk to some people,” you said quietly, looking around. “If I start speaking a language you don’t know, give me two squeezes, I’ll translate to Basic for you. It’s what I would do in this position, anyway.”

“I think she’s here,” he said, voice low. You nodded.

“I think so, too,” you said. “I think a lot of them are. We need to get them all out before…” you stopped.

“Before they’re sold,” he finished for you. You shook your head.

“Before I burn this whole fucking place to the ground.”

***

You were in your element here, moving through powerful people, smiling flirtatiously, switching languages deftly to gain favor, quickly assessing who had been bought and who did the buying and flattering them appropriately. He could see why the Rebellion had found you so valuable and how you’d managed to get on the bad side of at least a few Imperials.

“It sounds like I might know just the item you’re looking for,” the older man with two women - more girls, they had to be younger than you - you’d been talking to said. “There’s a lovely little thing here, a bit young for my taste but…”

Din had to stop himself from gripping your hand so tightly that he hurt you. Everything in him was screaming at him to get you out of here. You were still recovering, everyone here wanted a literal piece of you, he’d watched as hands had reached to touch your hair, your arm, your stomach.

“Well if you don’t train them young, you don’t end up with a creature as lovely as this at the end,” a new man appeared. He was tall, older, eyeing you as though you were something he could claim. Din slipped his hand around your waist, his fingers splaying wide against your stomach to touch as much of you as he could reach and pulled you to his side sharply. You glanced at him, an instant of concern flashing in your eyes before you smiled at the new comer. You offered him your hand and he took it, pressing his lips to the back of it before running his thumb over your skin.

“It’s true,” you smiled. “I was raised to fulfill my master’s every need, what better life is there than that?”

“I would so love to experience that kind of skill for myself,” the man’s hand slipped from yours and traveled up your arm to your chest, his palm brushing your breast as it moved up to your throat. Din growled, pulling you back from him. The man looked surprised and your eyes darted to Din before going back to the man, smoothing over his error.

“My master doesn’t like to share,” you said flirtatiously. “But forbidden fruit is all the sweeter…”

“I’d just like to see a display of the expertise of the training,” the man directed his words to the Mandalorian now. “It sounds like you’re interested in one of my stock, and I like to ensure my most valuable pieces end up in the right hands.”

Din stiffened. This was the man who had taken the foundling. He glanced to you, wondering if you’d caught it too.

“In that case,” you leaned into Din, your leg curling seductively around his as you gazed pleadingly into his eyes through the helmet, willing him to understand. “Would you be OK if we went to play? I’m sure this gentleman would be happy for you to watch.”

“I can be obliging,” the man looked at the Mandalorian. His hand tightened on your waist before he gave you a single, stiff nod.

You made a slightly giddy-sounding noise before unfolding yourself form Din’s side and slipping your hand into his. You gave it a gentle squeeze before gesturing to the man.

“Please,” you said, voice sugary sweet. “Lead the way. And… make it private, if you can. I’d hate to be interrupted because we get a little too loud.”

The man quirked a brow at you and you followed him, the Mandalorian’s hand firmly in yours the whole way. His gloves were thinner than he was used to and he pressed two of his fingers inside your wrist, feeling your pulse. Your heart was racing. The man led you to an elevator and the three of you climbed inside. He pushed a button and it began to race upwards.

“Holding events like this in your home has its perks,” he said, turning his attention back to you.

“It helps when you have the home for it,” you said, leaving your hand in Din’s but leaning toward the man. “Do you have space to keep all of the stock on site? We’d love to take a look before we commit…”

“Every item tonight is here,” he nodded. “Including the one that sounds like it would interest you. She really is a lovely thing, dark hair, light eyes, tenacious. She’ll train up well.”

You glanced back at Mando, who gave an almost imperceptible nod. It sounded like her.

“Did her parents sell her?” You asked, fingers straying into the man’s graying hair. “I know they sometimes have regrets, come try to get them back. My master would like as few complications as possible.”

“She was orphaned,” he replied. “Taken in by a cult for a bit. Believe me, she’ll have no one looking for her.”

Din’s stance stiffened and you squeezed his hand harder.

“Once I get a chance to see what you’ll make of her,” his eyes trailed down your body, lingering on your chest. “I can take you to see her.”

The elevator slid to a stop, doors opening.

“Then there’s no time to waste,” you bit your lip and he looked at you for a moment longer before leading the way.

The Mandalorian memorized the route back to the elevator, taking note of everything you passed. There seemed to be no sign of anyone else on this level. This man was too trusting. No one had put him in his place in a long while. It was time for that to change.

He opened the door to a huge bedroom, sweeping ceilings and a huge bed. There was a balcony out the windows, looking down on the city. Din closed the door behind you and you turned and pressed yourself to the front of him, your lips near his ear below the helmet.

“Panel, window side of the door,” you said in a breathy whisper. He could feel your shape against him. “Check everything he tells me.”

You made a show of running your hands down his front, planting a kiss on his chest before heading toward the man who stood, waiting for you, in the center of the room.

“I had to promise my master that I’ll take care of him later,” you said, practically slinking toward him. You reached him, your hand snaking up his stomach to his chest as your body pressed against his side. Din could see your breasts flush against him, watched as the man reached down and groped your ass. He fought to not rip you away from him. “He is such an important, busy man. Would you like to see how I help him relax?”

“Very much,” the man said, practically salivating. You smiled, slipping away from his side and fetching a chair from the corner, bringing it behind him before reaching up, taking his shoulders, and pushing him down into it.

“Good,” you leaned in, pressing your lips to his ear. You left him there and he watched as you gathered ties from the curtains around the windows leading to the balcony, collecting them in your hands before going back to him. “He really loves when I’m in control so he can just sit back and enjoy. Would you mind tying your legs to the chair for me?”

You lay the ties on his lap and slipped the top of your dress down, sliding your arms free and moving it down your body as the man watched, agape, while he rushed to obey your request, binding himself to the chair. The dress pooled at your feet while he was leaned forward, staring at you. You tightened the ties at his ankles.

There was an almost sheer corset on below the dress and Din could only see you from the back but he could see your strength now. Your body was slender but the muscle was clear, especially as you stood taught and ready. You reached forward, slipping your hand below the man’s chin and lifting it until his back was against the seat. You went behind him, binding his hands behind the chair, giving Din a look as you did. It was pleading, asking him to know when to step in and when to stay out of it, like you were asking him to read you. He gave a nod, standing near the door, a sentinel.

You came around to the front of the chair, smiling at the Mandalorian before turning back to the man bound in front of you. He had to hand it to you, he’d never gotten a quarry to tie themselves up quite like that before.

“So,” you said, voice sultry as you stalked up to the man. He looked up at you, lust clear on his face. He had no idea. “You’re a powerful man who can do powerful things.”

You straddled his legs before you lowered yourself onto him, pressing your body into his, your head on the man’s shoulder, lips on his neck. Din ground his teeth. “Yes,” he moaned, already breathless.

“And you decided to trade in flesh,” you said, your teeth by his ear. The man frowned. This wasn’t quite what he was expecting. “Interesting.”

“It’s a…” he swallowed, looking slightly nervous now. You nipped his ear. “Lucrative profession. And the flesh trade, as you know, is better for the people involved that many seem to believe. Those we trade come from nothing, squalor, they would starve and die if it weren’t for me…”

“Is that why you stole a girl from the Mandalorians?” You asked, your lips still beside his ear. The man froze.

“I don’t know what you mean,” his voice shook.

“Oh,” you leaned back, running your hand over his face. “I think you do.”

He started straining against the ties then, but you pressed yourself more firmly into him and grabbed him by the hair, pulling his head back and exposing his throat.

“No no,” Din could hear the smile in your voice. “I’m not done with you yet. Maybe I’ll untie you when you give me what I want. Which is the girl you stole. So tell me, where is she?”

“I don’t have any stolen girl,” he said. He looked around you to the Mandalorian, eyes desperate. “Please…”

“Nope,” you released his hair and grabbed him by the face, your fingers digging into the flesh of his cheeks as you jerked him around to look you in the eye. “Don’t look at him. Look at me. I’m doing you a favor, see, if I left you to him you’d be dead already. With me you have a shot so I expect all your attention to be on me. Now. Tell me where she is, or I will kill you.”

“If I tell you, you’ll just kill me anyway,” he said, tearing up.

“Maybe,” you nodded slowly. “But if you don’t, I’m going to make you hurt.”

His eyes went wide, his chest rising and falling quickly. You slipped your hand into your corset and freed the knife, holding it in front of him.

“Now, you have three options,” you said. “Option one, you resist and I bleed you until you’re dead on the floor of your pretty bedroom and then we go find the girl ourselves. Option two, you resist, I cut parts of you away and break you before you tell me what I want and beg for a death that I may or may not give you. Option three, you tell me what I want to know and maybe I just give you a sedative to keep you quiet until we leave, maybe I kill you quickly. Part of me really wants to get out of here quick. That’s what’s best for the girl and it’s definitely best for you.” You pressed the knife into the man’s arm slowly, pushing it in as he screamed. You clamped a hand over his mouth, shushing him. You waited for his screams to ease before you spoke again. “But it ruins my fun. I like making bad men hurt. So, by all means, draw this out. Don’t tell me where the girl is. Let me take it from you piece by piece.”

You removed your hand from his mouth and sat back, watching as he panted for breath beneath you. After a moment, your hand found his face again, patting his cheek sharply.

“Hey,” you said, drawing his eyes back to you. “You look at me, pay attention to me, give in to me. Tell me, where is she?”

He hesitated and you sighed, clamping your hand over his mouth again as you twisted the knife in his arm. You waited until the screaming turned to sobs before you removed your hand, cupping his face gently. You stroked his cheek, almost like you were soothing him.

“I know,” you said softly. “It hurts. But I could end it for you. You’re a rich man, right? You have bacta?”

“Yes,” his voice was thick as he nodded. “I just need the location,” you touched him so gently. “Just tell me where she is.”

“Sublevel three,” his body went limp and he slumped against you. “She and all of them are on sublevel three, she’s in cell 322.”

“Mando,” you glanced over your shoulder and he went to the panel. He found proof of there being a sublevel at all and that the layout looked like it was likely prison space or servants quarters. He gave you a stiff nod.

“I promise she’s there,” he sobbed. “Please, the bacta… it’s in a panel by the bedside for emergencies…”

You gave Mando a look and he went to check, finding the panel and opening it. He gave you a nod again.

‘“Good,” you said quietly, pulling the knife from his arm. He whimpered as you stood, going to stand behind him.

“My arm, please,” he tilted his head back to look at you. You frowned down at him.

“Oh,” you sighed, putting the knife to the man’s throat. “The bacta wasn’t for you.”

With that, you slit his throat and watched as the blood poured from him before you dropped the knife, your body trembling. Din moved for you fast, catching you before you collapsed as you gasped for breath.

“We have to keep going,” you looked up at him as he held you to his side. “See if there’s a blaster in here I can use…” A tear slipped down your face. “Fuck, I hate doing that….”

“Let’s get you dressed,” he said gently but you grabbed his arm and squeezed.

“Not yet,” you said. He frowned but didn’t question it. You pulled yourself from his grasp and went to the drawers beside the bed and began to go through them. He grabbed the bacta, pocketing it where he could. It might come in handy before you made it out of here. You found a blaster but immediately dropped it on the bed before running to a trash can in the corner and vomiting, using the wall to hold yourself up. You hovered there for a moment before you wiped your mouth on your hand, your breathing calming. You nodded to yourself before going for the dress, purposely avoiding looking at the body tied to the chair.

“You’ve done this before,” he said quietly. You nodded, tears still stinging your eyes as you slid the gown back up your body. He looked down at the man. “He deserved it.”

“Doesn’t matter,” you said, wiping your eyes and steeling yourself for a moment before stalking after the gun again. “Let’s go, sublevel 3.”

He looked at you. He tried, for a moment, to think of a way to finish this that got you out of here now. Getting you out a side door, onto a speeder and telling you to take the Razor Crest into orbit. But he couldn’t protect you then, which felt worse. You sprinted for the door while he thought, blaster in your grasp. He ran to your side, taking your hand gently and leading the way to the elevator.

The trip down felt long. Your breathing was shaky but you kept your eyes straight ahead, your fingers flexing and straining around the grip of your blaster. Din ground his teeth. He had no idea what was waiting on the other side of this and he felt dangerously underprepared. If it had just been him at stake, that would be one thing. But it wasn’t. It was the girl and it was you.

“If we get separated,” you said, looking up at him. “Where do I take the girl?”

“Nevarro,” he replied, meeting your gaze. You nodded. “Let me out first, use me for cover, free as many as you can.”

You didn’t get a chance to respond, the doors sliding open to the sublevel. It was dim, the only light coming from the glow spilling from the cell doors.

“What are you doing here?” An armed man approached the elevator. Before you could answer, Din stepped in front of you and shot him. He dropped where he stood.

“It can’t be that easy,” you said, almost to yourself, looking at the Mandalorian. There was a weariness in your eyes he hadn’t seen before. You hadn’t just done this before, you’d done it many times. And you hated it.

A blaster bolt whizzed past his head and he turned, shooting almost before he really saw anything at all.

“Dammit,” you said, ducking behind the wall of the elevator.

“I’ll give you cover,” Din said. “I won’t let anyone hurt you…”

“I need to open the holds,” you said. “Just cover me for that.”

He gave you a stiff nod, steeling himself before stepping into the fray, a shouted “go!” Almost thrown at you. You dove from the elevator and ran, away from the oncoming guards and down the other hall. He hated not being able to see you, not knowing where you were, if you were even still alive. He kept shooting, holding off however many there were from reaching you, until the holds opened with a hiss. The guards froze, looking around. A woman, young, not much older than you, stepped out of one, her eyes wide.

“You’re free,” Din said. She looked from him to the remaining guards. The Mandalorian kept his blaster raised. “Go.”

She nodded and ran, the guards moving again, closing in on Din as you came up behind him, a gentle hand on his back. You stepped around him, firing into the guards, striking one who dropped where he stood. It seemed to have been the final straw, the handful of remaining men fleeing.

“We need to find 322,” you said, stepping over the body of a guard before taking off at a run down the hall, others emerging cautiously from their cells and starting to run. He almost lost you in the press of people, dozens suddenly pouring out. He caught a quick flash of your gown as you ducked into one of the cells and he pushed through to you, stopping in the door with his blaster at the ready. You were kneeling before a girl who was cowering in the corner, her long, dark hair a curtain around her body. “It’s OK,” you said, your voice quiet and gentle. The same hand you’d used to twist the knife in the girl’s kidnapper reached out to softly stroke her hair. “I know, it’s scary. It’s OK to be scared when there are scary things happening. We don’t have a chance to be brave if we’re never afraid. Do you think you can be brave right now for me?”

The girl peered up at you through her hair. You smiled softly.

“What’s your name?” You asked.

“Layari,” she sniffed.

“Layari?” You repeated back. She nodded. “Well, Layari, that is a beautiful name and a strong name and you seem like a beautiful and strong girl. My name is Amira. I’m here to bring you back to your dad. The big, scary man over there? He’s a Mandalorian, just like your dad and just like you, he’s just in disguise. He’s here to get you there safely.”

“My daddy?” She sniffed again. You nodded, smiling a little bigger. “I miss him.”

“I know, Darling Girl,” you slipped into Bothese as you brushed her hair back. “And he misses you, too. Can I take you to him? I can carry you.”

She considered you for a moment before holding her arms out. You quickly scooped her into your arms and pressed her face into your shoulder, cradling her head as her arms and legs went around you. Your mouth was a thin line, looking at Din.

“We have to move,” he said, leading the way.

***

Your adrenaline was so high you almost didn’t notice the weight of the child in your arms, too focused on getting her through the maze of hallways and out of here. She was shaking but clung to you tightly. This part you didn’t have a plan for. You’d probably need to steal a speeder and then it would just be a race against time to see if you could make it to the Razor Crest and jump before someone caught you.

You could breakdown then.

It had been years since you’d had to torture someone like that, every time it made you sick to your stomach. You hated it, you hated yourself for being so fucking good at it. You hated that you felt bad for the people you hurt and killed because you knew, like he’d said, they deserved it. You’d never hurt someone who hadn’t deserved it but it wasn’t lost on you that you were good at hurting people. Good at lying, killing, extracting information. What did that make you? What could the Mandalorian possibly think of you after that?

You clutched the girl to you, following Mando to the elevator. He pushed the button to the floor you’d entered from and you swallowed, hard.

“Are you hurt?” He asked. The girl didn’t respond and you went to nudge her to see if she’d talk, but he shook his head. “I meant you. Are you hurt?”

“Oh,” you said, surprised. “No, I’m OK. You?”

He nodded his head, readying his weapon again before he looked back to you.

“If you have a chance to get out with her without me, take it,” he said. “Nevarro. You can trade in the quarries there, get a decent bounty, you can keep the ship…”

“Don’t say that,” you said sharply. “You and her are getting out of here, do you hear me?”

He’d obviously noticed that you’d left yourself off that list but didn’t have the chance to fight you on it as the elevator doors dinged open, revealing a party that was still in full swing despite the chaos below and the death above. He looked to you, almost like he was asking for permission. You gave him a stiff nod, and he started shooting.

He was aiming only for people you’d spoken to and you’d identified as slavers, people screaming and starting to run. You followed behind him, in death’s shadow, sheltering the girl from the chaos and the violence, humming soothingly in her ear. A shot hit the Mandalorian, throwing his shoulder back, making your eyes go wide. He stuttered for a moment but pressed on, his mortality showing for only a moment, clearing a path for the door.

People rushed outside, scrambling to find speeders to flee but he kept shooting those he could reach. You looked around, spotting a speeder and running for it, shouting a quick “Mando” over your shoulder as you rushed the girl over. You deposited her in the back and he leapt into the driver’s seat, working to start the engine. You turned to go back to the house but he grabbed your wrist.

“We have to go!” He yelled.

“Go!” You yelled back, ripping your arm away and running back inside.

It was still chaos, people bleeding and screaming. You spotted someone you’d flagged as a slaver earlier and shot them, not waiting to see if they dropped before you made your way to the first control panel you saw. You manipulated it as you had the ones downstairs, checking to make sure all the potential slave quarters were unlocked. Then you stepped back, shooting the panel with your blaster, a spray of sparks going everywhere. You looked around and spotted some fabric - heavy curtains - that looked like it would burn well. You ripped it down and dragged it over. Wincing, you thrust your hand into the ruined panel and grabbed a fist full of wires, pulling them out of the wall, hoping against hope that you weren’t going to be electrocuted. You knew basically nothing about technology, you’d be utterly useless when it came to maintaining a ship or building a droid, but you could make something spark. Or you thought you could. You pressed the curtain to the exposed wires and turned your face away as you shot the panel again, a fresh spray of sparks flying. A few of them landed on the curtain and ignited, the fire spreading quickly over the fabric. You dragged it near a potted plant and toppled into the flames which grew to engulf it. Without bothering to admire your handiwork, you ran to find a speeder, leaving the place to burn.

Mando had gotten the speeder going and was waiting for you, hovering over the walkway, all pretense gone.

“What were you thinking?” You demanded, climbing in. “I told you to go!”

“I wasn’t leaving you there,” he snapped, maneuvering the speeder the second you were inside. You climbed over the front seat and into the back to find the girl, curled up and crying.

“You’re OK Layari,” you said, putting an arm over her. Mando drove, flooring it, sending you back in your seat and making your breath catch in your throat. A blaster bolt flew past your head and you ducked, covering the girl’s body with your own.

“Mando!” You yelled. “Aft shots!”

The speeder swerved and then dove, the movements sharp and jerky. You could hear the blasters as you pressed your body against the girl’s, ensuring she was protected.

You couldn’t see where he was going, could’t see him at all, couldn’t see anything but the floor of the speeder and the girl’s shaking body as you pressed your head against hers. Eventually, you felt the craft crash into the ground and skid to a stop. You flinched, holding Layari closer until you were sure you’d stopped moving, before arranging her so her arms and legs were around you and you could run with her. The Mandalorian was already out of the speeder, standing between you and any oncoming attack, blaster ready as the people chasing you caught up. He followed you up the ramp as you heard blaster fire. You set the girl down and watched as he walked backwards up the ramp, blaster in front of him, unflinchingly firing. And then, he dropped. “NO!” The sound ripped from your throat before you had a chance to recognize it and you ran for him, blaster in front of you as you fired blindly. You slammed the ramp button on your way and it started tipping back as you ran for him. You grabbed him under his arms and dragged him up the ramp and into the hold, blaster fire glancing off the metal of the ship but thankfully missing you and the man in your arms. You looked at him, blood leaking from the side of his chest. You grabbed a handful of his cape and looked to Layari. She sat where you’d left her, hands over her ears as she cried.

“Layari,” you said, as gently but quickly as you could manage. “I need you to be brave one more time. Can you come hold this to his side? I’ll get us out of here and get us to your daddy, but we have to save him, can you do that for me?”

She nodded before she got up and ran to you, taking the cape from you. You put your hands over hers as you heard blaster bolts hit the side of the ship and pressed down onto the Mandalorian’s ribs.

“Hold it just like that, OK?” You said. “You’re doing great, Layari, keep doing that until I come back.”

You sprinted for the cockpit and scrambled up the ladder, starting the launch sequence before you even sat down.

“Razor Crest,” the com crackled to life. “You have not been cleared for take off.”

You muted it, barely having a chance to strap in as you flipped he final switch of the sequence, hearing the engines ignite. You guided it into the atmosphere, hoping there weren’t fighter pilots on your ass next. You’d never win that one.

You quickly programmed the shortest jump you could think of while the ship rose into the air and executed it the second you were clear of the atmosphere, only staying in hyperspace for half a minute. It should be enough to ditch anyone trying to tail you. You paused and then set the next jump, this one taking you toward Kashyyyk. The second the jump began, you ran for the hatch to see if the Mandalorian was alive.

A/N: I kept forgetting to ACTUALLY POST this. Hoping to remember to pick up the reposting cadence again now but if you want a lot more of this fic right now, it's on AO3 through chapter 33 here. Thank you all for reading and interacting! Love you guys!

#fanfic #mandalorian fanfic #din djarin #enemies to friends to lovers #slow burn #the mandalorian #din djarin brat tamer #din djarin x female reader #the mandalorian x f!reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x female reader

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redfoxwritesstuff · 6 months ago

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Sunflower, Book 1, Chapter 25

Tom Hiddleston x OFC Series rated: M Chapter warnings: Flashback smut AN: Just a splash of my daddy issues, so sorry about that. I swear, I'm trying to keep it under control! Enjoy the last fluffy chapter before the angst really starts to amp up. Sorry not sorry. Masterlist AO3 KoFi

~~~~~<3

Tears gathered in Mia’s eyes as she looked at the little bit of magic Tom had worked. Mia had always felt guilty that she couldn’t give the big parties Sally would see on the TV and often she was too tired or too broke to even do a lot. Again and again, she told Tom to go small. Simple. Easy.

She took comfort in the fact that the first few birthdays, kids don’t remember beyond the stories they’re told and the pictures they see. She wasn’t sure kids remembered their 5th birthday parties either but Tom had put in the effort to make it special, even while toeing the line of her request.

Purple and pink balloons reflected the sparkling water. There were bottles of sparking juice and a handful of plastic champagne glasses, making the small party child fancy. Tom had pizzas, one peperoni and one cheese on each side of the bottom of a foam cooler upside down over what she assumed was the birthday cake.

Tom was sitting on the edge of the pool pumping up the last of the floaties and for a moment, time froze and Mia’s heart skipped a beat. The strong sun shone on his bare back and arms, casting shadows in the dips of his defined muscles. His hair was alight with it, golden reds highlighting every wild curl in his short hair, stealing her breath away more than the definition in his back as he moved about comfortably.

This was the man she married in a act of drunken stupidity. No, perhaps not stupidity after all, if she closed her eyes and indulged her heart. What if, just maybe, marrying this man three weeks ago was one of her life’s greatest decisions?

This was a man she could fall in love with. God, did he make it hard not to just fling herself headfirst in, reckless and trusting. It was hard to remind herself the importance of taking things slow when she saw him like that, sitting at the edge of the pool and blowing up kid’s pool toys as if it was the most important task of his life. As if it was a part of his life. As if he belonged.

He was the father Sally deserved. God, if she could just give Sally this man as a father. If she could somehow change the fabric of reality and make this the man that fathered Sally,Mia would. That wasn’t possible but she could give him to her now, if she just was willing to take a risk, willing to trust.

Tom was a person though. There was no way she could force him to stay, no way she would want to if he wanted to leave. But fuck, if this could be their lives, she wanted him to want to stay. What if she tried and he left? What if Sally got to have this, really have it, and then lost it? What if it was her fault? What if she wasn’t a good enough woman to keep a man like Tom?

“Tommy!” Sally broke the moment, saving Mia from a lifetime spent in a single heartbeat and whirlwind of ‘what if’s. “It’s so pretty!”

Mia looked away from the way Tom smiled at Sally, directing her attention to her phone as it pinged in her hand, thankful for the distraction. Again, she texted Ray to see if he was coming on her way down.

“Fucking calm down” the message read, sent from her daughter’s father. He was a man she had once loved, who she had thought loved her at one point. “I’m on my fucking way.”

He was in a bad mood but that wasn’t unusual for him. He was always in a bad mood during the last few years or so. Mia was just thankful he had answered, if she was honest. It was rare that she could give Sally the gift of time with her father. This time, at least for her birthday, it looked like it was going to happen.

“Sally will be so excited” Mia sent back.

He didn’t respond.

“Is Daddy coming?” Sally ran over as Tom reminded her that walking feet were important to use around the pool. Tom looked over to Mia with worry clearly etched on his face.

“He said he’s on his way.” Mia said and in her gut, it felt like the wrong thing to say.

“Anything I should be aware of?” Tom asked, wrapping an arm around her waist and hugging her to him, a calculated risk he decided was worth it after the time spent at the ranch.

“What do you mean?” His hand was cold from the pool water, causing goosebumps to cover her skin. It felt good seeping into her skin through the robe, cooling the skin heated by the desert sun.

“Do I need to be worried about him trying to knock my head off or trying to drown me in the pool?”

Mia gave it a big of thought, “Don’t know, to be honest. We’ve never been in a situation even close to this before.”

“Lovely.” Tom’s voice came flat, though is fingers twitched against her waist.

“You’ll be fine,” Mia patted Tom’s chest, trying to ignore the feeling of the sun warmed skin and firm muscle under hand while she laughed. “I’m sure you can out run him.”

“In this heat?” Tom teased as he gave her one last squeeze before returning to the pool.

It felt good to laugh together. To celebrate together. To be together.

Mia hesitated near the pool, watching as Sally and Tom splashed eachother. They were quickly becoming the picture of a family and it was magical to watch it happen. Sally deserved this.

For Sally, Mia decided, she needed to invest in this marriage as much as Tom was.

“Are you going to get in?” Tom asked after resurfacing from a dramatic splash induced water death.

“Yeah, I just-”

“Mom’s shy.” Sally giggled. “I don’t know why, she’s so pretty.”

“She is pretty,” Tom agreed, nodding wisely to the small girl floating on the inflated unicorn next to him before making his way toward the steps of the pool.

Rising out of the water one step at a time, water ran off of his chest and abdomen. Streams of water gathered to run down the valleys between muscles as her eyes followed. His hair was dark with water, plastered to his head. As he rose out of the water, his trunks clung to his hips and-

Yeah, she needed to pay attention to where she was and that the water was nice and cold. Stop looking at the man like he was a goddamn piece of meat. She was not some nineteen year old girl who’s not been around the block a few times.

Keep your eyes on socially acceptable places. This was real life, not some romance movie. Keep it together.

Tom was close to her now. She could see the scattered hairs on his chest. Was he feeling the same things she was in that moment? Was he thinking the same sort of thoughts looking down at her? Her heart was beating out of her chest. Was his?

Reaching out, Tom placed his hands on either side of her neck. Long fingers curled around the back of her neck and the pads of his thumbs rubbed against her jaw, spreading blessed coolness into overheated skin. His pinkies slipped under the silk fabric of her robe.

Was he going to kiss her? Would he do it right there, in front of Sally and anyone who happened to pass by?

Slowly, Tom’s hands ran down her neck and over her shoulders. She was captivated by his eyes. As the neck of her robe expanded, pulling open she absently untied the belt. the silk fell away from her in a whoosh as Tom’s hands reached the curve of her shoulders. She caught the robe in her hands as it fell and just stood there, lost in the spell of his eyes.

“There,” His voice was thick, like something had caught in his throat. “Now you can get in the pool.”

When Mia was slow to get moving, Tom seemed to return to life. He grabbed the robe from her hands as she slowly gathered it up. Balling it up, he tossed it onto a poolside chair.

Without much warning or even giving himself a chance to over think things, he scooped her up in his arms. A squeak of shock captured Sally’s attention and then the little girl was cheering them on.

Mia reflexively threw her arms around Tom as he descended the steps slowly. Realizing how much of her skin was directly touching his skin, she let go and tried to put distance between them.

This did nothing but shift her weight, almost toppling the both of them into the water. Feeling herself becoming unsteady, she grabbed onto him again. He carried her down the steps as if she weighed nothing in his arms.

It shouldn’t have surprised her, she saw his build.

Tom enjoyed the feeling of having her in his arms. Her skin was hot against his water cooled skin. The contrast felt dizzying.

“You’re too hot.” Tom said, not realizing until after the words left his lips the double meaning.

Instantly his face began to feel hot and he had very few options. Somehow, he thought falling forward with her in his arms into the pool where the shallows dropped off into the deeper water was the best response to the situation.

Mia surfaced sputtering water. Her brown hair was soaked, hanging awkwardly in the hair clip that had been keeping it off her shoulders. Tom surfaced a moment later gasping for breath. He didn’t have a chance to wait for a potential wrath or catch his breath before Mia was splashing him.

“What if I couldn’t swim!” She was laughing even as she voiced her outrage.

“I would have saved you.” His words came in short bursts between mouthfuls of water she flung at him.

Sally was an equal opportunity attacker, armed with a squirt gun and a unicorn steed to escape on. She had no allies, she had no partners, and she took no prisoners in her aquatic attacks.

Such a brutal attack left no other option but for the adults to join forces and take down the small tyrannical dictator of the pool, filling the air with splashes, water and the musical sound of a family at play.

They played for a rather long time before dragging themselves out of the water for pizza and drinks. Some other kids had joined them at complex pool, giving Sally other victims for round two of the master of the sea.

Mia stood, robe hanging from her elbows mostly forgotten as she checked her phone for what felt like the hundredth time. Sally was distracted, laughing and sharing pizza with anyone who joined their mini party.

“Any word?” Tom asked, resting his hand on her back as he came up beside her.

“No.” Resisting the urge to throw her phone, Mia simply locked it and placed it face down again. “He said he was on his way an hour and a half ago.”

~~~~~<3

Sally was tired when they finally made their way inside, carried by her mother. Tom made easy work of the few trips needed to bring what remained of the cake and presents inside. Mia was thankful for the additional hands, Sally alone was getting far too big to be carried home.

For today though, she would carry her little girl as far as she wanted. Five years old now, Mia could hardly believe it. This little girl had changed her life and been with her through some of her most challenging times. She was Mia’s world.

For Sally, Mia would burn the world down if needed. For Sally, Mia would give the world on a plater if she only asked.

It killed her that there were things she couldn’t give her daughter though, things she deserved more than anything.

Ray never did show up. Mia wanted to believe something happened to him. Perhaps a car accident on the way? Maybe he was in the hospital, phone lost or destroyed? That would be better than knowing that he just decided to not show up to his daughter’s birthday party. Again.

~~~~~<3~~~~~<3~~~~~<3~~~~~<3~~~~~<3

They moved together, chasing the release they both so desperately needed. The sound of skin slapping together filled the room. The bed springs sang a song of primal lust, accompanied by the music of their gasping moans.

Tom’s fingers bunched into a fist, catching her hand in the process. He held onto her as his wife clenched around him, driving him on, pulling him deeper.

Close. He was so close now. He could only hope that she was there with him as she gasped in pleasure, arching against him. Her walls fluttered around him. He moaned deeply as begging pleas for more fell from her lips.

She was his. His wife. His new life. His new everything.

She was his.

Finally, he had someone. Finally, he was enough for someone.

Finally.

~~~~~<3

Tag List: @winterisakiller @alexakeyloveloki @jennyggggrrr @dangertoozmanykids101 @tilltheendwilliwrite @tinchentitri @wizardcherryblossom @kats72 @buttercupcookies-blog @violethaze @soulpiercing @evedia @princess-ofthe-pages

#tom hiddleston x ofc #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston x original character #tom hiddleston x original female character #tom hiddelson x reader #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddleston rpf #tom hiddleston smut #tom hiddleston x

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painted-doe · 28 days ago

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Thank goodness Tumblr is anonymous, because I have a shitty story I need to get off my chest.

I went for a walk with my husband the other night. Just a stroll around our sleepy little neighbourhood before bed. Now, my fella is an unusually shaped person, very short and heavyset with the shortest legs you’ve probably ever seen on a person. I’m not being unkind, I am being literal and objective, and it’s relevant to the story. Imagine a young Danny Devito and you’re pretty close. I think he’s goddamn adorable, among other things, but you don’t want to hear about that.

It was a Friday night. We were walking past an apartment building where some 20-somethings were having a party on the fourth floor. Disco lights and music. Two of the partiers were having a smoke out on the patio. One of them laughed and said loudly,

“That boy is waddling!”

At first I thought maybe he’d seen a stubby little dog or something. Because that’s not how you’d talk about a person, right? But it was late and quiet and we were the only ones on the street. And when I looked up, they were looking right at us.

Fortunately my husband was talking excitedly about his theories for Thunderbolts and he didn’t hear what they’d said about him.

But I did. Real fucking clearly.

Now, we’re talking about the funniest, gentlest, most welcoming and generous person I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing. You would love him. Everyone loves him. I bet the people on that patio would love him too, once they stopped seeing him as a novelty to laugh at. But if he’d heard those words, it would have shattered his confidence. He’d have been knocked right back into his depression, struggling to get out of bed, struggling to go to work, miserable at the thought of being perceived. This beautiful, exceptional person.

So I pretended I hadn’t heard anything, even though I wanted to go back and burn the whole fucking building down, and I kept walking and arguing happily with him about Marvel lore. And I made sure we took a different route home, away from that building and the party.

But fuck me if those words haven’t been stuck in my head all week. “That boy is waddling!” It hurts to think of how unkind the world is to this person, this man who deserves everything good. I’m so glad he didn’t hear it.

I hope that scrote on the balcony will someday understand what his words can do to people. I really do.

Thanks for reading my vent, and please take this as a reminder to treat fat people kindly. (I mean, I hope we can treat everyone kindly. But at a bare fucking minimum, at least don’t treat fat people like they don’t have feelings or ears.)

#fatphobia #fatphobic

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randoms-fandoms · 7 months ago

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Hi! Would I be able to request Marcy Wu x Fem!Reader who goes and ASKS HER to play Creatures and Caverns or Watch War of the Warlocks? (She deserves it! 🥺)

Absolutely! I do not know anything about the game, but I’ll try my best <3

Warnings: a little bit of canon typical calamity trio toxicity, but with the reader thrown into the mix :)

Relationships: pre-established Marcy Wu x (female) reader

Marcy Wu had been your best friend for years. Of course you didn’t predate Sasha, and certainly not Anne— but what you had was more special. More tender than the loud, fierce friendship the three shared. Your bond surpassed platonic feelings, at least on your end.

Your feelings were clear. You loved Marcy. You had for years now, though this more painful edge had only recently developed.

When Marcy kept you up all night on the phone, crying because Sasha had chosen to invite Anne to something and not her, of course you felt compassionate. You also felt angry. Not because of your lost sleep, but angry on Marcy’s behalf. Why even tell her about the activity if you’re not gonna invite her?

Whenever you all hung out as a group, something that happened more often now that the school year had began, you didn’t miss how the excited grin on Marcy’s face would fade when she noticed Anne and Sasha weren’t paying attention to what she was talking about. You just bit your tongue and engaged in Marcy’s story, trying to cheer her up.

It nearly pushed you over the edge when you noticed Marcy had cut off all of her colorful friendship bracelets. “Anne said that’s why people make fun of me in P.E— its not really a thing people wear anymore.” She explained casually, shrugging, as if it didn’t matter. Her arms looked bare and lonely.

You tried not to hate them, you really did— Marcy loves Anne and Sasha, I’m sure they’re actually nice… but you were just so frustrated that they were unintentionally ignoring the funniest, smartest, kindest person in the world.

A mean little part of you was kind of glad that their friendship seemed to be struggling. You hated it every time Marcy was hurt by them, but at the same time, you felt a small bit of joy in being the one to comfort her.

All these conflicting feelings were eating you alive. You couldn’t stop thinking about Marcy, everything you saw reminded you of her.

One weekend, you were cleaning your room when you found an old set of dice that hadn’t been used in a while— they were a birthday gift from years ago, but you hadn’t played creatures and caverns in what felt like forever. I bet Marcy would have fun with this, you thought with a smile.

The next think you knew you were pacing your room with a ringing phone to your ear, heart beating in your throat. You didn’t know why you were nervous; you hung out with Marcy all the time— but this would be the first time she came to your house. You usually hung out at her house.

Marcy picked up the phone after two rings. “Hey, how’s it going?” She asked. You could hear the smile in her voice.

“Um, hi Marcy! I’m good, I was just, uh—“ you looked down at the small bag of dice in your hand. “Are you busy today?”

“No, never.” She said with a little laugh. “I’m free pretty much every weekend.”

You nodded to yourself. “…Do you want to come over and play creatures and caverns with me?”

Marcy gasped. “Of course!” She exclaimed. “You have no idea how happy I am—“ you heard a crash on the other end of the line. She must have gotten up too fast and tripped. “I-I’ll be over in just a minute! Text me your address!”

You smiled wide, excited to see her. “I will! See you soon!”

The room felt too quiet when you hung up the phone. You already missed her. After texting her your address (and receiving a string of happy emojis in response), you looked up and came back to reality— I should get ready.

You surprised yourself by how quickly you got dressed. A cute shirt from a concert you had been to over the summer and a comfortable pair of shorts. You looked over yourself in the bathroom mirror and smiled.

You were glad you were already close to being done with your cleaning when you got distracted— all you had to do was make your bed, which didn’t take long.

Marcy arrived quickly. She looked out of breath when you opened the door, face flushed and breathing hard as she unbuckled her bicycle helmet. “Hi!” She said, smiling wide.

Her excitement made you happy. “Hey, Marcy! Come on in.” You stepped aside to let Marcy in. She took off her shoes and left them by the door.

“Um… thanks for inviting me over!”

“Of course! You’re the first person I thought of when I found these.” You pulled the bag of dice out of your pocket and felt yourself smile automatically when Marcy’s face lit up.

She took the bag from you and opened it, beaming. “Oh my gosh, this is a limited edition set! Where did you get it? They stopped making these forever ago!”

“I got them for a birthday present.” You replied, trying to remember all those years ago. “My parents must have found them in a secondhand store or something. Anyway…”

“I brought all my stuff, and plenty of paper. This is perfect! We could design up our own caverns, and do a whole campaign together!” Marcy looked up at you, still super excited. You felt a twinge of guilt upon realizing that you didn’t really know what she was talking about.

“Um… Marcy? You might have to teach me how to play.” You said, laughing nervously. “Is that okay? I’ve never actually played a game of creatures and caverns before.”

Marcy’s smile turned into something softer. “Of course! I’d be happy to teach you! Let’s start by setting up the board…“

The rest of the afternoon, you had more fun than you’d ever had in your life playing a tabletop game— Marcy was just so full of energy, cheering with excitement, eyes glimmering with joy when she laughed. She was adorable, you thought, and you couldn’t help but flirt with her a little— in your own special way, nerdy and sweet, just the way you knew she’d like.

“You know a lot about this game— you must have played a ton of campaigns!” You praised, watching a blush spread over Marcy’s smiling face.

“Well, not exactly— I’ve always wanted to, but I’ve never had anyone to play with before! I tried getting Anne and Sash to play with me a few times, but they always get bored after one session.” She laughed awkwardly. You reclined against the edge of your bed, not sure what to say.

“…But it’s okay.” Marcy continued. “I know it’s not what they’re into, so… it’s whatever,”

You nodded, suddenly feeling a little nervous. “Um, do you think we could make this a regular thing? Playing Creatures and Caverns together?”

Marcy absolutely lit up. “Of course!” She leaned in excitedly, grinning from ear to ear. “We could play every weekend, and draw pictures of our characters!”

You fought the goofy smile that was creeping its way onto your face. “That sounds great, Marcy!” You sat perfectly still, shyly aware of how close she was now. Marcy didn’t seem to notice for a moment, then she glanced away and pulled back, clearing her throat.

“It doesn’t have to be every week if you don’t want to—“ she rushed. “I mean, I was being too… presumptuous. I think. We don’t—“

“Marcy, no!” You frowned, sitting up. “I do want to hang out and play with you as often as we can, I was just…” you realized with dismay that she had misread your shyness at the proximity as reluctance. “I was…” you tried again, too embarrassed to tell her the truth.

“Let’s go back to playing.” Marcy said, but her smile didn’t exactly reach her eyes. You decided you had to explain to her, if only to save you the guilt.

“Marcy, I need to tell you something.” You said seriously. She paused, looking up into your eyes. Ugh, she’s so pretty…

“Yeah?”

“I, ah—“ you felt your face heat up. “Um, do you want to… go on a date sometime? Or more than one date?” You watched as her mouth fell open slightly, surprised. “I really like you…” you continued, trying to fill the silence.

“Of course I’ll go on a date with you! Can you— can we be girlfriends?” Marcy asked, sounding in disbelief.

You broke into a breathless smile at the prospect. “Yeah! That sounds really great.”

“Aaaah, I’m so happy…” Marcy shook out her hands, then scooted to sit next to you. She hugged you tightly. The warmth made your heart beat a little faster, and you hoped she couldn’t feel that you were trembling slightly with nerves.

“I’m happy too,” you replied, resting your chin on the top of her head.

The two of you sat there in silence for another moment before Marcy pulled back and smiled broadly up at you. “Now can we go back to playing?”

You smiled right back, glad she felt comfortable enough to ask you that. “Of course!”

A/N: hope this was alright, sorry for the delay— I’ve been busy with irl things like funerals and school

#x reader #amphibia #amphibia x reader #marcy wu x reader #marcy wu #x reader fanfiction

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