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sundrop-writes · 6 months

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if Draco walked in on you changing...

Word Count: 1360

Harry Potter Masterlist

Warnings: I have no clue when this could fit onto the general Harry Potter timeline (and tbh I don't think it does); this features the 'arranged marriage' trope; the reader is a rich pureblood (but there is no indication that the reader looks down on muggleborns the way that the Malfoys do); there is no mention of which pureblood family the reader is from, so there is no indication of her race; the reader is mentioned to be afab/has breasts and wears dresses; mentions of house elves/use of house elf labor; Draco is very cocky and entitled in this; there is some dubious consent because Draco looks at the reader while she is undressed without her consent, but she doesn't fully care; Draco calls the reader 'darling' and 'love'; the reader's parents are discussing the arranged marriage with the Malfoys without her consent; passing mention of the reader and Draco having kids together; the reader is definitely attracted to Draco and denying it. I believe that's everything.

A/N: Can you tell that I'm obsessed with the arranged marriage trope when it comes to Draco?? Yes? No? (Well you're gonna be able to tell that even more if he wins the other poll - which he probably will, and that oneshot about him is the one that I post.) I just love the idea that because he's not the best person, the reader would be forced to be in proximity to him, and she would bring out his more likeable side over time. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this! Eventually, I want to do this trope/reaction with all the characters that I mainly write for. (And maybe more, like Neville and Ginny.)

...

The past week of your life has been nothing but a hectic chaos, and you were simply trying your hardest to get through it.

Your parents had travelled such a long way to ‘catch up’ with their old school friends, the Malfoys, some fellow purebloods that they hadn’t seen since graduating Hogwarts when they were all teenagers. This meant you had been a ‘guest’ at Malfoy Manor for the past week - seven straight days filled with nothing but fake smiling, bragging about your accomplishments, in detail (for your parents’ sake), being shown off like you were some trophy out of their case. You hated it.

You didn’t think you could handle sitting through one more evening dinner or afternoon tea, hearing them all wax poetic about the ‘good ole days’ while their insufferable son stared at you from across the room. But, as you kept telling yourself, you could go home soon. You could soon go back to your regular life, your own house with walls that weren’t decorated in depressing dark shades - a place with a sprawling rose garden that you missed so dearly.

Tonight, you just had to get through dinner.

And then, you could fake some kind of illness and be left alone in the large, comfortable (if entirely dark and dreary) guest room that they had put you up in for your stay.

Currently, you were racing around that room, wearing nothing but your black stockings and heels, and your jewellery, looking for your perfume bottle to spray some on your neck and chest before you put on your dress and attempted to go through the hassle of zipping it up on your own. You knew that the Malfoys had house elves that you could call upon, but you were really only comfortable with your own elf, Peplum, being the one to dress you. And she was back home because your mother and father didn’t allow her to travel.

You finally found the perfume bottle and sprayed a few good pumps of it over your neck and breasts, and put one on your inner wrist for good measure. Then you took a moment to bask in the scent because you found it so enjoyable - a nice moment of calming peace from the annoyance and mental strain you had been put through during the past week.

When you heard the door creak on its hinges, you thought you had been mistaken.

“My goodness, what do we have here?”

The sound of someone speaking caused you to jolt, practically jumping out of your skin, and you rushed to cover yourself - the only available covering being your own arms. You turned your back to the door, wrapping your arms around yourself to keep your chest covered, knowing that you looked entirely foolish wearing black tights that went up to your waist, black underwear, and heels - with nothing else.

Naturally, Draco thought that you looked like a sex dream come to life.

He could think of nothing sexier than a woman wearing black stockings. So naturally, seeing you topless while wearing those - it caused a stir in his pants that he had to concentrate on for it not to turn into a troubling hardon. He did wish that you weren’t wearing the underwear, though.

“Don’t cover up on my account.” Draco smirked, shoving his hands into the pockets of his pantsuit (partially as a measure to hide any stirring of his cock). And then he simply continued to stand there, not taking his eyes off the round curve of your ass for even a moment.

When he spoke again, it was only then that you knew who was there, and any shock pulsing through you at the fact of someone just waltzing in faded away in favour of pure annoyance grinding against your nerves.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You barked, glaring over your shoulder at him. “Knocking was invented for a reason!”

Draco always found your anger attractive. He found that he liked you angry and topless even better.

“It’s my house. I don’t have to knock.” He shrugged, sounding as entitled as ever.

You sighed so hard at this it practically came out as a growl under your breath. Even if you liked the heat in his eyes as he looked you over, even if you found him to be somewhat attractive - that pattern of entitlement made him impossible to put up with.

You had grown up pureblood, and definitely wealthy, but you absolutely had more humility than someone like him.

“That is so not true!” You screeched back, entirely insulted by this notion. “Knocking is a basic courtesy that your parents should have taught you!”

“Whatever.” Draco sighed, seeming entirely unconcerned with the social faux pas of walking in on you partially dressed - he didn’t rush to apologise or even bother to look away. “When we’re married, it won’t matter. I’ll get to look at my wife as much as I want,”

He said these words with a filthy greed grinding against the back of his throat, the expression on his face disgustingly satisfied. He raked his eyes across your body once again, drinking in every bit of you like he was truly entitled to you.

You turned around then, your neck aching from craning to look at him. You still had an arm covering your breasts, but his eyes definitely stuck to the puff of your cleavage that was leaking out around it. You would have yelled at him, called him a pig for staring so hard - but cared less and less about his staring as you got caught up on his words.

“‘When we’re married’?” You echoed back, the words entirely strained on your voice. “Are you okay? Have you been snorting the Floo Powder or are you usually this out of touch?”

Draco chuckled then, and titled his head slightly as he looked at you - it was distinctly condescending, like how someone might look down at a small child. Like he thought you were the one who was truly out of touch.

“Darling, are you really that daft?” He asked slowly. “Do you really not know what this trip is for?”

“What?” You croaked.

Now, you were truly confused.

“Our parents didn’t just feel like ‘catching up’ out of the blue. They’re trying to come to some sort of agreement. They’re match-making us. You know - bonding two powerful pureblood families.” He explained.

“Oh… oh god.” You sighed. It all made perfect sense. The ‘hush hush’ lunches that you weren’t allowed to sit in on, the insistence from your mother that you ‘bond’ with Draco, her questions about if you wanted to have children or not when you thought that was distant years in your future. “I am gonna kill them!”

You moved to storm out of the room, wanting to give your parents a stern talking to for not warning you about this. But -

“You’re still naked, love.” Draco chuckled.

You felt a flush of heat run through you - you wanted to say that it was from embarrassment, and not the wonderfully teasing nickname, and his cutesy tone. But you had other things to focus on than your non-attraction to Draco Malfoy.

“Ugh.” You turned back around sharply and grabbed your dress off the bed, and after you stepped into it and aggressively pulled the straps up over your shoulders, you struggled to reach behind you and even begin to pull the zipper closed.

You froze instantly when you felt Draco’s cool fingers brush against the skin of your lower back as he grabbed onto the zipper and then nimbly did it up for you. His touch was surprisingly gentle, and you told yourself that the shivers down your spine were from his cool touch, and not because of any underlying (very annoyed) attraction toward him.

“Might not be so bad.” Draco breathed against your neck, causing more goosebumps to form on your skin. “Being married to you.”

You felt an argument bubbling under the surface - but you saved that energy for the ensuing fight you were bound to have with your parents. Instead, you simply scoffed and rolled your eyes in response.

#sundrop writes #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy #harry potter fandom #harry potter fanfiction

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cherri-balms · 2 months

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♡﹕𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓, 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓! — CH.1 — Normal Girl

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။ ၊|• 0:01

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A/N ﹕Chapter 1 is finally out!! I apologize if this took a little while, I have an idea for an Alastor fic brewing and if all things go well, the prologue/pilot chapter will be the next thing I post!

As always if you would like to be added to the taglist, shoot me a DM and ill get back to you asap!! <3

This chapter is primarily exposition and fluff, so there are no content warnings for this chapter aside from a brief description of making oneself vomit.

𝐄 × 𝐌/𝐅 × 𝟓.𝟐𝐤 × 𝐎𝐧𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 × 𝐀𝐎𝟑

♡﹕Bring-your-reader to work day as one of the most famous idols in hell! Or, what it's really like working as one of the most famous idols in hell under the thumb of the VEES.

6:00 PM

Your alarm begins your morning with its typical assault to the ears and dragging you out of what was once a beautiful slumber, for a while your subconscious was even able to create a darling little wonderland blend of hell and personal heaven, but all good dreams had to come to an end at sometime soon.

Sitting up, you begin your typical morning work routine of getting dressed, brushing your teeth and whatever other morning activities that needed to be done. Surrounding you are dozens of printed posters and scrolls of yourself watching you get changed, most of which being limited edition merchandise from your concerts, and almost all of them had in bold letters “MONΛRCH” somewhere on the prints. After your meeting with Vox that day, he insisted that if you were going to work with the brand of the Vees that you were to take on a stage name to said brand. Before you could go through your mental filing cabinet to find something that would fit, Vox informed you that he had already picked your name from the moment you walked in: Monarch. It took a second for you to realize, but the patterns currently adorning your body with the resemblance of a monarch butterfly made it click. Plus, you did like how powerful the name sounded.

The last step of your routine was always to consult yourself a sprint checkup on your voice synthesizer and then perform some finetuning. Your current synthesizer is nowhere close to your first one, hell the damn thing originally couldn't even get wet, nor was it surgically bolted into your neck, though the two still shared similar parts in case the need for a quick repair arose.

… Aaaand of course speak of the fallen angel, that said scenario was precisely why you keep a constant eye on the quality of your synthesizer, because the screw connecting your voice bank and vocal chords was chipped. Sure, it was minute but even the smallest imperfection could lead to rust and infection that you just couldn’t afford.

The bottom half of your dresser vanity would appear to be nothing but a foundational box with a front facing panel and some regal metalsmith carvings if not for the card-slot keyhole poking out the right side. You keep the key hidden on your person at all times, while the contents inside hold no value in money or power you’re sure the reactions to what could be construed to be a stalkerish shrine to your boss would be the end of your reputation.

And his too you guess but you’re the cute one here.

Lifting your pointer finger to the back of your neck, using the slight dent of your nail to nudge out a tiny rectangular panel of your synthesizer. Or, it would be rectangular if not for the carefully cut notches on one of the sides.

You slip the key into the slot as far as it will reach, bypassing all 4 clicks then rewarding you with a 5th at ths decompressing tightness of the spring lock hinge. The once stiff panel now slides open, though not exactly with grace with it getting friction jammed against the frame caused by lack of use.

Not quite having time to spare getting distracted by your keepsakes you reach to the glass case to the left containing your prototype voice bank collar displayed like a diamond atop a blue silk pillow. You’re absolutely certain if Vox discovered you still held the beta technology he would gag like you were saving a meal that's gone bad. Absolutely adorable, knowing if you’d present it to any sinner in hell it’d be easy to convince them it was state of the art, brand new.

One screw acquired and you’re out of there, locking everything the way it was before, box, vanity, bedroom door, apartment door. The commute to the VHQ could barely even be considered a walk, actually, most of the housing within a 3 mile radius of their building was ultimately owned by the Vees reserved for employees. Smart way to both keep their people in line and control exactly who’s around at all times, gotta give them credit when credit is due.

The dredging silence over the span of two months had you in an urge to claw beneath your skin to tear out the stabbing anticipation that seemed to grow within. Should that evolve into a spiral well of anxiety you'd been worried the business plan sealed in ink turned into a ghost, but you were informed before your leave that Rome wasn’t going to be built in a day so you were left with nothing to do but respect his unspoken wishes.

When the hour struck and you received the details for the date and time of your next meeting in a bare bones text, you wish you could say it put your short term torture to a close, but the years worth of screaming in static was finally going to be over. You couldn’t make time move any faster, only make yourself move faster to prepare for your next encounter with the overlord that could now be considered your master.

“Monarch! Good, right on time, Now come sit.” Your overlord spins around the chair to your direction, beckoning you his way. You silently do as you’re told sitting legs pressed together handbag in your lap, before you even had a chance to touch the zipper for your tablet he waves your hands away.

“Nuh-uh, you don’t need to bother yourself with that anymore. I’m sure you know why I called you?” By the way his smirk stretched across the screen while his left hand reached below his desk you’d nearly assume he was just as excited as you for this day. You feel your eyelids pull back and you swore your eyes reflected twice as much light than when you first sat down if you could catch a glimpse of yourself.

The device presented to you in his hands looked identical to its future self if not for the fresher coat of polish it bore. You must confess you weren’t too sure what you were envisioning for this gadget to come out looking like, actually you realized you were never imagining something metaphysical at all, the technological cure to your aid came in the mental form of an intangible concept closer to a myth. But what was before your eyes was.. actually pretty underwhelming.

It looked like nothing but a steel box speaker attached to a collar with a dial, bare and simple. You caught a peek at something poking out on the other side behind it, but it didn’t catch your interest long enough to retain the observation. You weren’t aware enough to try and hide your confusion but you may have done a better job than you thought at not letting it show since he didn’t react until you cocked your chin to the side.

“Well what are we waiting for! Let’s get this show on the road and try it out, yeah? Turn around.” You were practically standing and turned before he could even finish the command. Sharp blue needles brush over your cheeks and under strands of hair lifting them behind your ears. You make the sound of the buckles on the collar before it’s veiled over your vision and behind your neck. “Fair warning, this will definitely be painful!”

Mayhaps you should’ve taken a bigger note on what you saw behind the box earlier, because you instantly got to discover what it was as spear headed clamps bury dormant in your throat through your neck so sharp it could pierce bone. Pain didn’t even begin to describe what you were feeling, it was like your brain tossed you back in time to repeat your lungs combusting to ash and your body soon reacted like you were suffering such fate again, causing you to start jumping and swatting out of the arms of your savior as if he were your next next killer.

“AAAAAAHH-aaahhhh?” Was that y- there’s no way.

You tested again in case this was another instance of your psyche filling in the gaps of a voice once more.

“aaahhhhhh~AAAHH~~” You weren’t dreaming. What you were asking from him from the start felt like asking the impossible but the result you were given far exceeded any daydream you conjured to cope with your situation, but not only had the overlord given you a brand new voice by some miracle, the voice he gave you was the same you had in life, the same smooth melody you forgot you could produce.

You turned around to face him, this time with tears blurring your view. Not an ounce of anger from your embarrassing attack his way earlier, only intrigue in your reaction to the gift. For the first time in years, you could speak and say anything in the world you wanted and now your mind was white noise. All you could do was bow your head in gratitude, though you aren’t sure if he was expecting that just based on the noise he made after.

“Hey- woah, no need for that now, not that I’m necessarily complaining,” You raise your head and you aren’t surprised by the shadow of ego stretching his grin across the screen. “I did some investigating into your mortal life to find samples of your work to make sure your voice would be nothing short of yours! Getting hands on anything in the overworld is a royal pain in the ass, though. I hope you keep that in mind.”

Was he jesting? You were going to keep every bolt and circuit in mind for the rest of your afterlife. Perhaps it was the adrenaline, or the subtle new feeling of electrical surges flowing down the rivers of your veins, but just standing still with the amount of energy pumping in your body currently had you revived into a frankenstein marionette.

You suppose a start could be a proper thank you, but when you attempted to mouth the words the frequency in which the simple “thank you, sir” stitched themselves together didn’t carry harmoniously, more like a broken collage of vocal pitches. Your hand cuts off your lips with a flare of pink to your cheeks, the oncoming cackling from your new boss turns that shade into deep red.

“Hahaha! I was wondering when you were gonna find that part out!” The laughter settles to a halt and he lifts a finger to wipe away a pixelated tear that doesn’t actually budge. “This model is just a beta voice bank and synthesizer, speaking will take some getting used to and once I get enough data from your use of it in the following weeks, I can begin working on improvements. I have a manual in my drawer containing the details for maintenance but for now, I have some people you need to meet.”

You were nodding your head along but you had to admit, you were not following completely. True you were unfamiliar with the recent spike in tech, but you didn’t think you were this poorly informed. You make a mental note of this as something you should start fixing asap if you were going to continue your career this way. Meanwhile, outside your thoughts, your boss is leading you to the front elevator.

Before you could prepare for a silent and awkward ride down, the TV filter breaks it again. “Oh, and can you stop with the whole “sir” talk, it’s a painfully stuffy-outdated form of addressing authority. Just address me as Vox, and everyone will know I’m your boss.” The elevator bell rings signaling the stopping floor. Your vision is brought to what looks like a madhouse production with women bustling in every direction skewing fabric across the space. It didn’t take long to put two and two together that this was some kind of clothing production, but seeing a fashion lineup in what you thought was a tech company put you in uncanny valley.

“No! No! No! Fucking disgraceful- what the hell is this shit Shae? Did you get sick all up on our silk or are you actually using vermillion and oli- VERMILLION AND FUCKING OLIVE SHAE DID YOU LEARN COLOR COORDINATION FROM THE COLOR BLIND?!” Alright that definitely drew your attention. The voice sounded like a female Gordon Ramsay for fashion instead of cooking, so it wasn’t difficult to assume she was the one in charge.

“Velvette! You’re as bitter as ever before.” The woman turns over, you had to admit her namesake fit well with her appearance and instantly the aesthetic made sense. Something about that cute white swirl she has in her hair reminded you of a sweet cheesecake frosting you could've devoured her on sight.

“Vox fuckin’ piss off mind you can’t you see I’m in the middle of somethi- who the fuck is this” Velvette squints in your direction like your appearance sucked away the rest of her eyesight. Seconds go by, and then a few more without a word being exchanged, only the next electrical surge from the nervous gulp of saliva reminding you that things didn’t have to be this way anymore.

You introduce yourself unashamed of the robotic slurred speech pattern and the face she makes could only be described as bewilderment.

“I- what in satan’s name was tha-”

“She’s mute, Velvette. Sweetheart this is the cornerstone of my little “Monarch” project I informed you of, and I actually came here to discuss that with you.”

“Wait a second the star of your new network is a mute bimbo- Vox did your motherboard circuits go fucking smooth?!” Self control was a virtue you’d mastered since life one, through thumb-tacks in your heels to schmoozing slimy pigs with deep pockets, the poker face would remain sewn to your cheeks. But here, you could feel the slightest twitch anytime this woman spoke. You couldn't give a damn how powerful she thought she was, the kinds of implications she was making towards Vox only made you want to shove bars of soap down her throat until it cleans the filth coating her mouth.

There was no fucking way you were ever going to tolerate that cunt.

The frosted blast of studio AC and diamond perfume became your standard morning welcome when clocking into work, upon so being greeted by the models and seamstresses on the floor of your first stop with your typical “good mornings” and “how are yous”. One of the newer interns approaches with multiple cardboard cup holder trays of coffee, and it didn’t take very long to find the cup with your favorite order, even if it weren’t for the bold lettering of your stage name on the outside.

You finish up your typical greetings making your way over to the dressing rooms where the rest of your stagemates are already gathered looking at the schedule. First on the docket was choreography training, no surprise since your instrumentalists were nowhere to be found, and then after lunch iss… oh wonderful! Outfit fitting! Which meant the whole afternoon with just you and Velvette.

This was going to be a perfect day, wasn’t it?

Speak of the devil and she shall not only appar, she’ll kick the front door down like it cheated on anniversary night and throw what was- probably a brand new Goeccia hand purse in the face of whomever was closest.

“EACH ONE OF YOU BETTER BE FUCKING CLOCKED AND AT YOUR POST IN THE NEXT MINUTE OR YOU’RE ALL SEWING THE ANGELIC!!KILLS LINE BY TONIGHT EVEN IF YOUR FUCKING FINGERS ARE WORN TO NUBS ARE WE CLEAR?! Now where the ever loving fuck is- There she is!!”

“Velvette!!”

The two of you run and embrace in the middle of the room like you had just returned from the great war and reuniting with your long lost lover at the end of a shitty romcom. This display, was one that also became a tradition between the two of you at the start of the work day, one you weren’t ignorant to the handful that still felt the need to eyeroll or squint.

Okay so,, your seeded disdain for Velvette was one you admittedly locked away in the vault of embarrassing memories to reap its head around only when trying to get a good night's sleep. You initially had spent the first month or so practicing every torture method known to man on the images your eyes sent you because of how she talked down to Vox like a dog, this was… before you found out she was an overlord too and suddenly the context of the relationship they shared made sense. A bitter part of the pride that landed you where you are today still wanted to leech onto any grain of malice toward her, eventually turning into a humiliating envy and possessiveness over Vox’s attention. In that span of time you made no effort to get to know Velvette or care about her work, even while she was making the outfits you wore on stage for you and she somewhat mutually felt the same about you.

Luckily for the two of you, there was a third much more obnoxious V that was too perfect of low hanging fruit in the art if feminine hazing for you both to latch onto and find common ground on.

“I think this new hair style might be my new favorite! Locs look good on you~” Compared to how you felt the first time speaking with the prototype that sat in your vanity, the newer model of your synthesizer had a way more diverse voice bank and finetuning that made speaking feel and sound much more natural. Even with the mounds of progress from your prototype to present day, it was still obviously unnatural and robotic. These became factors that slowly mattered less as your gratitude increased, and you were content that not everyone was going to see it that way.

“See? I fucking told that nasty bed bug upstairs that I’d eat butterfly locs but what the fuck would he know when I can read my damn future in his forhead,” Velvette went a total of two minutes of the conversation before she pulled her phone out to check her instagram feed, a new accomplishment. You were proud. “Just so you’re aware by the way, Verosika Mayday announced the release date of her Paint it Pink album like 35 minutes ago and people are already bringing your name into it. You got a lot to deliver with this upcoming tour.”

Lucifer bless Velvette for having the brain cells to keep up with surfing the modern social media tides you continuously wipe out on with every attempt. You could stomach social media enough for your job, but Velvette made sure to get you a top notch social media advisor to handle your accounts to make it seem like you were more active than you were. True as it was that your vocal synthesizer brought a new flair to the world of music; especially in the rise of electronica, techno and pop where your new voice couldn’t compare to any other sinner in the genres, this factor has also lead to a cluster headache of… Let’s just say controversy. Old fashioned demons in particular were the bane of everything you deemed holy just because how fucking annoying they were making their periodic hangups your god damn problem.

Before you could properly offer your gratitude your attention is taken by an obnoxious thump and “A-hem!” in the direction of the dressing room. Turning you can see the green lop bunny ears of your costar and you can assume she’s trying to tell you to move your ass. Drama was the last thing you had energy for so you blow a kiss goodbye to Velvette and made two shakes of a lamb's tail into the dressing rooms.

Today you didn’t need to worry about outfit planning, just something comfortable that you don’t mind sweating in for the better part of the day. A simple pair of running shorts, tank top and loafers should work more than fine for today, hopefully as long as Valentino didn’t decide to sit on today’s choreography exercises…

It wasn’t exactly the norm for dance practices for the remaining member of the V trifecta to sit in and give his shit commentary- kind critiques on your movements and appearances. If it were up to you or any of your coworkers, Valentino wouldn’t be anywhere near your production but alas, contractual standards came first. One of the stipulations upon starting your career as Monarch was your introduction to the Vee network and the ongoing partnership the three overlords held to upkeep their power within hell. Long and short, this meant that with each contract the Vees delt the other two business partner would also have to reap some sort of benefit; typically monetary gain.

In your case, Velvette easily got her reward by using your team as breathing mannequins to advertise her fashion line, not to mention she would ultimately be credited in every comment of the flashy costumes you wore at concerts and venues. Valentino’s side had free royalties to your music to play in his clubs and this usually came along with him having a say in the dances that go with the song. Every fucking time it was a Valentino session you all knew you were in for a long day of overtime, muscle pain, and playing sexual harassment bingo.

Two knocks on the door put your thoughts to a screeching halt.

“Monarch dear, are you descent~” Ah, it was your favorite voice in all of hell~ you run to the door with a skip in each step like a puppy listening for dangling keys outside the front door.

“Never~”

“Are you dressed?”

“Yes!”

“There’s the answer we’re looking for,” You welcome him inside with a pleasant “come in” and Vox follows as such. You maintain a safe distance and subtly restrain yourself by clasping your hands behind your back but you weren’t going to deny, days like today the tightrope beneath your feet of professionalism and your heartache was especially loose. You’re certain the love you felt for the man who saved your spirit was last year's news to everyone in the building, actually your “inappropriate devotion” has been the source of countless catfights among your bandmates.

“Monarch love! Horrific morning isn’t it~” You could listen to him talk all day, and when he approaches you and clasps a hand over your cheek leaning into the touch feels like second nature.

“Every day in the studio is a horrific morning, but I know that’s not what you came to talk to lil’ ol me about, isn’t it?”

“Why, you hurt me! Can’t I just start my morning visiting a beautiful painted lady?” You blink in a moment of silence until he finishes. True you loved soaking in his flattery, but not in feigned procrastination. “Valentino and I spoke this morning, or rather he threw a tantrum because I didn’t tell him I put Pomp and Circumstance on your schedule today..”

Aaand there it is, of course you get to not only work with STI Patient-0, but he was already off to a shit mood to start the day. If the scales of fortune decide to tip your way at all during today you hope this tips in your favor, given the… technique you developed to avoid interacting with him as much as possible.

When you lift your head to meet your reflection, you have to tilt your head a bit higher than you remembered last, and your arms were now coiled around his waist. Oh, it seems matter won over mind again. The hand that once danced feathers over your cheek now caress massages in your scalp. Scandalous, sure. But there was nothing wrong with comforting a friend after a rough morning, right?

“Come, everyone else is already in the studio. Sorry I couldn’t start your day with anything pleasant, I hate being the reason you have a frown. So,” Your vision cuts into frames of bright white and a following zap, once, then twice again. In what feels like an instant Vox disappears and reappears within the electricity, but the second time he holds a brown fast food bag and a bright green M.

“OH MY GOD I LOVE MAMMONALDS! THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOUUU!!!” Stars of reflected light build in your eyes when you saw the bag. Reading the receipt taped to the front you can already tell the breakfast order is your favorite even down to your specific requests that made the receipt go down past the bag but you knew the employees wouldn’t even dare try and get Vox’s order wrong.

“Take a minute to eat and come to the studio, I didn’t get you a drink because I knew you were going to get coffee so I’ll get you a milkshake after choreography, kay?” You nod your head while already pulling out your side of hashbrowns and chowing down like a hamster nibbling a sunflower seed.

It was a sight so cute Vox wanted nothing but to squeeze you so tight your eyes pop out of your skull.

But there was no time to waste. Vox vanishes with a flicker of the lights and bolts yet again, and you take a couple last chews before you’re sure hes gone.

Standing up you make way to the connected bathroom to your dressing room and open the toilet seat. Immediately you shove two fingers into your throat and probe the back until it triggers your gag reflex enough to regurgitate every last bite you took. The slime of cheap grease and burn of overused salt always made you restrain a gag without fail anytime fast food was given to you, but god Vox just would not stop ordering that shit for you. Perhaps there was a chance you sold your “love” for Mammonalds a little too hard the first handful of times he’d gifted it to you; actually, you probably wouldn’t be in this situation at all if you just refused his offer to hand feed you a fry earlier on in your contract, and by all means you wanted to, but your body’s impulse had won that that day.

Tossing out the remaining food out of the bathroom window to the dumpster in the alley below you and flushing and cleaning any remnants of bile, you give yourself one last tidy up and make way to the next place you’re needed: the dance studio.

By some unholy miracle when you stepped out of the elevator, you weren’t met with condensed red smoke to the ceiling and a moth throwing a drink at your head. Drink or a bullet, whichever he thought would please him more.

“Fucking christ all mighty, the “Princess of the Hour!” finally arrives.” As expected, everyone had already gathered long before you while you were caught up with Velvette and Vox, the first one to greet you being the same moody green bunny from earlier, rolling her eyes and doing little jazz hands mid sentence to hammer in her sarcasm.

“Good morning to you too, Tea!! I’m glad you’re feeling well~” You made a decision to go on the dismissive today, Tea in particular always seemed to be in sour moods when it came to you being as chummy as you were with the Vees for a mere contracted soul. At the end of the day you couldn’t give less a shit about that twats petty jealousy issues if she only had the decency to keep it to damn self instead of making it your problem, and your problem at work nonetheless.

“Oh shut the fuck up Tea we aren’t in the mood for this today,” The lanky azure colored salamander man gently flicked Tea on the back of the head with a roll of the eyes and a vertical reptile blink. Out of all the members of your little group, Sirius was the closest thing you had to a voice of reason and it made him the most tolerable out of the bunch. In the corner too engrossed in their own conversations to even pay mind to any of you were two harpy girls, sisters actually. Black Marlia on the left and White Russian on the right, both of them added a much needed flare to your concerts and were the only two who could go airborne long enough to perform choreography above the stage, you liked to think they were valuable assets even if you could count the amount of times either has spoken to you on one hand.

“I hear we have to deal with Valentino’s bullshit today…” Sirius attempts to continue the conversation as the five of you start properly getting into position for when said moth comes in, it would look as if you’d all been wagging your tails for his arrival this whole time.

“You are the third to remind me of his existence today, if that number goes up I might have to fly away and leave you hanging~”

“Oh and here I thought you’d be ecstatic to be commanded by one of your masters for the better part of today.”

“Not the one who immediately calculated my ass and chest size in his head as an introduction.”

“Was he right though-”

“EVERYONE SHUT THE FUCK UP RIGHT NOW!” And just like that, any hope of this being a well off- or even standard Valentino work day just died on arrival. You all do exactly what he says and don’t utter a peep until he says bark. Throughout the early hours of the rehearsal, it was evident that he wanted to be here the least out of any of you which was something that as much as he made your skin crawl, you had to respect. No one likes work already but you could understand how the brand you had was so softcore in comparison to what he was used to, the whole choreograph just looked like a bunch of pillows flopping around on stage to him.

Your understanding should not be confused with sympathy however, simply put knowing how your bosses think is rule #1 when it comes to maintaining a proper work/life balance, and in this case it would be minimizing the amount of halts and rechoreographing out of nitpicks. So, while your brand was one that strayed away from deviance and sex to keep the illusion of ownership, being a bit more risqué than your typical sets here and there wasn’t a crime and would give Val more to look at even if only teasingly.

“No! No! NO THIS IS ALL FUCKING WRONG!!” Yeah who the fuck were you kidding, if you all weren’t having an orgy this jack off was never going to be pleased.

“Did you all learn how to dance in a fucking church?! Are you all such angel cunt lickers that you can’t handle presenting any TNA is that it?!”

Yeah… This was going to be a long work day…

TAGLIST﹕@hurtworld401 @feral-ratatattat-king

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel smut #vox x reader #vox x you #vox x reader smut #hazbin hotel vees #hazbin hotel velvette #hazbin hotel valentino #valentino #velvette #vox #the vees #mdni #🍓my one and only!#🕊dead dove do not eat!#next next!

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ace-antagonist-writes · 1 year

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Maybe someday soon,

Word count: 3.7k

Summary: After your team’s plans literally go up in smoke, a tense car ride leads into a much tenser situation with a certain natural disaster. (Vash and Reader are both hopeless romantics)

A/N: First actual post on this acc and I’m here to help clear out my Trigun brain rot, might make a part 2 if anyones interested. Also, I wrote this with the OG/ Badlands designs in mind but you could probably imagine other Vash to this as well! (this is also unedited since i hate rereading my own work-)

You’d think it was deadly for a human to run this hot. Maybe it was and maybe you’d drop dead from embarrassment if this would continue, who was to say?

The day had started any other way it had for the last few months. A lone desert horizon staring back at you as your little caravan traveled to a nearby city to take refuge before nightfall hit. Boredom hung over your head like a cloud of dust, so you began to look sound in the small enclosure. The van was high-strung with bated breath, the tension a cough away from popping poor Meryl’s temper. If you hadn’t been so terrified of the feisty woman, you could’ve snorted at the red vein barely visible on her cheek from your backseat angle. Desperate to find something else to focus on, your eyes drifted to Milly in the passenger seat blissfully unaware of the situation. You flashed her a smile when your eyes met in the mirror and she happily returned it before spacing off again on who knows what.

Now here came the hard part.

It was a wonder the silence had managed to dwell so long with the noisy blond and priest sitting beside you. Perhaps the two brain cells the three of you seldom shared–one of which you held on to the longest and the other bounced between the males– sparked together and formed a quiet game of who could outlast Meryl’s rage the longest. Nevertheless, your confidence held strong as you looked to cast a glance at Wolfwood in the opposite window seat. He was turned fully to the window, wispy stripes of dark hair obscuring most of his profile and hand holding up his chin. Thinking you were in the clear of not breaking into laughter looking at him you flicked your gaze onto the window.

Oh no. The two of you had formulated the same idea and were now staring at one another’s blank-faced reflection in the window. The dark tan of his skin pinched together and furrowed at the crease of his nose, clearly taken aback by the reflection as he struggled to re-straighten his face. You quickly turned your head as conspicuously as you could and placed your forehead on the warmed glass. A hearty smile had slipped its way across your face, what a goofball. It was embarrassing how attached you had gotten to everyone in such an objectively short time. Even with the scoldings included, you never once lost any amount of love for any of your friends. There was nothing you would trade for moments like this, despite having grated on Meryl’s nerves the entire morning before now. But to be fair, it was a bit of her fault as well for carrying a humanoid typhoon across No Man’s Land for this long. Insurance company be damned if you were in her place, the amount of times you’ve almost gotten stitched up would’ve put you into early retirement long ago.

….Speaking of the Humanoid typhoon,

Snapping out of your pondering state, you came to realize the silence had strangely returned. You glanced to your left, trying to spare a peek at your agitated driver to see if she was still ill-tempered. You got you answer with haste as her eyes raced to meet your curious ones peering at her through the side mirrors of the vehicle. It was like the devil himself snagged your heart out of your chest as your eyes spasmed trying to grasp at anything else within your range of view. How was someone barely up to your shoulder so scary?? The peeling leather of her seat is what dragged you back away from her wrathful glare, and even then you could’ve sworn the heat from it dug a hole through the sweat of your brow. Maybe it would be best if you didn’t follow your mind’s wonderings and left Vash in the back of your head. Yet as the harsh red of his mangy jacket appeared for a split second in your peripherals, you knew you were a goner. To make things worse, a subtle scraping made itself known alongside the white noise of the van. It was dull and flaky, not unlike the scratching of… a paint brush? Your noise scrunched up in thought as you looked for the source. Milly met you halfway when turning to her, casting a copy of your pensiveness right back as she peek over her shoulder. A honeyed eyebrow rose in a silent question before her gaze shifted up.

A loud clap sent a jolt through the backseat riders up and into a state of alert as Milly slapped a single hand over her mouth. Your own eyebrows kissed the beginnings of your hairline as you reared back in your seat a bit, slowly ascending your head to what she was turning an alarming shade of red at. On the way, you made eye contact again with the equally wired priest across from you. Only briefly sparring a single glance, you both looked up.

You don’t know whether it was due to the unbearable lack of entertainment or if it was just that funny, but only the lord knows how hard of a cacophonous laugh erupted from you either way. Poor, poor tall and lanky Vash sat stiff as a board between Wolfwood and you, caked in soot from the disaster the group had just come from. Wherever the dark graininess hadn’t settled, a brilliant red matching his iconic coat painted his sun-kissed skin. And his hair, the bristled blond strands smushed and sprang outwards, creating the illusion of an angry red pineapple as he slightly swished back and forth with the swaying of the van. Vash looked to be struggling more than you and the priest had–seeing as he had to stare at his reflection through the rearview mirror the entire time since you all had. However, all hell had broke loose upon your cracking up as Vash and Wolfwood burst into cackles and hollering. Tears poured out of all your eyes, soaking dried and dusty faces previously chapped from the heat. And if you had any sense left, you would’ve looked to see the expression on Meryl’s face beside the giggling Milly. Unfortunately, you didn’t get the chance and had to live on without knowing the exasperated smile inching across her face.

——————————————————-

"Why am I the only one in trouble?!" You found yourself wailing into the dark night as you trudged to the bar. "They laughed too Meryl!"

The woman's stride never paused as she walked in front of you with her back straight. Meryl scoffed back at you and dished out a single glance, "But who laughed first?"

"But-"

"Besides! We need someone sober enough to find the motel, and that will surely not be me after the little stunt you guys pulled in the last town!” She huffed a piece of her dark fringe away from her eyes and took a sharp turn, “I pray they weren’t set up with the company’s insurance plan, if so, this might be the last drinking session we can afford.”

You’d have to admit even though she was joking, you felt a little bad for Meryl. Maybe thats why for the rest of the way to the bar, you quietly sulked in front of the batch of traitors behind you. The two bubbly blondes and sleek priest were quiet as mice up until you all entered the bar– trying to camouflage into the darkness to avoid getting a ban on their drinking as well. Yet as soon as you all set foot in the bar, all four of your comrades hauled themselves to the bar and sparked the whole atmosphere of the room.

It was endearing in a way, even though you were a bit bitter you couldn’t be drunkenly stumbling over your words as you chatted the night away. But also if you had, you wouldn’t have been able to be fully enamored by a blond “maniac” who had managed to convince an equally drunk patron to dance with him on a table. You brought the back of your hand to your mouth and stifled the laugh building up in fear of being dragged up while sober enough to remember it happening.

However, all was in vain as you met a pair of teal downturned eyes looking straight at you. Vash was clearly plastered, but somehow managed to start working his way to you without stumbling out of his boots. His laughter made your brain work overtime to keep up with your heart running like a bat out of hell. You were certain that someone could hear the noise as you frantically darted your eyes around to divert your attention away from Vash. The drunken man was not even a foot away from you when he tripped on his way to you. And you could swear for a split second, a brown pair of dress shoes was the object in question. The blonde, dazed and confused, limply fell forward and clung to you tightly. You could’ve died at that single moment.

He was warm, and not in the way the sands were. It was such a comforting warmth that your mind blanked when he had wrapped his arms around you. The noise from the bar faded into a dull hum as Vash fully engulfed your senses. His right arm slightly twitches around you, as if trying to pull you impossibly closer. A rhythmic thumping pulsed inside your chest, and you prayed that he wouldn’t be able to feel it through layers of clothes and burning skin. Your breath hitched as he grazed the side of your neck, slowly moving up and stopping just below your ear. You were sick with anticipation and he slowly opened his eyes to look at you before speaking,

“I really have to use the bathroom.”

Dear lord.

So here you were, holding up a blazing hot Vash who was thoughly struggling to find the ground beneath him. You tried not to look at him too long–you fear if you did you’d let him fall in the chilled sand after the stunt he’d pulled earlier. Your face was still scorched with the heat of embarrassment that should’ve been drunkenness. Nevertheless, you trudged forward and led the train of dazed insurance company workers, a buzzed priest, and a totaled outlaw. It seemed everyone lucked out since the walk wasn’t long at all, the rickety building coming up just short of 3 minutes away.

You reered your head around to shout the news, earning disgruntled groans and a half-hearted cheer from Milly. Old and tired wooden boards wailed underneath yours and Vash’s feet as you both stepped up at the same time. He losely threw his right arm out to reach the door handle, and even though he missed it by a wide mark, you appreciated the effort. Soft lights brighten and illuminate the small motel lobby as you all piled in. The front desk attendee was a pleasantly aged woman, gray wisps spiraling from under her hat and kissing the faint wrinkles of her forehead. You gave an exasperated smile as you lugged Vash forward, “Reservation for Stryfe?”

“Stryfe you say? Okay my dear, let me just look and see-” She leaned forward a bit towards the registry booklet, “Ah! There it is, let me get your keys sweetheart.”

You nodded as you felt a slight tug on your sleeve, glancing upwards you come face to face with a teary-eyed pout. A single brow of yours hitches up, signaling him to continue with whatever he was trying to get at.

“...I need to use the bathroom again.”

“You just went!”

“Please!!” The lanky man twisted you around the best he could, “You don’t want my bladder to explode do you??”

You bit your tongue to not mutter a yes and send the blonde into a crying fit, instead slamming your hand over the first key you saw presented. With a labored huff you turned to Milly, currently the least drunk of the trio bracing themselves against the wall, “Mills, you think you can manage getting you three to your rooms while I’m gone?”

To which she reply with a lazy salute and a “You can count on me!” before grabbing two other keys and darting off with Meryl and Wolfwood draped on her shoulders. What a sweet girl.

And now to deal with your not-so-sweet outlaw that you hurriedly pull to the room where he would be staying. You’d nearly dropped and lost the key in hand when he dramatically clutched his stomach and shouted in the long hallway. Scared out of your skin, you turn to him in fear he actually wasn’t playing with you earlier about the bladder situation; but were met with a sly smile at the shocked expression displayed on your face. You huffed and tugged at him again, trying not to indulge in his antics. Undeterred, he let out another shrill yell as you dragged him closer to his room,

“HELP, HELP! It’s Vash the Sta-mmph!”

You slap a swift hand over his mouth and shove him into the newly opened door, locking it behind you. Red-faced, you shoot a dead glare at the spindly man currently splayed out in front of you. Vash’s lips twist into a playful wobbly smile as he stares up at you, only to shapely point downwards when you point to the bathroom door. His eyebrows crease his sunburnt skin in a sad attempt to imitate a kicked puppy–yet he relents and gives up when a vein makes itself present on your temple. Well after he’s settled into the bathroom, you lean against the wall to catch your breath for a brief second. How in the world was he this hopeless? You’d have to give it to him despite how agitated you were at his earlier stunt, his hopelessness was endearing in a way. A tired hand swiped the sweat from your brow as you flush faintly, god he would be the death of you. A muffled thunk from the other side of the bathroom door rips you from pondering about the culprit at hand. Hopefully Vash would be competent enough to figure out how to survive on his own until daybreak. You push off the wall and leave the room, starting off back down the hall to claim your room key so you can finally retire to bed.

The walk was ten times short without dragging drunken extra luggage on your shoulder throughout the halls. You stop at the front desk, which was now missing the woman attending it just a few minutes ago. It was eerily silent in the lobby, with no one being up and lounging about the area. At a sudden creak, your head swivels to a door not far away from the desk. Seemingly oblivious to your figure standing awkwardly behind the table, the young man glides to a drawer obscured front desk. He pulls out a booklet resembling the registration sheet the kind woman had checked form. The new attendee acknowledges your existence with a sparring glance,

“Name?”

The suddeness of his statement was enough to spike your nerves, “Ah! Oh, registration for Stryfe please! I’m here to pick up the fourth key?”

His eyes narrowed for a split second, “Four? There’s only three in the registry for Stryfe.”

“What?? Surely there must’ve been a mistake, there’s five of us with two sharing a room!” You mentally made a note to hide Meryl’s handover medicine if what the attendee said was true, that you would have to bunk with a clingy blond for the night. The man behind the counter just sighed tiredly at you,

“I’m sorry, but we don’t have any more openings left for the night. You’d have to sleep in one of the other reserved rooms.”

Your ears burned with embarrassment, “Can you at least tell me the other two room numbers?” Maybe you could bribe Wolfwood with the promise of another pack of cigarettes in exchange for a room to yourself.

Unfortunately, the attendee had made it his momentary pleasure to crush your pipe-dreaming. He slowly blinked at you, “Are you Meryl Stryfe?”

“...No?”

“Then I am sorry, we cannot disclose room patrons without consent of the booker themselves. Have a nice night.”

“You’ve gotta be joking me.”

“Not paid enough to do so, unfortunately.” He looked a good decade older as he muttered the statement to you through gritted teeth, “Have a nice night.”

And with that, your one-sided argument came to a close as you had no choice but to secede. In all honesty, you could pass out in the hallway and call it a day with all the walking going on. You wish you knew why this felt so nerve racking, he was your friend and the same went for you—or at least you hoped. Yet, the blonde had such a baffling way of turning your whole world upside down without even trying. It intimidated you just as much as it made your heart flutter. He was so breathtaking, enough to piss you off in a jealous haze if you weren’t his friend. You were set in stone on this revelation, and nothing would be able to shake that away from your perception of Vash. The door knob contrasts your warm palms as you open the frigid door.

Upon opening it, the world seems to instantaneously freeze when you come face to face with a half-dressed outlaw. You didn’t even have time to truly process his reaction, and dignity be damned at this point. Your eyes nailed themselves to Vash’s torso like they were meant to be there; and if you were actually cognitive, you would’ve chastised yourself for staring so shamelessly. But in all honesty, could you be blamed for looking?

Yes, you were hurt by the mangled skin of his body with pink skin coating the sunny canvas of his chest. And yes, you knew somewhere in the back of your mind you would shed tears for every one of them you hadn’t saw happen admits your journey together. But dear lord above, was he ethereal. The lankiness you normally associated with him was heavily disproven from what you could clearly see now. He was sturdily built—even with his arms frozen in a pose reaching for his backpack— and astonishingly lean. There were so many words you wished to say, to voice your unconscious fawning over him. You opened your mouth slowly and dazed,

“Vash, yo-”

“DON’T LOOK DON’T LOOK!” He shrieked out, arms flying up to cover anything they could.

Your hands sounded like gunshots as they collided against your eyes. Stupid, stupid! Everything that had echoed dully in your brain crashed together in a cacophonous tragedy as you came to your senses. And by the sounds of it, Vash found himself in the same predicament. Audible thrashes and shrill “eeks!” were the only way you could tell he still remained in the room. He quieted down a bit as he rummaged through his bag—for a shirt you predicted. There was no doubt in your mind he was sober from your shared mental breakdown, albeit one was far more vocal than the other. You felt ashamed in your actions, and were no better than a peeping Tom!

You scrambled to make an apology, something to atone for the embarrassing act you just committed against him. But before you could, he beat you to it.

“…I’m sorry you had to see that, I really am, it’s not a pretty sight and I’m sorry you-”

“That wasn’t what I was thinking at all,” You exhaled. “I was thinking about how pretty you were… in the…moonlight?”

It came out as a doubting question but the words you spoke couldn’t be any truer. Vash was extremely beautiful, far more than your words could ever tell.

…Meanwhile, he looked at you like you had just shot him in the foot at point blank range. His cheeks were a hazy flush and his eyes darted around your face crazily, looking at every single feature sitting upon it. You slightly shrunk under his intense surveying, a bit confused on what he was doing.

“Sooo, are you gonna say som-”

“YOU LOOK PRETTY TOO!” He jumped to cut you off and leaned forward a bit to accentuate his profession. The blush sitting on his cheeks flowed bashfully to his neck and chest—at least what wasn’t covered by his loose shirt— as he shifted nervously. “In the moonlight as well, I mean.” A cheeky smirk appeared after he spoke, as if he hadn’t fumbled as hard as you did.

What a tease.

“Is that why you were looking at me so hard? You liked what you saw as much as I did, hm?” You leaned forward a bit, mirroring his anxious actions.

“What’s not to like?” Vash’s smirk turned into a charming smile, “Women all across town would want a chance to get with the Humanoid Typhoon, you know!”

“Oh I know alright.” You roll your eyes in exasperation, “So what about me, I got a chance with Vash the Stampede?”

His face blew up in a furious blush again at your teasing tone, you got him. A snickered laugh bubbled from your chest as he tried to come up with something else so that he could win.

You can believe you were nervous to bunk with him for the night, did you seriously forget who he is? The laughter smothered all the attempts he made to make a jab at you, but you couldn’t focus on them anyway. Everything in your mind at the moment was swarming with him instead. Of his genuine laugh, of his jokes, of his lanky arms throwing themselves around you to give you a hug. Memories, thoughts, and words unspoken you always wanted to say just made you giggle all the more at him for just being. With all your heart, you wished he would have the same thoughts as you at least once.

And yet, if you weren’t so oblivious maybe you would’ve seen it.

Another lovestruck fool looking longingly at the one they fell head over heels for.

#vash x reader #trigun x reader #vash the stampede x reader #trigun 1998 #trigun stampede #vash x you #vash the stampede #trigun

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mishy-mashy · 11 days

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Shinomori is cute. Here's a post.

He is so baby-faced. He hasn't changed at all since he was 22, to when he died of "old age" at 40

(Old age? With a face like that? 40 years old?? Gimme that kind of youth and hotness Shinomori-)

He has tiny eyebrows. Like a puppy's (rottweiler's, for example). So cute and tiny and fuffy

He naturally frowns. Look at him and his mouth and his lil nose

He has a thing about keeping his arms near his chest. He sits with his arms crossed, introduces himself with his hands over his torso, and even walks with his arms crossed toward Midoriya

He has such clear skin for someone who lived the rest of his life in a forest??? Why do Hikage and Yoichi have such nice skin despite living in terrible environments? (forest and vault + abandoned streets respectively)

Is easily scared

They knew their Quirks could be used, but Shinomori got scared of it when it happened. Even though he gave Midoriya his support and access to his Quirk beforehand. Depending on the translation; "it startled me", "you scared me", "it surprised me"

I'm not going to hold running from AFO against him because he knew he was running for his life. Who wouldn't run for their life when it's in danger? Shinomori was being chased by the strongest person in the country (and likely the world)

His sense of self-preservation is probably heightened by the nature of his Quirk to keep him out of danger too. Which makes him all the more sensitive and jumpy to danger and anything that startles him, especially when he has no warning

He's actually extremely tall, but is so socially inept and jumpy it's adorable. He's taller than Bruce.

Bruce is as tall as a vault door that the 2m AFO used.

(Meanwhile Kudo is down there-)

He has such a bad sense of humor that it's cute (his puns off Danger Sense)

It's also adorable how Shinomori just doesn't understand social conventions sometimes. He lived in a forest, so it made sense, but also— Midoriya shows up in the void to the vestige platform for the first time. He has no mouth, no clothes—and Shinomori's first idea is to stand in front of him menacingly and go: "I shall explain. I am Shinomori Hikage." SIRRRR

This.

His Ability is basically like glorified anxiety. What if something is coming to hurt him? If something can hurt him? What if that tree falls while he's under it? And the ideas come so hard they hurt (although yes, it does detect ill intent and that's what sets it off)

He talks weirdly. Formal? Old-fashioned? Listening to him speak Japanese compared to others, it just sounds a bit different. (Translated subs don't show it very well, it's the voice itself methinks)

"This too, is destiny." *about Midoriya having OFA*

Kinda wise or sage-y. He did spend his life in solitude in the forests so he definitely spent a lot of time with his own thoughts. Maybe he found the meaning of life in a centipede or something one day

For someone so cute, he is also such. A fine. Specimen???

Look at those back muscles, dang.

LOOK AT HIS CALVES AND ARMS DANG.

#i dont think shinomori was part of the resistance considering the resistance fought the society AFO was making #and shinomori wanted to avoid society and thus hid away #but i do think bruce knew shinomori because he gave him ofa before he went to fight AFO and die #and afo doesnt seem to know hikage. if he did he wouldve found and killed him. but hikage is never in afos memories #yknow what shinomori needs some appreciation too #vestiges need more attention #also i always put shinomori dealing with bruces remnants in my fics so he needs some appreciation for that #like the kids dumped on him #shinomori received OFA at 22 years old. he was around bruces age methinks #hes not some kid the resistance took in. the resistance didnt take in kids anyway #or at least we dont see them #well fic stuff banjo has the time of his life with en wrangling kid hermits that dont know what electricity is #mha #bnha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #spoilers #hikage shinomori #ofa #one for all #ANYWAY hikage is ADORABLE and needs attention #just LOOK AT HIM #id have put this post out sooner but getting the pictures is always hard cuz popups or videos not working #i like shinomoris english voice actor. i dont stick around to hear anyone elses because i died when midoriya turned into a kid in the dub #i could probably make a list like this and bruces for the rest of the vestiges #yoichis small waist lovely skin and that he probably knows how to wrap kudo and bruce around his finger?#his “my heroes” and smiling as he goes “now now you two..”? kudos low voice and nice arms and SHORTNESS?#en going “senpai” and sitting on his chair like that? looking like he exudes gremlin energy? did he get carried around by banjo and nana?#it looks like he wouldve CMONN #i didnt include it in here cuz image limit but shinomori has big hands and feet (tag limit)

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that-bad-b1tch · 21 days

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A knights honor

Yandere!totk x knight reader

Description: As a royal knight it is your sworn duty to protect those around you and the royal family until the day you die. So why are you suddenly in the past during the imprisoning war with people wanting you as their protector even though you sworn the protect the one who carries the goddesses power.

Warnings: Cursing, gore, possessiveness, A little smut not full blown smut but like making out, and death. Also reader is gender netrual! But it will talk about masculinity.

Adults do not interact meaning do not follow or repost. (Commenting and liking this post is fine)

A/n: i made this because I was annoyed with little totk fanfiction there was and how their were none actually with reader being taller than Ganon or as a knight from the future like zelda 😮‍💨

Words: I dunno man I don't take track of this type of thing 🗿

Chapter 1- The awaking

You don't like this at all. Traveling down the dark and narrow path of the cave gives you chills. Your hand clutching the very sword that managed to survive during the age of calamity and when you fell alseep for 100 years along with the hero link.

Though it feels awkward because 1 you are walking down a path that feels weird. It felt like it was slowly dragging you down without knowing. Zelda the princess who survive Ganon was egar to do this after finding out that the muck or something you don't really recall what was making the villagers sick. So as a friend and knight you went along with Link who as ever was quiet about this but you could tell he was weary of this also.

Your eyes were focused forward ignoring zeldas excitement as she held the sheka slaight. Suddenly Links master sword bursted into light. You tensed and swallowed meaning that links sword is detecting danger. Zelda looked worried and gripped on your forearm.

Though you didn't notice since you were to busy looking ahead and trying to find the danger Zelda squeezed on your arm admiring how much muscle you have for being a women. You were actually tall taller than a average hylian and taller then a gerudo women. So you were possibly the tallest women Zelda has ever met and the strongest to almost matching links strength.

Both Zelda and you flinched once hearing something scream like it was dying and noticing link was gone. Swallowing your salava again you jogged down with Zelda who followed. Zelda noticed link and went ahead of you to see and ask if link was okay which he was and it was just a simple bat according to him.

Zelda nodded her head and turned it only to awe at what's ahead of her. Her eyes sparkled as she put the sheka to camera and rambled about something. Your eyes moved also and looked at the designed in awe also admiring the detail and time that person who made it took. Although you were interesting in everything you still had that gulch wrenching feeling like something bad was going to happen. Like.....something is supposed to happen.

Yet agian you shook it off thinking it was just you bring paranoid and ventured forward with link and zelda in the front rambling about something but you didn't really care since you were busy trying to ignore the feeling that came back once again. Once hearing zelda gasp softly you looked forward only to make your heart drop when seeing a pit. A very VERY deep pit with a green glowing light that swirled around gently but it was at one single spot whole the red looking smoke danced around everywhere.

"Zelda I do not think it's a good idea to go down there" You said finally speaking during this whole time down here. Zelda looked at you with a caring but determined look. "We must y/n we need to find out what is causing the people to become ill." Zelda said with a determined tone. Link sighed and shook his head knowing that y/n was right since he too had a feeling something bad was going to happen.

Zelda turned and continued walking down the path along with link. You grumbled about how this was a bad idea but followed since you didnt want to be left behind at a place like this. The steps of you, link, and zelda were echoing around the hallow place. Your hands sweated slightly as you finally made it down the final step and was walking down the crumble path.

"What is that?" Zelda suddenly asked. She stopped and slightly moved back once seeing the thing. Your eyes and even links eyes widened seeing a mummy of a man. His hair a deep blood red. His skin for some reason a deep brown color not normal for a decaying mummy. Yet your eyes were focused on the hand thar slowly fell to the side making a gem of some sorts fall off the hand and roll to zelda. Zelda knelt to the ground and hesitantly took the gem off the ground her eyes were focused on the gem them gasped softly when seeing the gem was glowing a golden color.. Your eyes once again snapped towards the mummy when hearing the sickening sound of joints and bones cracking. Zelda flinched and yelped softly once hearing the sound also and stood up, clutching the stone tightly.

The mummy rose up slowly making you flinch at the cracking sound. The mummy soon fell limp and making you hold your breath.

There was dead silence before the mummy snapped its head towards the three of you. Red stuff then shooted out of the mummy like it wad a command and shot towards the three of you more specifically zelda.

Zelda screamed but link managed to block the red things attack while you used your shield to block the up coming attacked that were coming towards you. Grunting you pushed away the red stuff and moved towards zelda protecting her with your sword and shield. Your eyes widened seeing the red stuff destroy links hand. It was coming to fast and you didn't know bit the red stuff then attacked you but not your body but almost half of your face making you scream and clutch the bleeding side.

"Y/n!" Zelda yelled with shock and worried tone. Your eye looked over and gasped seeing that the master sword shattered into pieces and flew everywhere. Including to the mummy.

"Link!" Zelda then called out links name once seeing the damage the red stuff had did to link. Your eye widened was a peice of the master sword grazed your cheek like the top of the shattered sword did to the mummy.

"Was that the blade that seals the darkness? A blade that shatters to easily against my power cannot save you from me." The mummy finally spoke as it slowly rose up looking at the three. Your eye spewed out blood making your hand painted with blood. You took shaky breathed whole looking at the mummy that was now finally at its height and looking at zelda.

"Zelda" It rasped ignoring the sheer fear that held in zeldas eyes. The mummy then turned to link his tone lasing with hatred. "You, that carries that fragile sword...are link" It hissed out. Links face hardened as he breathed heavily and clutching his whole wounded arm with the handle that was once the master sword.

Its rotten and olden face then and finally noticed you. "You........" It rasped his tone calming for odd reason but you didn't care. Clutching the sword you finally put your hand down revealing the eye socket that held nothing anymore. The eyeball shrunken and gone so now that right eye socket was hallow but still spewing out blood as the red stuff slowly crept around your eye.

"Raru placed his faith in you" It hissed out like that name made its blood boil with anger like that name was a name of an enemy. "And that was all ypu can do?" It responded his voice lacing with dissapointment like it was expecting something.

"How do you......know our names" Zelda managed to say her grip on the lighten touch was tight since she felt shame because she couldn't do anything to help y/n and link.

Yet the mummy ignored Zeldas question and shot out the same red stuff and moved it so now it was blasting upwards. The place crumbled as rocks were falling once the triangle peice was moving upwards. "Zelda, link!" You yelled moved zelda away as you used your upper body to push rocks away from the three ignoring the burning and painful feeling that was happening on your right eye.

The ground shook violently. You used tour sword for support while link knelt down finally feeling the intense pain. "Link, y/n!" Zelda called out but screamed when the rock under her fell making her fall. Your eye widened as you immediately jump and holding Zelda closed as you fell. Link soon then jumped and tried catching the bothof you but couldn't. You shut your eyes tightly as you felt wired rush through you and zelda expecting a impact but didn't. There was then a bright light coating you and zelda and made both of you suddenly dissappear.

Before you fell into unconsciousness you saw a small part of a little forest but fell into a darkness. Not knowing that a certain two people noticed both you and zelda unconscious.

#yandere female #Yandere male #Totk #gender neutral reader #Totk x reader #Yandere totk

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etoileholland · 1 year

Text

the happiest place on earth

Synopsis: In a turn of events, Tom gets to be the man in the Spider-Man suit at Disneyland. But what happens when he meets you and blows his cover?

Pairing: Tom Holland x reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: None

A/N: salut! I am back for a second! I wrote this months ago but I was too busy to post it :( anyways I hope you enjoy!

“Okay Tom, remember. You gotta speak in your Peter voice for the entirety of the meet and greet, and you shouldn’t try to do or say anything that would give you away.” The coordinator of the Avengers campus stated to Tom.

He had no idea that he would be putting on the suit today, and having photos taken of him in the suit, yet here he was.

He had come to Disneyland with his assistant and manager to check out the new Avengers campus since he had the day off. He didn’t attend the opening ceremony because he was in London working on a project, so he decided to check it out when he had a free chance in Los Angeles. He thought he was surprising the theme park by him coming by, but instead he got a surprise of his own.

“Our actor for Spider-Man came down ill, and we can’t get anyone into the suit quick enough for Spidey to make an appearance today.”

The coordinators and photographers all looked over at Tom while he stood there nervously. He knows the importance of being there for your job, and he didn’t want to leave Disney hanging. So he knew what the solution had to be.

“Put me in the suit. I can take photos with guests, and I have the accent down perfectly.”

“No!” The coordinator exclaimed. “We can’t put you in the suit whatsoever. What happens if someone finds out?”

“No one will.” Tom assured him. “It’ll only be for an hour or so, and it’ll work out perfectly. I promise.”

Tom’s manager looked worryingly over at him, but Tom only nodded his head. “It’s only gonna be for an hour, I can handle it.”

Since the Spider-Man character at Disneyland was based off of Tom, the proportions of the suit were almost perfect. It was the correct height, and although it was a tad bit tight, it was manageable.

“Remember what I told you—don’t make any wrong choices.”

“I won’t, I’ve got this.” The photographers led Tom to the location that they were taking photos with Spider-Man at, which was near the front of Avengers Headquarters..

A queue had already formed when Tom walked over to the location, and taking a deep breath in, Tom walked out and mentally prepared himself for this.

A young kid with his twin sister and mom were the first in line, and Tom noticed that the little boy was wearing a Spider-Man suit of his own.

“Would you look at that.” Tom giddily said to the boy, “I can’t believe I’m looking at the real Spider-Man! Can I have your autograph?” Tom asked the kid, and knelt down to be at eye level. The boy’s face lit up, and he was grinning from ear to ear.

“I want your autograph too please.” Tom got two pieces of paper from the photographers and proceeded to sign one of the papers for the kid, and the boy (whom he found out was named Calum) wrote his name on the other and handed it to Tom.

After some photos, Tom wished the kids farewell and worked his way through the queue.

Tom was finding it fun to do this, and he enjoyed keeping the secret that it wasn’t just any actor pretending to be Spider-Man—it was the real deal.

The line had started to slow down after thirty minutes, and he counted about 25 people left. He was so busy counting the crowd that he didn’t notice you walking towards him.

The photographers led you to Tom, and when he noticed someone walking towards him, he gasped.

“She’s pretty, yeah?” One of the photographers whispered to Tom. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you, and he nearly melted into a puddle when you looked at him. His breathing subconsciously became faster, and before he knew it he was about to start panicking.

For once in your life, be cool. He thought to himself. His heart was beating out of his chest, and he was sure he would have a panic attack. Yet all of his nerves dissipated when he saw your smile, and as a wave of calm washed over him, he lightly cleared his throat and prepared to speak in his American accent.

“Well hello there darling, how are you on this fine day?” He asked, and just as he finished his sentence, he began to mentally curse at himself. Who says that? He thought to himself, so much for being natural and suave

“I’m doing fantastic on this fine day, my good sir.” You replied with a beaming smile, and to top off the comment, you playfully bowed and did a curtsy. This earned a laugh from both you and Tom, and when he jokingly bowed back, you two were full on giggling now.

When he saw that the photographer was motioning to him that it was time for a photo op, Tom reached out his hand for you to grab. When you did so, he gently brought your hand to his face and gave it a kiss. He heard a click of the camera, and continued to play up his actions.

“You know how to make a girl melt, don’t you Peter?” You asked.

The mention of Peter brought him back to reality, and it made him realize that this was all pretend. He wasn’t Tom flirting with you, instead it was Peter, and Spider-Man. None of this was real, no matter how badly he wished it was.

“Yeah, I guess so.” He finally answered back, his tone turning downwards at the end of the sentence. Before he could say much else, the staff members that were watching gave him a look and pointed down at the watches, signaling that time was almost up.

“Would you like to pose for a picture with me?” He asked, and you nodded happily.

“I know you probably get this a lot, but can we do the famous Spider-Man squat pose?” You asked excitedly, “it just looks so cool when you do it.”

This comment made Tom smile, and he popped a squat to get into the position.

As he bent down, you sneaked a look of his behind, and let out a small gasp. Tom didn’t see you staring, but the photographers sure did, and they all stifled a laugh

“What’s so funny?” He asked, but when he looked at you your eyes were wide, and your expression embarrassed. “Did my suit rip or something?”

“I’m surprised it didn’t, since you’ve got a fat ass.” You blurted out without thinking. When you realised what you said, you covered your mouth and closed your eyes. “Oh no, I said that out loud, huh?”

“Oh you sure did honey.” Tom replied, “but I must admit I’m quite flattered by that.”

Since your comment caught him off guard, he replied in his regular British accent, and not as Peter Parker.

“Shit.” He uttered under his breath, and looked over at you who was staring at him with the widest eyes he’s ever seen.

You opened your mouth and said, “You’re-”

“Done.” The cast member frantically answered, and grabbed Tom’s arm. “I’m so sorry but Spider-Man has to leave…and um, save the world!” The cast member led Tom away from you, and the photographers quickly followed him.

With a quick turn of the head, Tom turned around to look at you one last time and waved at you, and yelled “sorry!”

You stood firmly in your tracks, and watched as they frantically whisked Tom away. As he was being led away from you, you saw him turn his head around repeatedly to see if you were still behind him, but less than a minute later, he lost you in the crowd, never to see you again.

Tom was led frantically by the cast member who was watching over Tom, and Tom knew that he was gonna be in trouble. It was an honest mishap, yet he knew his cast members and his assistant would not be happy with him,

“Are you crazy?!” The cast member retorted. “Now that girl knows it was you in the suit, and once she blabs about it, we’re going to have a fiasco on our hands.”

Tom watched as the member was becoming visibly angry, but in his defense, he didn’t think he would break character. He was fine all day, no problem at all. It wasn’t until you flustered him so much that he slipped a little bit, big deal.

“I don’t think she’ll-”

“How do you know, hm? She could go on social media and say something, or, or…” the cast member stammered, “well I don’t know what she’ll do with that information, but it could go badly for us.”

“Or maybe if she does say anything, no one will believe her.” Tom’s assistant spoke up. “She has no proof, and even if she did, it could be anyone in the costume.”

“True.” The cast member added. “It just could’ve gone terribly.”

Tom looked at his assistant and the cast member, and sighed. “She was really nice, so I doubt she’ll say anything. And even if she does, there’s no proof, which means that no one is in trouble.” He adjusted himself in his chair, and crossed his arms.

“Right,” his assistant responded, then picked up her belongings. “Are you ready to go Tom?” She looked over at him, and frowned when she saw the frown that was on his face. To be honest, all Tom wanted to do was rush into the park and find you, even if just for a second. You left such a wonderful impression on him, and he would do anything to see you one more time.

This thought gave him an idea--maybe not the best one, but an idea nevertheless.

Tom, not wanting to show his hand, feigned indifference. “Um, yeah. Let me just get out of the suit, grab my things and use the restroom.” When he got up from his chair and walked over to his bag, he noticed that the back door of the dressing room was barely propped open. The main door where they entered the dressing room was on the other side of the room, which gave Tom another idea. He walked back over to the chair where he was sitting, and placed his bag on the nearby table

His manager nodded, and Tom pulled out his clothes from earlier and set them down on the table.

“Would it be possible to get a bit of privacy?” He asked as nonchalantly as he could.

“Yeah, of course.” His manager replied, “we’ll be waiting for you outside the door.” She pointed towards the door they came in, and Tom nodded his head in agreement.

“Sounds great, see you in a bit.” He began to unzip himself from the suit and watched as the two left the room. Quickly he threw off the suit, and stuffed his clothes that he came in back in his bag. He rummaged through the bag, and let out a small squeak as he saw another shirt and pair of pants.

“Now they won’t be able to spot me in a crowd.” He said to himself, and quickly began to change into his new outfit. He got dressed in record time, and ran into the bathroom to fix his appearance.

Knowing that they were still expecting him to use the restroom, he flushed the toilet without using it, washed his hands and ran back towards the door where his manager was waiting for him.

“I’m almost done, just give me like 3 more minutes.” He exclaimed through the door.

“It’s okay, take your time.” His manager answered back.

“Thanks!” He replied, and quietly made his way to the other side of the dressing room, where the other door was. If he was correct, this door would lead him to the other end of the hallway, where he’d be able to slink into the park, no problem.

He quickly and carefully opened the door, and peeked his head out of the entryway. There was no one around, and so Tom sped walked out of the door and towards the main exit. As the tunnels made sharp turns, he made sure to look before he rounded the corner to make sure the coast was clear.

The doorway was in his sight, and was less than a minute away, as long as he kept up his brisk walk.

“Please let me be able to get out, please let me be able to get out.” He pleaded to himself as he swiftly approached the door. Extending his arm outwards towards the door handle, he pushed with force and he was met with the bright sun in his eyes. It took a second for his eyes to adjust to the brightness, but it didn’t take long for him to realize where he was at—in Hollywood Land, which is right next to the Avengers campus.

“Oh thank god.” He sighed in relief, “but I still have to be careful. I have to make sure no one recognizes me at all, whatsoever.” Placing his sunglasses on and putting on a white golfing cap, he set out on his most important mission today—finding you in an endless sea of people.

—- Amusement parks are great places to get lost in, due to the sheer amount of people around. It surprisingly allowed for him to have some anonymity, and because he was wandering around the park by himself, he got to cut the lines on many of the popular rides. Seeing children with smiles on their faces, couples walking around with intertwined hands, and happy families brought a lot of joy to Tom.

People weren’t lying, he thought to himself, this truly is the happiest place on earth.

Tom, of course, realized that people were still looking for him, and he just kept ignoring all of their pleading calls and texts. For once, he just wanted to feel like a real person, and not be micromanaged. And even though he was still having fun, he couldn’t stop searching the crowd for you. At first, it was exciting, but now, it feels borderline creepy.

After an hour, the insistent calls and texts ended, with the last text saying we won’t look for you, but when you’re done wandering around the park, let me know.

It’s been hours of him wandering through endless crowds of people, yet there was no sight of you anywhere. The previously warm California day had cooled down into a crisp winter night, and the cold was making the search for you less fun. Now all Tom felt was cold, tired, and hopeless.

This is just getting creepy now man, why have I spent over three hours looking for this girl? He pondered to himself. Now I’ve turned into an obsessed fan, yikes.

I have to give up. I have no other choice.

As he sat underneath the shade of the tree in New Orleans Square, he took a deep breath in, and mentally told himself to remember this feeling of happiness and solace. He knew that he would have to call his assistant back to tell her where he is, but he didn’t want this feeling of content to end so soon. As the cool winter breeze enveloped him, he smelled the delicious churro stand that was near the main walkway.

Dang that smells good, I’ve gotta get one. Or maybe two, or three…

Tom got up from his seat and walked over to the stand. The line was sparse, so it didn’t take long for him to move to the front of the line. He stood in the line and ordered two, because he couldn’t decide on an original or a s’mores churro.

“That’ll be $7.50.” The vendor said. Tom fumbled for his wallet, yet while doing so, he dropped it on the ground beside him.

“Well, that’s embarrassing.” He muttered under his breath. But before he could crouch down to pick it up, someone said—

“Here you go.”

“Cheers.” Tom held out his hand to retrieve his wallet, and looked to see who had handed it to him.

The sight of you standing there, holding his wallet, made him feel even more flustered.

“Oh, thank you.” He answered nervously, and handed the vendor a ten dollar bill. “Have a nice evening.”

“Excuse me sir, but you forgot to get your churros.” The vendor called out to him.

“Oh, that's right, huh.” He swiveled on his heels and grabbed the two churros from the vendor. “Mercy me.”

Stifling a small giggle, you clicked your tongue. “Who would’ve guessed that you would actually be like Peter.” Your eyes focused on his face turning beet red.

“Well, about that. I usually am more suave, darling.” He emphasized clearly. “But being around a pretty girl makes me nervous.”

You playfully placed your hand over your heart, and you knew that your face was getting warmer. “You’re awfully cute when you’re nervous. Now I’m nervous too, knowing that a pretty boy thinks I’m attractive.”

The both of you stood there, grinning at each other, in your own little world.

“Why did you buy two churros?” You inquired, which broke the silence between you two. “Were you planning on eating both?”

Tom glanced at you, and with a cheeky grin, he answered, “no love, I knew I was going to run into you, which is why I bought two.”

“Oh god.” You guffawed. “That was terrible acting. I’m surprised you still get gigs.” Extending your arm, you playfully tapped his shoulder. “You might want to look into a different profession.”

Tom gasped, rather dramatically. “Oi! That was incredibly rude.” He stated, his tone heavy with sarcasm. “I’m off the clock now.”

That comment earned a genuine laugh out of you, and Tom’s laughter mixed with yours, creating a wondrous sound. Hearing his laugh was something you knew you could never get tired of listening to. You wished you could stay in this memory forever.

“So, which churro would you like?” Tom asked, holding out both churros in front of him.

“The s’mores one please.”

You grabbed it from his hand, and your fingertips touched for a brief second. It was electrifying, but you moved away before it became awkward. You looked up at Tom, and noticed his face was pink, eyes wide with joy. It was cute seeing him so flustered and wide-eyed, and you couldn’t help but notice how his mannerisms really were like Peter’s. Or Peter’s were like his. Regardless, it didn’t stop you from thinking he was the cutest thing in the world.

A family hurriedly walked past you and Tom, which broke the bubble of your little world. Looking down at your shoes, you took a step sideways. “We should probably get out of everyone’s way.”

“Yeah.” He piped up, and led you back towards the center of the park. You wove through the large crowds of people, dodging people who were waking in the opposite direction. Someone nearby started speaking in a different language, and the curiosity in you made you turn your head to see who it was. Tom, who turned around to make sure you were still behind him, noticed your gaze astray, so without thinking, he reached and grabbed your hand.

Instinctively, you pulled your hand away before seeing who had grabbed it. Yet, when you saw Tom standing still, still holding his hand out, you reached out for it.

“Sorry, I didn’t know who’s hand I was holding.” You sheepishly answered.

“It’s good love, sorry for startling you.”

Instead of responding, you gave his hand a gentle squeeze, and off you two went. It didn’t take long to find a place to sit, right below the shady tree where Tom sat just a few minutes ago. Before you sat down, Tom dusted the cement block with his hand and motioned for you to sit.

What a gentleman, you thought. You sat down next to him just close enough for your knees to touch. You both sat in silence as you ate and took in the moment. Tom looked over at you with the same kind eyes that he’s looked at you all day with.

“You know,” he paused, “I just realized I didn’t get your name; how embarrassing.” Tom admitted while looking down at his shoes.

You told him your name, and Tom held out his hand for you to shake. You did so, and you noticed Tom didn’t pull his hand away. Reluctantly, you pulled your hand away and took another bite of your churro. Tom followed suit, and neither of you spoke for a minute. The silence between you was comfortable, and you both spent a few minutes just enjoying each other’s company.

“Do you mind if I say something?” Tom asked, breaking the silence.

“Of course, ask away.” You answered back. You looked at him with curious eyes, and watched as Tom carefully thought about what he was going to say.

“Well, I’m surprised you’re treating me so…regularly. You haven’t bombarded me with questions about being famous.”

“And?”

“I don’t know. I guess I’m not used to it, that’s all. I’m surprised you’re treating me so normally.”

Tom’s response made you feel a bit sad for him, knowing that he’s so used to people wanting something out of him. Fame, money, or bragging rights, but you didn’t want any of those things from him. He just seemed like a nice person, and you enjoyed your conversation that you had with him while he was portraying Peter. You took a minute before responding to make sure what you wanted to convey was worded properly.

“I know you’re famous, and that’s cool, but you’re also just a regular person. One who buys two churros because they can’t make up their mind--and one who eats and gets cinnamon sugar all over their face.”

You watched Tom’s eyes wide, and you giggled as he wiped his face with his sleeve. “All good?” He asked inquisitively, and you nodded your head yes.

“I am treating you like a real person, because you are.” You continued, and flashed Tom a soft smile. His face softened at your response, and he smiled back.

“Thank you.” He whispered, and turned his face away from you. You noticed he was blushing, but you didn’t want to say anything to embarrass him. Instead, you looked into the crowd of people and smiled once more.

“You know, people weren’t lying about this place.” You spoke up before you took another bite of the churro. You noticed Tom’s gaze came back to you, and his face was still slightly pink.

“Hmm? What do you mean?” He asked politely, waiting for your response.

“This really is the happiest place on earth.” You beamed, looking Tom in the eyes.

Without skipping a beat, Tom answered back.

“Undoubtedly.”

#tom holland #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader #tom holland one shot #tom holland one shots #tom holland and y/n #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x fem!reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland imagine #tom holland imagines #tom holland spiderman #spiderman x y/n

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just-alittle-spooky · 8 days

Text

HAIRCUT

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader Summary: After a particularly potent mental breakdown, (Y/N) decides the best way to deal with her helplessness is to give herself a haircut Warnings: angst(?), fluff, hurt/comfort, mentions of mental breakdown/mental illness. Also I wrote this so ungodly long ago and I actually hate it! Which is why I never posted it. But I wanna force myself to start posting more so here we are.

---------

It had been a good idea at the time. She swore it had. Sure, maybe the fact that her brain was still a little hazy from post-panic attack fog, but she really did think it was a good idea. She'd seen Eddie do it at least a billion times before and it didn't look that hard. Besides, she'd been wanting a change for a while now, this just seemed the perfect excuse.

All of that was very well and good except for the fact that she had absolutely no idea what she was doing. To start, the only pair of scissors she could find in the house were some purple safety scissors that couldn't have been used since the fourth grade. On top of that, the only time she'd ever seen anyone cut their own hair was in Eddie's bathroom at two in the morning. He was quick as light and she was usually too tired to really pay attention anyway.

But she had decided to press on anyway, armed with nothing but emotional baggage, far too much confidence, and those damn safety scissors. It hadn't turned out well. So now she stood in front of her bathroom mirror, crying lightly at the monstrosity that now rested atop her head. She wasn't entirely sure how she was supposed to show her face anywhere ever again, and the dread in the pit of her stomach was only exacerbated by the knowledge that Eddie was coming over soon. No doubt he would take one look at her, laugh until he cried, then break up with her right then and there and never speak to her again.

Okay, so maybe she was still a little in her own head about things.

She heard the front door open and close, Eddie having abandoned knocking or ringing the doorbell quite a while ago. Her home was always open to him, and he knew that just as well as she knew that he was not about to break up with her on the spot. Still, she couldn't help the way her heart started to race and nausea filled her stomach at the sound of his approaching footfalls.

The door to the bathroom was pushed open slowly and poor, unsuspecting Eddie Munson was met with a sight that was sure to haunt him for years to come. It wasn't the hair, that he hadn't even noticed, it was the way her big, sweet eyes were clouded with tears, bottom lip quivering, and face already red and puffy from crying. Clearly, she'd been crying for quite some time now, and she didn't seem fit to stop any time soon.

A deep, worried frown took over his face as he checked her over. Once satisfied that she wasn't in any physical harm, he began to assess her emotional state.

"What's wrong?" he asked so softly, so concerned and sweet in that low timbre of his and her emotional floodgates burst open like they were made of duct tape and straw. She was beginning to believe they were.

(Y/N) could do little to hold back the onslaught of sobbing and hyperventilating that followed. She sank into his open, waiting arms and clung to him like a life raft while sputtering an explanation that wouldn't have made sense even if he could understand her through the tears.

"Hey, hey, hey," he tried to soothe, rubbing circles on her shaking back. "Slow down, just take a deep breath."

She tried to do exactly that and the pitiful wheezing that followed would've been comical to anyone but the two of them. But soon, and with enough gentle encouragement from Eddie, those sobs and wheezes turned into slow, steady breaths. It was only then that he felt brave enough to ask again, "what happened?"

She sniffled lightly, ignoring the flutter in her chest when he used his thumb to wipe away the few escaping tears on either cheek. Her face burned red as she answered bashfully, "I tried to cut my own bangs."

It seemed that was the exact moment Eddie had clocked her hair. He'd been too busy, too worried, trying to calm her down to even notice anything was different. But now that he did, saw the mangled, choppy mess that she'd left, he felt amusement running down into his chest. A soft, fond smile danced over his lips and he squeezed her even tighter to himself.

"Sit down and let ol' Eddie fix it," he cooed and wrapped his large hands around her upper thighs, hoisting her onto the bathroom counter. Eddie went to lean back but found that her arms stayed tightly locked around the back of his neck. She wasn't ready to let go yet, and he didn't mind the sweetness of her hug.

"I thought I could do it," she whined, "I watched you do it a bunch."

Eddie chuckled at that, eyeing the safety scissors with an accusatory brow. He picked them up and took a moment to examine them before saying, "well there's your culprit right there. Evil things."

(Y/N) giggled lightly and Eddie felt pride swell his chest at the thought that he was probably the first thing to get her to laugh since this whole fiasco began.

"They were the only ones I could find," she tried explaining herself and was met with a wink from her goofy boyfriend.

"Don't you worry your pretty little messy head," he teased, delighted—and somewhat relieved—when she took humor out of his joke instead of offense.

Eddie reached into one of the inside pockets or his demin jacket and produced a pair of pristine hair cutting scissors. (Y/N)'s eyebrows shot up at that, light smile dusting her lips.

"For emergencies," he simply shrugged, "you never know when your girl is gonna break down crying on your shoulder."

Her heart swelled at being called his. Eddie's girl, a title that would fill her with pride and love no matter how many times she heard it. She simply teased back, "you plan to cut my hair every time I get sad from now on?"

Eddie grinned back and some of the worry left him now that she was joking around again. "Only if you promise to throw those things out," he spoke and gestured towards the safety scissors.

"I can't, I've had them forever," she argued.

"Close your eyes," the boy instructed and once she did, he began snipping away at her poor attempt at a fringe. "I've had a leak in the bathroom ceiling forever, too, but I'd have no problem getting rid of that."

"Fair enough," she whispered, and then she let him do his work.

#eddie munson #stranger things #x reader #y/n #fluff #hurt/comfort #maybe #cutting bangs in the bathroom at 3am

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amywritesthings · 2 years

Text

CHAPTER 14: WRECKED

The POINT A TO POINT B series.

gif credit: @ themandaloriandaily

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female Reader ( Din x You )

Summary: Knocked unconscious by an ill-timed bomb, you awake to the aftermath of the freighter mission. It’s time to move forward, to find Point B, and continue your escape with Din.

Warnings: 18+ NO MINORS / Mentions of injury, Flashbacks, Aggressively Protective!Din, Bacta mentions, Bo-Katan being Bo-Katan, Helmetless!Din, Blindfolds, Themes of Sensuality

Word Count: 4K

A/N: ...it’s been a while, huh? The three-month hiatus is over! Thank you for your support in my absence, friends. As always, reblogs & comments are adored and appreciated.

Previous Chapter. / Next Chapter. | Series Masterlist.

PREVIEW:

“Then explain why one of your clan found her in the ship, unconscious?” He spits the word ‘clan’ with immense vitriol and distrust.

“Because, at some point, she went into the freighter on her own volition,” Bo-Katan reasons with a growl. “I cannot anticipate what your partner will or will not do when she is alone. In this case, she felt the need to leave her post.”

Mando stands an impossible step closer. Bo-Katan doesn’t move away.

“Speak ill of her again. See what happens.”

“Is that a threat, Mando?”

His nickname is sung with mockery.

POINT A TO POINT B

CHAPTER 14: WRECKED

Yavin 4 is beautiful after a storm.

The scent of grass after a passage of rain soothes the anxiety clinging tight to your chest. Birds sing in the distance while the insects buzz, creating a white noise blanket. Despite everything that surrounds this woodland planet, there is peace — maybe not for long, but it lives.

(A peace you have tried time and time again not to hold onto with an ironclad fist. Squeeze too tight and the earth will shake. These people don't need your avalanche.)

While most of Rebel volunteers work tirelessly under protective slabs of concrete, sheltering them from any impending attacks from above, you go against better wishes to remain in the forest. Here, where you can push the dirt around with your boot and see it roll effortlessly like the clouds in the sky.

Alive. The world is alive and well and beautiful.

“It’s my fault.”

You know she's there watching, waiting, for you to speak first. The Commander has yet to leave your side and with good reason — rumors circle about allegiances in the night, in the dark. Whether or not the other rebels believe your story is up to her trust and her trust in you alone.

Craning your attention from the pebbles of dirt, you angle towards the patient Commander. Her hands are clasped together, body adorned with a brilliant forest green jumpsuit.

“Your Highness,” the woman murmurs, her smile small yet inviting. “You’ve only just arrived. You’re allowed a moment’s rest.”

“As lovely an idea as rest is, Commander, I cannot,” you murmur absently, shifting your gaze to observe a verbal argument just beyond her shoulder. At the mouth of a safe zone building, two pilots hover heatedly around one of the circular holo-grids to debate the images below their chests. “Not when I suspect he’s only a few days behind us.”

You don’t need to hear the conversation to know why both pilots are so passionate: the destruction of the second Death Star is smaller than a one in a million shot.

Everyone’s fearful the plan won’t work, and they have every right to be: the first only went up in flames because of sheer luck, a bout of lightning that rarely strikes twice.

The Empire is falling, that much is true. Yet it’s the lengths in which the enemy will go to keep themselves on life support that cause such distress and worry throughout the galaxy.

(Distress and worry you wear on your own sleeve, here, as you clutch the possibility of ruining their final Hail Mary — and the possibility of failure, should Moff Gideon find you first.)

“I probably should have kept running,” you continue. “Kept people out of this mess.”

“You knew you could trust us,” the Commander beside you sighs, raising her arms to cross over her chest. She leans back against a metal barrier, waiting expectantly for the argument in return.

You scowl at her confidence, ignoring how the cut on your cheek burns with it. “That doesn’t mean everyone at this base happily signed over a death wish.”

“No, but safety is not what we signed up for, Princess.”

You shoot her a look, and the woman laughs.

“Well, it’s true, isn’t it? You could have stayed in the ivory towers of Coruscant, yet you chose to be here with us. If anything, it’s you that signed a death wish, clear as day and on a dotted line.”

“It’s not the same.”

“Is it not? Your injuries alone have shown the others what kind of sacrifice they have to be willing to make to be here.”

You hate being spoken of like you’re a martyr.

(It was the right thing to do.)

Your entire body still aches, but you know his aches more. The knowledge that you caused Moff Gideon equal amounts of suffering and pain is good enough for you. This plan was never one of the winning plays the Rebel alliance had on hand, but it was the only viable solution left. While Imperial numbers dwindle, so do yours; volunteerism has become the only way anything gets done under the talons of the Empire, and there is one good card left to play on the sabacc table.

Winning by the skin of their teeth — it’s something you and the Rebels have in common.

Once you heal enough to fly on your own, you’ll depart from this base to the next.

Constantly moving until the final Imperial flag falls.

“He’ll come after us,” you frown, eyes lingering on hers before you turn your attention back to the pilots — they now hold one another in a tight embrace. The softness — the desperation — makes your stomach churn. “All of us.”

“And we’re prepared for it, should the fight come.”

You don’t have the energy to tell her: there is no should.

Moff Gideon would come, whether you want him to or not.

The longer you bounce from place to place, the more scorched earth will linger in your absence.

If you can find your way to Point B without detection, if you can hold on for a little while longer, then this will have been worth it.

(Without this power, the Empire will weaken and die off altogether. You’re sure of it.)

Crouching with control to the ground, you reach lower to place a bare palm against the loosened dirt at your boot. The tickle of the particles offers you in a heavy reminder: you still breathe with full lungs, so you will continue on.

After floating through space on an Imperial ship week, months, it's so easy to forget the little things: how much you miss the smell of grass on the fresh dew of morning, or the warmth of an awakening sun as it rises.

Your fingernails dig down, down, until earth lives in the universe of your fist.

Remember this.

You are eager to photograph every inch of this place by sheer memory. The laughing foot soldiers pouring their mourning stew into their bowls. The families that play here, sing here, making the most of what remains of their once peaceful lives with the hope of starting anew.

(Rebellions were — and always have been — built on hope.)

You squeeze hard and suck in a sharp breath, closing your eyes.

. . . . . . . . .

“What did you do to her?”

It isn’t your voice.

The sound is filtered, as if grating against the edges of a helmet.

When you open your eyes, you’re no longer in the middle of a serene field base on Yavin 4, but somewhere much worse: the tumultuous docks of Trask, where a squared-shouldered Mando is nose-to-nose with an equally tense (and helmetless) Bo-Katan Kryze.

His visor points down to her bare face, gloved hand at the ready on his hip. Both Koska Reeves and Axe Woves hold their weapons steady, pointed at the Mandalorian in an elongated triangle and placing him dead center.

“What did you do to her?” The modulated voice demands again, deeper in its bark.

“Do to her?”

Bo-Katan. Her voice is no longer laced with nonchalance, but with surprise. Anger.

“Koska saved her.”

Koska?

Who did Koska save?

While everything beyond the dock continues to slosh back and forth like a trawler on the choppy sea, you explore the tingling sensation of your limbs reanimating from sore, dulled pain.

“You said she was going to be out of harm’s way.”

“And she was.”

“Then explain why one of your clan found her in the ship, unconscious?”

He spits the word ‘clan’ with immense vitriol and distrust.

Mando stands an impossible step closer. Bo-Katan doesn’t move away.

“Speak ill of her again. See what happens.”

“Is that a threat, Mando?”

His nickname is sung with mockery.

“It never stopped being one since the moment you slandered my clan,” Mando snarls, armor clinking as his finger raises to point in her face. “Without us, you wouldn’t have survived the first wave. You should be grateful she did you a favor. With honor, she—”

“Mando?”

Finally, you discover your voice. It’s hoarse and dry, but working. Managing.

Like lead, the hand once pushing into Bo-Katan’s face drops to his side as his helmet whips at attention, visor directly pointed at you.

Without another word he pushes past the helmetless leader, stalking with urgency to the other side of the dock.

“—dank farrik.”

His armor clangs as he drops to his knees, glove gingerly cupping the side of your face. You melt into the heavy feel of his palm — strong, familiar, a chance for peace — and rest your cheek with ease.

“Hey, it’s me. I’m here.”

“Hey,” you mumble in return, shifting against the pole propping your seated torso from slouching. You try to offer a smile, but your face aches.

Everything hurts.

“Don’t move,” he orders, but something sounds off about his voice. It’s small against the modulator, whispered, while his visor searches the perimeter of your head in a frenzied, clockwise circle. “You’re hurt. I’m going to get you out of here.”

The realization sinks deep.

He’s terrified.

“It was…” You wince at the sandpaper-like texture of your throat and swallow heavily to coat it with saliva. “...my fault.”

“What?” You feel Mando’s gloves tenderly pressing down your arms to halt any any sudden movements. You fight to keep your eyes on him. “Nothing was your fault.”

“What Bo-Katan said is true,” you admit. “I went... into the ship.”

“She was under a pile of rubble beside an Imp and a Trooper,” Koska supplies, taking a protective stance in front of Bo-Katan in the absence of the bounty hunter. “The Imp was impaled. Trooper under the rubble. I wasn’t able to do a thorough check, but it looked like she crawled.”

“Because the ceiling... caved in,” you add, keeping your attention on his visor.

Surely he must know you heard all of it — the argument with Bo-Katan about the plan, the sudden influx of Stormtroopers, the way he said he would handle the flurry of fresh Troopers.

Then an explosion appeared.

Mando’s fingers smooth over your bicep, though whether it’s because he’s calming you down or stalling in admitting he was the cause of the damage above, you cannot tell.

“Bounty hunter: do you carry bacta spray on your ship?”

Axe gently weaves into the conversation, peering around his leader to speak directly to Mando.

“If I were you, I would transport her back there as soon as you’re able, before her wounds cause any lasting damage. I have a spare canister on me, should you need it.”

He walks forward, pace deliberate and strong before extending a long arm towards Mando. The bounty hunter hesitates, frozen in place before he regards Axe above him. Their gloves connect, and he slips the canister from the palm of the other Mandalorian and secures the item to his belt.

Mando does not thank him for his generosity.

“As agreed, I will help you seek your Jedi, as you have more than earned it,” Bo-Katan says in her feigned diplomatic tone, abandoning the heat Mando released. You slump to look at her over the bounty hunter's shoulder. His hand cinches tighter around your arm, protective.

(Feral.)

Her dark crimson brows raise in a pause.

“Take your ship to the forest planet of Corvus. There you will find a Jedi of the name Ahsoka Tano within the city of Corvus. Tell her Bo-Katan Kryze sent you.”

In an effort of belated good faith, Bo-Katan steps back once, twice, three times to give you both room. Her chin bows deep.

“Now go care for your partner. Depart from Trask safely.”

In the haze, you see her gaze connect with yours.

“And thank you, for everything you did for us.”

Wordlessly, Mando rises to his knees and takes to a crouch, preparing to sweep his arms under your knees and back. He cautiously places your limp arm around his shoulders for support, but there is no need for it — he’s strong enough without your help to do the heavy lifting for you both.

“Please tell me… we’re walking,” you weakly joke into his breastplate. A noise of discomfort rushes past your lungs as he rises to his feet, anchoring you in towards his chest.

“Flying will be the fastest way,” he murmurs over the crown of your head. “Hold onto me, okay?”

“I might — pass out.”

“Don’t fall asleep, do you hear me? Stay with me.”

You can’t pin-point if his voice cracks or if it’s his modulator glitching.

The jetpack ignites.

. . . . . . . . .

You aren’t sure when you fell unconscious — somewhere between the feeling of being airborne and the exhaustion of today taking over — but when you come to, the universe is black.

With a brilliant gasp of air, your body lurches in the darkness to fight. Yet the heaviness of restraints aren’t there. Your forehead is ablaze with sweat. The pain is dulled, a lulling throb in the back of your skull. Beneath you is soft and warm, not hard and cold.

“Princess?”

The question tickles your left ear. You turn to nothingness to find the gruff voice, taking into a frenzied scramble to get away from it in a fight or flight response.

“Stay away from me—”

“Wait.”

The deep baritone cautions the air surrounding you like velvet. Soft warmth engulfs your flailing arm, pressing your bicep into your torso with profound care. A squeak of surprise catches in your throat.

“It’s okay. You’re okay.”

Mando.

It is Mando's voice.

Searching for him in the nothingness with the tip of your nose as your guide, you tremble at the absence of a modulator.

There is no vocoder buzz. No filtered disconnect.

“Don’t move so much," he adds, filling the space with his naked voice. "The bacta spray’s still working.”

“Your—”

“—safe.”

“—helmet,” you finish in a croak, squeezing your eyes shut. “Why — where is your helmet?”

Your free hand roams in a fuss to cover your face, but it connects with a sliver of fabric — a thick barrier between the bridge of your nose and the skin of your fingers.

The emergency blindfold.

“I… took precaution in case you stirred earlier than expected,” he adds with unease. “You sustained a fair amount of injuries. I needed to be careful.”

He takes a beat, and you feel rough fingertips curl around yours by your nose. He tugs once, pulling your hand with his from the surface of the blindfold to lower to the sheet of the cot. His thumb slides along your skin in an attempt to soothe away any disorienting fear.

“You should be healed enough, now.”

You nod once, shoulders dropping a fraction. "...how long was I out?”

“Long enough to scare me,” he admits softly. “Four days, give or take some hours.”

Four entire days since the freighter.

Kriff.

“The kid?” you question abruptly, belated worry rushing to the forefront of your tired mind.

“Kid’s fine.”

“And Bo-Katan?”

“Gone to do as she pleases with her endless supply of weaponry,” Mando answers with a sour note on his tongue. “Along with her alleged clan.”

“And we’re on the Crest away from Trask?”

“Far away from Trask,” he confirms. “It’s only us.”

Your shoulders slouch with relief. “Thank the Maker.”

A huff of an ironic laugh leaves your lips as you open your eyes. Nothing. You see absolutely nothing, but you hear everything: the beauty of his naked voice, the freedom of his breath as he inhales and exhales. You didn’t realize how much you missed the simplicity of it.

He continues to hold your hand, but the air of the room shifts.

“What happened back on Trask can't happen again.” The softness in his voice becomes molten, solidifying to steel. “From now on, you stay on the ship until we arrive on Coruscant.”

Your chin tilts to find his voice, voice stronger in your blurt.

“What?”

“The only way this works is if you stick with the kid. I’ve had plenty of time to think about this.”

“No, there is no way I’m staying—”

When you start to vigorously shake your head, you’re slammed with stars behind your eyes. Mando’s grip tightens against your fingers in fright, while his free hand rests at your knee.

“Careful, cyar’ika, don’t move too fast.”

“I am fine,” you demand louder. “I will be fine.”

“You went inside the freighter.”

“But—”

“You promised me you would run the other way.”

A wave of nausea passes through your body from head to toe.

“The rest of the troopers were moving indoors,” you reason slowly, ignoring the waver in your voice. “I would have blown my cover if I stayed outside alone.”

“Your only responsibility was to run if things went wrong.”

“And I’m telling you, I would have been caught,” you argue, sitting up straighter. His palm is quick to steady the middle of your back. “Then Bo-Katan changed the deal—”

“You promised me,” Mando interrupts, sharper.

“And what about you?” you counter swiftly with your own bite.

“What about me?”

“Was I supposed to… ignore the comms completely when you broke our deal?”

You can hear him shift against the edge of the cot. “Our deal?”

“You and your promise to keep me safe. You say you don’t trust Bo-Katan and her clan, fine, but you were still willing to put yourself at risk. You’ll handle their problems for them, right? Even if they change the deal on a dime?”

He doesn’t speak, causing a huff of irony to pass your lips.

“Yeah, I heard the little savior play on the comms. That’s why I went running. To come after you.”

A heavy sigh exits his mouth as he shifts in front of you. “I was fine.”

“And if you weren’t?” you challenge, unable to halt the crack in your question. “This is twice now. Twice where you could have died and I would have heard or seen it. First the ship at sea, and now this job with Bo-Katan. Am I supposed to be okay with almost losing you? Was I meant to fly the Razor Crest to Coruscant on my own?”

His voice nears in a sorrowful whisper. “Princess, you don’t understand. You could have died. ”

“You could have, too,” you counter without missing a beat. “But Koska got me out of there.”

“And if she hadn’t?”

“Then I knew you would have, because I trust you.”

You reply with such conviction that the ship grows silent. All that surrounds you is the small sounds of the distant cockpit and the hum of the engine.

Mando pauses under your grip, marinating on the sentiment before replying with his own three words that break your heart:

“But I didn’t.”

Before you can hang on too tight, the mattress shifts and his hand disappears from yours.

You chase the touch despite yourself. All you connect with is air.

“I failed you, cyar’ika, and I am sorry,” he begins, voice further away. “I allowed my anger to get the best of me. In the moment, I could only see what it took to protect my clan and their honor. To show what it meant to be of the Watch, but I was supposed to protect the kid. I was supposed to protect you.”

Guilty seeps into the few beats of silence he holds onto after speaking.

“Yeah?” you tell him, recognizing the tremble in your own voice. “Well, not if I protect you first.”

Mando says nothing. You drop your palm to the mattress, searching for him in a semi-circle around you. He shifts further away once more, but you manage to clip your fingertips against the edge of his belt to stop him.

"Stop."

By some miracle, he does. Mando stays put, waiting for your command.

"I’m not letting you out of my sight — figuratively, obviously, since I can’t see you.”

Finally, finally the tense air breaks with his own chuckle of disbelief. He mumbles something foreign under his breath, and the mattress creaks at your side.

He’s back.

“Princess…”

“Bo-Katan was cruel,” you start, cutting him off before he can do the same to you. “Mandalorians or not, what her clan did to you? They ought to be ashamed of themselves. We were willing to help, yet she changed the deal and threw your code in your face just to see what makes you tick. I understand why you did what you did on the freighter, why you were willing to sacrifice yourself, because you’re always willing to help."

He says nothing, but you can hear the mattress beneath you shift. He's sliding closer. You continue.

"You’re a good person, Mando. You're good to the kid, you're good to me. Hell, you're good to strangers who never deserved your goodness. And I know I’m not a Mandalorian, but—”

“—but you have the heart of one.”

Mando cuts you off, taking your hand into his, but that isn’t what makes your breath disappear.

Something warm glides against the inside of your wrist. Soft and featherlike, barely a touch, before there is pressure, some wetness, and the fire blossoms low in your belly when you realize:

Somewhere you cannot see, Mando is bent over and kissing your wrist.

Kissing.

With his own naked lips.

You dare not move.

You dare not speak.

The Mandalorian has your undivided attention.

“You are right," he murmurs against the delicate skin. "You were not born on Mandalore, like me. You may not possess our armor, you may not have sworn to a code, but that does not mean you do not have the heart of a Mandalorian.”

He breathes for you — a gentle puff against your forearm.

“In the time I have known you, I have learned you are strong,” he continues with conviction. “You own a resilience unlike anyone I have ever met. You make difficult choices and do so with honor.”

His lips climb higher, dragging along your arm in worship. Goosebumps form in his wake.

“When my faith — when my oath — was tested on that moon, you chose to negotiate with peace instead of violence for the good of the Child. You asked to work with Kryze and her clan and secured the location of the Jedi when I could not."

He lingers, kissing the slope of your bicep.

"Even when your life could be in danger, you risked it. Even when I didn’t deserve it, you fought.”

He presses another kiss at your bare shoulder.

“You have always chosen to fight.”

Within a pause he rises, breath shivering along your chin.

“For the kid. For me. And I would...”

His words trail off, voice crackling. It repairs, returning with conviction.

“I would scorch the galaxy for you.”

His bare palms slide along either side of your face, cradling your head as though nothing more precious has ever graced his calloused, tired hands.

Your lips part wordlessly, voice lost in his confession, but eventually sigh as the pad of his left thumb grazes your cheekbone with timid admiration.

“Mando—”

“Din.”

The word is so small you almost don’t hear it.

The smooth plane of his bare forehead, warm and alive, drops ever so gently against yours. Over the fabric of the blindfold, the tip of his nose nudges yours. You hyper focus on something brushing your lips — facial hair, you're sure of it — before the universe stands still.

Because he murmurs the next four words like an oath to a creed:

“My name is Din.”

#din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #mando x reader #mando x you #the mandalorian #din djarin #pedro pascal #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian fic #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x f!reader #mando x female reader #mando x f!reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x f!reader #point a to point b #fic: point a to point b

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rubychan228 · 1 month

Text

...

ETA: I posted this before the show came out. It has now and I've added a few edits. ETA2: Added better pics

So, I've been sitting on this for a while, because I don't particularity like saying negative things about stuff I don't like (like Marvel's Exiles comics, which I'm not at all a fan of #foreshadowing) but I've seen a few things that make me want to talk about this. (Also, I started writing this a while back but wasn't sure if I wanted to post it. But saw stuff more recently that I definitely had to speak about. There's a bit of a shift in tone towards the end as a result).

I decided to post this mostly because certain statements about X-Men '97 (a sequel the 90's X-Men the Animated Series) have gotten bigots up in arms, which can understandably lead to people side-eyeing anyone shitting on the show, but I think their may be legitimate problems that justify some complaints.

Essentially, I think it may an issue similar to that of the Captain Marvel movie. There was huge, fully unjustifiable misogynistic backlash to the movie. But, there were also some quite legitimate critiques of the militaristic messaging in the film. While shutting down the sexist nonsense being hurled at the film was good, there still needed to be space to discuss the actual, real problems the movie had.

And, from what I've seen, there are some real criticisms to be made of X-Men '97. Both about plot stuff and about some ways a bit of intended representation may not be as good as could be hoped.

So, here's the thing. I was obsessed with X-Men the Animated Series as a kid and especially with a (sort-of) show original character named Morph. He was very much my first Blorbo. I know way too much about the character.

And now said character is at the center of some drama, due to the upcoming sequel, and I want to address it.

So, a note on Morph's pronouns. All non-97 versions of Morph go by he/him pronouns. In an older interview, the term "non-binary" was originally used for the X-Men '97 version without further clarification. But there's a more recent interview with the show's creators (which I will discuss more at the end of this post) that implies the character is more specifically gender-fluid (rather than agender or having a non-binary gender identity) and said creator used he/him pronouns to talk about the character, not they/them or any neo-pronouns. So that's what I'm going to go with for now. ETA: Except the show does seem to be using exclusively they/them so IDK what the fuck that article was.

A bit of backstory on the character.

Back in the 60's X-Men comics they fought a villainous mutant shapeshifter named Changeling. Changeling later reformed after discovering that he was terminally ill. He replaced Xavier, who needed to go into hiding for plot reasons and ultimately died in Xavier's place.

A few months before the Animated Series began in 1992 an issue of She-Hulk saw the villain Black Talon resurrect several deceased characters as zombies (called the X-Humed). Changeling was one of them.

Originally, the X-Men TAS writers wanted to kill off a character in the second episode and were thinking of using the character of John Proudstar aka Thunderbird. Thunderbird had been a member of the second X-Men team appearing for the first time in Giant Sized X-Men #1. He would later die in #95, the first time an X-man died.

They eventually realized that giving the show Native rep only to kill him off in ep. 2 was a terrible idea and started looking for a disposable white guy. They eventually found the Changeling character, though at the time the character now known as Beast Boy was going by "Changeling", meaning DC had the rights to the name. And so, "Morph" was born.

Despite being a throw-away character he was surprisingly popular with fans and the network was also not real happy with the whole killing-of-an-x-man-thing. So a decision was made to reveal he survived the events of the pilot. When he returned in season two he initially had a slightly zombie-like appearance (probably a reference to the She-hulk thing).

So, the show starts with him as part of the team. He is "killed" by giant robots called Sentinels. He is later revealed to have been saved by a villain known as Mister Sinister. Sinister attempts to brainwash him into being a loyal slave that hates the X-Men. This only partially works. His mind shifts between his true self and the artificial evil slave personality Sinister implanted (because this was the 90's and mental health education was bad, this psudo-DID was sometime referred to as him being "schizophrenic"). He is eventually rescued and sent for treatment at on Muir Island (which is in Scotland). A side from a few half-assed cameos and weird omissions his main appearance after that is in an episode where he tries to return to the X-Men but the Sentinels are back and his PTSD is too severe. He comes through in the end but acknowledges he's not ready yet. He does properly return in the finale referencing his comic origins by briefly imitating Xavier. The show ends with the implication he's on the team for good.

TAS may have inspired the Age of Apocalypse comics run. The AoA comics introduced a (very different looking) shapeshifter named Morph (who claimed that he had previously called himself "Changeling"). The relevant TAS episodes include both OG Morph and an unnamed character that looks like what the Age of Apocalypse comics Morph would look like.

Finally, Marvel would start a comic line called Exiles in which a bunch of characters from the Marvel multiverse would get pulled from their timelines to fight inter-dimensional threats. A Morph would be a main character. That Morph would look identical to the Age of Apocalypse one but have a different backstory (obviously).

X-Men '97 is retconing the show to replace their OG Morph with a take on Exiles Morph. And it has to be a retcon. It's generally held that shapeshifters can't hold alternate forms while unconscious or dead. And we see both! He is knocked out multiple times and flat-lines while Sinister is working on him.

So this can't have just been a form he always had but was hiding. Also, I don't know if the new show will use it, but Exiles Morph has no scent and thus cannot be tracked, something that is explicitly untrue of 90's Morph. Anyway...

I fucking hate Exiles Morph and always have!

Exiles Morph is an annoying horndog who creeps on women and arguably crosses the line to sex pest at times. Morph in the original show never once, in any episode that he appears, flirts with, leers at, or shows any romantic or sexual interest of any kind in any female character present. You could arguably HC the original character as Ace. Though he did have a lot of...tension with Wolverine, so gay is also a possibility. The aggressively heterosexual reimagining of Exiles has always been boring and annoying to me. I don't know that any of this is going to make it into the new show (I hope none of it) but I hate the idea that it could.

Additionally, while the original Morph was playful and lighthearted, he was hardy incapable of being serious when need be. Exiles Morph is often described as hardly ever serious. And creator comments say that is part of why they're using this Morph in the new show. (Apparently his PTSD was too much of a downer.)

Also, I know it's an extremely toxic fan thing to complain that an adaptation doesn't conform to your personal headcanons, but I always liked imagining the character as more of a light skinned POC, rather than just the white guy they intended. (My usual go-to was that he was Japanese American, possibly with a white parent. This was because he's super close with Wolverine, who lived in Japan for decades. So, like, I would imagine that Morph grew up bilingual and Wolverine was, of course, fluent so they'd chat in Japanese and whatnot. Maybe Morph would go to Japan sometimes to visit family and Wolverine would sometimes come too.)

This could have been done in even a more faithful sequel. Yes, the character was very specifically white in his original conception, but that's only because he was going to die right away. Since he doesn't anymore that no longer applies. And, to be frank, Morph spends 90% of the original show off-model anyway. A new version could effortless have massaged his base-form appearance to have more non-white features.

ETA:

Oh you could abso-fucking-lutely pass this character design off as a half-white POC.

Couldn't they still do this in '97? Technically yes. But now he's a snow-white blob with no hair or facial features. You can still say he's POC, but I can see that generating even more discourse.

As for the enby thing.

First off, there's been a lot of (justifiable) discourse about a tendency to hold "diverse" media to excessively high standards and I don't disagree. Even when criticisms aren't unwarranted, I think there's a definite tendency among some to let the perfect be the enemy of the good. But also, genuinely harmful representation does exist (things like the "trans serial killer" thing that is so damaging that no trans rep would arguably have been better).

Ultimately, I think there's a difference between *harmful* representation and representation that's just bad. And there's a also difference between bad representation and representation that's merely flawed. And flawed representation is still representation. It's still a step in the right direction and it's extremely possible for people to still feel seen by less-than-perfect depictions of their thing.

That said good representation is better than flawed representation. And I don't think we get from flawed to good without giving constructive feedback (not vitriol) on the more flawed attempts. We don't have to trash flawed attempts or flame people that like them. Just point out, what worked and what could be improved upon.

So what might be a problem here? Well, because of the (really, really unnecessary!) Exiles thing:

Yeah.

I just...feel like that could have been thought out better. Especially because, while it's not the same (as mutants are explicitly human), it approaches the "Non-binary Alien" trope. Which is not great.

Basically, everyone else in the main cast except for Beast looks like a normal human and all of them retain their "normal" binary genders from the OG show/comics. Morph and Morph only is simultaneously being changed from being a normal looking dude to a freaky alien-looking thing and is also changed from being a "normal" binary man to having an "unusual" gender. And I don't like it.

I don't think it was intentional, but it would be so much better to have normal-ass humans as NB rep. Since, you know, actual IRL enbies are, in fact, normal fucking human people. (Granted, they could be doing that too, but for now it seems like it's only the character they changed to be all weird looking that is going to serve as the only enby rep.)

Now, it's entirely possible that there are people this won't bother and that's certainly OK. And I don't think doing it like this bad rep, just flawed, which is still better than nothing! But it's quite valid, I think, for enbies/allies to have good faith qualms with how this comes off due to the combination of the two changes.

That said, there is also the problematic™ Non-binary Shapeshifter trope to consider.

So, while some trans/non-binary people may like the idea of shapeshifting powers (for obvious reasons) and thus may strongly identify with/project onto shapeshifter characters there has also been some discourse about it.

In brief, a shapeshifter is essentially genital-fluid, which can make people side-eye the idea of playing with gender when a shapeshifter is involved, as it can imply the idea of a connection between genitals and gender identity. Which isn't a thing that exists. Basically, to use X-Men as an example:

Gambit was born with a penis and, baring surgery or magical transformation, will only ever have a penis. This character is a man and this is never questioned.

Morph was also, presumably, born with a penis (it's possible Exiles!Morph had no genitals at birth). But he/they can change this at will; at any time he/they wants, he/they can have a penis, or a vagina, or both, or neither. But that should have fuck-all to do with gender identity.

But a lot of people have the very cis-normative view that the ability to change physical sex equates to changing gender. And will jump to making shapeshifting characters non-binary, gender-fluid especially. And this is a source of understandable discourse among trans/NB/GNC people. (As a result, you may see bigots reacting to this change with "Ugh they made the shapeshifter non-binary!", but you may also see enbies/allies going "Ugh they made the shapeshifter non-binary!". And that's very different.)

Now, because non-binary gender identities are real, it's certainly possible for a character to just happen to be both NB and a shapeshifter. But it can still rub people the wrong way......especially if there are creator comments that do indicate a mental genital/gender connection is informing the choice.

Which brings us to the trainwreck of an interview I mentioned earlier.

"For me, the word 'nonbinary' is the same as the word 'shapeshifter,'" director Larry Houston told Variety. "Every character that can change from one gender to another, or from human to animal, that’s just another word for 'shapeshifter' for me."

What. And I cannot stress this enough. The fuck?????????

Ok, so. In 2x3 of the original show Wolverine is trying to capture brainwashed, evil Morph and bring him home. Wolverine finds and successfully restrains him, so Morph uses his powers to mess with his head in order to escape. (By which I mean he turns into Wolverine's one-sided love interest and mocks him over how much she loves only Cyclops.)

In the interview this is described like this:

"He attacks Wolverine, his closest friend, in the most dramatic way by turning into Jean Grey and putting his hand on Wolverine’s neck and leaning in for a kiss," Lewald explained. "That’s as nonbinary as you can get. It’s Morph turning into a woman and coming onto Wolverine to freak him out."

How the fuck is it non-binary?! Is it the genitals? I'm really concerned it's the genitals.

At best it's maybe queer, but "non-binary"? I just...

Problematic tropes aside, I'm now worried like hell that the these people don't know what the fuck non-binary people actually are and the rep is going to be garbage as a result.

Like, he really seems to think that when Morph shapeshifts into Jean Grey in that scene, he isn't just disguising himself as a woman, but that he's literally becoming a woman gender-wise. And presumably becoming a man when he changes back. And that is what he means when he uses the word "non-binary" to refer to the character.

So yeah, opinions may be mixed on "non-binary" Morph, for reasons that are not bigotry related. And maybe don't get your hopes up for good enby rep in the show, because I'm now very skeptical that this is something we're going to get.

#marvel #xmen #xmen tas #xmen 97 #nonbinary #xmen morph

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musteladraconis · 3 months

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alright thats it this is my rant about palworld because i need to just speak about it. if you disagree with anything i say or have an alternative perspective then ill be happy to read them but anyways.

this game makes me so incredibly upset and just. enraged. pure unbridled anger.

just want to clarify some things before i start:

1. im aware of just how dogshit nintendo treats pokemon fans like myself, giving us the worst framerates imaginable, pushing out shitty low quality games so that people stay interested or whatever their motive is and so on and so forth, you've heard it all before i dont need to go over all of it again.

2. im not against using ai for some things. it can even be really beneficial. however when you use ai to steal from other artists and use it to make creative work then its inexcusable and should never be used. no im not talking about animation programs that use ai for tweening or any ai that's used to help make an artists job a tiny bit easier or faster, im talking about generative ai that takes artists work without their knowledge and uses it to make money. so when i say ai in this post i am specifically talking about generative ai.

alright with that said lets get into why i absolutely hate this game.

feel free to correct me if im wrong throughout this post.

ive been looking into the company's background and as many people already know the founder promotes the use of ai and greatly enjoys it. but yknow what i also found out? its that he also hates new and creative ideas! and he promotes using ideas that already exist to make games.

(citing SomeOrdinaryGamers video on palworld)

oh yeah. yeah that's right. pocket pair is the company that made palworld! lemme show you what else they made

notice anything? no? alright let's try again.

how about now.

yeah. yeah this is breath of the wild and hollow knight!

and also. it's one thing to steal from nintendo, it's another to steal from indie game developers and FAKEMON ARTISTS.

YEAH. YEP! EVEN THE FAKEMON ARTISTS ARENT FREE!!

WEIRD 'COINCIDENCE' RIGHT???? THAT THEIR DESIGNS ARE 99% THE SAME???

SURELY THIS GUY MUST ENJOY HAVING SOME KIND OF ORIGINALITY RIGHT? RIGHT???

WRONG!

"IF THERE ARE GOOD IDEAS IN THE WORLD I PICK THEM UP AND I DONT NECESSARILY HAVE TO BE PARTICULAR ABOUT ORIGINALITY"

nintendo hasn't sued him yet. i dont know if its because they cant find a 1 to 1 rip off or some other reason like them not needing to worry about him but i hope some of you understand just how bad this is for artists jobs. while yes there would have had to be artists that modeled the models in game there is basically no creativity or originality here. 'but what about the idea of giving pokemon guns' you might say. sure, thats a cool idea i will say. i like the concepts but i despise the methods used to achieve this goal.

many other games that are similar in using monsters like pokemon have successfully made their own unique creatures and people have enjoyed those games.

shin megami tensei has its demons for example! including... including... sigh. the green dick on wheels. yeah you heard me. the green dick on wheels.

BUT wouldn't you rather that than a 1 to 1 ripoff of wooloo?

you could say that oh wooloos just a regular sheep which yeah i can accept that argument but there are so many more that you can look at where the similarities are just... Bad. the cobalion one for example (just look up cobalion palworld youll see what i mean).

and not just the megami tensei franchise either. mutahar also mentioned other games, like cassette beasts which looks really fun

and those are good designs! the game itself looks cool and fun to play. digimon also exists!

if nintendo ever does anything to the pokemon franchise that just absolutely ruins it more than anything else they've ever done then ill rethink my opinion about this game, but for now im mostly just upset about artists jobs being taken from them and artists original designs too. while nintendo can be so shitty to pokemon at times, there are artists behind pokemon designs that had their work and original ideas blatantly stolen.

i highly recommend checking this link out to support your favourite pokemons artists directly if theyre on the list.

to finish this rant off, i just want to say that originality is one of the most difficult things to achieve in video games. i get that, im an artist too and being original is extremely difficult because everythings been done at least once. but it doesn't excuse how closely these games are 'borrowing' incredible, iconic and ORIGINAL ideas from others and not just once but repeatedly.

#palworld #pokemon #digimon #shin megami tensei #rant #ramble #im still upset but less so I guess. as an artist it's just frustrating to see this stuff make so much money for stealing.#even if its not stealing directly or ripping off the models to use as bases its still not right.#its like someone tracing your art. which nobody likes.#character design #artist

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thepaleblueeye · 4 months

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hello yall!! (crickets)… um anyways, this is just a mini post to get this acc up and running! i may make a caard for this blog, im not sure yet …. but we push through

im super (hyper?) fixated on TPBE currently and i have been thinking about making this account forever! ill mostly be reposting my theories and notes from my personal account for now, and hopefully sharing my book annotations and new ideas later on!

a video essay about the novel and movie may be in the works currently (though it’s currently in very early notes app pages right now)

also as a little disclaimer i do mainly focus on poe and landor! both their characters and the ship! speaking of which i do Intensely ship poe and landor— BUT i completely understand those who dont and i hope this page can be a welcoming spot for all fans of the novel and movie :)

anyways if youve read this far heres poe being pretty

#kinda sad i procrastinated on this account because it would have been cool to do in the months the book takes place #BUT WHATEVER #look i know the fandom is tiny here #and non existent on twitter #but i cannot get them out of my head #the pale blue eye #louis bayard #ea poe #e. a. poe #edgar allan poe #novels #booklr #historical fiction

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uchiha-7thsingularity · 2 years

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I know last legacy Mc dealing with a period with LI part 2 is taking long, sorry. Still typing it as I post these sneak peeks or unfinished drafts and ideas I want to share. Starting school in two weeks from now but will still post. Here's a taste of "Deernap!" that I am almost done with but want to see if you guys want to read. Let me know.

FYI I don't know if I should have rime and mc dance the tango in the night to get a feel If each other seductively. Or have them have an all out battle to prove who deserves the astrolabe? Help!

Goosebumps bites around my strained neck and ankles to the point it snatched my attention to the closed window sill. Frozen a few seconds before a rich voice stirred behind my wary figure, "Have you ever been kidnapped?!"

No hesitation, I pivot into a defensive position to face the intruder who had asked an ill question. (I think I knew full well who the voice is owned by. Always the drama deer king.) Strawberry locks with white entwined together surface my vision first every time I lay my gaze to him. Even though I have to look up to someone I loathe. (Curse my shortness.) Rage. I sense bubbling within my trembling statue, never wavers to burst.

"What the HELL do you strive to do this time?!, clenching my fist I bit my tongue to stop speaking my native language. Although I try to appear calm, I suffer a bitter nauseating motion erupt in my stomach. Like moths clawing to shred the anticipation eating at the scenario before myself.

His freckled-toned skin washes out in the dim lighting. Where his black golden cloak stands out more to the viewer's eyesight. He gazes around the room no doubt collecting memories shared with his "ex-beloved". Shaking his head he draws his attention back to me contemplating a hideous scheme I assume.

Grabbing the Cherry wooden chair he pulls out silently taking a seat. Crossed legs and arms he perks up to my fierce gaze that never relinquished. The audacity of this unholy man as he speaks up, "Sit." Red amber eyes land on the seat across to make a statement. Not even thinking of following his order I stand up straighter. Rime flicks his gaze again to the seat until he rolls his eyes.

"Why so tense? I could have sworn the glimpse of danger I delivered was awe-inspiring. Or did hurting the stinky cat and you come to be too much for an outsider?"

Bittersweet as Rime could be, the point he wanted to make is not just a lesson in itself. Rather a message conveyed by the physical activity he caused in a poor environment. All things told I just wanted him to leave me alone.

Cleared throat I bellow out, "If you want Felix he is occupied at the moment. You have two choices. One: Is to leave with a foot up the bleached ass you so admire. Two: Would be to stay for a season called deer hunting!" Simply, a pout forms contorting his face to utter disgust. Without pause, I step towards him, determined to not let fear warp my small frame compared to Rudolph.

"You want to end this feud we both have right now. Go ahead, I won't even flinch, scream, bite, or run. Just stop hurting the others for there sake… and your own."

A chill sets in the frigid atmosphere that turns my breath to ice. (Am I doing this? Is this my magic or his?!) Only our heartbeats can be heard among the silence enveloped in the chilled space.

He sighs, taking an extra moment to roll his rosy eyes, "Dramatic much."

He sulks at me only till he maneuvers to reach out and grasp my jaw in a tight grasp. I silently grind my chattering teeth squinting to glare at his grinning portrait. For a split second, I tense at the fact I am unequivocally unmatched in a battle against rime. Obviously.

Hesitantly, both my ice-cold hands grab his wrist to peel off his gloved hand. The attempt is a struggle for my frail body which Rime takes as entertainment. Muscle spasms kick in around the inside of my jaw left with the option to…… Squirm out of his grasp. (Why is he so cold? And why…?!) Before I even finish the thought black smoke appears where Rime settled mere seconds beforehand. Besides the release of pressure off my jaw, I can't help but rub the pain away.

Taking a shallow breath, arms encircle around my torso to yank me towards the wooden carved bed. At this point, every limb or joint is paralyzed from the shock. Goosebumps fleck across each arm as I try to focus on the pace of my heartbeat beating ruthlessly. Again black smoke billows around the sheets; never a moment of peace with this man. As the smoke clears I scan my surroundings as my vision stills on the stuffed owl. Suddenly, the room shifts from a stuffy emerald room to an overgrown ruin for a moment I think of mournfall. I soon realize the portal he opened underneath me led us to a ruin with no roof revieling the constellation overhead. The monument consumes my vision in any direction I view to see an overgrown greenhouse with wilted organisms that was once cared for so long ago it seems. Chuckles float from behind me as a night breeze cascades over my pale skin. I turn to be face-to-face with my undead killer with a mischievous grin that makes my knees buckle underneath my full weight and anxiety.

"Afraid?" Please, if I wanted you dead you would be already. He lifts my chin with his gloved hand to meet my gaze fully. I should run away from him but I have the awareness of wanting to know more of this vengeful man. "You hate me right? My gaze shifts to fan his intense features in the moonlight. "Hate is one way to put it in simple terms." He lets go and shifts away to stride away to stare up at the stars. And I can't help but release the single breath I kept hidden from him. I wrap my arms around myself to contain my warmth in this cold lonely environment.

This is were I stopped. I did erase the top half which mentions MC x Felix. Maybe, future poly relationship buildup. With MC having OCD and anxiety.

#fictif #last legacy #rime solano varela #rime x mc #sneek peak

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cosplayprincess21 · 1 year

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I posted 471 times in 2022

140 posts created (30%)

331 posts reblogged (70%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@acilykos-art

@disasterpersonified

@im-surviving-off-of-tea11

@the-ancient-ocean

@headphonemouse

I tagged 226 of my posts in 2022

#dr stone - 176 posts

#dcst - 168 posts

#dr. stone - 151 posts

#drst - 127 posts

#gen asagiri - 72 posts

#asagiri gen - 72 posts

#ryusui nanami - 59 posts

#senku ishigami - 54 posts

#kohaku - 51 posts

#nanami ryusui - 42 posts

Longest Tag: 114 characters

#seriously ive rewatched dr.stone. how i met your mother. the originals and moriarty the patriot multiple times now

My Top Posts in 2022:

Senku hcs

Oh this shall be fun

Realizes he's aromantic asexual in middle school. Everyone else was going on about romance and dating and all that other stuff, and all he cared about was science.

Was the one lecturing people in elementary school about why certain super powers can't be real and crushed the hopes and dreams of those wanting lazer vision

Would secretly leave Taiju money or other things he needed but pretended he had no idea where they came from

Since hes the definition of aroace, his gaydar is never wrong

Tried to figure out if he could turn himself into a robot as a kid, it did not work

Speaking of robots, he had robot pj's up until he was 11 in which he traded them for science ones

His experiments would make stay up late into the night, so naturally, he developed a taste for energy drinks.

At night he will sometimes think of Byakuya and remember all the memories he has with his dad, he might try to act like the man was embarrassing and all, but deep down hes a kid who never got to say goodbye to his dad

The only two people he can fully confide in are Taiju and Yuzuirha

While its common for kids who are adopted to want to know about their biological parents, he doesnt. He had Byakuya after all, and Byakuya is his dad, nothing else matters.

Hope you like them. Senku is a very fun character to make headcanons for.

45 notes - Posted March 28, 2022

no one in Dr.STONE is an autistic retard so why do you plan to make a post about it? just cause you're retarded doesnt mean they are

congrats you got me to use Tumblr Desktop instead of my phone because im going to have a lot to say.

First of all, fuck off with the R word here, its an outdated and harmful term thats rooted in Ableism. Secondly i was going to ignore this and delete it when i saw the first line but then you also decided to insult me so you know enjoy getting your ass handed to you.

But whats wrong with noticing that certain characters in Dr.STONE are ASD coded? Like everyone accepts that Ryusui has ADHD but being autistic is something bad right? News Flash it isnt. Also show me where in the manga that Sai and Yuzuriha dont show traits of autism? i feel explaining to you would be a waste of energy but just know this is only going to make my post on it even longer cause holy fuck the beginning will now have a rant about people like you. Do me a favor and never send an ask here again and kindly fuck off.

Also this comment really pissed me off and i was going to focus on just Sai and Yuzuriha but now im gonna add Magma,Senku and Ruri to this as well cause ive also been seeing them as ASD coded but have been keeping that to myself.

47 notes - Posted August 13, 2022

so i finished fmab

sobbing crying wailing etc it was SO GOOD and completely destroyed me at the same time fhjfjkfjhfkjhsahjsdjhfkjdjghdkjsk definitely the anime of all time

welcome to the world of FMAB. The obsession will never leave, and the pain gets worse with every rewatch. But with that also comes seeing little things you never noticed before which makes the series even better.

47 notes - Posted January 23, 2022

Ok so ill be posting about the final chapter soon but. IM SO HAPPY SENKU DIDNT GET ANY LOVE INTERESTS. HES AROACE AND STAYS AROACE HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

54 notes - Posted March 6, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Ok but i really need to know what people have against aroace characters? Like theres nothing wrong with any character being aroace but for some reason it just causes others to be so upset and for what? Ive seen it with mostly One Piece and The Disastrous Life of Saiki K. Luckily havent seen it as much with Dr.STONE or at least on tumblr. The number of people ive blocked on tiktok for getting upset about Senku being CANONICALLY aroace is ridiculous. But yeah can someone just explain this to me? Cause aroace exist and we do deserve to have our representation in media and not in the "oh im rude because im aroace and thats my only personality" way. But in a way where we ardnt dehumanized for not feeling romantic or sexual attraction.

331 notes - Posted July 1, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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amysteryspot · 1 year

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I posted 1,876 times in 2022

277 posts created (15%)

1,599 posts reblogged (85%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@moonlight-prose

@amysteryspot

@springsteens

@thequirkybookaholic

@nofckingfighting

I tagged 1,384 of my posts in 2022

Only 26% of my posts had no tags

#one queue to rule them all - 206 posts

#gifs - 137 posts

#peaky blinders - 131 posts

#miscellaneous - 124 posts

#about me? - 120 posts

#the sandman - 113 posts

#the sandman netflix - 111 posts

#ask game - 105 posts

#mystery ramblings - 101 posts

#tv shows - 89 posts

Longest Tag: 137 characters

#the amount of anxiety that it was to arrive here and that i’m going through thinking that it will be the same when i leave may pay itself

My Top Posts in 2022:

Lies in the dark - Thomas Shelby x Reader/Uncharacterized OC

Summary: Cecilia learns the hard way all the joy and misery that is loving Thomas Shelby.

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Female reader (named)/Uncharacterized OC; Tommy x Greta

Warnings: pre-war; mild smut; mentions of abortion; cheating; swearing; drinking; smoking; mentions of illness and death; obviously not canon compliant.

English is not my first language and this wasn’t beta’d or proofread.

Word Count: 4687 (or so I’ve heard)

A/N: This was written for @thesoldiersminute 3k celebration (congrats again babes) ‘cause when I saw the “Is there anything you love so much, you’d protect it, no matter the cost, the damage it did to you?” immediately I screamed: TOMMY AND CECILIA. So here we are.

1. This is a prequel of “All the blood I lost with you”, but I believe it can be read as a standalone.

2. Please, PLEASE, read the warnings with caution and don’t read it if you think one of the topics will trigger you.

3. For the sake of my sanity the reader is named but uncharacterized, so if you want to replace the names, you can use the InteractiveFics Chrome extension [You’ll have to replace “Cecilia” - “Cellie” and “Clark”).

4. The explanation to why I decided to name her is only to add some depth into the story by linking her name with the actual plot of the fic. Cecilia means “blind”, in most places you search for it. I like the idea that Cecilia is blinded by her love for Tommy, like Polly said about him and Grace in the first series. As for Clarke, it means “clerk” or “priest”. It kinda makes sense to me that Tommy never lets go of her because she is his “priestess”, the one he always comes back for absolution. He doesn’t believe in God but he believes in her, in some twisted, cruel way.

5. The song from which the title was taken is “Lies in the dark” by Tove Lo (and I’m totally ignoring the fact that the song is related to Fifty shades of gray).

◄ THOMAS SHELBY MASTERLIST | GENERAL MASTERLIST ►

“Where’s Tommy?”

“Good day for you too, love,” John mocked, kissing Cecilia on the cheek, making her smile. “He’s at the Jurossi’s.”

Cecilia’s smile faltered as she averted her gaze from John, stared at the wall and swallowed the lump in her throat.

It felt like going back in time, at times she didn’t have to ask for Tommy, he would just find her. Until Greta.

She remembered the first time the lines between what they meant to each other got blurred.

The memory of that night was still alive in her memory as if it had happened yesterday. How he kissed her so sweetly and so full of hunger at the same time. How thoughtful he was in touching her, kissing her and reassuring her all the time. How right it felt when they were finally joined together as one. She woke up in his bed to find a red rose on his bedside table, only to run straight into Polly as she walked down the stairs with a grin on her lips.

After that, it became a habit, like second nature. He would search for her at any given opportunity, kissing and touching her until all she could think about was him. Spend the night in her room after climbing through her window. Sometimes in his room, they always tried to keep themselves quiet, speaking in rushed words, concealing moans and gasps by pressing their mouths into each other’s skin. Fucking on the floor so they didn’t have to bother with the bed springs making too much noise.

Yet, Cecilia wasn’t the only one. She never was. Tommy had girls throwing themselves at him the whole time. In the beginning, it was just them, and she almost believed that something would bloom out of whatever the hell they had. Soon she learned that it wasn’t enough for him. She wasn’t enough for him.

Tommy never cared about hiding the girls he fucked about with. His brothers and friends teased him about it and he only smirked, telling them to shut up, but he never denied it. Not with her. Their little escapades were always meticulously calculated so nobody would see them together in a compromising position. Of course, Cecilia was at the Shelbys all the time and she was, indeed, Tommy’s friend, he never made a move to acknowledge their relationship. On the contrary, he was keen on keeping it hidden. Cecilia would always be Tommy’s dirty secret.

She still had the moment realisation dawned upon her.

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157 notes - Posted April 1, 2022

You taste like danger | J.T.

Summary: Is it loving Jax Teller worth the ride? Pairing: Jax Teller x Female Reader Fandom: Sons of Anarchy Warnings: tiny bit of angst Prompt: “I like the sad eyes, bad guys, mouth full of white lies. Kiss me in the corridor, but quick to tell me goodbye.” from Halsey’s prompt list (Badlands) Requested by anonymous Word count: 297 A/N: A special thanks to @writercole for helping me figure this out.

He tasted like danger. All boyish smiles, wearing leather and jeans, the reaper proudly on his back, blonde hair and the bluest eyes she had ever seen. Jax Teller screamed trouble at the first look and yet, (Y/N) couldn’t help but find her way to his bed. “You’re trouble, baby,” Jax breathed against her lips. “I am trouble? Really?”(Y/N) arched one eyebrow making him laugh before pecking her lips. “Yeah, you are. Keeps a guy coming back for more.” “I’m so sorry if I’m keeping you from the long queue of crow eaters that are surely waiting to have a taste of you.” He smirked, pressing his body against hers a little more. “Jealous much?” “You’ll never belong to one woman, Jax.” The blond opened his mouth to talk but was interrupted by Chibs calling him. “Go,” (Y/N) sighed. “We’re not done here, sweetheart,” he said, kissing her on the lips before leaving. “Yeah, sure,” she said to herself, straightening herself to leave the club, only to run into Gemma. “Gemma,” she greeted. “You should give him a chance.” “Give him a chance for what?” (Y/N) asked, confused. “To love you.” “Gemma, we both know Jax is not the monogamous type of guy,” (Y/N) scoffed. “I like the sad eyes, bad guys, mouth full of white lies. Kiss me in the corridor, but quick to tell me goodbye.” “Yeah, it does sound like my son,” Gemma says, giving her a sideways smile. “And we both know how this ends.” Gemma looks past her sadly, focusing on the old bike at the end of the hallway. “I do, but it’s normally worth the ride, sweetheart.” Her footsteps echo as she strides away, leaving (Y/N) alone, her words echoing in her ears.

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165 notes - Posted July 3, 2022

Missed You | Thomas Shelby x Reader

Prompt: 34. i missed you kisses [from this list]

Warnings: none (what a miracle)

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Gender Neutral Reader

Requested by: Anonymous

It catches Tommy completely by surprise. One minute you’re entering the pub and in the next your arms are around his neck and your lips on his. He reached for your waist, instinctively, hearing the whistles and snarky comments of the man around but can’t find it in him to care much.

You had been away for three weeks helping an aunt that lives in the countryside and Tommy couldn’t deny how much the lack of your presence had affected him. He missed you.

When your lips part, he sees the smile on your face as your foreheads touch.

“What was that about?”

“Nothing. I just missed you.”

Taglist: @tommydoesntpayforsuits @ilovemanypeople @mikeys-thighs@nerdy4itall @internalmess3 @captivatedbycillianmurphy @caelys @annisse @lyarr24@theshelbyclan @datewithgianni @freyagallileaevans @lauren-raines-x @skinny-bitch-juice @leeroysdancer @eliseline @katmoonz @pxstellumx

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166 notes - Posted January 25, 2022

Can’t wait - Thomas Shelby x Fem!Reader

Prompt: 31. kitchen counter make-outs [from this list]

Warnings: making out; swearing

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Female Reader

Requested by: Anonymous

So enthralled in making dinner, you didn’t hear Tommy entering the kitchen. One minute you were checking his mom’s cookbook–or what was left of it–the next strong arms were encircling your waist and bringing you flush to a firm body.

“You’re early,” you comment, smiling.

His face is nestled in the crook of your neck, placing hungry kisses on your skin.

“Couldn’t wait to see you.”

You gasp when he makes quick work of turning you around, lifting you up to the kitchen counter before kissing you hungrily.

“Tommy,” you protest weekly. “Dinner…”

“Dinner can wait. I can’t.”

You don’t even try to pretend you don’t want him. His touch alone made you shiver. Seeing him hungry for you made you melt. Simple as that.

You dodged his next kiss to look him in the eyes, as he huffed in frustration.

“Turn off the stove.”

He smirked, mischievously, making quick work on releasing you following your order.

When he got back between your legs his hands were already tracing a path up from your calves to your hips, dragging your skirt with them as he kissed you thoroughly.

“Missed you,” he murmured against your lips in between kisses.

“God, you’re insatiable. We’ve fucked this morning.”

“Will never have enough of you.”

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259 notes - Posted January 18, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

The right moment | B.B.

Summary: Sometimes waiting for the moment pays off.

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Reader

Fandom: Top Gun: Maverick

Warnings: swearing; Rooster being a cheeky bastard.

Word count: 313

A/N: This is my very first time writing for the Top Gun fandom, obviously the first time writing for Rooster too. I hope this is good because it was fun to write. Also, this was barely edited.

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613 notes - Posted September 20, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #amysteryspot #of course I had to be on my own top blogs I reblog the most because I'm a fanfic writer #the top posts are a surprise tho

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