#isn't he SUPPOSED to blend into the crowd? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pin-k-ink · 5 months

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transparent // dazai osamu

tw ⇢ sexual tension, teasing, groping, mention of a casual relationship, grinding, semi public sex, fingering, dirty talk, pet names, praise kink, unprotected sex, blowjob, face-fucking

wc ⇢ 8.1k

The ambient bustle of the Armed Detective Agency's bullpen faded into white noise the second Dazai sauntered through the door that morning. As usual, every molecule of oxygen in the room seemed to realign around his presence - an inescapable gravitational pull you'd learned to resist through sheer stubborn will.

"Well, well..." That dangerous rasp curled upwards to greet your ears like a physical caress. "If it isn't my favorite co-worker looking bright-eyed and dangerously gorgeous as ever."

You refused to rise to the blatant bait, keeping your attention firmly affixed on the paperwork before you. Out of your periphery, you tracked Dazai's leonine prowl as he drew nearer, moving with that unnervingly predatory grace.

"No 'good morning' for me today?" he purred once near enough for you to smell the sandalwood tang of his soap. "And after I took such care with my appearance in hopes of stealing a smile."

That got you to cut him a sidelong glance - the tousled artistry of his chestnut locks, the elegant sprawl of his limbs as Dazai braced himself against the edge of your desk. One dark brow winged upwards leadingly, beckoning for you to drink in each carved angle and sinuous line.

You simply hummed a vague, noncommittal noise before refocusing elsewhere. This game between you two was too well-trodden to merit much reaction anymore. Dazai practically vibrated with sensual presence hoping to rattle you, to compel even the barest response. But you'd learned to ignore those silken ploys through sheer repetition and stubbornness.

"Oh, so we're going to be difficult today, are we?" The insinuation curled rich and buttery against the sensitive whorls of your ears. "You know how I adore a spirited challenge, gorgeous."

The subtle lean of Dazai's torso brought the smoky, masculine blend of his cologne into your atmosphere in dizzying concentration. You couldn't quite smother the infinitesimal stall of your lungs as that potent scent catalyzed unwanted responsiveness low in your belly.

Dazai didn't miss the reactive flutter of your lashes either. A low rumble vibrated up from the broad column of his throat as he straightened again, relieving the intimate invasion temporarily.

"We're early yet, I suppose," he mused, tone dripping arch self-assurance once more. "But not to worry. I plan on coaxing plenty of delightful sounds from those pretty lips before the day's through, my dear."

Allowing your eyes to slit open revealed Dazai leaning in once more, close enough for you to feel the whisper-soft phantoms of breath ghosting across your cheek like sin made solid. Close enough to drown in those heavy-lidded russet pools glittering with blatant promise and challenge.

"I do so look forward to seeing what other...responsive tells I can tease out of you next." The words all but vibrated against your own parted lips, laced with a blistering edge of confidence. "This game's only just begun..."

With that deliberately provocative murmur, Dazai swept away towards his own workspace with that distractingly predatory grace. Leaving you struggling to recover your equilibrium as heated tendrils of awareness sparked low in your abdomen despite your best efforts.

As much as you tried to bury yourself in menial busywork over the ensuing hours, you couldn't quite shake off the thrall of Dazai's electrifying presence. Of the effortless male potency that seemed to radiate from his very pores and cloud the air into near-solidity whenever you were in proximity.

He always seemed to find reasons to invade your orbit, crowding into your space under the flimsiest of pretenses. Dazai would stretch languidly, allowing that leanly muscled torso and the shadowed vee of his collar to present itself for shameless perusal.

Or he'd sprawl against the edge of your desk, one lean thigh brushing yours in seeming accident as those heavy-lidded eyes bored into you with simmering heat. Forcing you to confront the sensual geometry of his features up close and at dangerously point-blank range.

The air between you and Dazai seemed to grow heavier and more charged with each passing interaction. An undeniable, nearly tangible tension that thickened the atmosphere into an insulating haze of pure distillation.

Like the time you'd been bent over one of the file cabinets, digging through the lower drawers for an elusive case report. The whisper-soft pad of Dazai's measured footfalls was your only warning before the solid wall of his chest pressed flush against the curved line of your spine.

You jolted upright, ready to berate him for the inappropriate proximity. But Dazai simply hummed a low, distinctly satisfied rumble as you found yourself effectively pinned between the unforgiving metal and his firm masculine heat.

"There now, no need to panic," that treacherously rich timbre rasped against the nape of your neck. "I'm simply...appreciating the view up close for a change."

You could practically feel the smoldering weight of Dazai's hooded regard skating down the length of your trapped form in unhurried debauch. The subtle flex of his abdomen with each humid exhale pressed your lower backs even more snugly together.

Despite willing every nerve to remain impassive, your traitor body responded to the overwhelming physicality of being encased in Dazai's orbit like this. You swallowed hard, acutely aware of the thunderous trip-hammer of your pulse visible at the hollow of your throat.

Dazai's answering hum vibrated straight through to your very marrow, this one edged with dark sin and a hint of smoke. Then he shifted fractionally, allowing the insistent ridge of his cock to grind against the swell of your ass in blatant taunt.

"It's a perspective I really must take advantage of more often," he practically purred against your nape. "Don't you agree, beautiful?"

You opened your mouth, determined to unleash a scathing rebuke for his flagrant impropriety. But Dazai simply chuckled again - rich and indolent - before that scorching brand of his torso finally disengaged. Leaving you to sag weakly against the drawer front, ears ringing with fractures of your own wildly skittering pulse and Dazai's husky endearments.

Another time, you'd been rifling through the copy machine's depleted supply tray in search of a new ream of paper to reload. So absorbed in your simple task that you didn't register the weighted silence signaling Dazai's intrusion until he moved to loom at your back once more.

"Need a hand there, gorgeous?" The words dripped molten sin directly into your ear. "Seems awfully inconvenient having to crouch down like that in that tight little skirt of yours..."

Cheeks going instantly incendiary, you snapped ramrod straight only to find Dazai's smoldering regard searing directly down the generous vee of your blouse from over one shoulder. A deliciously wicked slant curved those lush lips as he drank in every flustered micro-expression flickering across your features.

"Although..." he mused, rich and resonant. "I can't say I mind the view from this angle."

Dazai leaned in slightly on the emphasis, allowing the solid wall of his torso to brush against the curve of your backside. Just a fleeting whisper of contact, but it seared like a brand all the same - sparking riotous consciousness of every place your bodies didn't quite touch.

You struggled to rally a retort, to summon some semblance of the withering composure you desperately clung to amid these escalating provocations. But Dazai simply slanted you with another heated sweep of that darkly weighted stare, effectively robbing you of both breath and cutting words.

"Then again, we'd hate for you to...overexert yourself in such discomfort, now wouldn't we?" The words dripped like poisoned ambrosia from between those sensuous lips you'd been trying not to fixate upon.

Before you could formulate a response, Dazai's hands settled in decisive arcs around your waist - pulling you snugly back against the rigid wall of his chest. Not ungently, but with enough deliberate physicality to send a tremulous frisson ricocheting through your nerves like skipped stones across a glassy mere.

"Allow me..." he rumbled, voice dropping to an even more dangerously resonant timbre that catalyzed your pulse into a thunderous gallop.

Dazai's answering chuckle against your nape made it clear he could sense every reactive shiver rippling through you. Yet he made no move to extract himself or relieve the overwhelming potency of being encased in the scorching orbit of his body like this. The silence grew thicker and more electrically charged by the second...

The tension almost became a living, breathing force unto itself - thickening the atmosphere around you and Dazai into a heavy, charged miasma. Every interaction seemed to crackle with unspoken provocation and heated undercurrents begging to finally breach the surface.

Like the time you were working late reviewing security footage from a stakeout, so absorbed in studying the grainy images that you didn't notice Dazai's approach until he materialized directly behind you. The solid bulk of his chest pressed flush against your back as those long arms bracketed the desk on either side, effectively trapping you in the scorching vise of his body.

"There you are, gorgeous," the silken timbre vibrated against your nape, raising delicious little contrails along your sensitized nerves. "Getting some overtime in, I see..."

You opened your mouth to issue a reprimand, but all that emerged was a strangled little noise as Dazai allowed more of his weight to settle against you from behind. The hard ridges and hollows of his frame etched themselves into the soft give of your body with delirious, molten precision.

"Now, now...no need for such an...enthusiastic welcome," he crooned, each consonant seeming to score tingling paths across your thundering pulse.

Dazai shifted infinitesimally, rolling his hips in a slow, suggestive grind that had you stifling a tremulous whimper against your will. You could feel the smile curving against the sensitive span of your nape as he luxuriated in your body's involuntary reactions.

"Although I must admit, I do love how...responsive you are to me, beautiful." The words emerged thickened by sin as one large palm skimmed up your ribcage and splayed with obvious possession between your breasts. "Makes a man wonder what other delicious little noises he could coax out with some...dedicated effort."

Despite your best attempts at impassivity, you couldn't quite restrain the full-bodied shudder that rippled through you at the lascivious implication. Dazai's hips rolled again - a pointed, insistent grind punctuating his velvety murmur as he leaned until you could practically taste the sandalwood tang of his skin.

"What do you say, gorgeous? Why don't we find out together..."

Another time, you'd leaned over to plug in your laptop charger that had come loose from the outlet, dress riding up to expose an indecent swath of thigh and backside. So focused on your search that you didn't register the telltale quiet until Dazai's heated rumble caressed your senses from somewhere directly behind.

"Well...hello there." The gruff rasp contained undisguised sin as you whipped around to find him looming at your back - chest only scant inches from brushing your own. "Now isn't this just a delicious view to stumble across?"

You couldn't even summon an ounce of outrage, too immediately arrested by the unapologetic heat blazing in Dazai's midnight regard. The way it seemed to physically scorch across your exposed skin, raising delirious inflamed prickles.

Dazai allowed his stare to streak down the length of you in one unhurried, carnal sweep. When his russet gaze finally battled back up to lock with yours at eye-level, you felt like every molecule had been methodically undressed for perusal despite remaining clothed.

"You know..." He rasped at last, pitching his timbre around the words like a physical caress. "For someone who so adamantly claims they're not trying to tempt certain...responses...you certainly have an interesting way of presenting yourself, beautiful."

On the emphasis of that last word, Dazai allowed his upper body to roll forwards in one languid swell - forcing your spines into heated alignment as he crowded you snugly back against the desk. You couldn't stifle the sharp inhalation as sinuous muscle and blistering male heat surrounded you in a searing brand.

The low, humming growl Dazai released seemed to reverberate straight through to your very marrow. You shuddered despite yourself as his broad palms mapped the flare of your hips in a scorching, proprietary glide that stopped just short of indecent territory before retreating slowly.

"Well then, I certainly can't fault your...presentation," he husked, the words ghosting across your thundering pulse point. "Although you're making it dreadfully difficult for a gentleman to retain his composure around such blatant temptation..."

The thick, luxurious weight of the tension binding you and Dazai together grew heavier and more insistent with each passing encounter. until it felt like a living, breathing force of nature unto itself. An elemental power that threatened to finally shatter whatever fragile truces still existed between you.

Like when you reached above your head to reshelve some files, causing your blouse to ride up and expose a tantalizing strip of toned abdomen. You didn't hear Dazai's silent approach over the whisper-shush of papers until the solid wall of his torso pressed flush against your lower back.

His palms settled with scorching possession around your waist, fingers splaying to maximize contact as Dazai effectively pinned you between the searing brand of his body and the shelving. A rumbling purr of approval reverberated straight through you as he allowed his hips to grind in one molten, indolent roll.

"Well, well..." The words dripped molten sin against the nape of your neck, raising delicious frissons. "What an absolutely tantalizing surprise to stumble across..."

You couldn't quite restrain the tremulous whimper that slipped free at the insistent outline of his dick nestling against the cleft of your backside. Dazai answered with a darker, smoke-edged growl of blatant male satisfaction deep in his chest - the sound catalyzing a betraying spire of heat in your core.

"So responsive," he rasped in carnal delight. "I'd wondered just how far I'd have to push before coaxing those pretty little sounds out of you again, beautiful."

One calloused palm stroked up the vulnerable inward curve of your waist in a lingering caress. Then Dazai splayed those sinful fingertips across your abdomen, the brand of his touch raising molten wildfires in its wake as it slowly wandered higher.

"Although now that I've heard them..." His teeth grazed the thundering thrum of your pulse in a searing graze. "I seem to find myself utterly incapable of resisting the urge to hear them again. And again..."

He punctuated the delirious promise by flexing his hips with pointed emphasis, forcing your lower back to arch in order to maintain that scorching point of contact. You heard yourself keen softly in a plaintive, needy rasp that only seemed to stoke the banked wildfire in Dazai's smoldering stare to searing new heights.

"There it is..." The timbre emerged nearly unraveled into gravel now as he sealed you flush once more. "Sweeter than any symphony, wouldn't you agree, gorgeous?"

Another time, one of Dazai's hands settled low on your hip as he leaned around you to reach for a file you were reviewing. Instead of extracting himself afterwards, he allowed the solid brand of his torso to remain locked against you from behind as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Even with you facing the wall, you felt the scorching weight of his hooded stare caressing the exposed nape of your neck. Each measured exhalation feathered across those sensitized nerves in delirious, searing contrails guaranteed to raise prickles across your skin.

"You're awfully tense, beautiful," Dazai rasped at last with that rich, dripping insinuation. "And after the long day you've endured, so focused...so disciplined..."

His free hand settled at the dip of your lower spine, callused fingertips trailing up in a lingering glide that catalyzed your pulse into a molten gallop. You couldn't quite suppress the tremulous shiver despite willing every molecule to remain composed and unaffected by the branding possession of his touch.

"Don't fret," he murmured, chin dipping to graze the fragile whorl of your ear as his palm continued meandering ever higher. "I'll be sure to take...such exquisite care in relieving that tension for you."

One broad splay spanned the expanse between your shoulder blades, allowing the solid brand of his forearm to pin you flush as Dazai's hips rolled in a suggestive grind. You couldn't quite muffle the choked whimper that slipped free despite your best restraint, scalp tingling beneath the rasp of his answering chuckle vibrating against your nape.

"There now...isn't that better already?"

After weeks of the escalating tension and suggestive encounters between you and Dazai, he finally decided to change tactics. One afternoon, after another heated brush of intimate proximity had left you both simmering, Dazai caught your arm gently as you tried to make your escape.

"Enough games between us, don't you think?" His tone was low but serious, none of the usual honeyed taunts coloring the words. "We both know this delicious dance can't go on indefinitely before one of us combusts entirely."

You opened your mouth, not sure if you intended to feign ignorance or finally give voice to the crackling awareness stretching between you. But Dazai merely shook his head, holding up a hand to forestall you.

"Don't bother denying the heat, beautiful. We're both too far down this road to keep playing coy." His gaze bored into yours with surprising intensity. "Which is why I have a proposal for you - a way for us both to finally scratch this undeniable itch that's been driving us slowly mad."

Interest and trepidation warred within you as you regarded Dazai steadily. He seemed to read the conflict because one side of his mouth kicked up in a slanted smile, but not the usual teasing curl. This one was weighted with quiet promise.

"Hear me out," was all he said, letting the susurrant words hang pregnant between you. "I'm prepared to make you an offer, gorgeous...one that will allow us both to have what we've been craving with no more teasing or games involved. If you're amenable, that is."

For once, you found yourself speechless under the solemn intensity of Dazai's regard. He was clearly offering a way to finally resolve the explosive tensions building between you, laid bare with none of the usual dazzling deflections. The decision rested entirely with you now.

After a pregnant pause where you searched his expression, you gave a measured nod. "I'm listening..."

Dazai's gaze remained steady and unflinching as you indicated your willingness to hear him out. For a protracted beat, the weighted silence stretched taut between you - alive with the same sparking undercurrents that had been slowly reaching a simmer over the past several weeks.

"What I'm about to propose may sound a bit...unconventional," he began at last, rich timbre stripped of any extraneous inflection. "But I think we're both finally ready to acknowledge that there's something undeniably potent between us. A craving that's only going to keep escalating until it finally explodes in spectacular fashion."

You felt your breath hitch despite willing your lungs to remain steady. Dazai's manner was severe now - bereft of any lurid suggestions or honeyed come-ons. This side of him felt almost dangerous in its solemn intensity, drawing you in like a cobra's mesmeric dance.

"The way I see it," he continued after a charged pause, "we have two choices before us. We can keep playing these delirious games, circling one another until the inevitable conflagration consumes us both in riotous ruin..."

Dazai allowed his smoldering stare to streak down the feminine lines of your body in one ponderous sweep before returning to lock with yours. The sheer corporeal weight of his appraisal raised exquisite tendrils of heat despite yourself.

"Or we could...indulge ourselves a bit. Satisfy this relentless craving in a controlled manner before it spirals entirely out of hand."

The meaning behind his quietly purred suggestion catalyzed a wildfire of its own inside your veins. You couldn't quite mask the reactive shiver that rippled through you, though Dazai didn't seem to fault you for it. He simply tipped his head a fraction, maintaining that weighted connection between your locked stares as he allowed the implication to sink in.

"Just a temporary arrangement between colleagues, you understand," he clarified after a protracted beat. "No strings, no pesky romantic entanglements to complicate matters further. Just two consenting adults sating this rapacious hunger that's becoming so painfully... insistent."

Each husked word felt like searing little brands scoring across your nerves - stoking the already molten kiln banked low in your abdomen. Despite the clinical way Dazai couched his proposition, the subtle langue of his body seemed to bleed with darker promise as he shifted fractionally closer into your space.

"Think about it, beautiful," he rumbled, pitching the entreaty to detonate against the sensitive whorls of your ears. "All of this delicious tension finally allowed to unspool in unbridled release. No more restraints, no more teasing folly - just the sweet rapture of indulgence you crave as badly as I..."

The deliberate roll of Dazai's formidable torso brought his intoxicating musk crashing over you in dizzying waves. You swayed automatically towards the epicenter of that sensual gravitational pull despite your better instincts. Close enough to feel the branded caress of each measured exhale fanning across your thundering pulse.

Close enough to be utterly transfixed by the smoldering mural unraveled in smoked whiskey and molten onyx as Dazai searched your expression for rejection - or acquiescence.

"So tell me," he rasped at last, voice descending into a ruinous timbre that resonated straight through to the hollows of your marrow. "Do we finally break this sweet torture between us, gorgeous? Or keep stoking the embers until we incinerate ourselves entirely?"

The razor-edged promise hung in the electrified space twinned heartbeats seemed to suspend entirely. Dazai simply held you transfixed with that pointed, infinite stare - allowing his words to fully permeate your awareness and render you weightless in their wake.

For once, you realized with dawning inevitability...you didn't actually have an objection to voice.

You held Dazai's piercing gaze, feeling the weight of his proposition settle over you like a heavy mantle. The suggestion of a casual, no-strings arrangement between you hung thick in the air, heavy with unspoken caveats.

Deep down, you knew there was no way to keep things impersonal or detached if you went down that path with Dazai. The sheer smoldering intensity between you, the steadily simmering hunger you saw reflected in his russet stare...it carried an inexorable gravity that would consume you both entirely if unleashed.

For a suspended breath, Dazai simply watched you digest the implications in silence, mahogany eyes glittering like polished obsidian. Then you saw a muscle feather almost imperceptibly along the stark line of his jaw as you failed to immediately agree.

"Or perhaps..." His rumbling timbre emerged roughened by sin and smoke. "A more... permanent arrangement might be in order between us after all, hmm?"

Your indrawn breath felt approximately as loud as a sonic boom in the weighted quiet. Dazai didn't so much as blink, maintaining his leonine scrutiny as you tried to process that molten undercurrent suddenly shifting between you.

The very air itself seemed to thicken and constrict around you both, alive with the sparking frissures of unraveling tension. Whatever this was rapidly metastasizing into felt too profound, too utterly cataclysmic to be sated through mere indulgence any longer.

As if intuiting the trajectory of your thoughts, Dazai's full lips curved into a slanting, almost feral approximation of a smile that sent delirious tendrils of heat barreling outwards.

"Yes... I can see it in your eyes now, beautiful." He veritably purred the words into the electrically charged space twinned heartbeats seemed to suspend into breath-held entropy. "This is quickly evolving into something more insistent. More..."

Blazing overhead lights turned his irises into molten eclipses as Dazai allowed his hooded stare to openly devour you once more. Mapping every micro-shiver and telling flutter as his body seemed to radiate waves of tactile seduction without closing the scant distance between you.

"Insatiable," he concluded at last, the tone pitched to detonate with exquisite precision against every nerve in wanton detonation. "Something that won't be so easily slaked through fleeting capitulation between us, hmm?"

The weighted assessment hung in the electrified tension like the string of a bow drawn taut to near snapping. You couldn't even formulate a reply, too transfixed by the banked inferno steadily spiraling into unchecked wildfire behind Dazai's uncompromising mien.

Then his jaw flexed almost imperceptibly before he allowed an exhale to shudder free in humid duress. "Very well then..."

Before you could even process the words, Dazai surged forwards into the scant inches separating your bodies with leonine grace. The sudden, shockingly intimate collision of his larger frame with yours obliterated whatever feeble scraps of space still remained, searing a brand of delirious heat down every straining nerve ending.

His fingertips seared like molten possession bracketing the soft knolls of your hips as he pressed the irrefutable ridge of his arousal against the cradle of your lowermost curves in a slow, purposeful grind. A starburst of whited-out rapture detonated behind your ribcage at the unapologetic insistence of the motion.

"If total... profane consumption is what you require," Dazai husked against the overheated thrum of your pulse, "then that's precisely what you'll receive from me, beautiful. No half-measures, no restraints..."

The deliberate sweep of his nose nudged yours fractionally to one side, catalyzing twin gasps that mingled with heady potency in the scant space separating your dually parted lips. Searing molten onyx held you hypnotized and weightless, transfixed beneath the intensity of Dazai's smolder as he sealed the vow in that final, scorching murmur.

"I'll simply have to raze you down to your very atoms...and rebuild you entirely anew as mine."

The finality underlying Dazai's vow catalyzed your surrender like a stone finally yielding to gravity's inexorable pull. You couldn't resist the delirious whirlwind of sensation as he closed the last few inches - mouth crashing against yours in a searing, possessive brand.

Dazai kissed you like a man hungered, all simmering restraint finally shattered into dust beneath the onslaught. His tongue swept between your lips in blatant possession, igniting every receptor into feverish communion as you arched helplessly into the scorching demands of his larger frame.

One broad palm anchored your nape, angling your parted mouth to deepen the onslaught as Dazai's other arm banded around your waist. Lashing you flush against the exquisitely hewn planes of his torso in a searing, rapturous grind that stole any last lingering objection you might have harbored.

His growl of dark triumph rumbled straight through your bones as you melted completely beneath that sensual siege - thoughts unraveling into rapturous ash as you finally surrendered to the devouring provocation of Dazai's kiss. Allowing yourself to be plundered with ravenous, openmouthed sweeps that curled your very toes and liquified your bones.

When he finally wrenched his mouth from yours in clear defiance of needing oxygen, you swayed numbly in the aftershocks. Ambient reality felt scorched away by the elemental entropy now rapidly consuming you both in its path. The only remaining anchor was Dazai's half-lidded stare - a molten supernova holding yours effortlessly transfixed as your chests heaved in unison.

"There now..." His graveled growl whispered across your swollen lips, arms still banded in inescapable possession. "Doesn't giving in feel so much better than fighting me at last?"

You could only manage a tremulous, soundless nod - still too thoroughly undone to rally any response beyond instinctively arching for more searing contact. Dazai made a pleased rumble deep in his chest, holding you pinned against the rigid contours of his body by sheer corporeal dominance.

Then his mouth crashed down again in another possessive onslaught, tongue stroking between your lips in blatant avowal of control. He walked you backwards with a series of inescapable grinding steps until your back met the solid resistance of a nearby wall. Caging you there in the vise of his larger frame as his mouth plundered deeper.

You clutched at any available anchor, fingers snarling through the crisp strands at his nape in a desperate bid to ground yourself amid the delirious whirlwind. But there could be no bracing against Dazai's onslaught, only utter surrender to the maelstrom.

He growled visceral approval at your mindless responsiveness, hips angling to bracket yours in scorching emphasis as one broad palm mapped down your body.

A strangled moan spilled from your lips at the molten drag of his hand across your waist, down the flare of your hips, around to splay against the exposed vee of your inner thigh.

"Look at me," he husked, waiting until your hazy eyes dragged up to his. Then Dazai rolled his hips in a slow, sinuous grind - making sure you could feel the rigid line of his arousal through the confines of his slacks.

"See how utterly wrecked you've left me, gorgeous?" The words vibrated against the fragile whorls of your ear, raising delicious goosebumps. "That's how I've felt since the moment you first walked in here. And now, finally..."

His voice trailed off, allowing the scorching implication to speak for itself as Dazai flexed his hips in another pointed, searing roll. Your eyes practically rolled back in your skull as the pressure ignited a wildfire of need, a molten cascade of sensation that pooled low in your abdomen with alarming speed.

"But I'm not the only one, hmm?"

Those dexterous fingers inched higher along your inner thigh, skating up the tingling span to hover just shy of where you desperately ached for him. You shuddered, unable to contain the tremulous little gasp that spilled free as your hips automatically canted towards the delicious torment.

"You're equally ruined, aren't you, beautiful?" Dazai's words seared directly into the tender shell of your ear, setting each delicate nerve alight. "I can see it in those gorgeous eyes. The way you melt into me like a kitten seeking affection, aching for my touch..."

You moaned deliriously as he allowed his fingers to skate the sensitive hollow just above your hip, dipping beneath the hem of your blouse. Each stroke raised exquisite frissons along your spine as you strained for more.

"Don't fret, sweet girl..." Dazai murmured, voice dipping even lower as his fingers continued mapping higher. "I'll make sure we both get exactly what we crave. What we've needed since that first meeting in my office..."

When his fingers finally delved between your thighs, parting the fabric to tease along the wet cleft within, your head fell back in utter surrender. Eyes slipping closed at the overwhelming surge of pleasure that rocketed through you, searing every receptor into ecstatic communion.

"Yes," he rumbled darkly against the vulnerable slope of your neck, mouth trailing a series of scalding little bites in his wake. "I'm going to make sure we both unravel and find exquisite ruin together, sweet girl. But first..."

Those long, elegant fingers finally found their target, sliding against the slick center of your desire. You cried out, spine arching as Dazai's thumb stroked a deliberate path across your throbbing clit.

"I think it's only fair to return the favor, don't you?"

Then he sank two fingers into your welcoming core, the stretch forcing a sharp keening sound from your throat. Dazai released a rough purr of approval at your reaction, laving the stinging bites with the soothing flat of his tongue as he slowly pumped the digits.

"That's it, beautiful," he crooned against your thundering pulse. "Give me everything. Let me hear how utterly wrecked you are already."

Each thrust stoked the embers blazing into wildfire inside you, turning your muscles into liquid flame as the molten rhythm built. Dazai's mouth crashed against yours in another searing kiss as the fingers curling deep inside you stroked incessantly.

You surrendered completely beneath his relentless siege, the only thing holding you upright being his solid frame bracketed against yours. Each thrust stoked the molten flames higher, driving your senses into a delirium until the world narrowed down to the incendiary rhythm between you and Dazai.

A keening wail erupted from your lungs as the pleasure coalesced, cresting and exploding behind your ribcage in a devastating implosion. Dazai's answering groan felt like the sweetest reward as he drank in every tremulous sound and reaction.

As the tremors slowly receded, you became dimly aware of his lips grazing the crown of your head as he carefully withdrew his fingers. Your thighs trembled in the wake of that intense climax, but Dazai merely gathered you against his larger frame.

"That's it, gorgeous," he rasped against the shell of your ear, the timbre thick with lust. "You've been so good, letting me take you apart completely. So good for me, my sweet girl."

The praise made you whimper softly, a shiver rippling through your limbs as the last lingering sparks of rapture finally dissipated. When you managed to crack your eyes open again, Dazai's expression arrested you instantly.

His pupils were blown wide, nearly overtaking the irises entirely. Those full lips were reddened and slightly swollen, the lower still gleaming wet from his ravaging kisses. Dazai's chest was heaving as if he'd run a marathon, but his hold remained steady as he continued murmuring quiet praise into the crown of your head.

"There you are, sweet girl," he rumbled, a crooked little grin twitching across his features. "Still with me?"

Your head managed a feeble little nod, earning an amused chuckle. Then Dazai tipped your chin up until his searing gaze bore into yours with palpable intent.

"Good, because we're far from finished," he warned, the graveled timbre resonating through your bones. "I've wanted you for too damn long to be satisfied with a single taste, sweet girl. Once is going to be nowhere near enough."

You shivered at the unabashed promise, though couldn't quite muster a rebuttal. Not when the molten embers inside you were already roaring back to life beneath the searing heat of Dazai's stare.

"Now, where shall we begin?"

He pondered aloud, tilting his head to one side as he surveyed the options. His free hand wandered lower, tracing idle patterns along the slope of your spine as Dazai considered his options. You could practically hear the gears in his head whirring.

Then his gaze sharpened, honing in on something before a wicked grin split his features. You opened your mouth to inquire, but the words dissolved into a sharp gasp as Dazai seized a handful of your ass and squeezed hard.

"I've had plenty of time to fantasize about this pretty little rear, you know," he murmured against the sensitive whorl of your ear, eliciting shivers. "So many nights wondering just how good you'd look bent over my desk, ass presented and waiting for me..."

Another squeeze, harder this time as he pulled you tighter against the ridge of his erection. Dazai rolled his hips languidly, eliciting a whimper at the delicious friction.

"And the best part?" His voice dropped to a smoke-edged rasp, the timbre reverberating straight through you. "Now I finally get to find out."

Dazai didn't give you time to formulate a reply before he turned, steering you through the maze of desks with a firm hand on the small of your back. He paused once you reached the large executive desk, turning to survey the scene with obvious approval.

"Right here, sweet girl," he purred, fingers drifting down to unzip your skirt and allow it to puddle at your feet. "This will do nicely, don't you think?"

You managed a tremulous little nod, unable to resist leaning into his touch as Dazai guided you towards the edge of the desk. Your hands settled atop the cool surface for balance, and he gave a soft hum of approval at the sight.

"Such a good girl, aren't you?" He praised, calloused fingertips stroking the sensitive flesh along the backs of your thighs. "So eager to please. And you've been doing such a splendid job so far, my sweet."

A tremulous little mewl slipped free at the gentle strokes. You shifted restlessly, arching for more.

Dazai released a rumbling purr, the sound thick with satisfaction as his palm curved around the flair of your backside. The other hand reached for the waistband of his slacks, easing the zipper down as his thumb stroked along the line of your thong.

"I can't wait to get my cock inside you," he rasped, the filthy words causing a shiver. "To feel this perfect little cunt wrapped around me. So tight, so wet...and all for me, gorgeous."

His palm cupped one cheek, kneading gently as Dazai rocked his hips forwards. The ridge of his erection dragged across your slit, parting the fabric with its insistent press. Your mouth fell open in a soft whine at the delicious friction.

"I bet I can even make you scream," he husked against the nape of your neck, rolling his hips again. "Make you fall apart all over my cock as I fuck you right here, bent over this desk."

His palm cracked against the supple flesh, the sound reverberating through the air and causing a sharp cry. A second stinging smack followed, then another. Dazai's mouth roved against your shoulder blades as his hand kept punishing the swell of your backside.

"Just the thought of that has me rock-hard already," he growled, punctuating the vow by grinding his hips forwards once more. "Imagining you all desperate and dripping wet for me, aching for release."

The words alone were almost enough to tip you over the edge. Then the hand palming your backside slipped between your thighs, teasing the fabric covering your soaked slit. You gasped, canting your hips instinctively for more.

"Mm, just like that," Dazai murmured against the nape of your neck. "My sweet girl wants to be fucked, doesn't she? She's so eager, so responsive..."

One finger hooked beneath the fabric, tugging it aside. You could feel the blunt press of his erection nudging between your thighs, so close to finally entering you. The anticipation ratcheted even higher, a delicious tension.

"I've waited far too long to finally claim you, gorgeous," Dazai husked, voice thick with lust. "And I fully intend to take my time with you, sweet girl. But right now..."

One broad palm splayed across the expanse of your lower back, pressing your torso flush against the polished desktop. Your legs were spread wide, and you were held pinned in place by Dazai's weight bearing down behind you.

"Right now," he repeated, the words resonating with finality as his hand wrapped around your waist, fingers curling into the wet fabric of your panties. "I'm going to fuck you the way we both desperately need. Hard and fast, until I've completely ruined you for any other man. Is that understood?"

You managed a frantic little nod, eyes clenched tightly closed as you waited. Every nerve felt alight with anticipation, breath held in suspension.

Then, without any warning, Dazai snapped his hips forwards in a punishing thrust. You cried out sharply, unable to muffle the keening sound at the sudden penetration. His cock drove impossibly deep, filling you so completely you could almost taste him at the back of your throat.

"There now..." He rumbled dark approval, hand stroking up your spine in a soothing gesture. "So beautifully tight around me. You take me so well, gorgeous."

His hips began to move, rocking into you in slow, torturous motions that stoked the inferno burning higher. Each stroke was exquisitely thorough, each thrust bottoming out and sending a delicious jolt up your spine.

Your hands scrambled for purchase against the smooth desktop, seeking an anchor amidst the relentless sensual onslaught. You could feel every inch of Dazai's cock pistoning inside you, could hear the filthy little grunts of pleasure each time his hips snapped forwards.

"Does that feel good, sweet girl?" His voice emerged in a rough growl, the timbre nearly unraveled with the force of his need. "Being so thoroughly filled, so taken apart by my cock?"

A strangled moan ripped free from your throat at the delicious pressure, and Dazai chuckled roughly in response. One hand curled around your neck, pulling your spine flush against his chest as he increased the pace.

"That's it, sweet girl. Let me hear you. Show me how well you're being fucked, how much you enjoy taking me."

Your hips rocked back to meet his, mindless in the pursuit of ecstasy. Each thrust was more powerful than the last, a relentless cadence that stole your breath and left you helplessly panting. The delicious friction stoked the inferno blazing into wildfire, obliterating all thought in its path.

"That's it, my sweet girl," Dazai husked, voice thick with desire. "Give yourself to me completely. I'll take care of you, sweet girl. I'll always take care of you, sweet girl."

Those words alone nearly tipped you over the edge, a tremulous keen ripping free from your throat as you surrendered. You arched for more, desperate for him to finish what he'd started.

Then his arm wrapped around your waist, holding you captive as Dazai pounded into you. The angle was deeper now, his cock hitting places inside you that caused stars to explode behind your eyelids. Each thrust was more powerful than the last, driving you closer and closer to the razor's edge.

"So close, sweet girl," he husked, voice nearly unrecognizable. "Come for me. Let go, my beautiful girl."

The command detonated like a sonic boom inside you, shattering the tenuous restraint and setting the world ablaze. You screamed his name, back arching as the climax crashed over you.

Dazai snarled a filthy oath as he felt the convulsions ripple through your body, his grip tightening. He kept thrusting, dragging out your orgasm until it was nearly too much to bear.

Your legs trembled, muscles liquefying as the ecstasy crested. But Dazai didn't stop. His hand remained wrapped around your throat, holding you flush against his torso as his hips snapped forwards.

"Yes," he growled, the words vibrating straight through you. "Give it to me, sweet girl. Let me feel that sweet cunt milking me dry, let me fill you up and hear you scream..."

Each word felt like a brand scorching directly into the core of you, the heat so intense it nearly seared. You could barely breathe, barely think, barely do anything beyond shudder and moan beneath the onslaught.

The climax tore through you in an inferno, obliterating any remaining scrap of rational thought in its wake. All you could do was ride the waves, drowning beneath the deluge of pleasure.

Dazai's hips snapped forward once more, hissing a guttural curse as his own release crested. You could feel the liquid warmth filling you, flooding your core and coating the inside of your thighs as his thrusts slowed.

Then, finally, his rhythm stuttered to a halt. The arm holding you steady against him loosened, allowing you to collapse against the desktop. Your muscles felt utterly spent, trembling in the aftershocks as you struggled to catch your breath.

Dazai's hand remained on the curve of your hip, anchoring you securely as he slowly withdrew. A breathless little moan slipped free at the loss, though he immediately shushed you with a kiss pressed against the nape of your neck.

"There now," he murmured, tone thick with satisfaction. "Wasn't that infinitely better than keeping our distance, my sweet girl?"

You couldn't even formulate a reply - still reeling from the intensity of that orgasm. But Dazai didn't seem to need an answer, content to hold you pinned against the edge of the desk for a moment longer.

"But now I need you to do something for me," he rumbled after a beat, the words thickening with sin and smoke. "Be a good girl and stand up for me."

You managed a weak, confused little sound as you complied. Dazai's arm was instantly around your waist, steadying you as your trembling limbs struggled to obey. Once your knees stopped shaking, he pulled you closer.

"Good girl," he praised, the words a velvety rumble against your temple. "Now stay right here for me."

Before you could question, his hands dropped to his waistband. You watched in mute fascination as Dazai tugged his slacks down, revealing his half-hard erection. It glistened with the evidence of your shared release, a bead of his spend slipping down the side.

He didn't break eye contact, holding you trapped in the molten depths of his stare. One hand curled around his shaft, giving a languid stroke as Dazai swiped a thumb across the head.

You swallowed thickly, eyes unable to look away as he used the pearled dew to slick his hand.

"Now then," he husked, expression dark with promise. "Open that pretty mouth for me, my sweet."

Your lips parted of their own accord, the motion instinctive. Dazai's smirk widened at the immediate compliance, his free hand tipping your chin upwards to hold you pinned beneath the smoldering heat of his stare.

"I need you to clean me off, sweet girl," he explained, the graveled timbre of his voice sending goosebumps rippling across your skin. "Every. Last. Drop. Understood?"

Another tremulous sound spilled free as you nodded, eagerly getting down on your knees. The air seemed to thicken, heavy with erotic intent as you awaited his next command.

"Good girl," Dazai praised, the words dripping like honey. "Now open that pretty mouth and show me just how good you are at listening to instructions."

Your jaw fell open, tongue darting out to lap against the swollen crown. His fingers tangled in your hair, guiding you forward until you were able to suck the entire length of him into the velvet cradle.

"Just like that," Dazai crooned, the words emerging half-unraveled as his hips bucked forwards. "So fucking perfect. You look so beautiful like this, gorgeous."

His words were punctuated by shallow, rolling thrusts. His shaft grew impossibly hard against your tongue, thick and pulsing. You could feel him swelling, filling your mouth with his musky scent.

Dazai's eyes were blown wide, the pupils completely overtaking the irises. They burned with molten desire, the sight almost enough to tip you over the edge again.

"Now I need you to take me deep," he growled, voice roughened with lust. "Let me feel the back of that pretty throat, my sweet girl."

You could only nod, unable to do anything beyond comply. His fingers tightened in your hair, tugging gently as he angled your head where he needed. Dazai's cock filled your mouth, stretching the walls of your throat as he rocked forwards.

"Such a good girl," he crooned, the words emerging ragged and breathless. "That's it, take all of me. Such a good girl, sucking my cock like a proper little whore. Now open that pretty mouth and let me see those gorgeous eyes."

You moaned, the sound muffled by the length of his shaft. Dazai's fingers tightened in your hair, a warning.

"Good girl," he growled, the words almost feral with the force of his need. "I'm going to fill your sweet little mouth with my cum, sweet girl. Then you're going to swallow every drop. Understood?"

Another frantic nod, your cheeks hollowing as you sucked. He groaned, the sound rumbling through his chest as his thrusts grew sharper. His shaft filled your mouth, pushing deeper and deeper until you could barely breathe.

"Take it," he ordered, voice rough and commanding. "Take every drop of my cum, sweet girl."

Then, without warning, Dazai's entire body went rigid. His jaw clenched, eyes closing as his head tipped back.

His hips slammed forwards, bottoming out and hitting the back of your throat. You gagged slightly at the sudden intrusion, but he held you pinned. His entire body seemed to shake, muscles corded with strain.

Then his cock throbbed, pulsing against your tongue as his seed flooded your mouth. You moaned, the sound muffled by the shaft filling you.

His eyes flew open, pinning you beneath the molten weight of his stare. You held perfectly still, allowing him to spill into your mouth until his thrusts began to slow.

"Fuck, gorgeous," he panted, hips still rolling as the last spurts trickled down your throat. "That's a good girl, taking it all for me. What a sweet little thing you are, swallowing down my cum like that."

His thumb traced the outline of your lips, the calloused pad dragging along the sensitive flesh. You shivered at the feather-light caress, unable to look away from his half-lidded stare.

"You've earned a reward," Dazai husked, his voice a velvety purr. "And I fully intend to spoil my sweet girl tonight. Shall we begin with dinner? My treat."

#bsd smut #bsd x reader smut #bsd x reader #bsd dazai #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs smut #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs dazai #dazai x reader smut #dazai osamu smut #dazai osamu x reader smut #dazai osamu x reader #dazai smut #dazai x reader #dazai osamu

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em-ontv · 1 month

Text

If I can’t have you.

Pairing: Homelander x fem!reader (who's a member of The Boys)

Summary: he’s obsessed with something he can’t have. And you just so happen to show up at a little Vought party.

Warnings: Homelander himself is a warning, language/profanities, mentions of violence, psycho behavior, a bit of stalking?, bits of obsessive behavior, use of y/n

Author's note: After weeks of hiding under a rock, I have returned with this little fic. Just a random thought, Homelander may be ooc, I don't know, I tried my best, I've only seen a few episodes of the show. Anyways, enjoy. English isn't my first language, there should be mistakes, apologies beforehand :)

Word count: 789

———————————————————————————

You weren't supposed to be there. Not at a Vought party, not at this swanky corporate party with its champagne flutes, fancy lighting from the chandeliers, and a thousand faces that were too smug for their own good. But there you were, playing the role of a nobody, trying to blend in with the crowd. The plan from Butcher was easy — get in, get out, no problems.

But then he noticed you.

Homelander.

The Golden Boy. America's fucking sweetheart. The poster child of Vought International's entire empire. He was everything you despised, everything you were working with The Boys to bring down. You knew what he was behind the flashing lights and the cameras, the bodies he had left behind without so much as a second thought. He was a ticking time bomb, dressed up in red, white, and blue. But you didn't expect him to even look your way.

It started with a file. A damn file. Some low-level paper pusher at Vought had flagged you as a person of interest — seeing your connection with The Boys. Homelander caught wind of it somehow, maybe during one of his scans to sniff out a threat, or maybe he was just bored enough to pry where he shouldn't have. And then, there it was — your face, plastered on the screen. Something about you caught his eye. You didn't look scared. You looked defiant.

That pissed him off. But it also intrigued him. So, he started watching.

At first, it was just a curiosity, a passing interest. But then it grew, and festered. He started to check in on you more and more, looking through cameras, or, fuck, his x-ray vision, flying over the city to catch sight of you. It became a sick little game for him — seeing how close he could get without you noticing, and you didn't. He'd watch you walk down the street, watch you with Butcher and his merry band of assholes, watch you when you were alone. It was thrilling for him, intoxicating, even, to know that someone like you, someone who should be terrified, was living their life so... boldly.

And that's when it became an obsession. You were something he couldn't control, something he couldn't have. And that made him want you even more.

Which is why, when you crashed Vought's little party, you felt a pair of eyes on you the moment you stepped foot into the building. You knew something was wrong, you felt it. It made your stomach churn, as if it was a warning that told you to run. But you couldn't. You had a job to do, information to gather. And you knew that Homelander wouldn't dare to make a scene at a party that was hosted for him. Not here, not now.

But then you bumped into him.

Literally.

One second you were standing beside a door, trying to catch a few whispered words between the executives, acting casual. And the next, you were backing up right into the problem itself, quickly turning around and meeting the eyes that could burn holes through your skull or melt you into a literal puddle.

"Whoops," Homelander said, with that infuriating, perfectly rehearsed smile plastered across his face, as if he wasn't the most dangerous thing in the room. "Well, what do we have here? A little spy, sneaking around my party?" he hummed, his voice low, just for you.

"Oh, no. Just someone who’s enjoying the party like everyone else is, nothing special." you said, your voice steady, although you were absolutely fucking lost inside.

"Standing close to that door won't do you any good. Why don't you come with me?" his hand reached out, brushing a lock of your hair behind your ear, and you fought the urge to flinch.

His eyes were piercing, searching your face like he was trying to peel back your skin and see what made you tick.

Nope. You were leaving.

He couldn't have seen through you, could he? You've never even met face to face before; how could he recognize you? Did he know that you were with Butcher?

Fuck him. Fuck Butcher. Fuck this.

"I should go. This party's been delightful." you said, giving him a smile that seemed too forced, a sour look on your face.

You turned around and quickly paced your steps to the exit, as if your lifeline was just ahead. It was. But before you could reach it—

Homelander blocked in front of you, blocked your path. The smile no longer on his face, instead, it was replaced by a dangerous glint in his eyes. He moved forward, one step... two steps, backing you further and further away from the exit.

"Leaving so soon... y/n?"

#homelander #homelander x reader #homelander x you #homelander x y/n #homelander x fem!reader #homelander the boys #homelander imagine #the boys #the boys x reader #the boys x you #the boys x y/n #the boys homelander #the boys fanfic #the boys fandom #homelander fanfiction

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daisybianca · 1 year

Text

pairing: charles leclerc x femalereader

summary: you and charles are childhood friends since like... forever?! one day, you're reading one of those books you very much like to read and he gets curious, wondering what it is about. little does he know that you're actually reading literal porn.

warnings: mentions of sexual activities, cursing words

(a/n): i got the main idea from character.ai and @ blairetaylorsversion ! Go check her work out. She's got fluffy, spicy, and also angsty stuff to read about <3

YOU SAT ON the warm beach sand, reading a book, while your friends swam and played in the water. You were so focused on the spicy scene you were reading that you didn't notice Charles leaning over your shoulder, trying to also get a glimpse of the action. When you finally did, you jumped slightly, caught off guard by his presence. A smirk formed on his lips as he saw your face turn slightly red from embarrassment.

"Shit, you scared me, you creep!"

Charles laughed slightly, before saying, "Oops, sorry!"

He looked back down at the book in your hands and raised his eyebrows, looking pretty intrigued.

"What are you reading there?" he asked playfully.

"None of your business." Your tone was sharp.

"Well aren't you a bit sassy today, huh?" he said with a smile.

He leaned back in the beach chair next to yours, keeping his arms crossed and looking back at the book. You could tell by his facial expression that he felt stubborn and was determined to see what you were reading.

"I'm not telling you what I'm reading about."

"Aww really? Why not? You can't make me super interested in something and then deny giving me the details..." he said with a pout.

With that, he tried to reach out and take the book from your hands. When he grabbed it, his hand brushed against yours, causing him to look up at you instantly.

"Hey, quit it, Charles!"

Charles looked up at you with a small smirk. He wasn't giving in that easily.

"I'm not gonna stop until you tell me," he said, trying to look innocent.

He refused to let go of the book and was pulling it back towards his side.

"Oh, come on. Why do you even care?!"

You started to feel a slight flutter in your stomach when he wouldn't let go of the book. He was so close to you and he was being playful, which made you feel weird.

"Well now I care even more because you're not telling me. You're making me more curious," he said, moving his body closer to yours and trying to look over your shoulder to see the book.

"It's a romance book."

Charles's eyes widened instantly. He looked intrigued and excited to find out more.

"So it's about love? Is it a romance? Is it about someone falling in love with someone else? Is it juicy?" he asked quickly, his words blending together.

"Too many questions."

"Oh, please, tell me..." Charles whined playfully.

He pulled the book back towards his side, then leaned his head closer against your shoulder, resting his head on you.

"It's um... very spicy."

Charles's eyes widened again.

"Ooh, spicy, huh? Is it about two characters being in love and doing it?" he asked excitedly, his eyebrows raised.

He pulled the book back towards his side again, putting pressure on it so it wouldn't slide away easily.

"Stop acting so childish. You know my taste in books."

A wide smirk appeared on Charles' lips. "Yes. And i daresay that they are particularly mild compared to what you can do in private."

"Shhhh!" Your eyes widened as you scanned the crowd around you. "Stop it! There are lots of people here."

"What are you scared of?" Charles asked. "The news of you and me having the most perfect sex while we're supposed to be childhood friends isn't really going to make me stop flirting with you in public."

You couldn't help but rolled your eyes. "Oh, come on, Charles! Stop talking that loud! You make me wanna hate you so bad sometimes."

"Apparently, last night wasn't one of those times, right, love?"

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ofoceansandtombsanew · 6 months

Text

Crown of Gold

cw. gn!reader, eremite!reader, pre-relationship, reader rizz

pairing. kaveh x reader

notes. this has been in my drafts for months. literal freaking months. this was supposed to be done and posted ages ago but apparently... this is what happens to a oneshot in the hands of a master procrastinator. this isn't anything too long but kaveh simps, come get your simp juice.

“You have a really fun toy, Mister!”

“Mehrak isn’t a toy! She’s my precious toolbox!”

There’s a mechanical beep and you hear gleeful shrieks and clapping following.

“A toy, a toy!”

When the man ー Kaveh, you remember ー groans in frustration, you aren’t able to stop your soft chuckles that are drowned out by the sounds of your younger sisters’ laughter. Let me help the guy out before he pulls his hair out.

“Uru, Jericho,” you step from behind the pillar, tugging your brocade off your face to give them a stern but playful look. The twins share a look of panic between them, Uru letting go of the strange, sentient box in her hands. “Are you bothering our guest?”

Aaru Village isn’t your home but it is a stable place to keep your sisters while you work.

You were born into the life of a mercenary, you seldom had a choice in what to become. Your mother was a mercenary and you grew up surrounded by them. Uncles and Aunties who would carve bowls and husk ajilenakh nuts with their swords. Stories being told around a fire as songs that have long since lost their names are sung. The scent of iron and dust blending into each other.

Your father passed away months after your birth and as for the twins’ dad, you doubt you would be able to pick the man out of a crowd even if held by blade point. You don’t know if he’s dead, nor do you know if the man simply abandoned his children in favor of life in the rainforest. Maybe he even had a new family.

You doubt you’ll ever receive an answer. Nor do you care if you ever receive one.

After your mother died on a job, you took your sisters and brought them to Aaru Village. Here your sisters can grow up with friends they can see everyday and neighbors with varying life expectancies.

You, on the other hand, continued your life as a hand-for-hire. Mercenary work is what took your family but it is what gave you the means to survive with the family you have left.

Uru and Jericho are your pride and joy. You want them to have the opportunities you couldn’t.

That doesn’t mean they can torment the architect whose visit to the village coincided with your own however.

“He’s the one who designed the library they’re building. He’s Kaveh!” you learned quickly from little Ayten. One might find it honorable he returns to make sure his work is being followed completely to the letter, another might find it simply as the architect doing his job.

You like to believe his reasoning is a happy medium between the two.

You give Kaveh a polite smile and he smiles back in relief. It’s practically reflex that you feel a small stutter of your heart. He is very beautiful. You have seen your fair share of beautiful people in both the desert and the rainforest.

This son of the rainforest is perhaps the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen.

It isn’t the first time you’ve seen the architect without your Eremite brocade inhibiting your sight. You’d seen him from a distance in the afternoon sun, discussing with Setaria and Badawi. Yet it is a different experience when he is standing right in front of you with locks of gold crowning his head and framing his ruby-red eyes.

“Go on and apologize to Mr. Kaveh and his Mehrak, okay?”

“Sorry, Mr. Kaveh,” Uru murmurs, hands behind her back.

“Sorry,” Jericho mumbles, fiddling with her dress.

Kaveh clears his throat and he sounds a bit too pleased at the apologetic words even if they are technically forced. “It’s fine, just make sure to treat Mehrak gently. She’s very important to me.” As if to agree with her master, the sentient box beeps. “Mehrak says she forgives you as well.” The twins brighten at this declaration.

“Now why don’t the two of you go and play with the children your age, hmm,” you nod in the direction of some children playing enthusiastically with their small scarab warriors.

“Sorry about my sisters,” you tell the man softly when the twins make their exit. “They think you’re fascinating.” He is fascinating. The clothes you buy are built for practicality. For the heat of the desert and for the humidity of the rainforest. Kaveh’s form of dress is undoubtedly fancier than what most desert folk don. He was swathed in the colors of Sumeru from the greens of the rainforest to the pale golds of the sands. “Most rainforest folk they see in Aaru Village are... different compared to you.”

Scholars in their Akademiya robes or those who now call the Red Sand their home. Those are the types of rainforest folk you'll typically find here.

“They aren’t too much trouble,” the architect tells you smoothly like he hadn’t been softly bullied by the two only moments prior.

“Really? They’re a pair of troublemakers to me,” you laugh, scarred hands resting on your hips. “They know they’re cute too. You’ve fallen right into their trap. They’ll be begging you to make them wreaths with your Vision if you’re not careful.”

Kaveh doesn’t look upset by your guffaws. His smile is one of exasperation and self-admitted doom. “Yep, they got me good,” he sighs good-naturedly. “I owe you a ‘thank you’. For Mehrak,” the toolbox beams in what you think is a happy tone. “And you’re the additional help Badawi mentioned, right? I appreciate you helping with keeping the trade route open to help lower loss of materials.”

“No need to thank me for that,” you shake your head. You don’t deserve them. You’re only helping since this coincided with your visit. So when Badawi asked if you could assist with keeping the costs down in the way you knew best, you easily told him he had your axe. “If it weren’t for that, I probably would be who knows where right now.”

Kaveh shakes his head at you even more firmly, “regardless of the reasoning, you’re helping out and that’s worthy of an expression of gratitude.”

You decide to let the architect win this battle. “Consider it my own thanks,” at the look of confusion he gives you, you are quick to explain: “For the library. It’s something this place desperately needs.”

Kaveh's smile is a bit more warm than polite. "It's my pleasure to work on any desert revitalization efforts."

You sit on one of the stray crates close by and gesture for the architect to sit beside you. He does, setting his toolbox beside him, it's bright green glow gone. "When it comes to this library you're building, can we expect to see it decorated entirely in plants?"

"I'll have to disappoint you," the man laughs sheepishly. "The building will probably be plainer than you're thinking."

"Don't worry, I was just pulling your chain," you reassure him. "It's enough that the children here will have a place to study."

“Plants have never been my strong suit,” the architect admits with a begrudging tone. “I’m happy with the Vision I have but plants aren’t an element I have a natural affinity for. I would have expected something more fitting to my interests or maybe that has more to do with my career.” He then mutters something along the lines of ‘maybe Geo or Cryo for sample constructs’, lost completely in thought.

He really is beautiful. It’s a look you’ve seen on him before from a distance. Deep in thought in the glow of the sun that made his hair shine more bright and his red eyes a red as deep as the cloths eremites use to cover their eyes.

“I have a friend with a Dendro Vision who hails from the Amurta Darshan, he definitely is able to use his to its fullest extent,” Kaveh sighs in finality. "I'll see if there are any plants he recommends for the desert

“I think it suits you,” a blond eyebrow raises in curiosity. As if he's challenging you for such a thought. An architect with with the power of plants doesn't seem that ridiculous a notion to you.

“The rainforest is your home so I think Dendro suits you just fine." He's much like the plants of Sumeru himself with the bright colors he swaddled in. "You’ve grown into your plants quite well, son of the rainforest. Besides, flowers are beautiful. Beautiful things are best suited for beautiful people.”

Perhaps that was too honest if Kaveh’s flaming red face at your candor is anything to go off of.

“As for myself, a Vision would be nice but I don’t need one. My ambitions in life are simpleー give my sisters the life I couldn’t have," you continue on, looking at your sisters.

They have no scarabs of their own to join in their friends' game, but they are watching the present match enthusiastically.

It’s a goal that can be accomplished with or without a Vision, blessings from the gods are simply boons for that goal. “I want them to go to the Akademiya and have the best chance at a good life. Maybe meeting you will inspire them to join Kshahrewar and become architects. Whatever makes them happy.”

Your words bring Kaveh out his flustered stupor, crossing his arms with a look of indignance. “I refuse to let those two be architects,” he says too resolutely for someone who is practically a stranger to the three of you. “If they want peace, they should definitely find a different field of study.”

You snort in amusement, “Setaria was telling me about how you’re this bigshot architect in the capital and you don’t want more students to join the craft?”

Kaveh shudders as if recalling terrible, terrible memories. “I’m surprised my hair hasn’t already turned gray,” he nods to himself, even more convinced than before. “Those girls look more like Amurta researchers to me. Maybe Spantamad if they find they like field research.”

“I’ll be sure to pass on your opinions to them, Mr. Kaveh,” you say with a bemused grin. “Maybe in the future they’ll surprise us both and do none of the things we’re talking about.” But as long as it isn’t mercenary work, it doesn’t matter.

"Kaveh," the architect corrects you. "You can just call me Kaveh. No formalities needed."

"Feel free to just call me [First]," you grin. You believe you'll enjoy working this project for however long you're needed. You don't think it's too arrogant to believe the man beside you is thinking the same. "No formalities needed."

Extra:

I was heavily moved to write this because I was thinking about VADTD's Penelope and how when she first met Callisto her eyes were drawn to his golden hair. I have a weakness for 2D blonds that that have red eyes, it's such a sexy combo in manhwas

#look she's writing #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #kaveh x reader #kaveh x you

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originalwinnercheesecake · 3 months

Text

Guess's on How Sasappis died.

Sasappis is the last ghost for us to learn his death. Sass is very private (undead) person, and we have been given no real/clear hints to his death. His ghost power (To enter into the dreams of the livings) could easily correlate to him being a story teller, and not necisarly "He died in his sleep, after catching a sever fever, that also caused him to have very strange dreams. Note I do not believe that Sass died of a fever. They would have incorporated some sign of it into his character. He would be more tired, feel more cold, possibly have a "unexplainable sweating problem". He also does not have any vibsiable gaping wounds, like Pete, Flower, or Stephanie, so that rules out death by attacker. So the question is how did Sass die

Now he could have died of some kind of sickness, but I do not think it is very likely. For one thing he is implied to have had a sudden death, just days before an important tribal ceremony he was planning/supposed to take part in. Correct me if I am wrong, but wouldn't most sickness take a period of weeks, months, years to do him in. A second thing again he isn't really sickly in the the show. All the cholera ghosts are flushed and still hacking. Issac will sneeze and mention stomach pains. But Sass seems fine, so if he has any kind of sickness then he has been masking it for 500 years. That is really sad.

He also could have could died if he went walk in the woods one night and fell from a cliff or out of a tree... but if that happened well that is kinda anti-climactic for how long we had to wait. I would rate that on the same scale as Thorfinn dying because he went walking with his helmet, through a storm and was struck by lightening. It is just a case of him not being as careful as he should have been. Not nearly an impressive follow up to Alberta or Hetty's more recently revealed deaths.... But you could make it more sad. Sass and his crush Shiki are implied to have died in the same year. Sass says that when they were alive, he was ghosted by Shiki after gifting a freshly killed deer to her family, as a jester of love. What if that was because Shiki actually went missing (i.e. died) shortly after, and Sass went out to search for her?

Another death I have considered was a food related one. A detail of Sass's character is is the most in love with food smells (the closest they can come to eating) of all the ghosts. He hangs out in the kitchen whenever Jay is cooking, consistently begs Sam and Jay to cook more of his favorite smelling food: pepperoni pizza, and I am honestly half expecting him to move into the barn once Jay's restaurant opens... What if Sass's love of food is actually a hint at his death? Maybe he had an allergy and accidentally ate something he was not supposed to? Or, maybe he had diabetes or some other dietary need, a crop or the meat from a particular animal, and Sass died when it was wiped out or disappeared. With so many people in the U.S. having dietary issues, and the countries known love of food, I could see the show choosing to write an episode on dietary importance, and the need for people from all walks of life to have access to healthy food.

My finale theory is one I have actually gotten off Tumblr, from the people who are fans of both the CBS and BBC series. Some people are suggesting Sass got bit by a poison snake or something and died from the poison venom. The puncture marks are small enough for Sass to be able to conceal with his clothing. Apparently something of the similar nature happened to BBC's Kitty? And I actually know a really good way to blend that into Sass's personality and a possible reason for why he became a ghost. Sass as mentioned loves stories and is a gifted story teller. But also as mentioned he is very private person who gets nervous about speaking in front of crowds. A week before the tribes festival Sass's father gave him an eagle's feather, which was believed to help bring confidence and courage. But what if Sass was still nervous/afraid afterwards. What as the days got closer got more more nervous/afraid, until he decided to do something reckless and stupid, to prove to himself that he could be brave. Something like walking through a more dangerous (poison animal infested) part of valley, telling himself "If I can brave this I will have no reason to be afraid of anything anymore". While that would not be the most exciting death, it would be very tragic, and it could set up "Overcoming the fears he had as a living", all of them, as Sass's unfinished business. Essentially, he would need to become a more rounded and confident person. Note that seems to also be Pete's unfinished business. Sass and Pete are roommates, and we have had at least a few really nice episodes exploring their relationship. It would be really cool if that continued to him and Pete having to teach themselves the same thing, but in different ways.

#american ghosts #sasappis #pete martino #Cbs ghosts Shiki #cbs ghosts season 4 #Cbs ghosts theories #cbs ghosts sas #ghosts Sass #Ghosts Shiki #Ghosts pete #CBS Ghosts #CBS Ghots Sass

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onlyonetifosi · 1 year

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Hii babes could you do Logan x reader and it’s his first Father’s Day or Oscar if your comfortable with it thanksss

The sound of engines roared in the distance, blending with the cheers of the crowd that filled the Formula 1 paddock. It was a scorching day in July, and the world's fastest drivers were preparing for another thrilling race weekend. Amongst the bustling chaos, Y/N Sargeant, wife of renowned F1 driver Logan Sargeant, navigated through the lively atmosphere with their adorable son, Parker, cradled in her arms.

As they walked toward Logan's team garage, Y/N couldn't help but feel a mixture of excitement and nervousness. It was Parker's first time attending a Grand Prix, and it happened to coincide with Logan's first Father's Day. The couple had been looking forward to this day for months, eager to share their passion for racing with their son.

Amidst the hustle and bustle of the grid, Y/N held Parker in her arms, gently rocking him back and forth. "Are you ready for your first race, Parker? Daddy's going to be amazing out there," she cooed in German, her voice filled with love.

Logan approached them, his race suit zipped up, and a proud smile on his face. He wrapped his arms around Y/N and Parker, kissing their foreheads. "Guten Morgen, meine Lieben," he greeted them, his voice filled with warmth. "Are you excited, Parker? We're going to have so much fun today."

Parker, with his chubby cheeks and bright blue eyes, gurgled in response, his tiny fingers reaching out to grab at the colorful lanyard around Y/N's neck, which held their paddock passes.

Logan, clad in his racing suit, approached them with a beaming smile. His eyes lit up when he saw his wife and son, and he eagerly scooped Parker into his arms.

"Hey there my champion" Logan greeted his son "Ready to cheer Daddy on today?"

Parker responded with a toothless grin, seemingly sensing the excitement that surrounded him.

Y/N leaned in and pressed a kiss to Logan's cheek. "Happy Father's Day, Liebster. You're an incredible dad, and I'm so proud of you."

Logan's face softened as he held his family close. "Thank you, princess. I couldn't ask for a better gift than you and Parker"

Their tender moment was interrupted by the arrival of other F1 drivers and their families. Charles Leclerc approached with his girlfriend Emma and his son Marco, in his arms. He grinned at Logan and Y/N.

"Happy Father's Day, Logan!" Charles exclaimed, extending a hand to Logan while Marco curiously observed Parker. “It's a special feeling, isn't it? Seeing your little one grow up in this world of racing"

Logan nodded, his eyes shining with pride, Logan shook Charles' hand warmly. “Happy Father's Day to you too. How's Marco doing? And absolutely, it's a whole new level of joy and responsibility. But I wouldn't trade it for anything."

"Parker is excited to be here today," she said, glancing over at their son who was squirming in her arms. "It's his first time attending a Grand Prix"

As if on cue, Parker giggled, his tiny hands reaching out towards the colorful F1 cars lining the grid

"Look, Marco, this is your new friend Parker!" Emma exclaimed, smiling warmly.

"He's growing up so fast," Charles replied, his voice tinged with awe. "But I suppose that's what happens when you're born into this racing world"

Y/N nodded, understanding the sentiment. "I can't believe how quickly Parker is growing too. It feels like just yesterday we brought him home"

Daniel Ricciardo joined the conversation, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "So, mate, how does it feel to have a mini-you cheering you on from the grandstands?"

Logan's gaze softened as he looked at his son. "It's indescribable, Dan. Seeing him here, witnessing his first Grand Prix, it means the world to me. I can't wait for him to grow up surrounded by this incredible sport"

Parker wriggled in Logan's arms, reaching out to touch Marco's face. The two babies giggled, their laughter filling the air as their fathers exchanged stories and advice.

Y/N gently placed him on the ground, and he wobbled his way towards the other drivers' children who were playing nearby.

Max Verstappen's son Noah, Marco and Parker were already engrossed in painting the paddock with colored chalks. Parker’s laughter blending with the cheerful voices of the little ones. Meanwhile, Y/N and Logan watched, beaming with pride.

Max Verstappen's daughter, Sofia, giggled as Parker tried to catch up to her. The two children toddled hand in hand, their laughter contagious.

"Looks like we have future racers on our hands," Max said with a grin, watching the two children.

"I wouldn't be surprised," Y/N replied

"I think our little racer is making friends," Y/N said, her eyes never leaving Parker

"Logan, do you remember when Parker tried to imitate your victory celebration?" Max Verstappen chuckled, recalling a recent race weekend. "He's already a natural-born racer"

YN grinned, watching as Parker clumsily attempted to mimic his father's podium jump. "He definitely takes after his father. I have a feeling we'll be seeing him on the track in the future"

Logan's heart swelled with pride, his gaze alternating between YN and their son. "Maybe one day, he'll even surpass me"

Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of a familiar voice. "Logan! Y/N!" It was Lando Norris, his own son, Oliver, perched on his shoulders.

"Hey, Lando!" Logan greeted with a grin. "Happy Father's Day, mate"

Lando grinned back. "Thanks, mate. Looks like our kids are having a blast together" Lando was accompanied by his girlfriend, and together they admired Parker with adoration.

"Thanks, Lando!" Logan grinned. "By the way, congratulations for the last race. You're on fire this season!"

Lando shrugged modestly. "Just doing my best” he was saying before being interrupted by Oliver as he was chasing after Parker, their laughter echoing through the paddock, and he and his girlfriend, Lauren, laughed at their son's antics.

"Y/N, how are you finding motherhood?" Kika, Pierre Gasly's partner, asked with a smile

"It's an incredible journey," Y/N replied, her voice filled with warmth. "Watching Parker grow and discover new things every day is a blessing"

As Y/N they exchanged pleasantries, the other drivers and their families joined the growing circle of camaraderie. Sergio Perez's sons Carlota, Sergio and Emilio, toddled around with a mischievous glint in his eyes, followed closely by Daniel Ricciardo's son, Leo.

She noticed Lewis Hamilton with his own bundle of joy, Amelia, and approached him.

"Good afternoon, Lewis. How is Amelia doing?" YN inquired, her voice filled with warmth.

Lewis grinned, holding his daughter close. "She's doing great, thanks. Can't believe how quickly time flies. Before I know it, she'll be asking for her own racing car!"

"Happy Father's Day, Logan! And Y/N, little Parker is growing so quickly. He's going to be a force to be reckoned with, just like his dad."

Y/N chuckled, gently bouncing Parker. "Thank you, Lewis. We're excited to see what the future holds for our little racer."

It was a scene filled with laughter and joy—a glimpse into the future of the F1 paddock.

The warm camaraderie continued as more drivers stopped by to offer their well wishes. Yuki Tsunoda playfully ruffled Parker's hair, while Daniel Ricciardo shared a humorous anecdote about his first Father's Day.

As the time for the race drew near, Y/N and Logan exchanged a meaningful look. They both knew how much this day meant to them—a celebration of their love, family, and the shared passion that brought them together.

"Let's make this a day to remember, Liebster," Y/N whispered, her eyes shining with anticipation.

Logan tightened his grip on Parker, his heart full of love and determination. "Absolutely, sweetheart. Today, we race for more than just victory."

With their spirits lifted by the support of their F1 family, Logan and Y/N walked hand in hand toward the pit lane. As the cars thundered past, leaving behind a symphony of speed and power, Logan revved his engine, ready to give it his all on the track.

For Logan, Y/N, and little Parker, this would forever be remembered as the day their racing hearts beat as one—a testament to the strength of their love, their devotion as parents, and the unbreakable bond that tied them together.

With renewed determination, Logan kissed Y/N's forehead before heading towards the briefing room. The race weekend had become an extraordinary blend of joy, love, and the thrill of competition

Later, as the engines roared on the grid, Y/N, holding Parker in her arms, joined the other F1 families in the spectator area. Logan's car lined up on the grid, the anticipation palpable. Y/N whispered to Parker, who stared wide-eyed at the colorful spectacle before him.

"Parker, mein kleiner Champion, look at Daddy go. He's going to show everyone what he's made of."

As the lights went out and the race began, Y/N's heart swelled with pride for her husband and the father of her child. The adrenaline rushed through her veins, mirroring the intense energy on the track.

Parker, sensing his mother's excitement, clapped his hands and babbled happily, the echoes of his laughter blending with the roar of the engines.

Hours flew by, and as Logan crossed the finish line in a respectable position, the crowd erupted with applause. Y/N, carrying Parker on her hip, joined the cheering, her voice ringing with pride.

"You did it, Logan! Happy Father's Day!" she exclaimed, her words mingling with the cheers of the crowd.

The F1 families gathered once again, celebrating the successful race and Father's Day. As they shared stories and laughter, the children played together, their young spirits echoing the joy and unity of their parents.

"I couldn't have asked for a more perfect day," Y/N whispered, leaning into Logan's embrace.

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer. "Neither could I, love, this is what racing is all about. Family, friendship, and the love that keeps us going."

When the paddock quieted down, the Sargeant family made their way back to their motorhome. Logan cradled Parker in his arms, gazing down at his son's peaceful face.

“My little man," Logan whispered, his voice full of tenderness. "One day, you'll know how much joy and purpose you bring to my life. I'll always be there for you"

"Parker is lucky to have you as his mom," Logan whispered, his voice full of adoration.

Y/N smiled, feeling a surge of love for her husband. "And he's lucky to have you as his dad, Logan. Happy Father's Day."

Logan's eyes shimmered with emotion as he held Y/N's gaze. "Happy Father's Day, Y/N. I couldn't imagine a better partner and mother for our son."

In that moment, as Logan sped away, adrenaline surging through his veins, he couldn't help but feel grateful—for the privilege of being a father, for the support of his teammates and fellow drivers, and for the incredible woman and son waiting for him in the pits.

Together, they embarked on a race not just to the checkered flag but to a future filled with love, happiness, and the indomitable spirit of the racing world.

#logan sargeant imagine #f1 imagine #f1 drivers x reader #logan sargeant x reader #f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #logan sargeant fic #logan sargeant

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jellyfishsthings · 8 months

Text

Warnings: this is going to be a multi part series and it's going to be angsty cause I am in my feels. Female reader, Padmé and Anakin were together but had a healthy break up, Jedi reader so forbidden love

This story takes plays in Clone Wars yet many events have been changed (like the meeting of Ashoka and Anakin... don't worry the sibling energy is still there.)

series masterlist

The blaring sound of sirens ringing fills the streets as they echo through the empty, now town. The Clone Wars continue to rage. Next to me stands a familiar body, hardened by the years of training and fighting. My sole companion, my partner in crime. Anakin. His hair is growing at a faster pace, as they are left unattended because of the war. His eyes, which used to be a vibrant combination of blue and green seem haunted now, matching his serious expression.

This merciless fighter, this General has taken the place of the once sweet boy that kept me company in the first lonely nights in the Temple, of the boy that taught himself to braid hair when I had broken my arm. He has changed. Both of us have changed, we are not the kids we used to be. We are fearless and respected Jedi Knights. And yet… and yet we both crave peace and what we used to be.

Days blur together and they go by in the same patterns. Either waking up early and training until dawn, attending meetings for strategic plans or peace negotiations or fighting on the battlefield until your last breath. And finally, there is a slimmer of hope…

Today we are invited to a meeting organized by Senator Amidala, Padmé, my dear friend, Anakin's not-so-secret ex but despite everything the three of us are closer than ever. The break up was mandatory according to both of them. Anakin was needed on the battlefield and Padmé represented the non-fighting population, thank the Stars they are still friends and you can tell they loved each other with their whole hearts. They still do but they are not going back, not regretting their decisions for a second, left to remember the loving memories of their short time together.

For the first time in years, I wear a dress, borrowed from Padmé, so as to blend in with the crowd even if my lightsabers stand prominent in my belt loops. The dress hugs tightly the top of my body and flows on the way down. It starts as plain creme yellow that slowly descends to a light pink. The soft silk dip starts at the base of my back, leaving my battle scars vulnerable and uncovered for everyone. Every here and there embodied flowers stand out. Even its off shoulders design thankfully allows me freedom of movement.

The meeting starts in a few minutes and yet Anakin is not here. My eyes quickly scan the hallways even when they appear like a maze. I trust my senses to the Force trying to track him. He is close. I wander through the halls trying to locate him, when I notice a trail of blood. Bloody Skywalker.

"What have you done?" I whisper-yell at him.

"Don't worry it's not mine?"

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

He just shrugged in response. I quickly grab his outer clothing, pulling it harshly from his body.

"If you want me naked you can just say so." He has the nerve to say. I simply roll my eyes as I hurry towards a window and hurl his clothes outside. "Nice going, trouble. How am I supposed to find them after the meeting? And I think wearing clothes that are slightly damaged is better than showing up to a meeting shirtless." He says while chuckling at my antics, as I try to maintain my calm composure.

"That sounds like a 'you' problem" I fire back at him.

"What are you two yapping about?" A third voice sounds and we both flinch. Padmé leans on the wall with crossed arms while wearing a knowing smirk.

"This isn't funny, your castle is covered in blood."

"Ah, liar. You exaggerate, it's not the whole castle, only a few corridors." I sharply glare at him as he chuckles.

"Figured. Now follow me, because I do not think everyone will like the sight of your abs, Ani."

"I am offended, Padmé, I think that they are quite splendid." A long-suffering sigh leaves my lips as we enter the master suite and hurrle myself to the plush bed as the two of them try to find something to cover the mess that is called Anakin Skywalker.

"Get up, you will ruin your hair." Padmé says. My muffled voice answers her. "I don't care about my hair."

My consciousness starts to slip away as I feel a gentle hand rock me back and forth.

"Five more minutes" I whine.

"If I leave you here for five more minutes, there is no way you will attend this meeting."

With a huff, I pull myself up and dust my dress in an attempt to make myself presentable. And we head towards the ballroom.

"We should mingle." He whispers to me and I simply nod as an answer. "See you in three hours." He says as he tucks a stray hair in its place before he leaves my side once again. I turn to look at his departing figure as I stay rooted to my place. My cheeks start to heat up as I notice his attire for the first time. His shirt is a soft creme yellow that compliments his slightly tanned skin and his blond hair. His shirt matches my dress and there is only one person behind this.

I walk as fast as I can in a place like this towards her. Once I reach her I grab her arm and pull her to the side of the crowd.

"You did this on purpose."

"Did what?" Padmé acts innocent but her proud smirk betrays her intentions.

"Why?"

"You look cute."

"We look like we are together."

"Aren't you?"

"No, it is the Code."

"But you want to." Her words shock me to the core. Yes, I do want to, but I can't.

"How did you…?"

"It's obvious, sweets. He hasn't taken his eyes off of you. He always talks about you. Even when we were together… I always knew that you two… you are like fossils created by the same star. Despite everything you are made for each other. Code be damned."

"Quiet you. It is forbidden, don't make it harder than it already is." With that, I leave her. I took a steadying breath before…

"Hi. I am Jedi Master ...."

words: 1.033

#anakin skywalker x female reader #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker fluff

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stayxlix · 2 months

Text

below the cut is a little bit of otde han's background.<3 (ft. minho, before either of them met the others). its just something that popped into my head, but if this isn't what you'd envisioned for their backstory then pls feel free to ignore lol. i love all of you very much, i see your asks, they mean the world to me, and i promise to get to each and every one of them. i also hope to be able to release more for this story soon.💕

wc: 2.3k

warnings: violence, fighting, injury, blood, language

Han Jisung's head hurt.

A splitting headache. The kind where every beat of pain sent sharp streaks of light flashing across his vision. The cheering crowd—a chaotic blend of voices that felt like a hammer to his already pounding skull—had him fighting the urge to double over. But, when he really thought about it, Jisung supposed the fact that that the crowd was cheering for him made it worth enduring.

Standing in the center of the fighting pit, Han Jisung lifted his aching head. He gritted his teeth, peering through the haze of pain to cast a lazy smirk in the direction of the spectators. And, as expected, the noise surged.

Mugs of warm ale sloshed as the onlookers swayed in tandem with the rhythmic chanting of his name. Among the sea of faces, Jisung locked eyes with a particularly dreadful-looking man in the front row. The man's teeth were yellowed and broken, and a leering grin spread across his scarred face as he raised his mug in Jisung's direction.

Jisung's smirk grew into something wild—as sharp and untamed as the danger that lurked beneath his charismatic exterior. The acrid scent of sweat and spilled ale mingled with the metallic tang of blood in the air as Jisung inhaled deeply—senses heightened by the adrenaline coursing through his veins.

Oh, his head was throbbing now. It very well might have been the worst headache of Han Jisung's life, but he was certain he would never get enough of this. This life, this moment. Though he didn't know any of these people personally, they knew him—knew his name and the reputation that came with it in the underworld beneath District 7.

With the feral smirk still dancing on his lips, Han Jisung cracked his bandaged knuckles, the sound echoing in the dim light of the pit. His dark eyes gleamed with challenge as he tilted his head to the side. With a single flick of his wrist and an inward curl of his fingers, Jisung beckoned his opponent forward—an invitation.

The burly, muscle-bound man before him emitted a low growl in response. His massive fist—nearly the size of Jisung’s head—clenched as he surged forward with a powerful swing. But Jisung was a predator in his element, reflexes honed to utter perfection. With a mere pivot of his heel he slipped effortlessly out of the path of the oncoming blow.

Keeping his movements lazy, Jisung slipped his hands into his pockets. "Is that all you've got?" he drawled, voice dripping with an arrogance that had always been just as much a weapon as his fists.

The cheers turned deafening in response to his taunt. But as Jisung fought the urge to bring his hands up to cover his ears, an unexpected call from an unfamiliar voice in the crowd sent a jolt coursing through his frame.

Somewhere above, a stranger shouted, "Let’s go, Ji!" and that simple nickname—Ji—so casually tossed into the air, struck a chord deep within him.

Memories of a time before the pits crept into the edges of Jisung's consciousness. Despite the foolishness of it, he cast another glance upward. The sea of spectators blurred, and a face flashed vividly before his eyes. A face from his past, one that now existed only in his memory. A ghost amidst the living.

Absence pressed against his chest, the reminder of a past that stubbornly refused to fade. But Jisung wouldn't allow himself to dwell on the past. Not now, not ever. Because he was Han fucking Jisung. His very existence was a testament to survival. And he was too viciously cunning, too dangerously charming, and too goddamn good at carving his way through this hellish excuse for a world to let himself succumb to grief.

So Jisung blinked away the face from his past. The face that wasn't really there at all. He blinked once, twice. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to focus on the present, and it was in that fleeting moment of distraction that his opponent seized the opportunity to deliver a powerful strike to his jaw.

The sudden impact sent a shockwave through Jisung's senses, snapping him back to reality as pain erupted from his bottom lip. It was the second hit he'd taken that night.

Two hits. Two rare lapses in his otherwise flawless defense.

The first had been a single, calculated blow that Jisung had purposely allowed the man to land to his temple, sparking the beginning of his headache.

The second punch to his jaw may have been unintentional, but Jisung hadn't flinched at either of the two hits. No, he welcomed them. He craved the warmth of the coppery blood as it pooled in his mouth, savoring the reminder of his own mortality. Not because he was some kind of sadist, but because Han Jisung had someone to see.

Behind a tattered black curtain in the stuffy underground cavern where the fighting pits lay, there was a young man with skilled hands and a quiet sort of intensity—a healer who called himself Minho.

In exchange for a portion of Jisung's winnings, Minho would discreetly tend to his injuries at the end of each fight. And if that meant Jisung would, at times, deliberately allow his opponents to get in a few hits...Well, whose business was it anyway? Longer fights meant bigger profits, and with Minho's skilled hands to patch him up afterward, Jisung was more than willing to oblige.

Feeling a sudden surge of determination at the thought of what—or rather, who—awaited him at the end of his current fight, Jisung decided enough was enough. He spat out a mouthful of blood, grimacing at the scarlet droplets on the dusty ground. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, smearing the stickiness across his skin. He cocked his head, and with a series of devastatingly accurate jabs to his opponent's weak points—followed by a well-timed sweep of his leg—it was a matter of moments before his nameless opponent lay sprawled on the ground in defeat.

A pouch of gold coins tugging heavily at his waist, his signature smirk plastered across his face, Jisung climbed out of the fighting pit with practiced ease. He pushed through the densely packed crowd, ignoring the outstretched hands reaching for him in celebration as he began to make his way across the bustling den.

As Jisung walked, his gaze swept over the faces of pretty young men and women—many of whom he recognized. Among them were individuals who had once been the recipients of his fleeting affection. Some still held in their eyes the simmering desire to fulfill his every whim, their stares following him with hungry longing. If he tried hard enough, he could still hear their voices, how their words had dripped with honeyed praise as they’d pleaded for his attention. A select few had even begged him to run away with them. Claiming to hail from the infamous District 9, their promises of endless wealth and material possessions were spoken with such fervor that it was almost convincing. Almost. But in those moments, Jisung had only chuckled, dismissing their lavish promises with a smirk before fully indulging himself in their company until the first light of dawn.

As tempting as it may have been to give in to the allure of those past desires again tonight, Jisung maintained an air of charming indifference as he continued on. He flashed grins and casual nods, and though his eyes might have lingered on some of the prettier faces, he kept moving.

With a determined stride, he pushed through the tattered black curtain into the cramped alcove where Minho worked.

The healer’s lips twitched up ever so slightly, as if he'd recognized Jisung from his footsteps alone. However, as he turned and his gaze lifted from his small workbench to Jisung's battered face—as his eyes roamed over the split lip, the trickle of blood staining Jisung's temple—the subtle warmth in Minho's expression vanished. Concern and something like disapproval flashed across his eyes before his features settled into stone once more. "Do you get paid more if you make the fight look real?" Minho asked, his eyes flicking down to the pouch of gold at Jisung's side.

Jisung blinked, caught off guard. It was unusual for Minho to initiate conversation, let alone be so direct. Surprise colored his face as he took a seat on the cot beside the healer. "You were watching?"

"I watched until you allowed that guy to hit you," Minho's voice was soft as he examined Jisung's temple. Leaning in slightly, his brow furrowed as his fingertips traced the contours of the wound. He reached for a clean cloth, soaking it in a solution that carried the faint scent of medicinal herbs and something acidic.

"How did you know—" Jisung hissed as Minho pressed the cloth to his wound, the sting causing his eyes to water.

"Relax," Minho interrupted, "You're not the only one who knows how to read a fight, you know."

A flush crept up Jisung's neck as his next attempt to form words turned into a series of awkward stammers. He opened his mouth, closed it, cleared his throat, and squirmed uncomfortably on the cot until Minho snapped at him to stop moving.

Eventually, for what might have been the first time in his life, Jisung gave up on speaking altogether.

Minutes slipped by as Minho continued his work, the only sound the soft rustle of bandages and the hum of activity beyond the curtain. Jisung sighed, closing his eyes as he allowed himself sink into the familiar routine of Minho's care.

"You need to be more careful," Minho murmured, his voice breaking through Jisung's reverie. "I can only patch you up so many times before the damage becomes permanent, and.." His hands suddenly withdrew, putting a pause to his work. "I won't be around here much longer."

Jisung's heart skipped a beat, his eyes snapping open. "You're leaving?" he asked, the words coming out a bit more panicked than he'd intended.

Minho nodded, his gaze dropping to avoid Jisung's stare. "I never planned on staying here long,” he admitted quietly. "There might be others out there who could use my help."

Jisung's mind raced as he processed Minho's words. Despite his suspicions about the healer's origins, he'd never asked how Minho had learned his trade. And sure, he supposed there were plenty of people out there who could benefit from Minho's skills—people who weren't deliberately getting themselves hurt—Jisung knew all too well the cutthroat nature of the world. The brutality of the outer districts.

"Where will you go?" Jisung's voice trembled with desperation, and he didn't give a damn if it made him look weak. Vulnerable. Jisung had grown accustomed to the routine of visiting Minho after each fight—the quiet moments of conversation with someone who wasn't chasing after him for their own benefit. Someone who genuinely listened and understood him. He'd come to rely on Minho's steady presence more than he cared to admit, and suddenly, the quiet healer felt like a lifeline slipping away.

Minho offered a slow shrug, and a familiar sense of absence settled over Jisung as he realized that Minho's departure would leave yet another void in his life. "I'll miss you," Jisung blurted before he could stop himself.

A softness touched Minho’s expression, a glimpse of sadness reflected in his eyes. "I know, Jisung.”

"When?" Jisung demanded, “When do you leave?” Though he was fully aware that Minho owed him nothing, he needed to know.

"Two days, maybe three." Minho replied, his tone gentle yet firm—resolute. As if he had been planning this. As if he had known for quite some time. As if leaving Jisung behind meant nothing to him at all.

Jisung withdrew the pouch of coins at his waist and held it out. The healer's dark eyes narrowed in confusion as he glanced between Jisung and the pouch. "What are you doing?"

"Take it," Jisung insisted, his jaw set in determination. "For everything,” he swallowed, the pouch shaking with the slight tremor in his hand.

Minho hesitated, shoulders tensing. "You've already paid me for—“

"You'll need it more than I do out there. I know that bracelet on your wrist holds more value to you than coins. So just take it." With a decisive thud, Jisung dropped the pouch at Minho's feet. He stood, and as some fundamental part of him cracked so violently that he could feel it in his chest, Jisung turned away from the quiet healer.

For the weeks Jisung had known him, Minho had healed far more than his external injuries. He had been a constant. The only constant left in Jisung's life. There was nothing Jisung wanted more than for Minho to understand the depth of his gratitude, to recognize the significance of his presence. But the words stuck in his throat, suffocated by his own damn pride and stubbornness as he took a step to leave.

Reaching to push aside the curtain, Jisung hesitated, his hand hovering in mid-air as he considered the path he'd chosen. The chaos of the fighting pits and the thrill that came with a life spent in the underworld had been enough for a long time. He’d settled on the notion that it might always be enough. But now..What if there was something else he needed? Something he couldn't quite name but felt stirring within himself. The desire for something more. A desire that Jisung feared would continue to grow and gnaw at him until he found the courage to explore what lay beyond the underworld of District 7.

In that moment of uncertainty, it was Minho who ignited that spark of courage in Jisung's soul as the healer stood, cleared his throat, and said, "Come with me."

#otde #thank you for reading.<3

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miss-tc-nova · 7 months

Text

We Want To - Vanitas x Reader

Aww, it's been a while since I got to write about cranky Vani. I really do love him. I hope I stuck to the theme enough though. Sorry if I strayed too far. Excuse the lame title, lol

Premise: Vanitas isn't all that amused at the amusement park

Words: 713

~~~~~

Inconvenienced, absolutely beyond fed up, Vanitas gets dragged through the crowd towards yet another gaudy, mechanical attraction.

He’s not entirely sure how he ended up here, let alone in this situation. For the last few weeks, Vanitas has been trying to navigate this strange world. He never thought that his greatest bane would be the whimsical maniac in human guise. He’d barely spent two hours wandering the streets before being bowled over and descended upon by this clown. Somehow, the encounter culminated in daily accosting and today’s torment has been deemed the amusement park. The amount of amusement, however, has been miniscule. Most of the last hour has been trying to decipher his predicament and the fool that dragged him into it.

An arm flails in the direction of a spinning machine. “This is one of my favorites! It spins really fast and you stick to the wall! But you can’t ride it too many times or you might get sick. I did that once! Like four years ago me and some of my friends—”

Yet another wild, ridiculous tale from that unstoppable mouth. Still, Vanitas endures the blathering as the line winds down. Eventually, it’s their turn to board.

His companion isn’t the only one that seems eager for the ride. All the other passengers chatter as they stand in front of panels lining the round room. He doesn’t understand. Everyone was like this on the last one too, but it just seemed like a bunch of jerky, flailing movement. And this one’s just supposed to spin fast. The purpose of this place is beyond him, let alone the reason for all these people to be so riled up about it.

Hell, his new “friend” has been like this about nearly everything. Every moment is filled with random things. At first it was aggravating, but now, it’s all just weird.

The ride starts and, true to the explanation, the room spins so fast the gravity pulls him against the wall. People laugh and cheer, some twisting and turning until they’re sideways or upside down. The thrill is lost on him, but Vanitas is fully aware of the mirth from the person beside him. Even as the ride ends, the happiness continues, finally prompting the voicing of his confusion.

“Why are we doing this?”

Full attention turns to him. “Huh? What do you mean why?”

His arms gesture to the colorful world around. “What are we doing here? What’s the point?”

“There is no point.” That smile drops his guard against his will. “We do it because we want to.”

The answer is so blunt and simple that he almost misses it. But it makes its mark. Vanitas had done plenty of things because he “wanted to,” in a world far from here. He’s done his best so far to blend in and consider what he’ll do next, but he can’t deny being drawn in by the frivolity of a simple fool. Something about the harmless chaos attracts his attention. Running around without a care in the world as if nothing mattered is so different from the mission-oriented life he has beyond the borders of Quardratum.

The words slip from his mouth.

“Do I?”

Maybe he didn’t “want” to do those things. Hurting others and being hurt in return—the war flashes in his mind and his whole body flinches.

“Vanitas.”

Then a hand rests against his arm. His gaze falls on the face of concern.

“Do you?”

He’s not sure. But in this moment, he is sure he doesn’t want to think about everything outside this normal, boring, silly, surprising world. He wants to live in this moment.

With the clown that found him.

For the first time since he arrived on this world, Vanitas cracks a smile.

“Yeah, I do.”

The shock on his friend’s face ignites embers in his ears, but Vanitas continues to smile. Then the enthusiasm comes exploding out. It’s so chaotic he can barely understand what’s being said, but he has to jam his one request in.

“Hold on. I wanna do that spinny one again. I could totally stand on the wall in there.”

In a blink, Vanitas finds himself being dragged through the crowds again, but this time, he feels all the same excitement.

#gender neutral reader #vanitas x reader #kh vanitas #vanitas #novas requests

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thegloweringcastle · 9 months

Text

A Million Lifetimes

Happy holidays to @sideralwriting!! My dear, I appreciate your patience with me as I navigated life (& the gift swap) this holiday season. It has been SUCH a delight getting to know you these past few weeks and I look forward to hopefully staying in touch after the swap! I'm sorry this isn't my best work, but I hope you like it nonetheless. I tried my best to add small little details you might appreciate, and I know it's not great but I hope it may bring you some joy. <3

And the absolute biggest hug and thank you to @acotargiftexchange for being so patient with me - I'm sorry I had to be *That Person* this year. Thank you all from the bottom of my heart<3<3<3<3<3

No warnings to be found! Just silly feysand fluff and shenanigans.

_~_~_~_~_~_~_

Many people use the holidays as a time to reflect on all which has changed. Some measure how much they’ve grown as individuals, others use it as a way to mark the end of a long, grueling year - seeing the short break as a way to signify a year’s worth of change and prompt improvement for the months between the next holiday.

Feyre and Rhys, on a similar note, liked to use it as a way to track how many times they have found each other, over and over again.

***

This time the wind blew gently; not hard enough to urge people inside, but not so gentle that it went unnoticed. In the crowded holiday market of Velaris, two people huddled closer together, sharing heat and smiles.

“I’m just saying,” Feyre’s words formed between them as frosty clouds. “I still think that the winter we spent in Greenland was better than the one in London.”

“But Feyre darling,” Rhysand’s words were not as clear as Feyre’s, thanks to the scarf he kept tight around his face. “London!”

“Yes, London, but it was early nineteenth century London and we had just run into each other - quite literally - from slipping and sliding through sewage.”

“Oh, darling, you forget how I so smoothly saved us from certain doom.” He tugged the scarf away from his face, rewinding it around both of them.

“You didn’t save my shoes, that’s for certain.” She huffed. “All I’m saying is I believe you’re looking at it through rose-colored lenses.”

He chuckled. “I’m not going to win, am I?”

“No, my love. You’re not.” She offered him a pat on the cheek - a consolation.

They wandered between stalls of vendors, watching the holiday lights and decorations in quiet awe. Feyre itched to blend the colors together on canvas, perhaps make a mashup of every holiday she’d ever spent with Rhys. There would be golds and reds from the market they currently walked through, but there would also be greys and browns and greens. Light and shade, with a fair share of tears to balance out the smiles. It would be… chaotic. And perfect. A strange, haphazard image that perfectly depicted their lives.

She tugged on his hand, drawing them to a stop in front of a Bavarian craftsman.

“What about that christmas in Germany?”

“That was a pretty good year. Bloody cold though.” He shivered, as if just the thought of it sent chills down his spine. “I think it’s still one of my favorites of our firsts. It was refreshing to see you so at ease. Remember how simple it was that year?”

Yes, Feyre remembered that life well. It was among her favorites, she supposed; one of their cozier lives.

***

Feyre could feel the cold seeping through the window of the train even on the farthest side of her bench. Her lace gloves didn’t do much other than look pretty, and not for the first time she grew irked at women’s fashions for being so terribly impractical. Sure, petticoats galore were plenty warm in such low temperatures, but not very easy to maneuver; and narrow-heeled boots weren’t especially stable in slush and ice.

Nonetheless, she was enjoying her travels. Watching the world blur past the window was meditative - reassuring. There may not have been much left for her to escape, but being on the move was the only way to ensure peace and quiet - and the only way for her to feel less adrift in her search for… whatever it was she thought was missing.

The train drew to a halt, wheels screeching against the tracks as it stopped for a station in Munich. The hustle and bustle of people unboarding began immediately, luggage being jostled down the aisle and people rushing past. It was a wonder Feyre even noticed the booklet which tumbled to the floor - she wouldn’t have, if it hadn’t fallen from the pocket of a man with violet eyes.

She leaned over, snatching it during a break in the crowd while trying to keep track of her stranger. Right before he stepped off, his gaze found hers.

Her heart tugged, and before she knew it, Feyre was out of her seat - belongings snagged at the last minute - and braving the crowd to follow the man with violet eyes. The notebook couldn’t have been more than thirty pages or so, yet it sat heavy in her hand as she navigated the crowded station, ducking between people and dodging around suitcases. Feyre realized that she had lost sight of her stranger, but there was a sense of urgency she couldn’t shake. It wasn’t until she was panting for air and had almost certainly gone in circles that she slumped onto a bench, setting her things down with a clatter and letting the book fall open on her lap.

She knew it was rude to look, but it was unlikely that she would find the owner to return it. One peek couldn’t hurt; if it was a grocery list - well, nothing terribly personal there. If it was notes, or perhaps a novel in the making… She was an artist too. It would be fine.

Still, she wasn’t quite prepared for what she found on that random, worn page.

In that icy chill

Of those depthless blue eyes

I see only warmth

I wonder

How might it feel

To succumb to you

Adrift in your blue

“There you are,” A voice deep as night stood out over the din of the train station. “From the train. I’ve been looking for you.”

Feyre snapped the book shut with a resounding thwack and stood abruptly, only to be pinned in place by a pair of violet eyes.

“I’ve been looking for you too. For a while, I think.” She held out the journal. “This is yours?”

“Indeed. Thank you for finding it for me.” Their hands overlapped, making it impossible for Feyre to let go.

“This may sound odd, but for quite some time I’ve been looking for something I think I lost. You seem to be good at finding things,” She could listen to his voice forever. “Perhaps you could help me once more?”

Even as he asked, the pieces began to fall into place. Sounds of past lives ringing through to the present, urging her to hang onto him. Memories returned to both of them, and his grip moved from the journal to her hand.

“Of course.” She smiled, watching carefully for a crinkle around his eyes. “I would love to.”

***

“I have to admit, all those skirts were warm, but they sure were a pain to deal with when nature called.”

Rhys’ laugh boomed between the aisles of vendors. “And it made it much more challenging to undress y-”

“That’s enough!” She clapped a hand over his mouth before he could say anything too filthy. “We are in public, Rhys!”

He smirked. “I wasn’t going to say anything.”

“Yeah, sure you weren’t.”

“I think it’s you who let her dirty mind get carried away.” His grin was impish.

“If I have a dirty mind it’s only because you’ve rubbed off on me.”

He put his hands up, surrendering. “Whatever you say, love.”

They wandered some more between vendors, debating over their favorite holidays together and which first-meeting was their best.

“I thought it was funny when your friend introduced us,” It was a memory that Feyre often thought of, no matter how plain it might have been. “Not sure if it was the best, but it was… normal.” Out of everything, that had to count for something, right?

Rhys laughed loudly, grabbing her hand even tighter. “And he kept meddling in our business no matter how clear we made it that we were together.”

“It was flattering to know he thought we went well together, at least.” She wagged a finger at him, laughing slightly. “At least it was better than the one where you saved me from being burned at the stake. That was pretty horrid, wasn't it?”

He pulled her close, teasing and hinting at a kiss. “At least I got to play hero for you.”

“Oh,” She dragged it out. “That’s right, because we were early in the game and I was, at the time, still half convinced you were a complete prick. Yes, you did need those extra points.”

He hummed, half in amusement and half in agreement. “What about that one we spent at that inn? That was one hell of a time.”

“The place with the armadillos?” She shivered. “Unfortunately, I do remember that.”

***

Feyre did not like the high desert for two reasons. Reason one: The air was too dry, it hurt her skin and chapped the inside of her nose. Reason two: there were too many creepy crawling critters that wanted either to kill her, to eat her, or to steal her body heat.

It didn’t matter if it was winter and most animals had either migrated or gone into hibernation underground. She did not. Like. The. desert.

“Almost there, darlin’.” Rhys encouraged, ignoring the fact that she had just chewed him out in an hour-long tangent for “dragging her into the middle of nowhere for a single, stupid job in the blasted desert during a snowstorm”.

“I thought the desert didn’t get snow.” Feyre was pouting. She knew she was pouting. Unfortunately, she was too uncomfortable to care.

“This is the high desert, love. It’s a bit more dramatic than what we’re used to.”

“Rhys,” She pulled their horses to a stop and faced him. It was getting harder to see as the snowfall grew heavier. “Please tell me we’re close. I don’t want to cut this life short, I especially don’t want to cut this life short because of one stupid decision.”

“I promise you, darlin’, we’re not far.” He turned to face forward, pulling out his compass. “There’s a small town just around this bend. We’ll stay there ‘till this weather clears up.”

Feyre didn’t waste her energy responding - she wanted a hot drink and soft bed now.

Sure enough, Rhys hadn’t been lying. There was a town - small and rundown though it was, Feyre was just grateful they wouldn’t freeze to death in the most miserable place on earth.

Rhys held the door for her, the two of them stepping into an inn and stomping the snow from their boots and shaking the ice from their scarves and coats.

“Howdy there and welcome, I’m Shirley and I sure am happy to see you. What can I do for you lovely folks tonight?”

Feyre looked up from where she was struggling to undo her buttons, ready to charm the lovely owner for a room, before letting out a startled gasp.

The woman - Shirley - held an armadillo to her chest as one might hold a cat or puppy. A snake rested coiled on the hearth, another few armadillos trundled between tables at the restaurant. Other patrons sat at the bar normally, seemingly unconcerned with the lizards crawling around the counters.

“W-we um-”

“Howdy ma'am.” He stuck his hand out, not once looking at the armadillo the lady held. “The name’s Rhysand, this here’s my lovely wife Feyre. We got caught in the snow and were hoping you might be able to spare a room for the two of us?”

“Of course! I hope you two don’t mind cacti too much. Any concerns? You know what, doesn’t matter. I’ll grab a key and show you two on up!”

“That’s perfect. Thank you, ma’am.”

Not even thirty minutes later they had gotten a room and were getting ready for bed. Or, Rhys was getting ready for bed.

“Rhysand, you know I love animals. I adore animals. I do not, however, adore snakes. Or any desert dwelling creatures. They're gross, and dusty, and out to get you. Remember that Christmas in Australia? Boiling hot and everything was trying to kill us.”

“But darling, that’s Australia.”

“That’s irrelevant!” She huffed. “My point is, I want to celebrate our first christmas in this life somewhere other than an Inn filled with wild animals.”

He grabbed her hands, stopping her pacing and making her meet his gaze. “We will. I promise.”

Sure enough, the storm had passed by the time they woke in the morning. They were up and at’em in a hurry, Rhys’ compass taking them to the next town over in time for a holiday spent indoors, together, and most importantly away from wild animals.

***

“I think I still have that compass, somehow. I remember finding it again in an antique shop in that area a few lives ago, then I tucked it away for safekeeping - and the future. Sort of like you do with our rings.”

At the mere mention, Feyre brought hers up to the light. It glimmered beneath the street lamps, scratched and nicked from centuries of wear. Some people may have been bothered if their wedding rings had been so damaged, but Feyre just saw it as lives well lived and loved.

She shrugged. “So that may not have been my favorite, but it wasn’t the worst. In hindsight, it was a more entertaining year, so I can’t hate it.”

Rhys’ shit-eating grin dimmed, shade by shade. “I know which one was my least favorite.”

It was Feyre’s too.

They both sobered and held one another a little bit closer.

***

In all of their lifetimes, through dozens of centuries, it was the longest they had been apart; the loneliest they had ever been, too.

War had a tendency to do that.

In this particular life Feyre had been teaching art classes at an elementary school, biding her time while waiting for something. Someone. There was a pain in her heart amplified by a holiday season spent alone. It felt like every day the rain would just fall and fall and fall, unbroken by sunshine or snow. Even ice would have been welcome - anything to cut through the long, unending shadows.

She sat in a late night diner, avoiding returning to an empty apartment while sipping burnt coffee over a half-finished portrait of a man with raven hair and violet eyes. Something familiar, someone unknown. Behind the counter a server switched the radio to a news channel broadcasting the latest updates from overseas.

Had she known that her next life would be so much fuller, she might not have been so hopeless. Had she known that, a lifetime from then, memories would come rushing back and the stranger in her painting would not be so strange, she might have been less disturbed by the sheer number of renditions she had made of the same man.

Alas, she did not know these things. She didn’t even know the cruel twist of the universe - the war? - taking from her the man she didn’t know she waited for. And so for many many more nights she sat in silence with a tepid, burnt coffee (she preferred hot chocolate) and endless half-finished portraits, always hoping for the rain to stop.

***

Children rushed past them, dodging around holiday shoppers and festival booths with shocking agility. Silence hung between them like a clock’s pendulum at its peak, ready to come falling down at any second.

He squeezed her hand. “It made our next-first-meeting even better, I would say.”

Sparkling lights of all different colors turned to smudges in the background as Feyre focused her gaze on Rhys; on his violet eyes. Some things about him had changed, especially after the war, but his eyes stayed the same. The way he smiled with his entire being remained the same. Reliable. Constant.

“I think I would have to agree.”

***

With time their memories would fade. They would begin again, growing into new lives and apart from each other, but they were inevitably always nudged back together. And each time, they remembered one another a bit more easily.

So when Rhys settled in after the war and his new neighbor felt like home, all he needed was a light push in the right direction.

That day in particular had been windy and icy. Roads were closed, businesses were shut down, students were off of school. The universe handed Rhys an excuse to seek out his neighbor on a silver platter: the power went out, and Rhys knew his apartment was the only one with a classic wood-burning fireplace.

She answered after only the first knock.

“I have hot chocolate at my apartment and a working fireplace - if you need. Hot water too.”

Her gaze was soft, and she didn’t hesitate before agreeing.

They kept that year simple, soft, easy. It’s what they needed - something comforting. She stayed even many hours after the power had gone back on and the world had returned to operating in full-swing. They fell into easy company as years long since passed came rushing back, and a new promise was made to never be separated for that long.

***

They still had yet to break their promises.

“I thought that was very domestic, even for you.” Feyre grinned, exchanging a few coins for a small cone of roasted chestnuts.. “But I wonder if maybe we’d earned it. So many different adventures and lifetimes… maybe it’s good that we finally have the time for things like hot chocolate and wood fires. And roasted chestnuts.”

His lips turned up, the creases around his eyes softened. “Maybe you’re right.”

When it inevitably grew too cold outside and even their shared scarf and intertwined hands weren’t enough to keep them warm, the couple navigated through the crowded streets towards their shared townhouse.

Cozy, small, but most importantly - theirs.

He took her jacket, she put away his hat. He put the kettle on, she got their mugs and measured out the tea. They moved fluidly together, silently; familiar over so many different lives spent together. It wasn’t until they had settled in together on the couch, warmed pumpkin beside steaming tea on the coffee table, that Feyre spoke again.

“I still don’t know which of our holidays is my favorite. Maybe I don’t have one.”

Rhys reached out to tuck a lock of her hair behind one ear, cupping her face with the movement. “My favorite one is the one with you.”

“That’s most of them - I don’t think that counts as any single one, as romantic as it is.” She placed a kiss on his cheek. “But you sure are a sweet talker.”

“Then it’s this one, right here, right now, with you. When we can finally have forever.”

***

In every one of their meetings and partings, Rhys and Feyre fell together into one single life. Whether it grew from eye contact across a supermarket, a quick handshake in a business meeting, or simply bumping shoulders on a crowded sidewalk, and no matter how it ended, there was another life waiting for them. Homes to be lived in and loved, holidays to be spent bundled up together in a bubble outside of time.

It was the general consensus between the two of them: The best lives were the ones spent together.

#secret santa 2023 #acotar gift exchange #feysand

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fullofgutsndopamine · 5 months

Text

I wanna Heal (I wanna grow)

or: the au where hasan works at an animal shelter to feel human. he has a reputation

the barking made you wince at first.

it came from all around you, couldn't pin point exactly which dog was angry at you-but holy fuck was a dog mad at you-and you could feel yourself slowing becoming overwhelmed

this was suppose to be a volunteer job, a way to get out of the house (and hopefully maybe even make friends) and as you stand in the middle of a crowded room of dog cages, all of them all but throwing their bodies against the wire you think maybe you fucked up.

You're playing with the seam of your shirt (bright red with volunteer very aggressively written across the back, any hopes of blending in gone) contemplating a way out without anyone seeing you when you hear the door slam shut.

"Alright, Alright." The voice booms, "Chill out. It's the same everyday-"

He'd sound irritated if it wasn't for the hint of a laugh at the end of his sentence, how you can hear a smile that pull at the corner of his lips without seeing him.

He turns a corner and-there you are.

oops.

"Jesus fucking-"

He jumps. High. His hand on his chest, trying to catch his breathe.

"Jesus fucking christ, dude-"

"I'm sorry." You immediately wince,

"Sorry i-"

"Fuckin' Alex." He huffs, and you know he's talking about the boss, the one who let you on- "Never fuckin' worries me about new people. Listen-"

There's a gentle pull to your shirt sleeve as your pulled into a corner where it's slightly quieter-

"Look," He licks his lips, the smirk stays on, "You stay outta my way, I'll stay out of yours, right? We-"

"What happened to: nice to meet you? or even a fucking name-"

This isn't like you to speak up to someone like this but when someone comes in all but demanding you stay out of their way when you don't even fucking know them-

And he looks so fucking dumb-his shirt is pulled up, revealing a small bit of his belly and he wears loose basketball shorts, his hair is curly and pushed back with a headband and his fucking glasses are crooked on his nose, has to use his thumb to push them up as he talks to you-

He pauses long enough for pink to creep onto your face but the stare down continues until he rolls his eyes: "Hasan.

Look, you stay on the left side, I'll take care of the right side, got it?"

"Hasan," You mull it over, "I'm-"

"Great," He shakes his head, "Right side, got it?"

And he disappears into the main room again.

It drags until lunch and you think of every dramatic way to quit until finally a semi friendly face from the front desk announces it's lunch, pulls you outside to a half broken picnic table and pushes a prepared sandwich towards you.

Immediately, even though they're all but a stranger, your spilling your frustrations out to her.

"That's just Hasan," Sandra will roll her eyes as she unwraps her sandwich, "He's rough around the edges. Or-"

She stops to take a bite of sandwich with a roll of her eyes, leaving you in suspense-

"Or at least he wants you to think he is."

She huffs out a laugh, "He's a total fucking softie."

"Yeah?" You don't believe it, "He seems like a dick to me. Told me to stay out of his way-"

She takes a sip from a now warm juice box, crushes it in her hand, "He's all bark and no bite. You've met Tuna, right?'

Tuna was the small pitbull that was housed in the quiet corner of the room-you've walked by and she's shown very little interest, still seems skittish at best around people-

"Yeah," You say gently, "I guess? But-"

"When he first came in," Sandra's voice borders on a whisper as she talks even though it's just the two of you outside-

"Tuna was terrified, right? Like-spent most of the days in the corner shaking, wouldn't eat, right? So like, Hasan waited until he got off his shift and sat in the fuckin' cage with Tuna and ate his own meal-"

She throws her arms up in the air, exhausted, ""To show him it's not scary there' is what he said! Hasan is the least terrifying dude we work with. Plus-He cried watching 101 Dalmatians on Employee appreciation night but i'm not allowed to talk about that."

Her smirk says this is an on going fight with the two of them.

"He hasn't been like that to me."

your voice borders on pathetic and some of the hard Sandra has peels away: "He'll warm up, i promise. give him some time.

Here, i packed too much-"

and she slides a small baggie of goldfish towards you.

You promised your mom you'd give it one more time.

When you walk in, Hasan is already in there, rope dog leashes tied around his shoulder that claps by his hip-he's filling up water bowls, desperately palming a dogs head to get them to stay in the cage it isn't until he looks up and sees you that something dangerously close to a smile works on his lips.

"I see you stayed."

"I don't scare that easily."

that's a lie but it sounds good, makes it sound like you didn't almost have a mental breakdown and by the way his lips pull up slowly, like he's fighting it, into a smile you can see he's enjoying it too.

his voice is low, almost hard to hear over the barking: "Good," he nods once,

"Good. Leashes on the wall."

and he turns back before he can see the smile on your face (and before you can see the smile on his)

#caroline writes #hasan #hasan piker #hasan piker fanfic #hasan piker fic #hasan piker ff #hasan piker imagine #hasan piker x y/n #hasan piker x you #hasan piker fanfiction #hasan piker x reader #hasanabi x reader #hasanabi x y/n #hasanabi #hasanabi x you

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acourtofthought · 1 year

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What’s your opinion on the theory that Azriel is performing/pretending to be civilized? A lot of people have pointed out that it’s like he’s sometimes mimicking how others act around him. I like it, but I don’t know if Sarah will write that.

I've been saying the same for quite some time.

Azriel was locked up and tortured for the first 11 years of his life, an important time during ones developmental years. His Illyrian instincts being denied.

When, exactly, would he have had the opportunity to grow up normal?

And though since then he's had the love of the IC and hia mother for the past 500+ years he tells Feyre he doesn't know where he belongs.

Though we do see Az interacting, we often see him standing off to the side, we see him lying, sulking, shutting down and refusing to talk, we see regular mentions of his rage and that Cassian isn't sure whether Az feels any guilt for torturing and ending lives.

We know Az's gifts allow him to observe and know things so it wouldn't be difficult for him to pick up on appropriate social cues however there's a difference between truly feeling something and simply mimicking certain behaviors because you realize that's what society expects of you (something therapists work on helping neurotypical children with or something sociopaths do to blend in).

I don't get the vibe that Az explaining why holidays are important and Az's ability to waltz are because Az is a social guy who actually enjoys parties and dancing. I think they are learned behaviors in an effort to blend in as "one of the crowd" or doing what he thinks his friends want him to do.

In his own pov, Az admits that he has a rage that he hides from everyone but Rhys. To me, that rage isn't something that randomly pops up from time to time but something that always lingers just beneath the surface, hidden (not very well) by his cloak of practiced civility. There's a reason even Feyre was scared of him at first.

And his soft gentle routine around Elain reads as completely fake to me. Look at how he acts around her then turns around and acts when it's just he and Rhys.

Honestly, I find it a bit disturbing, not sweet, to see him so soft and gentle around certain females then turn around and be a rage filled torturer behind closed doors.

It gives the impression that Az thinks those females are too weak and delicate to handle the truth of who he is. He's like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde with them.

I think a lot of Az's civil personality has been a result of his behaving how he thinks he's supposed to behave in order to be accepted but I do think we'll see Az learning to accept his darkness in his a own book. That his friends and family love him, rage and all and that he doesn't need to put on an act around them. But even then, I don't think he's ever going to be a life of the party social butterfly who enjoys making conversation with strangers.

#azriel acotar #character deep dive #anti e/riel

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mydisenchantedeulogy · 2 years

Text

Candy Coated [Chapter Four] Ghostland [Buddha]

A/n: I want to dedicate this chapter to Somanoko from AO3. The gorgeous art below was created by them, and as thanks, I'd be honored to display and credit their art. It was exciting to see the reader through their eyes. Thank you so much, hun.

I can't wait to display the others.

Warning(s): mentions of death and ghosts, comfort, minor panic attacks, large crowds and, religious lore, female reader.

Tag list: @useless-potatho , @tojibreedingme , @quinloki , @yingxian, @2lottie2, @lunas-nova , @anduinandwrathionlover, @tiredfairy, @the-queen-of-sorrows , @alientee, @lawlietliet

No Minors Allowed!!

For a creepy and remote village that lies abandoned in the mountains, you find comfort in the silence it brings.

For hours, once the sun had risen, you explored the surrounding area, checking the nearby houses and enjoying the comfort of your own company. Thanks to Buddha.

"You don't have to stay in the temple," he had mentioned. "Go out and do as you like. There's more to the God Realm than this."

You had appreciated his offer, but sticking close to the temple was the safest route, considering you are unfamiliar with the realm. You don't mind starting small.

Sitting near a bubbling river on the outskirts of the village, you stare into the distance. It's peaceful here. No wonder the carefree God often frequents it.

At some point, you notice Jataka approaching the village; he must have been exploring himself, as he often does. You wave at him, once he too notices you, not minding as he joins you for a moment.

"Morning," he states with a smile. "I didn't expect to see you out."

"Me either," you utter in honesty.

But you are glad you did. It's a beautiful day, despite the sharp wind that oddly doesn't bother you. Sinking your fingers into the water in curiosity, you squeak in shock; it's so cold.

"It's strange," you utter. "Some things I can feel, like the water, and some things I can't. I'm aware that this village is at the base of the Himalayas, but I can't feel the bitter chill of the wind."

Jataka softly smiles.

"Being dead takes some time to adjust to, but it isn't awful. There is no sickness here."

You hum and turn your eyes to him in curiosity. It sounds like he knows a thing or two about sickness, however, you consider it rude to ask, so you ignore the temptation, facing the water again.

"I reckon it isn't all bad here."

Though I wonder how Buddha stays entertained.

Being from the 21st century you admit you are a bit spoiled when it comes to technology. You can't fathom what his time had been like. What sort of things did he enjoy doing?

An embarrassed heat spreads to your face as you imagine Buddha riding horses or wandering the marketplace; whatever he did in his time.

This tether is becoming a problem.

Reaching into the cold water, you cup your hands into a makeshift bowl, splashing your heated face with it; a shiver runs down your spine in response.

"I think I'm ready to return to the temple," you utter.

Jataka smiles.

"I'll escort you."

You are grateful.

Once in the quiet stone corridors of the ancient temple, you follow Jataka to the main hall with the notion to say your thanks to Buddha for giving you the push to explore, but when you see him, you are mesmerized. He isn't dressed in his usual attire; wearing a black tank beneath a diamond-patterned see-through long coat. It's flattering on him.

"What are you wearing?" You ask.

"Clothes from your period," Buddha answers. He turns completely around, then grins. "What do you think? Do I blend in?"

Your face turns red as you examine him.

"For a tourist, I suppose."

The small crossbody bag he's wearing screams that he's a tourist. But he does blend in. The crown he usually wears in his hair is replaced with a thick ribbon decorated in a Paisley pattern.

"You don't like it?" Buddha asks with a thin brow raised.

"Um… I mean you look good, but what are you trying to blend in for?" You ask.

Your face heats up in embarrassment as he grins.

"Wait and see."

"Are you going to the Human Realm?" Jataka asks, speaking up for the first time since entering the main hall.

Buddha puffs out his cheeks in annoyance, but you ignore him, turning your eyes to Jataka in curiosity.

"T-the Human Realm? Like where I'm from?"

"Yes. Saṃsāra, the Wheel of Existence depicts that there are 6 realms, one of which is the Human Realm, though it's most commonly known as Midgard here," Jataka explains.

You remember Brunhilde mentioning this to you. It's a bit confusing but considering the various pantheons it makes sense; the terms commonly used are Norse in origin.

"And you are going there?" You ask Buddha.

"We are," he points out.

Is he serious? You can't go back to Earth.

"Is that possible though, Siddhartha?" Jataka asks. "Souls can't return to the Human Realm once they've passed on to the afterlife."

"No idea," Buddha mentions. He turns his eyes to you and winks. "But we're gonna find out."

This sounds like a terrible idea. You look to Jataka for advice, but he seems eager to see if it will work or not.

"This isn't going to hurt me, or something, is it?" You ask.

Buddha saunters toward you and rests a hand on your shoulder.

"You trust me, don't you?"

Staring into his gorgeous blue eyes, you nod, almost mesmerized. The lily pattern you swore you had seen yesterday appears and before you understand what is happening, 6 scrolls unfold, swirling around both of you. When they vanish, you realize in shock that you are no longer in the temple or the village for that matter but in the bustling city.

The unnerving sound of traffic permeates your ears, nearly sending you into a panic, if not for the comforting hand on your shoulder anchoring you down. It's too much too soon; a sensory overload that brings tears to your eyes.

"Breathe," Buddha orders.

You take in the scent of car emissions, rain, and asphalt, curling your nose in disgust, but despite the strange scent, it helps.

"I'm not sure if this is better or worse than the way the Valkyries transport," you utter.

Buddha snorts.

"I knew you'd be able to handle it, and I was right, since you are tethered to me, you can move across the realms."

That's an interesting fact, you reckon.

"And what if I couldn't?"

"I never would have tried it, if I knew you were in danger," Buddha answers.

Your face turns red in response. At least he is considerate. You take an uneasy breath, glancing around at the busy street beyond the alley that Buddha had transported you to. The mass of people walking around, women for instance, are wearing leggings and clothes that seem to be based on trends, giving you the impression that you are somewhere in America.

"What are we doing here?" You ask.

"Looking, primarily," Buddha answers.

You raise a brow. Did he bring you to the Human Realm to sightsee? You snort.

"Is this something you do when you're bored?"

"The God Realm isn't as great as you might have been told," Buddha states. "There's no incentive to reach higher. But the Human Realm is ever-changing and ever-growing despite its darkness. Gods aren't meant to intervene here, but that doesn't mean they don't descend from their realms to take a look."

You aren't sure how to respond. It's strange to consider that the Gods sightsee on Earth when they have nothing to do, blending in like tourists.

"Have you been here before?"

Buddha grins.

"A few times. Bu-chan told me about this market that sells the largest variety of candy around the world."

Of course, she did.

From the alley, you follow him down the sidewalk, dodging people as they walk by. None of them even bat an eye in your direction as you struggle to match the stride of the God who seems to have no trouble navigating the crowd of people. It's when one of them passes through you in a rush, do you freeze up.

There's no pain, only an uncomfortable tickle that creeps down your spine like ice as it spreads. You grip your arms, shivering as people rudely walk through you. Do they not see you?

The cord around your ankles tightens drawing your attention to Buddha as he glances over at you in worry. He isn't too far away. You take an uneasy breath, quickly closing the gap.

Once you're at his side again, you grasp the sleeve of his long coat, burying your face against him; the sweet scent of candy permeates your nose, calming you. A gentle hand on your head urges you to raise your head and glance at him; you don't care what rude comments the people make as they have to walk around the God.

"You OK?" Buddha asks.

"I feel like freaking Casper the Ghost," you utter.

He raises a thin brow, not understanding the reference. Easing your hand from his coat, Buddha leans down, earning complaints from the mass of people who are held up by him.

"Get on, I'll carry you."

Your face heats up in embarrassment.

"You don't have to–"

"Shaddap! I want to," he interrupts.

With an uneasy breath, you wrap your arms around his sturdy shoulders, allowing him to support your weight. Buddha stands and continues to walk down the sidewalk getting strange and confused looks from the passing humans. At least they are giving him a wide berth.

"That was unexpected," you utter.

"You're a soul now; it makes sense that humans can't see or interact with you," Buddha mentions. His body shakes as he laughs. "It was funny to see them pass through you though."

You glare at him.

"If the shoe were on the other foot perhaps."

He's right though. You should have considered this. The living tell stories about ghosts all the time; phantom images and shadows from the corners of their eyes.

"Don't the Valkyries guide all souls to the afterlife?" You ask in curiosity.

"The ones they can, I suppose. Thousands die every day and Bu-chan can't get to them all. Some tend to wonder," Buddha answers. "If you look closely, you may even see some."

A chill runs down your spine. Even as a soul this is a frightening thought.

You keep your eyes low and your head down until Buddha leads you inside a massive candy shop with items in bulk; there are even brands you've never heard of before. It's impressive.

The God browses the inventory with childlike glee, almost as if he's never been inside the shop before. It tickles you to imagine what his first impression might have been. For a while, you both point out various snacks to one another; a brand of jelly beans catches your interest, one with disgusting flavors that stirs your curiosity.

"I wasn't aware you could take material things into the afterlife," you mention.

"You can't," Buddha points out.

You raise a brow in curiosity.

"How do you get your candy… Or your modern clothes?"

"The afterlife is full of talented souls; tailors and confectioners. They sometimes give tributes to the Gods but if you have a favor to ask, feel free to do so," he answers.

You will consider it. You imagine it will be fun to show Buddha some of the crazier candies from your period.

The rest of the day is spent wandering the city, seeing the sights, and resting in the park. By the time you return to the God Realm, you are at peace; a weight feels like it has been lifted from your shoulders. You honestly needed this, despite the scare you first got.

Stretching your tired legs, you excuse yourself for a moment to return to your temporary room. As descriptive as possible, you write down the basics for the jelly beans; flavors, and such, then you return to the main hall where Buddha is resting in his chair; the stick of a lollipop rests between his lips.

"I know it's soon, but I thought of a favor… Or rather a thank you gift I want to have made for you. I'm not sure it can be done, but it's worth a shot," you explain as you hand him the list. "It might be best to find a confectioner from my period to make them."

Buddha raises a brow and unfolds the note, but you stop him.

"It's a surprise, you can't look."

His eyes brighten to a lapis hue as he refolds the note and glances at you.

"A surprise, huh?"

You nod.

"It's gonna be great."

A bit odd, but fun, you opt not to mention. At least you hope. An air of eagerness washes over you, making your heart pound faster. You aren't certain if you are more eager to receive the gift or see Buddha's reaction.

A loud yawn from the said God tears you from your thoughts.

"I think I'll rest for a bit," he mentions. "Care to join me?"

Your face turns red, inciting a laugh from Buddha.

"I know where there's a massive bodhi tree we can rest under."

For a moment you thought he was asking you to share a bed with him.

"Um… I could use a nap," you utter.

Even if you don't fall asleep, the idea of being close to the adolescent God comforts you.

Buddha stands and rests his hand on your shoulder. For the 3rd time today, the scrolls appear around you both. When they vanish, you notice that they have transported you to a hillside overlooking a familiar structure.

"This is the Valhalla Arena," you utter.

You weren't aware this was outside the domain; its decorative stone walls were recognizable only because they were the same outside as they were inside.

Turning your eyes to Buddha, you snort as you see him resting on his side at the base of the bodhi tree; its massive vines circled him like a makeshift nest.

You sit outside the vines, lying on your back and staring up at the afternoon sky.

"I can get used to this," you utter.

Buddha snorts.

Watching a cumulus cloud shaped like a rabbit drift by, you take an uneasy breath.

"I think I've settled on a name."

You turn onto your stomach, glancing at him. His brow arches in curiosity.

"Shaka."

A grin pulls at his lips.

"You know about my past?"

"Only what Wikipedia knows," you admit. You snort as a look of confusion crosses his handsome features. "There is a lot about you the internet doesn't know. And… I want to learn if you want to share."

Buddha grins.

"If that's what you want."

"It is," you utter.

A warm comforting sensation consumes you and for the first time since meeting Buddha, you don't feel the need to question the tether. At least not right now.

#record of ragnorak fandom #buddha x reader #record of ragnorak fanfic #buddha ror #soulmate au #female reader insert

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