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cno-inbminor · 1 year

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repertum (pt. 2 - final)

summary: no matter how much you want alhaitham, you don’t think you can ever have him. he may or may not try to prove otherwise. // cameos from lumine and nahida // wc: ~15.1k

a/n: well, here it is! many, many thanks to @allsaiint for being my beta once again, especially for this monster. i love her to the ends of this universe. fair warning though, the smut at the end is un-beta’d so you’ll probably come across many grammatical/syntax errors. sorry, in advance.

cw: afab!reader, fem!reader, more angst (but with comfort), 3.4 spoilers, probably some incorrect game lore and timing/mechanics, smut (MINORS DO NOT INTERACT)

smut tags: derogatory/degrading terms (slut, cocksleeve, cumslut, cockslut), referring to alhaitham as ‘sir’, size kink, twinges of dacryphilia, one (1) pussy slap, some overstimulation, light bondage (reader’s wrists get tied together), blowjob, cunnilingus, hints of reader entering subspace (dom!alhaitham, sub!reader), will add more if i remember later but i think those are the highlights lol

please read part 1 for context! | AO3 Link for better viewing if the app is being a bitch

As agreed upon you meet Lumine and Paimon on the walkway leading up to the Sanctuary. The traveling duo go inside first, as you’re sure they have much more private and serious matters to discuss. While you wait outside, you gaze over the ledge at the breathtaking view of Sumeru in the direction of the Lokapala Jungle, and its waterfalls still bright even in the darkness of dawn. Taking in everything around you— the breeze and the stars— you feel some peace in your heart knowing you have a place to call home and return to.

The doors swing open with Lumine looking a little less happy than earlier. Paimon mutters – or at least attempts to – under her breath, while a man with a wide-brimmed hat trails out after them. The traveler provides no explanation,and instead informs you that Lord Kusanali wishes to speak with you for a minute. Perhaps the time together will let you know more about this mysterious man – child? – and why he seems to have put Paimon in such a bad mood.

“Y/N,” the Dendro Archon greets you warmly. Her voice is gentle as ever and full of compassion. “Thank you for coming here. I simply wanted to see if you had everything you needed for your travels and research.”

You show her your bag with thinly-veiled enthusiasm. “Thank you for the opportunity and your consideration of my proposal. The fact that you took the time to read through it and ask me about it really means a lot to me. It was luck that the traveler happened to be heading in that direction as well.”

“She will be a good companion. Please watch over her whenever you can.”

“Of course, though I imagine she’s going to watch over me more than her,” you jest and Lord Kusanali shares your amusement. “Is there anything else you needed?”

“No. May you have safe travels, and please visit whenever you return. I look forward to your findings.”

You bow with as much reverence as possible before waving goodbye to the Archon and heading out the doors. The man from earlier is nowhere to be seen, and Lumine appears more relaxed.

“Everything all good?”

“Yes! Should we head out then?”

“Very well.”

Those with Visions have always fascinated you with the way they could make their weapons appear and disappear, and materialize things in midair. Lumine does so with what appears to be a map of Teyvat, humming to herself as she pinpoints a location. She waves it away with dainty fingers and holds out her hand.

Though confused, you trust she means no ill will and Lumine grips your hand tight when you take hers.

“Teleportation is always a little rough for first timers. Just hold on and you’ll be okay.”

“Teleporta–”

You disappear in a flash of blue light. For a split, disorienting second, you see nothing, and in the next you’re greeted with a view of what appears to be part of the Mawtiyima Forest, if the luminescent treetops are any indication. Slight nausea overcomes you and your stomach does a small turn – shit, she wasn’t lying.

“Are you alright?” Lumine asks with concern, searching through her pack for a remedy..

“Do you want a cold towel?” Paimon adds on and flutters around you to search for any signs of injury.

“I think I just need to breathe for a second,” you say, collapsing against the cliffside. “And sit for a minute.”

“Take your time. We’re quite close to the border. I would’ve taken us straight into Fontaine, but since I’ve never been before, none of those teleport waypoints have been activated.”

You point towards one in front of you. “You mean these?”

“Convenient, right?”

“...very.”

Distraught, perhaps, is one way to describe Alhaitham’s current state of mind.

By all means, it makes no sense. Did he get to know you well in an alarmingly short amount of time? Sure. Did he really look forward to those initial 36 hours passing, to the point where he felt time was crawling by at a turtle’s pace? Perhaps. Was he trying to satiate a curiosity that he had never really felt before and attempting to answer a personal unknown? In some way.

The attempting-to-resign Acting Grand Sage has read his fair share of historical texts – especially conflicts driven by love and lust. A force so powerful that it could twist the minds of even the brightest and most logical – what was that like? From a young age, he was only ever introspective in an academic sense, and the scholars touted him to be a genius. But feelings, emotions, felt abstract and out of reach as he grew up. He only ever understood his lust as a byproduct of his development as explained in the textbooks. A branch of psychology mixed with biology described everything from why humans feel attraction and the need to copulate to what is deemed healthy and alluring in a potential partner, all in the name of posterity and evolution.

Alhaitham first concluded his initial draw towards you could be explained away by all of these findings.It didn’t quite fit all the checkboxes, but enough for him to deem it understandable and valid. Those checkboxes had been visited once before when he lost his virginity, but that was all there was to it. He wouldn’t be blind enough to deny that it was a pleasurable experience, but there were other, more pressing matters at hand. Yet, even after drawing his conclusion, nothing academic could help explain why his desire to be near you was so strong. The more carnal desires took a backseat to his need to pick your brain, to make you laugh, or to have you challenge him. He learned as many of your little mannerisms as possible, all the while pretending he was completely unfazed by your presence. Your different smiles, your nervous movements, your stressed looks, your interests and dislikes – he wanted to know all of them, and not so he could store it in his brain for cautionary purposes. It was all for the sake of getting to know you.

And then he became greedy.

Another sin Alhaitham didn’t quite understand before meeting you was the growing, bubbling pit of a constant want want want for you to be by his side. To have the fantasies of coveting your soul, retching on the inside at the mere thought of others seeing you the way he did you – he was starting to see why individuals were so often thrown into a fit of rage over their loved ones and why the law has separate stipulations regarding “crimes of passion.”

And even as he sits at his usual table in his usual seat (especially on days when he really doesn’t want to be in his office during work hours), sending glares to anyone who dared to approach him or even come near your seat (which was very much not your seat by any legal means), he finds himself buried in books of philosophy. Not that they are so far out of his usual reading, for they typically align with his understanding that there are universal questions that will never be answered yet should be stated, but he has never felt the need to dive deeper than the tip of the iceberg on different schools of thought. One line in particular catches his attention, however.

“Reason is, and ought only to be the slave of the passions.”**

Moral philosophy, the area where this statement hails from, was intriguing, yet Alhaitham knew the respected experts could talk in circles for days and do their best to argue their reasoning. This particular philosopher suggests that passion is the cause for reason, for understanding why humans do the things they do. And as the word connotation suggests, there is no room to discuss whether or not this line of thought is rational. Just as passion drives reason, reason can also serve as the breeding ground for the passions.

Abstruse to several, esoteric to many, ambiguous to the masses – Alhaitham wonders if he’s found some sort of solution to his internal dilemmas. To have it all summed up in a single sentence resonates deeply with him. Simple and succinct, yet speaking volumes to the implications; finally with a deep breath.

The next day in his office, he leans and falls back into his seat, gaze focused on the domed ceiling above. He’s always hated this chair; far too grand and impractically large. One thing he doesn’t mind is the proportionate size of the desk, as he’s learned over the years that if you give him the space, he will inadvertently cover every inch of it with his materials. Even with their dwindling number of research applications, he manages to fill the voids with his own research, books laid open and aged parchment collecting dust. For being so far above the ground level of the House of Daena, it makes sense that silence is usually his sole companion, as he tends to ignore the other researchers and matra milling around. But there must have been some memo sent out because no one is there today, and no one has come up in hours.

Surprisingly, he finds the quietude and quiescence unnerving rather than welcoming, so much so he removes his treasured earpieces and places them in his lap. The white noise he’s often found bothersome is… comforting?

A distraction, perhaps, from the absence of you.

A long, heavy sigh leaves his chest as he pulls himself up and ambles over to a locked filing cabinet with all the approved research project applications. Before he became Acting Grand Sage, the remaining applications had been split between him, Lord Kusanali, and a few other individuals. First sorted by subject area and then by last name, he rifles through with an absent mind until he catches your name on a tabbed folder. Alhaitham wastes no time plucking it from the confines of the drawer and opening it, taking care to make sure the stacks of reports and research diagrams don’t spill out onto the floor. Kaveh would have a field day if he knew just how enraptured he was by the mere sight of your handwriting. He may even take him to Lord Kusanali herself for psychological treatment or interrogation because there was no way this Alhaitham was his same sarcastic, scathing, infuriating roommate – and despite the slight amusement the thought gives him, he cannot ignore the painful pull in his chest.

It’s been five weeks since you were last seen in Sumeru, and five weeks since he had knocked on your apartment door only to be greeted by your next-door neighbor, who announced you’d left early in the morning with no definitive time of return and no mention of your destination. You would be back eventually, but would it be in six days or six months? Nobody seemed to be the wiser.

He had had half a mind to reach out to Cyno and call in a special favor to track you down for his own internal peace, but he knew the request would be irrational and unnecessary. So once a week, he stops by your apartment to see if you’ve returned, and with each unsuccessful visit and your doormat collecting more and more dust, his heart sinks just a little bit lower. If he wasn’t in his current position, he’d be halfway across the desert by now (and ultimately in the complete opposite direction) under the guise of searching for ancient ruins. Merely searching for facts and truth; nothing more, nothing less.

All to say, Alhaitham wishes he had looked through this filing drawer earlier because the file on his desk contained all the answers to his questions of your whereabouts.

The relief of knowing you were safe in a nearby nation surges through every vein in his body, tension in his muscles disappearing with the rays of sunlight beating down from the stained-glass window above. He would’ve been much more concerned if you’d gone to Inazuma – even if this Captain Beidou that Lumine spoke highly of was more than adept at crossing the treacherous seas from Liyue, the mere possibility of you falling overboard or being forced to stay in the nation was still unsettling, to say the least.

Leaning his weight onto the desk, Alhaitham drinks in everything your research has to offer. There are a few mistakes and edits that could be rectified here and there, but nevertheless, it is well done. He remembers now seeing some of these papers before, as notes you had been scribbling down on some early afternoons in the cafe. Pleased isn’t enough to describe the hum in his chest when he notices some of his suggestions incorporated into your application, fondly recalling the moments when you had picked each other’s brain regarding the topic at hand. Never once did you mention that any of this had been in preparation for your big research journey, but he would be remiss not to believe recent events had served as the catalyst for your sudden departure.

“Do come back to me,” he murmurs to no one. As he lifts his head, the cosmical, automated orb— reminiscent of an Auspicious Branch— just above the elevator platform seems to mock him. It’s An inaccurate teller of time as it spins and spins in its orbit, and Alhaitham yearns for the day you return home.--

The day you return to him.

Traveling with Lumine is fascinating, to say the least.

Ignoring the fact that feeding Paimon is like feeding three grown adults, watching the Traveler gather and store every fruit and herb and loot in sight makes you wonder what kind of life she had led before all of this. The way she takes down some wayward Treasure Hoarders is a sight to see, like a well-rehearsed dance. It lends to your understanding of why the term is “martial arts” because the way Lumine maneuvers around the enemies and her sword is, very much so, an art.

But more time together means more time into probing the real reason you’ve decided to come to Fontaine with her, and for whatever reason, she is really good at getting you to spill the beans. Lumine’s heard most of your life story at this point.

“Who are you running from?” she asks one night. After checking in with the Adventurer’s Guild in Fontaine’s capital, you’ve joined Lumine in her journey around the nation to activate the rest of the teleport waypoints. You send her your sheepest look, begging with your eyes for her to not ask anymore. But you’ve skirted around this topic the last few weeks and you figure it’s time for her to know.

With a heavy breath, you set down your bowl of biryani on the grass. “Promise you won’t judge?”

“Promise.”

“...it’s Alhaitham.” The crackling of the little campfire Lumine had put together is deafening, even louder than the ripples and waves of the river crashing onto the sand in front of them.

Naturally, Paimon speaks up first, though speaking is an understatement. “Alhaitham?! You mean that– that super mean Acting Grand Sage? The know-it-all? Can’t really care less about others? Condescending?”

“That’s a pretty big word there, Paimon–” Lumine cuts in.

“Hey!”

“See?” you respond, the smile on your face small, awkward, and bittersweet. “Things happened and well… I thought it’d be better if we stopped seeing each other.”

“You were seeing each other?!!”

“Paimon, stop!” Lumine interjects and shoots the floating fairy a disapproving glare.

You really wish you had some alcohol with you right now.

“Well…”

For the next several minutes, you provide a detailed summary of how you came to meet and learn more about Alhaitham, the nature of the budding relationship, how all your insecurities came to a head on that night, and how you ended up here. Lumine remains silent when you finish explaining everything, clearly thinking through all the information and trying to find the right words to say.

“You know,” she begins, “Alhaitham may be one of the most infuriatingly logical men that I’ve ever met. And a really good actor, too. Remind me to tell you the details of what he did when we rescued Nahida.”

“...I don’t think that makes me feel any better.”

“I’m just saying, but I also think you know by now that Alhaitham isn’t someone who does anything that isn’t for his own benefit, in some way.”

“Again, not helping.”

“What I’m trying to say is if he just wanted to get his dick wet, I’m sure there are plenty of other people who would agree to help out in much less time.”

To which, Lumine has a point. A very good point. But still you say, “He’s super picky though, I don’t think he’d just sleep with anyone regardless.”

“Which brings me to my original point: he picked you for a reason.”

“Because I’m easy?”

Lumine flicks your forehead before you can even blink, and with a decent amount of force as well. Your resulting indignant yelp pierces the atmosphere as you rub the sore spot. “What was that for?!”

“For being unreasonable. I’m trying to say that you must be special to him, that’s all.”

“... but what if he didn’t want to see me again after sleeping together? Sure, let’s say that I am ‘special’, heavy emphasis on my air quotes right now, but I want more, an actual relationship. How do I know that’s also what his end goal is?”

“You don’t,” Lumine affirms. “But there’s no use in wading through the what-ifs. You know what you want, and I think you’re allowed to communicate that to him, regardless of what he says.”

It’s hard to come to terms with the underlying implication that you’re being something of a coward, with not a whole lot of reason to be. You’re grateful for the open water before you, its lullaby comforting with the breeze it brings. Years of academic research have made you painfully familiar with the concept of trial and error, but to apply it to human relationships? It leaves much to be undesired. Five weeks, in the grand scheme of things, are certainly nothing more than a miniscule blip of time. But in your limited life with the overhanging unknowns of the world, it was a sizable enough amount of time filled with passive rumination and downward spirals.

“You’ll figure it out when you get there. But I’m warning you, we’ve still got a lot of ground to cover.”

You can’t help but laugh in relief. “That is completely okay, I promise you.”

Running away might as well be your newly developed skill at this point.

A few weeks later

“I mean, I could stay with you there in Fontaine, right? You know, extra set of hands and all?”

“You’re not getting out of this.”

“Lumiiinneee,” you whine, petulant pout making itself known.

“Just talk to him – whatever happens, happens. If it’s not meant to be, then it’s not meant to be. But you owe it to yourself to say your piece, as well as to him for an explanation that he needs to hear. Now go.”

She all but (gently) shoves you into the Akademiya, watching over you with an encouraging wave of her hand. When you’re less than five steps away from the door into the House of Daena, you look over your shoulder once more for any signs of escape. As expected, the Lumine-shaped obstacle stands firm in her spot.

You clutch your final report to your chest, mind racing with a thousand thoughts per second, and don’t even realize you’ve already made it to the elevator platform. And once it gives a mechanical shudder and starts to go up, you want to scream and simultaneously steal a glider to jump off and land safely back on the ground level.

Is it good or bad luck that no one seems to be around? Maybe he won’t be at his desk and you can just leave the report there and fucking bolt. Maybe it’s not even Alhaitham in the Grand Sage’s chair. Maybe the man is gone altogether and is somewhere in the desert looking at ancient runes.

Maybe he just doesn’t care anymore and has forgotten about you. Maybe he told himself to let bygones be bygones, and that you were simply another scholar in the Akademiya. No one special.

Your initial hopes of his coincidental absence are dashed as you walk up the stairs. His silver hair stands out among the sea of azure and viridian, and he doesn’t even bother to look up from the stack of papers in his hand. Not that you were a bull in a china shop by any means, but the man would even notice with his eyes closed if there was a fly on the complete opposite side of the office. Your heart is ready to burst from your chest with each shaky step, and too soon, you stand in front of his sprawling desk.

“My office hours will be ending in a few minutes,” he states in a matter-of-fact tone without looking at you. You risk a sharp inhale at the sound of his voice, an all too familiar mix of gentility and sternness. “If it’s something that requires more than that length of time, come back tomorrow.”

Fuck fuck fuck fuck – “I’m just, um, turning in a research report?”

At the sound of your voice, Alhaitham doesn’t even bother to amuse himself. He’d much rather not look and not be disappointed, than to do so and become reacquainted with dashed hopes. “...And the necessary cover sheet is on top? Does it have your name, project number, and corresponding title?”

“Y-Yes.”

Still perusing through the paperwork in his hands, he frees one hand to point it at a basket on his far-right corner. “Leave it there. Your advisors and I will be reviewing it within the next two weeks.”

“Oh, o-okay.”

You do as instructed, but with each second that passes without any eye contact or direct acknowledgement of your presence, you begin to wonder if he’s purposely ignoring you. Or maybe he forgot about you entirely and wrote you off as a failed pursuit. Perhaps that would be the best-case scenario and you could hole up in your apartment for the rest of… eternity. Maybe. Lumine can come and scold you later and you can take it like a champ.

But your heart, ever so fickle and occasionally diabolical, plays one last card and causes you to stop at the top of the stairs. “Have a good night,” you muster out. “Thank you, Alhaitham.”

The rustling of his papers ceases as you turn and hurry down the steps, taking extra care to not trip over your feet. Just before you can activate the elevator, a frazzled “Y/N?” is called from above. With sweaty hands, a sullen heart, and a leadened brain, you nervously orient towards the scholar inhabiting your dreams, who stands on the edge of the platform above and peers down to confirm his suspicion. His stance looks as if he had leapt over his desk and sprinted at top speed towards you.

You’re not sure how to take it all in, how to take him in – the “feeble scholar”, for once, appears as such. If possible, his cheeks seem a little more sunken in, further accentuating the sharp edges of his jawline. His hair looks mussed, as if he’d run his hands through it several times too many. The cloak around his shoulders rests askew from his sudden movements.

But his eyes—

Those seafoam irises and amber pupils pierce through your soul, but not in an inquisitive and calculating manner. In fact, it’s quite the opposite – he looks unsure, disbelieving, and hesitant. To elicit such a reaction from this man should be recorded in the most prominent historical annals, but you do have to admit it’s a bad look on him.

When you open your mouth to say something, anything, the elevator begins its descent. Any words you had are wiped from your mind, and you do everything you can to maintain this staredown. Weeks ago, you couldn’t even begin to guess what this man would be feeling based on his eyes, but now? His heart is on his sleeve, and you can’t help the green envy in your veins at the possibility that others have seen him in such a vulnerable state.The constant battle between an illusional desire to be his everything and knowing that you never could and never should be, rages on.

You’re the first to look away. Sorry, Lumine, you think, as Alhaitham’s figure disappears from view. All you’re left with is the rotating orb above, spinning and spinning until it makes you sick to your stomach. You just want to get back to your apartment and start sweeping the dirt away, to return to some sense of normalcy before all of… this appeared. You never should’ve indulged in your whimsical desires.

Alhaitham hovers in a state of shock as he watches the elevator take you back down – after weeks of catching a glimpse of who he thinks is you at the cafe, hearing your voice in his head as he scribbles away on paperwork, or dreaming of escaping his duties to find you in Fontaine, he’s not sure if he really believes you were here or if it was some effective lucid dreaming. But the sudden pull, the impulsive need to just check the cover sheet when his name left your lips, was far too strong and he had dived right in without a second thought.

And there in your handwriting, in all its glory, was your name printed neatly at the bottom. One second, he was at his desk and the next, he was at the edge of the outer office ring for confirmation.

The last few minutes of his workday have never gone slower as he paces back and forth in front of his desk. He’s doing his best to stay calm and formulate a plan, but even that has become difficult for him. There are too many extraneous factors at play, several he can’t be sure of – did you meet someone new in Fontaine? Were you going to leave again?

Did you even want to see him?

You could’ve left without another word once your research paper landed in that return basket. He would’ve been none the wiser until he physically picked up the report, which probably wouldn’t have happened for another few days, what with all the cleaning up he’s trying to do before his resignation is official. All that lost time in between would have left him even more distraught.

But the fact that you had stopped and made a point to thank him, to call him out by name, means something. Like him, it seems you are just as unsure of where the two of you stand.

And that’s all he needs to move forward.

Granted, moving forward didn’t initially involve climbing up the fire escape ladder behind your apartment building.

With a takeout bag of your favorite foods from Lambad’s Tavern, he was originally going to knock on your front door like any other individual. But before his knuckles could rap against the Adhigama wood, he thought, why not check to see if you’re even home? That would eliminate the possibility of you seeing him through the peephole and then pretending you’re not home – or worse, you opening it and then slamming it back in his face.

His unparalleled logic led him to skip the ladder and jump onto the first floor. It’s not that he wouldn’t be able to climb it with one free hand – the food would’ve gotten messy with all the jostling around. He ignores the sound of laughing children as he ambles past, but allows the semblance of a grin to dawn his face when he hears, “Whoa, look at that mister!” Alhaitham looks above him as he climbs the next set of stairs, noticing a light peeking through the living room window. That’s one good sign, at least, because it means you’re home, right? He peers past the half-open curtains when he arrives at your floor. He’s just checking. Nothing suspicious or untoward. Yet all of that is scrapped— another deviation from his initial plan— when he sees you sitting on your couch, sorting through a pile of mail on your coffee table. With a mind of their own, his knuckles knock lightly against the glass and he can’t help but let a humorous snort slip out when your body jerked with a visceral startle, head whipping towards the source of your adrenaline spike.

You don’t need to verbally question his sudden appearance when it’s written all over your face. Your eyebrows are knitted and arched, mouth turned down in a slight frown, hands clenched in fists with visible tension and unease. “Alhaitham, what– I mean–”

He holds up the food behind the windowpane for you to see. “I wanted to bring you dinner since you probably don’t have anything prepared on your first night back.”

Without another word, you slide open the window, letting him clamber through as you take the bag from him. He retrieves it as you lock the window and yank the curtains together, setting it on the table away from a mound of what he presumes to be junk mail. You scramble for words and coherency as you search for clean plates and utensils, but the effort is fruitless. There’s a trapped shriek in your chest and you don’t know how to snuff it out.

Dinner is a quiet affair, save for some awkward small talk here and there. He makes it a point to give you extras, whether it be a little more mint cilantro or tamarind chutney for the samosas (despite it being his favorite) or more of the lamb from the biryani. Each little morsel pushes your heart further up your throat, further sending you into a downward spiral. Why is he so kind and caring when you had essentially kicked him out last time? Why is he going out of his way to make up for a wrong he never committed?

Alhaitham basks in your company, taking in every detail of your outward appearance. You seem skinnier than before, hair just a little bit longer. A few fresh, healing cuts on your hand stand out to him and he hopes they were all accidental and not intentionally created by another human being. There’s so much he wants to say and question, but for once he cannot find the right words. Rarely has he ever felt as though he was skating on paper-thin ice with someone – years of not caring or sparing thoughts for how others might perceive him lends nothing to resolve his state of incertitude. So the only way he can currently try to communicate is through actions, hence the extra foods and your favorite parts of them, making sure you have a usable napkin at all times, refilling your cup of water when it starts to look low, and more.

With a full belly, you sigh with satisfaction, a breath that appeases Alhaitham just the slightest bit. “That was good. Thank you for bringing it.”

“You’re welcome. Was the food in Fontaine not to your taste?”

You hum in thought. “A bit bland, honestly. Not as many spices are used in their foods like they are here.”

“Ah.”

The two of you sit silently for a few moments. You’re looking anywhere and at anything but him, your knee bouncing and hands wringing together. Is he trying to let you down easy? Soften the blow? What is his end goal?

His fingers tap the table in a silent rhythm, noticing that despite the small talk, the tension in the air is still viscous. He ignores the gnawing desire to hold your hand and squeeze it tight, to graze his thumb over those scabs and kiss them. He’s not ready to leave yet, which is why he juts his chin towards the only unopened bag on the table and says, “I also brought dessert. Would you care to have some now?”

No. Yes. I don’t know. I can think of something else I want for dessert but that’s not the point right now, is what runs through your head.

“Sure. What is it? I might have something to go with it.”

“It’s baklava.”

For him to remember that baklava from Pupusa Cafe is your preferred dessert when eating your favorite dishes is even more mind-boggling in this whole situation.

You stand on shaky legs and walk towards the pantry. “Does wine sound okay?”

Alhaitham ponders your last mutual experience with alcohol, which had ended in a disaster, even if he knew full well that it wasn’t a cause by any means; an unintended catalyst. As long as neither overindulged, it would be harmless. Right?

So he nods. “That sounds good.”

You return with a corkscrew opener, two stemless wine glasses, and one of your better bottles of aged wine. Alhaitham remains silent as he takes the opener from you and drives it into the cork, hand twisting the top knob with ease. You feel shameless in the way you stare at his arms, watching his muscles flex. The veins in his hand become more visible and you can see the tension in his forearm through his arm guards, all the more when he pushes the levers closed and wiggles the cork out of its confines. He takes good care to tactfully remove the cork and place it on the table, and pours a glass for you first.

“Thank you,” you murmur as you take it from him with both hands, ignoring the way his fingers seem to linger after making contact with yours. You portion out the baklava as he pours a glass for himself and he voices his gratitude in turn.

As you nibble on the delicacy, the silence weighs heavily on your chest, both a burden and a source of comfort. “Did you find everything you needed in Fontaine for your research?” he asks, once again attempting to make some neutral conversation. Alhaitham has never been one for sweets, but he’s willing to eat it for and with you. The cafe’s baklava is one of few desserts he can handle, as it’s not as sickeningly sweet as some other places’ when they’ve added too much syrup.

You chew slowly as you think of your answer. “I think so. I feel pretty good about my report.”

“I’ll be sure to read it soon,” he responds. After all, he is a pretty quick reader, and with the dwindling number of research project applications, he can efficiently get through the other reports to make sure he reviews yours before he goes back to being the Scribe.

“You know, there’s no need to rush on my account,” you say. Honestly, that’s the last thing you need because it would confirm your worst fears and assumptions. Everything discussed with Lumine would’ve been tossed violently out the window, and you so badly don’t want it to manifest.

“...I won’t,” he assures you. Alhaitham understands your research paper needs to be treated like every other one passing through the Akademiya, especially if he is going to be one of the formal reviewers.

You feel your lungs losing air, your heart rate soaring through the roof. With a stroke of luck, your glasses of wine are finished off and the plates hold nothing but crumbs, which provides a perfect excuse for you to get up and get away.

“I’m gonna wash the dishes,” you announce, voice doing little to hide how nervous and shaky you’re feeling. It’s another miracle that you don’t drop anything on the trek from the dining table to the sink as you wonder if you’ve killed any chance of being with Alhaitham. Where was the confidence you possessed when you first met the man?

Even being mere meters away from him becomes painful. His presence alone provides a sense of security, strong and silent. The lack of warmth, the string between you two pulled taut, ignites an obdurate yearning – the very same yearning experienced when you spent days avoiding the man prior to your departure for Fontaine. Distance makes the heart grow fonder, as they all say, and there certainly was some merit to it.

The silence remains suffocating, in some ways, but also comforts you with its deep pressure, distracting you enough that you fail to notice Alhaitham moving around. He removes his cloak and earpieces, draping them neatly over the couch armrest before he comes to stand next to you at the sink. He grabs a towel and is ready to dry when you’re done washing the dishes. Your muscles begin to relax, that earlier frost of loneliness gradually dissipating with his presence nearby. He dries everything with the utmost care and lines them up neatly as you hand them over, and you ignore the little brushes of his fingers against yours with each relinquished plate. You can’t help but wonder if he can feel the heat emanating from your cheeks because honestly, you feel like your face is on fire.

Alhaitham finishes drying off the last item – the second stemless wine glass – and turns to lean his back against the counter with his arms crossed in front of his chest. He waits as you rinse down the sink and passes you the towel to dry off your hands. Your timid smile leaves him hopeful that you’re not visibly shying away from him— not visibly, at least. Seconds pass, and now there is nothing left for you to do or keep yourself busy. He waits for you to gather your bearings and settle to show that you’re ready to talk about… whatever this is.

Those haunting irises suddenly meet his with an alarming amount of determination, holding steadfast and searching his for something, anything. He can’t bear to lose and look away, not that he wants to. Yet you remain quiet, and Alhaitham leans into his impulses.

With firm, sure hands, he pulls you toward his original spot and lifts you up just enough so that you’re sitting on the counter. Alhaitham plants them by your waist and bends down to be level with your gaze, which now holds hints of fear and surprise. They’re open wide, your pupils slowly dilating, and he catches a glimpse of your fingers curling around the edges of the counter. He so badly wants to cradle your face in his hands, to feel your physical presence and prove to himself that you’re really here before him. But that is intimacy he hasn’t quite been granted yet and he can’t mess this up. He must’ve done something wrong the last time he was here, and he most certainly doesn’t want to risk the same outcome again.

“I like you,” he proclaims with a resolute tone. Alhaitham has always hated beating around the bush when unnecessary, and at this point he needs it said out loud for you to know. “I have been attracted to you since the moment we met, and I used to believe that it was purely a biological response. But then I wanted to know more about you. I wanted to learn more about who you are and how your mind works. To be quite honest, I can’t stand the thought of anyone else being in my position right now. I will not hide the fact that I am selfish and want you all for myself, if you would have me.”

You are struggling so hard to keep the smile off your face, your mouth pursing while your teeth dig into the inside of your bottom lip. Three months ago, you would never have seen this coming, and you would have laughed in anyone’s face if they had suggested it.

“If you need time, I can wait. I am not always the most patient person, but for you, I am willing to do so. And–”

“I was worried that you wouldn’t want to see me again after having sex,” you interject and confess. The embarrassment of your thoughts and actions quickly becomes a heavy weight in your chest. Your nerves strain to get the better of you and shut you down before saying more, but you force yourself to push past them. Alhaitham provided you with honesty and transparency, and he deserves the same from you. “We had so much tension between us and I was worried that once it was all resolved, you wouldn’t feel the need to see me again.”

Alhaitham takes a moment to process your words, but he can still see the tension in your shoulders. You won’t meet his gaze as you look past him or at other parts of his body. “There’s something else, is there not?”

You look down at your hands in your lap, your fingers intertwined and fingertips applying pressure where they land. With how forthcoming he has been, you owe it to him to extend the same courtesy, despite how silly it feels now.

“I couldn’t understand why you would even like me,” you say, voice soft and barely audible in the silence. You’re unable to mask the melancholy in your tone when you remember how it felt to internally question his affections and assume the worst. A quiet chuckle slips past your lips, but it’s derisive and bittersweet. “I’m just another scholar and you— you were the Scribe and later Acting Grand Sage. I thought maybe people would accuse me of… providing sexual favors, to put it lightly, if you showed me any leniency or favoritism in my academic career.”

The back of your knuckles brush against his cheek as you lift your head up to take him in. “You could have anyone in the world and you deserve nothing but the best. So why me?”

“I would need a few all-nighters and several pieces of paper to pen down every reason why.”

His quick reasoning with all indicators of certainty – his tone, the lack of any dishonesty in his eyes, the way he holds your eye contact – takes you for a loop. You’re only able to let out a soft “oh” as you let the implications of his words swim in your brain, leaving you helpless to find a suitable response. How do you follow up on an answer like that?

When he feels your fingers slipping down his jawline, he stops it with his own to press his cheek into your palm. “If it provides you any comfort, I will no longer be the Acting Grand Sage by next week. You know how long I’ve waited for them to process and approve of my resignation. And as the Scribe… it still does not matter. People who would assume something so salacious are simply capitalizing on their own insecurities, and they do not deserve a second of your time or an ounce of room in your thoughts. I do my best to exercise fairness and reason in all matters for the Akademiya, and even as my partner you would not be safe from that.

“I’ve never shied away from telling you how things are and you know this. I can ensure you would not earn any favoritism or leniency within the boundaries of the Akademiya, should my presence be involved in your research.”

The smirk that creeps up at the corner of his lips ignites a small flame in your belly – thrill and heat and trepidation all melding together. “Now, outside of those boundaries, it’s a different matter. If I may pry once more, what is your answer?”

Liquid fire pumps from your heart and into your veins, further fueling the heat in your core. Just as it dips dangerously lower, so does your hand, and the other joins in lightly scraping your nails down his abdomen. You feel him jump beneath your touch and relish in the sound of his swallow, and how his breath hitches when your fingertips dip into the band of his pants. They tug him forward until he’s standing between your thighs, just centimeters of nothingness between you two. Even as close as he is, Alhaitham can’t help but think there’s still too much space unoccupied.

Your eyes scream, beseeching him to understand your actions and for him to respond in kind. It can only mean one thing, but he wants to hear those words. He wants it engraved in his memories for the rest of time, despite the desperation to give in and give you both what you desire and need. Alhaitham grasps your chin between his thumb and curled index finger, leaning forward closer and closer until his lips barely touch yours.

“Use your words.”

Arousal seeps through your underwear as the subdued tenor of his voice sends shivers down your spine. Wholly unfair, this man is. Devilish, demanding, teasing, controlling – but most of all, he is yours.

“Please let me have you, if you will have me,” you whisper against his lips, eyelashes fluttering closed at the faint touch.

No sooner when you are greeted by darkness does he fully slot his mouth against yours, hands gripping tightly on your hips to pull you against him. A groan slips past and into you because gods, he’s missed this so much. After nights of waking up with the ghost of your kisses, he never wants this to end and longs for a reality where time can stop and he can take his sweet, sweet time to worship every millimeter of your body with his lips, and then some. Excitement electrifies his whole body when you reciprocate his desire ounce for ounce, and even more so when you let out a pretty little whine, just for him.

When he pulls back for a chance to breathe, he doesn’t move far. “Good girl,” he praises so sweetly, the words washing over you in something akin to pride for eliciting his approval and pleasing him. Alhaitham slides the tip of his nose against yours, moving to kiss your forehead, then your cheeks, your jawline, and the pulse point on your neck. Even the slightest pressure has you tilting your head to the side, granting him permission and room to do as he pleases. Alhaitham bides his time to press whispers of kisses onto your skin until he nips a sensitive spot. A sharp inhale pierces through the kitchen when he sucks on the patch of skin caught between his teeth, taking the utmost care to break the little capillaries underneath. He wants you to experience his phantom touches on these spots in the hours when he’s away from you, a constant reminder that you are his and his alone.

Your fingers dig into Alhaitham’s silver locks, torn between pressing him further into your neck and pulling him away. “Haitham,” you plead and tug on his strands, which only prompts an even harsher abrasion from him. “Wanna kiss you.” Your voice is breathy, and you feel as if you’re on the verge of tears. Who is he to deny such a reasonable request?

Though instead, he pulls you off the counter and rushes to your bedroom with you in tow, granting your wish as soon as you enter. The back of his knees hit the foot of your bed and Alhaitham drags you with him when he sits on top of your blankets. Despite your eagerness to clamber over and straddle him, he disapproves when you attempt to exercise a modicum of control over the situation by leveraging some height over him, utilizing gravity to lean into his embrace and kisses. His palms slide up your thighs with reverence until they dig into the crevice of your hips and yank them down. To have you pressed fully against him is most certainly a blessing, and there’s no way you don’t feel his growing arousal against yours.

When he feels his bottom lip stuck between your teeth, Alhaitham smiles. It still seems you’re not fully understanding the position you’re in. Perhaps, he might need to remind you of just who exactly is succumbing to who.

You keen when his hands dip underneath your shirt to draw meaningless patterns into your waist, but also to make his mark as he holds tight enough that you think you would feel some internal bruising tomorrow. They dance higher and higher, until they meet the bottom seam of your bra, and you nearly choke with the arousal suffocating your lungs.

“Can I?” Alhaitham almost begs, but watches for any sign of hesitation.

“Yes,” you breathe back. You lift your arms up, waiting with thinning patience, and he wastes no time in following through, tossing the shirt to the side with one hand as the other busies to unhook the metal clasp of your bra. Soon enough, your upper body is bare for him to see, to touch, to love – and his breath is taken away because you are so, so beautiful; perfect breasts with hardened nipples, an empty canvas all for him. He made a mistake last time for not seeing them properly, having been too focused on the way they felt against his chest instead.

“Fuck me,” he murmurs. His subsequent scoff feels derisive, sardonic, self-destructive, and his thumbs ghost over your areolas. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous – this is unfair.”

“You’re the one who’s unfair,” you retaliate with a shaky breath as you nearly tear off his shirt. One look at his muscular and toned frame, and it takes everything to stop the drool from spilling past your lips. “Have you looked in the mirror lately?”

“Be careful,” he warns, his fingers digging into the flesh just underneath your breasts. Alhaitham holds onto you as he scoots further back onto the bed, and once he deems there’s enough room, he rolls over until he’s hovering above you, panting and hair splayed and lips swollen. “I’m just a feeble scholar.”

When you roll your eyes with an excessive amount of sass, he dips down to capture your right nipple in his mouth and gives a harsh suck as punishment, satisfied when all defiance on your face morphs into pleasure. Pretty, responsive, little angel, all for him, so sweet, so delicate, so adorable when your spine arches into his mouth and continues to suspend itself as he pays his respects to your other breast. You feel your conscience become fuzzier and fuzzier, dissolving into mush as the tendrils of overstimulation begin to grow, and once again, you find yourself torn between wanting to let him continue and wanting him to stop.

He decides to grant you some mercy when you can’t help but twitch and shy away. Alhaitham’s primal desires begin to crest and wash away any rationale, desperate to keep the taste and feel of your skin between his lips and on his tongue. He doesn’t quite understand this newfound desire to nip and bite, but all he knows is that when he does, his arousal pulses and nearly threatens to break past the seam of his pants. Alhaitham moves lower, lower, ghosting past your stomach, nudging past the band of your bottoms and underwear to tug them down all the way. Those are thrown out of view and he finally, finally, gets to continue from where he last left off, taking no time to push your legs away towards your chest and give a lascivious lick up the length of your cunt. The tip of his tongue meets your clit at the end of its journey, and he firmly holds you down when your hips buck into his mouth as it circles the nub.

It’s game over when he takes it fully in his mouth.

Your hands twist themselves once more into his silver hair, expletives slipping off your tongue as you chase your high. You feel your pussy clench around nothing the higher you climb, the coil in your core winding tighter and tighter. He eats you out like a man starved, enthusiasm unveiled and clear. His passion unbridled and sending you further into the clouds, you feel tears in your eyes begin to well up from sheer bliss, so sensitive and so unbelievably unprepared for everything this man was going to give you tonight. “Haitham,” you cry over and over, his name a mantra and prayer.

When he leans back, you catch a glimpse of the sheen on his chin and the way his eyes remain focused on your arousal, pupils blown. “You taste so good,” he compliments, his voice somehow having dropped an octave lower. “Could eat you out for hours. So good for me, fuck.” It’s dangerous how much you love to hear him curse, knowing that you are the reason why. The rational, feeble, well-spoken scholar, his prose extending to situations such as now, is almost reduced to such crude and filthy vocabulary.

Alhaitham would need to be blind to miss your sticky precum practically spilling from your core after what he said. It’d be a shame to let any of it go to waste, he muses, as he drags his tongue up the length of your cunt and pays attention to your clit again. He watches for every reaction, what makes you tug him closer, what makes your body twitch and convulse, what causes the shakiest exhales from your lungs, what contributes to your squeals and cries – he wants you to get a taste of just how unhinged he becomes in your presence.

Each moment of friction, so wet and slick, against your core seems to send you further and further into oblivion. Tears overflow when your heart bursts and Alhaitham doesn’t miss them – the sheen sliding down the sides of your face shines in the moonlight and he knows there is no reason to fear you’re in pain. He drinks in your moans and feels your fingers tangle further in his silver strands, nails scraping lightly against his scalp, your hips with a mind of their own as you grind against his tongue and nose to chase your release. Alhaitham pays no mind to the way his cock twitches once more in his pants or the unmistakable wet spot that’s formed from his own precum.

The coil in your abdomen wounds tighter and tighter. There is nothing on your mind but the man between your legs and your impending orgasm, one with an intensity you haven’t experienced in ages. “ ‘m close,” you gasp and meet his burning gaze. “Please, wanna cum – yes – please, sir–”

How he doesn’t cum in his pants at the title is beyond his comprehension, but the stroke to his ego is welcoming, to say the least. Alhaitham never felt any type of way when others addressed him as so, sometimes annoyed even, but from you? It is everything. A verbal indication of relinquishing your power to him, your existence at its highest vulnerability, the underlying respect, the implicit trust hidden between three letters – only has him pushing down harder against your thighs, leaving no room for you to fight. The resolve and determination to have you cum on his tongue only increases and his thoughts plunder further into hell. Cum for me, cum on my tongue, let me taste your release that I give you, so fucking addictive – his silent commands painted on your tight bundle of nerves.

With Alhaitham exercising a dizzyingly sinful strength against you, leaving you helpless and defenseless, you let yourself succumb as your heart rate increases. Your breathy warnings and pleas, the oh fuck!s, the whimpering sir!s, confessions of love on the tip of your tongue – you have one minute, moment of clarity when your body freezes, and the coil snaps.

You don’t think you’ve ever cum so hard before, reality-shattering, nerves on overdrive, your body trembling beneath his palms as you ride out the pleasure for as long as you can. The quiet scream from your lungs is inevitable as it dissolves into sobs and Alhaithm follows you when your hips buck. There’s not enough oxygen for you and you can feel the visceral clenching of your abdomen as you fight for air and some semblance of control again – but that flies out the window when, for the first time tonight, Alhaitham slides his tongue inside your quivering cunt.

Said Scribe cannot help but groan, and he wishes he’d done this earlier. To feel your creamy walls squeeze as his taste buds slide amongst them, your keening ringing in his ears, the shaking of your thighs a prisoner between his fingers, the intoxicating taste of your cum – all of it is more than he could have ever dreamed of. Right where he wants you, and all his, his, his.

The incessant tugging of his hair tells him to stop for now, as much as he doesn’t want to. If it were up to him, he’d have you cumming on his tongue for hours, his hard cock be damned. But your convulsions of overstimulation manage to generate the slightest bit of sympathy and he laments when pulling away. His eyes hone in on the way your pussy contracts around nothing, almost begging for something to fill you again. “Good girl,” he praises, tenor delicate and charming, as he rubs gentle circles on your abdomen in an attempt to ground you. There are stars in your eyes, and he waits for you to come back to him.

You barely register Alhaitham’s hand on your body as you stare up at the ceiling, brain and soul somewhat disconnected due to the high of your orgasm. So good to me, your thoughts coo. Haitham, sir, how can I show my gratitude to him?

“Y/N,” and at last, you make eye contact with him. He preens at the blissed out look on your face and moves forward until he’s lying next to you, his weight supported on one arm while the other brushes away your baby hairs. A dreamy smile graces your lips, and he can’t help but lean forward for a soft kiss. Languid, sensual, pliant – several minutes fly by as you bask in each other’s presence until the need for more begins to bloom again. Alhaitham lets out a chuckle when he feels your hand wandering down his frame until it rests on his crotch. Making out with you has kept him semi-hard, and he’s happy you’re taking the initiative. Not that you’re in control, by any means, but it’s cute that you might think so.

Your mind reels from just how big he feels beneath your palm. You can’t deny the times when you’ve sneaked glances at his crotch, his tight pants outlining a slight bulge from day to day – but you never thought your fingers would be splayed so far apart, and you just know they would struggle to meet when gripping his length. Your whines reach his ears as you fumble with the clasp above the zipper, and Alhaitham is so kind, kind enough to take over and do it for you. Seconds later, his pants and underwear join the pile of forgotten clothes, and you immediately look down at what you’ve been waiting for.

The instant pooling of saliva in your mouth is embarrassing, shame and lust spilling into your chest and through your veins. Alhaitham’s cock is so beautiful, just like the rest of him, and you’ve never wanted something in your mouth so bad. It twitches under your reverent gaze, and the tip glistens with his precum. Even the noticeable veins drawn along his length are beautiful, and his balls seem to be engorged, heavy with cum. You prove your earlier hypothesis when you hold it in your hand, and your fingers truly do not meet around the circumference. A gush of slick leaks and paints your inner thighs, your hand seemingly tiny in comparison as you slowly stroke him.

Alhaitham hisses at your touch, so cold against the heat of his cock. There’s a passing thought of wanting to keep that fawning look on your face at all times, the metaphorical hearts in your eyes with his dick in your hand. In a moment of weakness, the thought begins to spiral into darker fantasies, how to keep you hooked and dependent on him, his cock, his mouth, his touch. A flash of a daydream crosses by of him sitting in his office chair, you on your knees between his legs, his shaft bullied deep in your throat as you keep it warm for him, drool and spit spilling from the corner of your lips, so submissive and desperate for him to fuck your face–

Your thumb glosses over his frenulum and he is ripped from his reverie. At risk of cumming too quickly, he thinks of how to keep your soft hands away for now. What can he use? How can he restrict you?

Ah.

Confused whimpers follow after him when he abruptly stands up from your bed and walks over to the pile of discarded clothes. You miss the warmth of his body next to you, goosebumps from the sudden chill rising on your skin. But before you can begin to chase after him, he returns to sit on the bed and beckons for you to sit up for him.

He loves how willing you are to obey him, your eyes wide and a little awestruck as you follow his gesture – almost as if he were your puppeteer. Alhaitham holds out his hands in front of him, palms facing the ceiling, and you match the posture with intrigue painted across your face. As you wait, clarification comes to you when he reveals the patterned, teal sash that usually encompasses his hips. Slow, deliberate movements as he wraps the cloth around your wrists (in case you don’t want it because he would never force you to do anything you were uncomfortable with), indicate this uncharted territory. And when the tie is made and the knot is pulled tight, you look up at him.

“Is this okay?” He asks. When you give a mute nod, he clicks his tongue in disapproval. “Words, Y/N.”

“I-I’m sorry,” you stammer. “Yes, sir, it’s okay.”

Alhaitham watches as you lay back until your head meets the pillow, and your bound wrists lay prettily above your head. Your constrained and exposed body greets him. He sees your eyes strain to catch another glance at his cock, and the smirk on his lips is nothing but smug as he gives it a few quick pumps as a gift to you.

“Can you come here?” You plead because you know there’s no room to make any demands, and it’s his turn to be curious. Nevertheless, he resumes his original position by your side, but you shake your head. You can tell he doesn’t know what’s happening, but you are feeling shameless and powerless, at the mercy of this man, and you want him to really, really, drive that point deeper.

“Can you…straddle me? Like above my chest though?”

If this is going where Alhaitham thinks it’s going, he might just abandon the Akademiya altogether, whisk you away to his house, kick out Kaveh and have him live in your apartment instead, and keep his own doors locked for eternity. He does as you ask as he thrums in excitement, his cock weighty and leaking when you’re satisfied with where he is.

Time slows to a crawl as he watches you lift your head up with your pretty mouth open and take the tip of his cock between your glossy lips.

The tight heat is maddening, a strangled “fuck” falling off his tongue, and you push forward to take more of his length in your mouth. So dutiful and loyal, you have proven yourself, as you suck his cock with your eyes closed and moans vibrating around him. Given certain physical limitations, there’s only so much you can take in, which is where he believes it’s his time to act his part. He places a hand on the back of your skull to provide you some relief, but also to sink deeper down your throat. Naturally, you fall back until it’s just the head between your lips again, but he is right there to drag you back towards him and fill your depraved mouth.

“Look at you,” he hisses, controlling your pace. Such a good little fucktoy, no? “Who knew you would want my cock so badly? For me to sit on top and watch as you struggle to even take half of it in your mouth? I don’t think you have any idea of what you’ve started. Your lips are stretched so wide, but just wide enough for me to fit perfectly in between them, like it was made for me. Maybe that’s what it is.” His perverse thoughts run wild without any composure or filter, and he is unable to hold it in. “You were made for me and my cock, and– oh fuck – it seems like you love the idea of being my personal cocksleeve.”

Your eagerness to please him increases as you strain to take more in, his tip slipping into and catching the back of your throat. The sound of you choking on his cock rings in your ears, sending you further and further into oblivion. Every word from Alhaitham sounds true, and he’s right – right that maybe you were specifically made for him, his own blessing from the Archons, and right that you deeply, painfully, love the idea of letting him use you as he wishes. A garbled cry, followed by more sticky release dripping from your cunt, doesn’t go unnoticed when his voice sounds ragged on the word “cocksleeve.” It’s a lascivious tone of accord and approval, and your tears flow when he pulls you as far down his length as your quenched throat allows, your chained wrists resting atop your skull, and he keeps you there.

“This is what you want, isn’t it?” He asks with a teasing lilt in his voice. “I have no objections to fully commit to being yours, your sir. But you must understand I expect the same commitment in return. This cock is yours,” Alhaitham promises, relishing in your muffled whimper of agreement. “And you are mine. My,” – a pause – “personal, depraved, slut.”

At first, he worries he might have gone too far with such a derogatory term, but they are all dashed aside when he watches your eyelids flutter closed and eyes roll into the back of your head. A long whine sends him into overdrive, and even more so when you try to fit more of his cock down your throat. Expletives slip from his tongue as he pulls you away completely, a tendril of saliva connecting your lips to his tip, your mouth still wide open while gasping for air. He sees your own tongue peek out and rest on your bottom lip, pliant and waiting for him to return.

Alhaitham lets go of your skull and watches you fall back to your pillow. He moves your tied hands above and over your head until they settle right above your belly button. The position allows him to trap your arms beneath him and move just a little further up the bed for the bottom half of his length to weigh heavily on your eager mouth. It remains open as he drags his shaft along your tongue, teasing you by slipping the head of his cock in your mouth. Your lips immediately close around it, but they are no match for when he pulls away, and you’re left empty once again.

“Truly a cockslut,” he chides as his hand takes a hold of his length and smacks it against your tongue. “You’ll take everything I give you, won’t you?” And he smirks when you nod, still beckoning, still waiting. “You’ve done well for me so far. Perhaps I should give you a gift.”

There’s little time to regain your senses when he shoves his length in until it hits the back of your throat once more and grabs onto your headboard. Just that angle gives him enough leverage to fuck your face as he pleases.

“If your mouth is this tight, I can only imagine what your cunt will feel like on my cock,” he grits out. Your brain goes numb as you take it all in, content and satisfied to please Alhaitham. You focus on making sure your teeth don’t drag against his skin, tongue swiping patterns and circles around his cock when possible. “I’ll need to take my time stretching out your tiny pussy, won’t I? Fuck, need to make it fit inside you. Isn’t that right?”

Alhaitham pretends to be dissatisfied with your moan, all garbled and thick with drool. “How many times do I need to tell you to use your words?” He teases, knowing full well there’s no way for you to form any right now. But a wicked, joyous laugh rings in your ears when he can tell you’re attempting to do it anyways. It goes straight down his dick and into his balls, and as they tighten further, he knows he’s close.

You don’t know how it’s possible for him to grow any thicker, but somehow it happens when his pace increases, and he tells you, “I’m going to cum, okay? Going to give you all my cum, make you my cumslut. You want to be my cumslut, you’re doing so well, so perfect, letting me fuck your mouth. Shit, cumming, cumming –!”

At the very last second, he pulls out and furiously pumps his cock, shifting back just in time for his cum to paint your breasts. “Fuck!” He growls and rides out the high until there’s nothing left to give you, blinding light beneath his eyelids before he snaps them open so he can watch you become covered by his release. Viscous, white ropes paint over you, some even landing on your cheek and neck. His chest heaves and his eyes remain unfocused from the fog in his brain.

That is, until he watches you swipe his cum from your neck with your fingers before it drips onto the bed, and place them in your mouth. Your sigh screams content as you lick them clean, and as far as he can tell, you’re enjoying the taste of him – as if he was the one to sate your thirst rather than the other way around. In a trance, he joins you in your meal by feeding you more with his own appendages, and his dick returns to half-mast once all the cum is visibly gone and slid down your throat.

“Thank you for your cum,” you say, your voice dreamy and euphoric. Alhaitham pulls you by your bound wrists again until you’re sitting up close enough, and buries his head into your shoulder, embedding his own kisses of gratitude into your skin. It doesn’t matter that there’s dried spit on your chin and your hair is a mess – you’re still so incredibly stunning to him.

To look into your eyes, to cradle your face in his palm, to ghost his thumb over your cheekbone, how lucky he is to be in a position to even ask you, “Was that okay?”

“Very,” you smile, unabashed and clearly happy with everything that had just happened. A small giggle slips out as well.

“Good,” he murmurs after kissing your forehead. “Would you be open to one more round? It seems I haven’t gotten enough of you.”

You see the evidence of his claims, how his cock gradually grows and rises under your watchful stare. His earlier words of needing to stretch you out before he can fuck you play in your head, and they remind you of just how wet you are. Still tied up, you scoot back away from him until you can stretch your legs out, parted to reveal what you so desperately wanted to touch as his dick was lodged in your mouth. Alhaitham’s pupils dilate and zero in on the mess between your thighs, and he chases after you to spread your legs farther.

“You became this wet from me fucking your mouth?” His fingers slide against the folds of your puffy cunt, your clit peeking out and swollen. “Tsk, all this pre gone to waste,” and you whimper when his nails barely graze that bundle of nerves, still sensitive from your previous orgasm. There’s no resistance when he works his middle finger inside you and your breath hitches. He turns his wrist as he fingers you, creating more and more arousal coursing through your veins. Alhaitham is proud that one finger of his affects you so. You whine and reach for him with grabby hands, managing to latch onto his wrist so he can keep his appendages buried inside you. “My my,” he teases, and his fingers curl, searching and searching until his fingertip taps against the exact spot that makes your back arch.

“You’re so eager to be filled,” Alhaitham taunts as he lubes up his ring finger with your slick. You feel even tighter when it slips in with his middle finger, and he finds that spot again in no time, already having memorized where it is. “You don’t have my permission to cum yet,” he warns, a decision just made when your walls are really beginning to clench around him.

“B-but–”

A third finger joins in, cutting you off from any protesting. “You either cum on my cock or not at all,” he offers and you think it’s beyond cruel. Why can’t you cum on his fingers and his cock?

With every last thread of your existence, you stamp down the growing desire to cum again. It feels like hours have passed, your sanity barely intact, when Alhaitham hums, just loud enough to be heard amongst your moans and whines. “I’m beginning to question whether I truly am too big for you,” he contemplates out loud. “What do you think, Y/N?”

It’s so hard to answer his question when you’re using everything else inside you to not break around his fingers. The depraved squelching of your slick only adds fuel to the fire in your core, and you’re trying to think, you really are–

The friction ceases, and before you can even address it, there’s a light, punishing slap across your clit. “Fuck,” you whimper, throat dry.

“Answer my question. Do you think I might not fit inside you?”

You know what answer he’s looking for. You know he wants you to surrender to his hidden intentions, that, “It doesn’t matter,” and you swallow. “I will…make it fit.”

In turn, he removes his fingers with care, but leaves you horribly empty with the void expanding into your chest. “Do you have a condom?” Alhaitham asks while looking around your bedroom.

“The bottom drawer on the right in the bathroom.”

Your sir leans forward to place a gentle kiss on your stomach. “I will return soon.”

For the seconds that you try to catch your breath, to calm your beating heart, to ignore the vacuity between your legs, you realize just where you are and who you’re with. You haven’t had much of a clear mind since the second he knocked on your window, caught up in the whirlwind of your nerves and paranoia – and then to have it turned on its head where you now lay in your bed, free of any prior anxiety, and drown in your lust.

Alhaitham wanders back into your room, focused on the package in his hand. Shameless and perverse, your eyes drink in his length, bobbing with each step. Even you’re beginning to doubt your ability to take him all in, but the anticipation, the threads of excitement that you may be filled again clouds over everything else.

“Hold your legs for me,” he commands gently, and you obey once he unties the sash around your wrists. Your arms hook beneath your knees so that everything is displayed and exposed to him. He sets the condom to the side when he shuffles closer so his hips meet the bottom of your thighs. Your breath hitches when he presses his cock onto your abdomen, and it pleases both of you so much to see that his tip just about reaches your belly button. “Look at how deep it’ll be inside you,” he coos, your whine following. “But it’s okay if you can’t take it all, you can’t help it that your little cunt is so tight.”

There’s a twinge of faux disappointment in his words. As if on instinct, you shake your head in vehement disagreement. “I’ll make it fit, sir, I promise,” you gasp and pull your legs closer to you. “We have to make it fit.”

“Mmm, my eager cocksleeve,” he responds with mirth, his regales washing away the panic from your system. You wait with bated breath as he grinds the underside of his entire length against your glistening folds, purposely catching onto your clit when possible. You’re not sure how much longer you can stand the torture, becoming wetter and wetter with each glide. “The color system is okay to check in with you?”

“Yes.”

He nods and leans back so the tip of his cock is just outside your entrance. His fingers roll and stretch the condom down his length. It takes a tremendous amount of effort to tear his gaze away from your core so he can obtain your consent to start, and the determined nod he receives sets his heart aflame.

A sinful perversion enters his mind as he watches your messy cunt split open and stretch over the head of his cock. He thinks about the future and wonders when the day will be for you to be in his lap and sink down his cock with no hesitation. His thumbs spread your folds further apart so he can get a better look, his lustful illusions from many lonely nights finally coming into play. Your breathy gasp when the head pops in is alluring, and he craves more of it. That perversion echoes its lack of satisfaction, that this is not enough, and he needs it all. Pride fills his chest as you take the first few inches with no problem, trying to take deep breaths as he continues to bully his way into your pussy.

Though internally, your mind is on the verge of breaking from how thick Alhaitham is. The emptiness from earlier has long been fulfilled, and you take a look to see that he’s barely fit half oh him inside you, and you already feel so full.

You were made for me.

I was made for him, you remind yourself, rationality thrown out the window because serving Alhaitham is all that matters in this moment. He’s giving you his cock, taking his time for you, providing a subtle reminder of just who you will belong to from here on out. Alhaitham has been so kind to you, you think. The least you could do is to be his good little slut, so eager and always yearning for him.

“You’re doing so well,” Alhaitham praises, though his voice chokes. You’re terribly tight around him, so much so that he wonders if he would even be able to pull out once he’s buried all of himself inside you. It wouldn’t be much of a problem, he thinks, to have you stuck on his cock for eternity, fucked dumb with nothing on your mind but him and pleasure. His hand puts the slightest pressure on your abdomen, but it’s enough for you to break with an “oh!”

“Fuck, I can almost feel myself inside you,” he marvels. “Color?”

It takes you a few seconds to process his question. “Green,” falls off your tongue with a whimper. But the bit of hesitation is enough for Alhaitham to stop in his tracks.

“Y/N, look at me.”

A dreamy hum on your lips, your blown out eyes meet his, and he realizes how far gone you are. “We can stop, it’s okay if we do.” But that may have been the wrong thing to say because your face falls, tears prickling your eyes. “I can do it,” you sniffle. “Please, sir.”

There is no way for him to remain unaffected by the way you address him, but he ensures to take extra care for the last few inches.

“You’re doing so well, taking all of me in. You’re keeping your promise, I’m so proud of you,” Alhaitham coos. The bottom of his shaft is just a little bit thicker, and you let out a happy squeal when your cunt stretches as much as it can to accommodate him. His tip barely grazes your cervix, and through your floaty thoughts, you almost wish it was deeper. The groan from Alhaitham as he bottoms out provides you comfort. It can only mean that you’re making him feel good, and that you did manage to have him fit inside you. So pleased with yourself, your pussy clenches around him and coaxes for more, for his cum.

If Alhaitham didn’t have better control of himself, he would’ve cum right then and there. Buried deep inside you, warm velvety walls sucking him in – it’s hard to believe that this is really happening. The person he loves is in his arms, joined with him in the most intimate way known to mankind. He never wants to leave you, leave this, yet his cock begs for friction. Your adorable whine of protest as he slides out a couple inches beckons him to return, and return he does as you let out a sound of pure satisfaction.

“Loveyou,” your words slurred together and fuzzy. “Love, love your cock, please, wan’ more, please?”

Archons, how are you so perfect for him? Alhaitham sets a steady, moderate pace and focuses on you, ensuring that you’re okay and pleased. It seems there’s a permanent grin on your face, even when you gasp or scream, and he’s determined to keep it there. When you seem completely accustomed to his pace, his strokes become longer and more indulgent. “Fuck,” you cry each time he fills you up with more and more of his cock with each stroke. His thumbs rub circles into your clit and drive you closer to your peak – you don’t know if you’re ready to cum yet, or if you want this to end. You don’t, but you’re so close–!

“Such a good girl for me – your little cunny was really made for my cock. There’s no one else for me, just you, pretty girl,” he breathes, seeing the hesitation on your face as your walls clench tighter than before. “I know you’re gonna cum soon, I want to see you cum on my cock. Can you do that for me?”

Anything he asks for, you would go to great lengths to give him what he wants. So if he wants you to cum, then you have to. You nod with a pout on your face, but Alhaitham leans forward, pushing your legs back further as he reaches to kiss the pout away. “That’s my good girl, so perfect.”

He pulls out completely, but why?

Alhaithm grabs and maintains eye contact with you for two agonizing seconds, and then commands you to, “Cum for me.”

And you do just that when he slams his entire length inside you as soon as those words leave his lips.

Alhaitham basks in your scream and sobs, your body convulsing and trembling beneath him, your walls an impossible vice around his cock. He grinds against you to go as deep as he can, “fuckfuckfuck”, and a growl buried in your neck as he cums. In your high, you think you can feel the heat and its spasms of it all, passively wondering what it would feel like to have him cum inside you without a condom. Perhaps one day you’ll be granted a nice little breeding session, but that is neither here nor there.

Alhaitham plants pecks and kisses all over your face, neck, and shoulders, smiling when your little giggles reach his heart. If anything, he’s just happy that everything turned out okay and didn’t end up in a disaster like last time. As he observes the serenity gracing your complexion, he cannot contain his affection any longer.

“Thank you…for having me.” I love you.

Another giggle. “I love you, too, Haitham. A lot.”

You’re kindly gifted a most adoring eskimo kiss. “I need to get you cleaned up, so I need to pull out, okay?”

The pout returns despite your agreement, and Alhaitham spends much needed time to pull out without you breaking. The devil on his shoulder protests otherwise, as it attempts to coax him into keeping you speared on his cock for the night, or more. Your whine of loss tugs at his heartstrings and feeds into his greed, and he embraces you once more to keep you grounded. Slowly, but surely, you return to your senses. Alhaitham is heavy and sweaty against you, but it’s more than you could ask for. A few taps on his shoulder are enough to tell him that you’re back on the same plane of reality with him, and he dives in to kiss you again, painting compliments and praises of how amazing you were along your lips.

Alhaitham then sweeps you off the bed, into his arms, and takes hurried steps towards the bathroom. You’re like a delicate flower with the way he places you on the toilet, and he reminds you of the importance of peeing after sex. Your privacy is granted when he leaves to remove and tie off the condom to discard it in the kitchen trash can, and later returns with a warm, wet towel. He waits until you’re back in bed and comfortable before he tenderly wipes away any excess fluids and leaves it on your nightstand before cuddling next to you. You turn towards him and burrow into his chest, content as his arms embrace you with an air of security and protection.

He mumbles something into your hair, but you’re out before you can even think to ask what he said.

When you finally come to, you can’t remember the last time you slept so well. No tiresome dreams, no sporadically waking up in the night – weeks out in the nature with Lumine had turned you into a light sleeper, and you missed this feeling of being so well-rested.

But the soreness in your thighs screams otherwise, and you wince when they refuse to cooperate. A muscular arm rests around you as if it has always belonged there. At first you question why it’s there, but then your brain decides to wake up and remind you just exactly of what transpired last night. Despite the mixture of shock and embarrassment (mainly at just how wanton you acted), you look up from where you are buried into Alhaitham’s chest. Somehow, you’re surprised to see him already awake. Well, surprised may not be the right word. But the clear adoration in his eyes is unmistakable, seizing and pulling on your heartstrings.

Alhaitham quite enjoys watching you think and process, imagining the fine-tuned gears and cogs in your brain working in overdrive. He remains silent as he smooths out some of the tangles in your hair, and he patiently waits to hear from you. You two had already experienced many hours of quietude before, so this was nothing new for him. There are very few moments in his life when he’s felt this serene and content, half-naked and you pressed against him, both drinking in each other and the light of day coming from your window. He could get used to this. He wants to get used to this.

“You’re making me breakfast in bed,” you decide with your first words of the day, grumbling with a pout on your face. “I don’t think I can walk properly.”

The former scribe arches a perfect silver brow, but the shit-eating smirk stretching along his face is anything but confusion. He knows exactly what you’re implying, and he’s quite satisfied with himself for causing such a situation. Perhaps he should do it more often.

“That I can do,” he agrees, his morning voice deep, yet full of mirth. After a quick kiss on your forehead, he rolls out of bed to do just as you command.

The growl from your stomach prevents you from calling him back because you’re cold now. A shiver runs down your spine as you tighten the blanket and sheet around you, tucking some beneath your chin in an attempt to trap whatever warmth you have left. But when you catch a hint of Alhaitham’s lingering scent, you feel yourself immediately calm down and breathe evenly. The gentle cluttering from your kitchen provides another layer of security as well.

Lost in your basking, you’re quite startled when you feel Alhaitham’s lips on your cheek, a tray in his hands with a light, yet nutritious breakfast arranged. But as you continue to lay there, he can’t help but laugh.

“Do you need help sitting up?”

“No.”

“Don’t be stubborn.”

You do, in fact, need his strength to sit up comfortably against some pillows. The embarrassment hasn’t quite worn off by the time he slides back underneath the sheets to sit next to you, an arm slung over your shoulders as you eat. But in seconds, it dissipates, and is replaced with something akin to love. For you both to finally be here, together as if you two have been dating for years, is exactly the outcome you have been wishing for.

“You know,” he starts before being interrupted by a forkful of food shoved into his mouth, courtesy of you. “You’re a perfect reason why I can finally kick Kaveh out of my home.”

You swat his shoulder with your free hand. “That’s so mean!”

“He can just move in here. I’m not that heartless to leave him homeless. Is that what you think of me?”

You answer without hesitation, “Yes.”

With the hand hanging off your shoulder, his nails scrape lightly in retaliation against the skin beneath your collar bone.

“If I recall, I was pretty fair with you last night,” he murmurs into your hair. “Perhaps I need to remind you just how fair when you’re done with breakfast.”

And you’ve never finished a meal so quickly.

fin.

#alhaitham x reader #alhaitham smut #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact

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cottonlemonade · 2 months

Text

How You Met

word count: 950 || avg. reading time: 4 mins.

pairing: post time-skip Akaashi x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff

warnings: one person being casually rude about your weight (it’s quick tho)

____________________________________________

The taiyaki were still hot in the white paper bag, the smell reminding you it was almost lunch time.

Looking the street up and down for a bus stop or a waiting taxi you turned on the spot. A little ways up the pathway you could make out the typical black boxy shape of a Tokyo taxi and readjusting your handbag you headed towards it, only for a busy looking person in a suit to snatch it up before you could reach it, muttering something about how you would be better off walking for some exercise.

In disbelief about such rudeness you shook your head, pulling your coat a little closer around your chubby form.

You were sure another taxi would take its place soon enough and got on tiptoes to examine the traffic, on the lookout for one.

A mischievous breeze blew up your coat collar, making you wish you would have worn a scarf after all. Although April was right around the corner, the weather today was icy cold.

Giving up for the time being you headed towards a little flower shop you had passed just a few meters back to warm yourself.

A bell chimed when you opened the door. Pots with regular and more exotic house plants stacked on shelves along the wall, one display case behind the counter held the fresh cut flowers while another showed already bound bouquets in varying sizes and color schemes.

The woman standing behind the cash register called a friendly greeting and held the beginnings of a new arrangement at arm's length to check for possible improvements.

"What can I do for you?", she asked, putting the flowers down and folding her hands over a small pregnant belly.

"I would like a bouquet with peonies and… some eucalyptus, please."

The woman smiled and got to work, asking here and there for specifics in color or fullness.

She was about to come to an end with the simple coral and cream bouquet when the doorbell rang again and a young man looking remarkably like a substitute literature teacher entered the shop, a phone to his ear.

"Yes, father, I am getting flowers. I’ll be there soon. Oh, actually, I might be a while, there are quite a lot of people waiting."

You heard an angry voice yelling something unintelligible from the phone, when he simply hung up and sighed. He reached to tug at his collar like it was too tight and closed his eyes for a second, then, remembering he was in public, gave a bow to you and the saleswoman and apologized.

"Please take as long as you want.", he said, almost pleadingly.

He looked like he had a headache, grabbing his collar again.

"O-on second thought,", you began, turning to the owner that was just about to add the last eucalyptus branch, "I forgot I wanted more. Silly me. Uhm, could you make one with… hmm, those blue ones, some of the small greens, those white tulips, and lots of those light blues there, please? And then another one… with those yellow ones there, there and those, too, please." Your best friends would be delighted.

"Oh", the owner caught on immediately, "that was quite a lot. I don’t think I could memorize which ones you wanted all at once."

"No problem. I can tell you one by one."

The young man gave a small grateful smile at the stage-play-like interaction, letting out a “Thank you very much” under his breath.

As the shop owner wrapped up the first bundle of flowers at snail speed, you turned to the young man, wanting to cheer him up.

"So, where do you not want to go?"

Seemingly too exasperated to care about talking to a perfect stranger he said, "A blind date. Which, by the way, isn't actually blind but with a woman I have absolutely no interest in talking to about anything."

"Oh fun.", you said and trying to lighten the mood added, "Why not bring some flowers that say Thanks for coming, I don’t wanna be here?"

Everyone laughed, but the guy stopped after a second or two, looking at you for the first time, then turned to the florist.

"Can I do that?"

She thought for a moment, then slowly nodded, "I can add some candytuft, for sure and… hm, something really neutral for… and then… maybe I still have some butterweed. Yeah, I think I can do that."

You stayed even after your third bouquet was done, keeping the conversation going, joking around and glad when the young man gave a genuine laugh.

"Let me.", he said, sounding tired, when you drew out your wallet to pay for your flowers.

You shook your head, smiled and handed your card to the owner. Then you reached into the paper bag.

The buns in the meantime had turned lukewarm, but still smelled heavenly when you fished one out in a napkin and handed it to the woman - the other still in the bag you placed on the counter for a moment, grabbing a pen from your pocket. You quickly jotted down your name and number on the paper and handed it to him.

“And here. If you need rescuing from your blind date, send me a text and I’ll call you right away with some made-up emergency.”

Then you raised your free hand that wasn’t busy balancing the flowers with a “You got this.” and after a final wave you left.

Akaashi was still staring at the door for a few long moments after you had gone.

“You’d make a cute couple.”, the saleswoman mused and grinned when the young man blushed profusely, holding tighter to the paper bag.

____________________________________________

#akaashi x chubby reader #haikyuu x chubby reader #akaashi x reader #haikyuu akaashi #akaashi fluff #akaashi x you #hq akaashi #akaashi keiji #akaashi keji x reader #chubby reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #hq fluff

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yurislotusgarden · 4 months

Note

Hii!! I have a request if thats okay!! :) i love your works btw! Keep up the good work and dont forget to drink, eat and sleep well!<3

So i was thinking of Chuuya, Dazai, Nikolai, and any others if you wanna add with a reader with a ability who can talk, see and hear ghosts! I think its very cool and it barely has any recognition.. Its like toritsuka (from saiki k!) but the reader is less pervy.. and if its okay; can the reader be female? Its okay if its not!! I dont mind!!

So the reader has this ghost ability thing and they used to get bullied and shamed for it because people caught her talking to nothing but she was talking to ghosts, so she became insecure of their ability and sees it more like a curse. So technically a socially akward reader?

If you arent taking requests then you can ignore this!!

Also can i be 💞 anon?

ʚїɞ Separate! Dazai Osamu, Nakahara Chuuya, Nikolai Gogol x Gn!Reader

ʚїɞ Keep in mind English is not my first language, so you may find mistakes!

ʚїɞ word count: 3208

ʚїɞ Tw’s: None! Just pure fluff, pet names used, reader’s gender is not specified in any way bcs of how I wrote this

ʚїɞ We're gonna ignore how long it has been since I posted, dear 💞 anon I'm so sorry bcs of how long this has been in my inbox ;-;, I decided to wait with writing this until I watched some of saiki k so I could understand the ability at least a little, Nikolai's part is damn short bcs I didn't really have any ideas for him </3, Only Dazai's part was proofread, I'm gonna edit this post later on to correct mistakes on Chuuya's and Nikolai's parts since the person who grammar checks my works is on a short break rn

ཐིཋྀ He loves it

ཐིཋྀ This idiot didn't even realize that you have an ability at first because you didn't show any kind of signs��

ཐིཋྀ He thought you didn’t have one like Ranpo but was told by Kunikida that you do, however, what it is was gonna remain a mystery until you decided to tell him yourself

ཐིཋྀ He found out on a mission where you guys had to chase down a guy with the ability to create a smokescreen

ཐིཋྀ Was about to say that it's over for the day because the guy was gone before you two could realize it (He had a plan to get the man anyway but didn’t feel like it) but then saw you talking to… air???

ཐིཋྀ Like you were just standing there while looking up and seemingly talking to someone

ཐིཋྀ You ignored his ass when he asked wtf you were doing

ཐིཋྀ The brunet was confused until you finally turned to look at him and said that you know where the guy went

ཐིཋྀ You had to briefly explain your ability when you walked to where the guy ran off to

ཐིཋྀ He does anything to make you more open about your ability because he adores it <3

ཐིཋྀ He wishes you showed your ability off more AND HE VOICES IT OUT

ཐིཋྀ Odasaku is his guardian ghost so you told him without thinking about it since most of the time a person doesn't know the ghost protecting them

ཐིཋྀ He actually teared up when he realized you were serious and that Odasaku was watching over him :(

ཐིཋྀ He told you about Oda after that

ཐིཋྀ He randomly asks you if you see a ghost nearby when you two are outside (does it inside buildings too)

ཐིཋྀ He does it a lot

ཐིཋྀ Please hit him

ཐིཋྀ Dazai said that he wanted to kill your past bullies and you didn't believe him -he was serious-

ཐིཋྀ And no, he didn't find dirt on those people, not at all

ཐིཋྀ And he totally didn't use it later, not at all :)

ཐིཋྀ He once asked if you ever used it to cheat in school (let’s say you had a normal enough life like Tanizaki’s or something) and when you said yes he nearly yelled out “That’s my girl!” with a grin Kunikida scolded him for being loud, and for not doing his paperwork

ཐིཋྀ Sometimes he hears you talk without looking over and assumes you’re talking to him before realizing that no, it’s actually to a ghost that’s in the room

ཐིཋྀ Once Kunikida and he had a mission but the brunet was not getting up from the couch, so you walked up and after a few seconds you told him that there was a ghost, butt naked, right by his face

ཐིཋྀ He did not look up to see if you were lying or telling the truth, he just jumped up from that couch without a second thought before he was gone out the door. He only realized that you lied once they were back and you were laughing at him with Ranpo

///////////////////////////

Seiji thought he had everything planned out. He really was sure that there was no way to find him after he ran away from the two detectives. After all, who would search for a running thief in the damn sewers when there were so many better places that could’ve been used to hide in the area?

The plan was in fact a good one, in fact. Kuwahara made it look like he was going towards the warehouses nearby to camp out, while in reality, he came down to the sewers using the ladders, as there was one of the many entrances underground right behind a warehouse.

He was so sure that he wouldn’t be found, that he wasn’t seen, so pray tell, why was he standing face to face with the exact two people he was meant to avoid. The atmosphere wasn’t nice, it was cold, and the smell was even worse, Seiji was trying heavily not to let it show on his face since the two people that were after him seemed to be completely unaffected by the environment they were in. What he couldn’t hide instead, was distress. He did not plan on getting caught any time soon, and yet it looks like he’s 8 seconds away from being behind bars.

“How- How did you guys find me?!”

///////////////////////////

This was not what Dazai meant when he said that he would show you how useful your ability can be (you refused more against it being useful than anything else he said about it, so that’s what he settled for), but it kind of worked so he wasn’t complaining.

“How- How did you guys find me?!”

Kuwahara Seiji, a 25-year-old thief that uses his ability to make himself invisible for all of his plans, making it hard for the police to identify him.

“It was kind of easy, actually!~”

“You’re talking as if you had any part in finding him.”

Dazai really didn’t. Once the criminal ran away after throwing a smoke bomb on the ground, (The brunet has to give it to him, It was annoying as hell and many people would give up on going after him once the smoke settled down) the two of you had no idea which direction he went off to, as there was a few possible exits from the warehouse you first caught him in.

His solution? Asking you to question a ghost nearby if they saw the man. You were really skeptical about that, he could tell. What he also noticed was how confused you were about his question. You didn’t understand why he would want that, at least at first. It was soon after that you realized he meant.

You can see invisible things, ghosts can see other invisible individuals as well, rendering Kuwahara’s ability useless when it comes to you chasing him down.

He realized that little advantage of yours some time back while lazing around on his favorite agency couch.

Your ghost acquaintances can be quite the helpers when it comes to investigating stuff. He heard from Kenji, that not too long ago, you had solved a case that was meant to take around a week, in a day, simply because it just so happened that a ghost was on the crime scene when it happened. You had an easy time getting clues and proving the words of the ghost to the police with their help.

He knows that a few times like those won’t stop you from being so negative about your ability, he’s aware of the impact your bullies had on you mentally even if you try to not show it, but all of those instances give you a step forward to seeing what Dazai and the others do.

“Oh c’mon ‘donna! I was the one who gave you the idea of asking someone!”

“We would be able to track him down anyway. Asking someone just made it faster.”

Catching him in the end was not hard at all. Kuwahara tried to sneak away using his ability once again, but you could still see him without him realizing it. You could see where he was walking off to, making it possible for Dazai to nullify the guy's ability and catch him before leading him to the police vehicle near the warehouse you guys were under.

“See? I told you your ability is really useful and fun!”

“Where do you see the fun in my predicament?” He could tell you were just done with him for the day, besides being confused.

“I mean, you’re almost never alone, right? You always have someone to talk to!~” He knows it’s annoying to see ghosts all the time without the option to just… not be able to do that.

A sigh came from you before answering, “Exactly, complete silence for me is a rare blessing.” in an exhausted tone.

“I would love to never be in complete silence.” He wished that you could have some sort of an on-and-off switch.

“Samu… That’s because your voices would be quiet-” “I do NOT have voices, bella!”

“Sure, continue being in Egypt.”

“What-”

ཐིཋྀ Thinks it's very cool actually

ཐིཋྀ Imma put you down as a florist in this one, or just some small/calm kind of job

ཐིཋྀ When he first met you, he didn’t think about whether you have an ability or not since it wasn’t his business in the slightest

ཐིཋྀ Let’s say that you’re a florist and the ginger came in to buy flowers for Kouyou for example. It just so happened that one of the ghosts hanging around in your workplace was feeling silly, and had been pranking the customers the whole day, Chuuya being no exception

ཐིཋྀ When you were at the back getting the bouquet he ordered the day before, his hat was randomly taken off of his head and was floating in the air

ཐིཋྀ Bro was so confused because he knew his ability was off at the moment

ཐིཋྀ Every time he got the hat back onto his head it just floated back up😭

ཐིཋྀ The menace of a ghost stopped only once you got back out of the backroom and scolded them

ཐིཋྀ Chuuya was confused because ‘Who the fuck were you talking to???’

ཐིཋྀ He asked that exact question and even though you were visibly hesitant and nervous, you still explained your ability since he already saw it anyway

ཐིཋྀ You did not get the reaction you expected, which was being made fun of as that was what you were used to, but he instead complimented it <3

ཐིཋྀ Make sure you don’t let a name slip when it comes to your past bullies because you will see them on the news, missing :)

ཐིཋྀ On one of your first dates/early stages of dating, he gave you Marigolds which you lightly laughed at, causing him confusion before you explained their meaning to him

ཐིཋྀ Yeah, he settled for mostly giving you Cyclamens, Blackthorns, and Bluebells alongside your favorite flowers after that, just for fun

ཐིཋྀ Going with the florist thing or just generally, he would help you around with his ability if there’s something heavier to move around

ཐིཋྀ He would voice out how often he actually wants to see you, albeit embarrassed, but he will show it in lil gestures a lot more <3

ཐིཋྀ I can just imagine him putting his hat on your head and sliding it down over your eyes before giving you a peck on the lips as a goodbye if he was at your workplace and he had to suddenly go

ཐིཋྀ He would try to slowly get you to not be so insecure about your ability

ཐིཋྀ I feel like one of The Flags would be his guardian ghost which could actually make this man cry at the thought :(

ཐིཋྀ Alright but if you met a past bully of yours, or someone newer, that would try to shit on you for your ability, just tell him, and he will beat them up happily <3

ཐིཋྀ Or just go and have a nice talk with them about their behavior if you don’t want him to beat them up, I can promise that they will never again be rude to you if they value their lives (Or you will see them on the news or hear about them being in the hospital if they don’t ^-^)

///////////////////////////

“Are you sure that you don’t have work right now?”

“Yes, so shut your pretty mouth up and show what else you need to be moved.”

Renovation. A simple small renovation of your small shop was all that you planned. Moving some of the furniture, and changing the place of a few products for easier finding. You had thought that it would take a few days to take care of it since you planned on doing a few things every day so as to not close up the shop for a whole day unnecessarily (and you didn’t feel like doing everything in one day).

The problem was, he was supposedly not meant to know about that. Chuuya found your graphic open on your laptop and saw the renovation plans before realizing that you didn’t speak a word about that. At first, he was confused. Why didn’t you tell him? He could certainly make it faster by helping you.

Yet soon after that, he realized why. You didn’t want him to know because you knew that he would help and, therefore not do his work, something you were always worried about when he stopped by your shop. Well, he was never one not to help you, especially when there’s such an occasion. he wants a thank you kiss besides being a gentleman, your honor

“Is it really that hard to focus on your job instead of helping me move the furniture?” You sighed, pointing to a bookcase and then pointing to a place where a table stood before. “You’re gonna get in trouble.”

“I’m not, besides- HEY!” Looking up, his hat could be seen slowly floating away. He ignored you stifling a laugh as he chased after the hat. Chuuya would ignore it and just continue on with moving your stuff around, but the last time he did that, the hat was later found in a pot, making him have to wash it as it had a lot of soil on it. (A lot of his subordinates wondered why he didn’t have his hat on the next day, he didn't explain it to anyone)

“Can you tell them to stop?!” He could only guess how funny the situation looked to you. To anyone else, it just looked like the ginger was chasing after a floating hat, but you could see the menace that was taking the object away, so it ended up being funnier to you, if you nearly laughing was anything to go by.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, dear.”

“You’re so mean!”

You hummed softly before answering, “I would prefer to be called entertained.”

“It has nothing to do with what I said, doll.” Was said by Chuuya just as he finally got hold of his hat. Even if the ghost was still holding onto it, at least the hat wasn’t continuously floating away toward the flower-bare pots with just soil in them again.

“Let them have some fun in a while, Chuu, they don’t do it too often.”

“Yeah, and it just so happens that they decide to have their little fun almost every time that I come here.”

“They love you.”

“I wish they didn’t.”

“It’s better than if they disliked you.”

“Why?”

“There’s a customer that they don’t like for being rude to me,” The ginger frowned at that information but you continued on, “And they are rude back to him every time he comes by my shop.”

“What do they do?”

“Y’know, pull on his clothes and hair, steal his things, and make them completely dirty on purpose, make him think he heard or saw something and that kind of stuff. Pretty sure they stole some of his money from the guy’s wallet.”

Chuuya was quiet for a moment before speaking up. “I think I prefer my hat being occasionally stolen…”

“Exactly!” You shouldn’t smile like that after what you said, but he’s not gonna comment on that one.

“...So the bookcase is the next to be moved, isn't it?

ཐིཋྀ He fr felt betrayed that he didn't know immediately

ཐིཋྀ Like he could know you for 5 minutes and be offended that your ability wasn’t one of the first things you said about yourself

ཐིཋྀ He finds it so fascinating that you can contact the dead so easily

ཐིཋྀ Don’t tell him who his guardian ghost is, no matter how much he asks

ཐིཋྀ Just hit him every time he asks, I promise it works to keep him from asking for the next 3 hours <3

ཐིཋྀ You can bet that he talks to Fyodor and Sigma about your ability (He asked you to tell Sigma that there’s multiple ghosts watching him all the time, he believed. Sigma did not sleep for the next 5 days at all because of that thought)

ཐིཋྀ You said it to him again because at some point there was a ghost actually following him, but Sigma didn’t want to believe it

ཐིཋྀ He’s gonna ask a million times for you to join him in pranks if you won’t agree the first time

ཐིཋྀ Just imagine telling someone a ghost-related thing that they can’t prove is not true

ཐིཋྀ You caused someone to be in hospital after they didn’t sleep for way too long

ཐིཋྀ You told Fyodor that there’s a ghost hanging around him all the time, but didn’t say whether it’s the guardian one or some random one, you just left the rat to ponder on which one you mean (Nikolai died when he found out)💀

///////////////////////////

“WAIT! What do you mean there’s some ghost stalking me?!” Nikolai could tell that Sigma didn't expect to be told something like that today, but again, who would?

“I didn’t say stalking, I said following you around as they seem to be interested in you.” Why did you smile so innocently at that? He doesn’t know but he does encourage you since it gets more reactions from the bi-colored-haired man.

“It doesn’t make it better?!”

“I think it does! Some ghosty is interested in our little Sigma!” He had to add something to the fire, what kind of a person would he be if he didn’t?

“Don’t call me that, Nikolai!”

“But whyyyy?” It was Thursday, the day that the white-haired clown dubbed ‘the best day to prank Sigma!’, even though he says it every week. He also deemed himself lucky as you finally agreed to help him prank the younger man again after rejecting him multiple times.

“Because I’m not little! And I won’t believe you guys again.”

“I don’t agree,” You spoke up, “Even the ghost agrees that you’re small!”

“See Sigma? We even have your beloved ghost on our side!”

“That’s no ‘my’ ghost, and I don’t believe that they said it. [Name] could be lying for all I know!”

“But do you have any way of proving that it’s a lie?” Nikolai couldn’t wait until he took the bait.

“...”

“Exactly!” You grinned before speaking up again a moment later, “They actually have a cute nickname for you that I’m thinking of using now…”

“Should I be scared?” Nikolai regrets not getting you into the pranks earlier, after all, the younger one had no way to prove you wrong. Sigma looks genuinely frightened that it may be real this time.

“No… It’s really a cute nickname that the ghost calls you by because they didn’t know your name when they first started following you around.”

“Stalking.”

“No.”

“I wanna know it! Tell us, dove!” Was it a nickname he could use himself? Or were you lying about it being a cute one and instead it’s weird? He doesn’t know which option he would like more. If he was being honest, Nikolai was feeling like you were telling the truth and not lying again like the last time.

“Cotton.”

“Cotton? Where did that come from?”

“That’s adorable! Let’s call him that!”

“I think that’s a perfect idea, Niko!”

“No!”

Nikolai can already tell that he’s gonna have a lot of fun with that nickname in his vocabulary now.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ Taglist ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

@sukiischaotic

Marigolds - Often called “flowers of the dead”, are symbols of positive emotions, like joy and excitement. They also represent energy, good luck, warmth, creativity, prosperity, passion purity, divinity, and the connection between life and death. These flowers' fragrance is said to attract souls to the altar.

Cyclamen - symbolizes the eternal cycle of life, which makes it the perfect flower that means 'forever'. In Japan, cyclamen holds a special place as the holy flower of love, causing it to be a popular choice for Valentine's Day

Blackthorn - Fate, protection, hope against adversity, good fortune, strength, overcoming adversity, purification, and protection

Bluebell - Loyalty, constancy, humility, gratitude and everlasting love

Keep in mind that flower meanings may somewhat be different depending on what site you look at, so excuse me if anything in the meanings is wrong! (hopefully not)

#bsd x reader #bsd x gender neutral reader #bsd x you #bsd x y/n #x reader #dazai x reader #dazai osamu x reader #chuuya x reader #nikolai x reader #bsd dazai #dazai osamu #bungo stray dogs #chuuya bsd #chuuya nakahara #bsd chuuya #nikolai gogol #bsd

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bendycxmet · 30 days

Text

Pierced—Vash the Stampede

Summary: How did Vash get that hoop in??

Word Count: ~1.2k

Pairing: gn!reader x Vash the Stampede

Content: fluff, a lil angsty, Vash deserves his sense of self ok

a/n: @aboveweirdest gave me this wonderful idea while we were analyzing this man to death! tyty was thinking about this when i got another helix piercing done recently so i whipped this up before bed

In recent days, you’ve seen Vash eyeing you. At least, more than what is normal. It was unsettling everytime you felt his gaze on you whenever you tried passing the time by creating something out of scraps you found into jewelry, specifically earrings.

For instance, he was doing it now, as your hands worked the small pliers expertly to transform a piece of gold wire into a hoop. You either usually pierce your own ears with your creations, or sell them in town for some extra cash you both could use for bullets or food. Vash wishes he could be as good as you on the artsy side, but you always remind him that he is good with his hands. No one can beat him in marksmanship.

“Like what you see there, gunman?” you tease, side eyeing him for a split second. Caught in the act, Vash blushes a lovely red that reaches the tip of his ears. You love getting a rise out of him.

“Do you wanna learn? Is that it? Because you’ve been a little too curious these past couple of days.”

“Mm.. ‘s not that. I just… How many piercings do you have?”

The question comes out of nowhere for you. You think it’s obvious, since mostly all of them are on your ears. Doing mental math, you count what you have on your ears.

“Uh, around 11? I’m thinking of doing more, but we’ve been too busy lately.”

He simply nods, humming to himself as he visibly thinks through your answer.

“Why do you pierce your ears?” You quirk your eyebrow at him. “Don’t mean that in an offensive way!” He quickly puts his hands up, offering a sign of peace. You laugh at his gestures. “I just been noticing lately that your usual customers are people with loads of piercings, and I never gave it much thought before to get one of my own, but I think…they look so cool on others. They seem so happy with them too, expressing themselves without even saying a word.”

Your hands still at his words, something dropping in your stomach and twisting at his solemn expression. Vash never revealed much about his past, and you never probed him further. Anytime anything connected to his past came up, you could clearly tell whatever happened had left its scars on him, physically and mentally. You respected his decision to close up those details, and reminded him that whenever, if ever, he was ready to share that load with you, you would be there.

You look back down at the gold hoop in your hands, an idea coming to mind. You quickly add the finishing touches, putting a little more effort into it as it was for someone special now.

“Hey, what do you think of this?” You hold up the hoop to Vash’s eyes, catching the glimmer in his eyes at your recent creation, like that of a thief spotting expensive items through a window. Greed and envy swirling together.

“It’s beautiful! You always amaze me with how you turn a piece of trash into such a pretty object. That one’s gonna sell fast Mayfly!” You warm at his praise and nickname for you. His confidence and support for your skills potentially outweighed yours for how he handled his gun.

Yet, you can’t stand the fake smile he plasters on his face, masking the jealousy he feels for the future owner of the golden hoop.

“Think I’m gonna sell it for free. It’s for someone close to me.” Vash simply cocks his head to the side. You roll your eyes at his obliviousness. “How about letting me pierce your ear for you?”

The change in his demeanor is quick. He straightens his back, eyes shining brightly, nodding eagerly at you. “I’m in your hands!”

Grabbing a small threading needle from your kit, you order him to sit close to you on motel bed. Cleaning your hands and the needle, you search his face, looking for any signs of regret.

“You sure about this? Do you know where you want it?”

He’s pensive for a moment, eyes looking past you. He hums, pointing at his left lobe. How perfect, you think, same side as his cute little mole.

You fidget, rethinking piercing his ear. You’ve only ever pierced yourself, so now that you have someone else in front of you, you feel like a total amateur.

“Hey. Get out of your head there. I know what you’re thinking.” Vash’s voice breaks through your brain fog. He wraps his hand around your raised arm, poised and ready to pierce him. He gently tightens his hold on your waist. “I trust you.” You feel your heart twinge at the soft vulnerability in his eyes.

“Ok, this will be a slight pinch. I know you’re used to pain-” you interject, noting his slightly raised eyebrow, silently telling you been there done that. “-but just follow my rules. Ok, breathe in for me.” You raise the needle to his ear. “And breathe out.” As you feel his breath ghost your arm, you push the needle as quickly as you can through his ear, quickly adding the hoop to his ear.

You turn around to wash your hands. “And there you go! Your first piercing ever! Crazy, considering that you’re like 150- hey don’t touch-” you catch him as he’s going to finger his new piercing, staring straight at the mirror on the vanity opposite the bed. The warning dies in your throat at the sight of him nearly in tears.

“I…I love it,” he says in a warbled voice.

“Oh Vash, what’s wrong? Did I hurt you? I really tried to be careful. Always with you.” You sit beside him, leaning onto his shoulder, rubbing his back in comfort. He sniffs.

“It’s not you. It’s just…this is the first time I feel like I’ve done something for myself. I feel like my own person. With just a hoop.” Wet tears trail down his cheeks. You press your fingers to his cheeks, wiping his tears. You know how he’s been burdened with his past, no doubt still feeling the shadow of his brother and the destruction that’s come from his actions. Perhaps this earring meant more than you could ever imagine, perhaps it finally binded him to the present, and to his own future that he can create.

“You’ve always been Vash to me. Never your brother. Just you. Vash the Stampede. The most amazing gunman to ever walk into my life.” He turns to you, wrapping his arms around you and pressing his face into your neck.

“Thank you. Now, I feel like everyone else. Maybe they can see me as one of them. Not this humanoid disaster.” You nuzzle into him, hands returning to their rubbing against his back.

“You look nice by the way. It suits you really well. The gold complements your blue blue eyes,” you tease, hoping to get a chuckle out of him.

He pecks your cheek, another thank you from him. He presses his face tighter to you, jolting suddenly. “Ow!”

“Yeahh, it’s gonna be a bit tender for a bit.”

masterlist

divider by saradika

#vash x reader #vash the stampede x reader #vash x reader fluff #vash the stampede x reader fluff #trigun #trigun stampede #trigun x reader #trigun x reader fluff #tristamp #vash #vash the stampede #bendycxmet writes

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tyran-the-tyranical · 3 months

Text

That one line from Raphael's Second Diary will never cease to get me 🥺 LIKE MIGHT I ADD- these are his private thoughts, separate from his manipulation attempts and so he, with his full chest, admits so much in his second diary, like when he says "never have I been so attracted to mortals as I am to those infested by the tadpole." AHH, (my delusions are so real, trust)

BUT WHEN HE SAYS "They gestured to the melting hooks, suddenly glanced my way, and in their face I saw they had the best of me." look, I get the subtext behind all these quotes, but a girl can just ignore all that media literacy and take it for face value, OK? 💅 but also reading into it, he does admire Tav to a certain extent, and I have to wonder, why? Tav isn't an origin character and Tav's actions and character basically changes with every playthrough (Same with Durge, as they can change too) So I have to wonder if it's because Tav is controlled by the player, since, Raphael does end up breaking the fourth wall in his epilogue speech, so perhaps that's what he sees.

Another way to look at it is, either way, no matter what the playthrough, he sees something in Tav, something that makes them stand out much brighter than their companions (For some reason???)

To further that statement, what is the best of Raphael? I mean, if its an evil playthrough, that would be obvious, but if you're playing a good playthrough, what then? perhaps what he sees is someone he can finally use to get the crown, that's also very likely. Still though that's a very to the point (IMO) not as interesting of a reading since it's literally just his end goal for us, BUT STILL A VALID ONE, because, it is true, that's what he wants from us the most.

Also his third diary where he just straight up admits that he's being so honest with us so he can manipulate us, love that for him, "I am master here. A prince of bargains cloaked like scarlet satin. All that hidden under sublimely obvious truths that cannot be discounted." Which also makes me wonder, is Raphael actually an honest person? I mean, Korilla thinks he's at least decent, but honest? outside of helping us, if we look at Yurgir, he really fucked him over lol. Obviously, Raphael isn't what he seems, even if he's honest with us, to what extent? he says it himself, he's honest about "...sublimely obvious truths..." but what about when he says he's grown quite fond of us in his own way, HMMMM?

I wish this man got a proper story arc in the game, outside of the whole deal for the hammer and House of Hope, that's all plot related for the hammer, but a storyline about Raphael as a character? I mean yea, maybe that would whisk away some of his mystery, his intrigue, but I'm sorry- you cant just end it with him fucking himself (poorly) and trying to break Hope (making her a metaphorical symbol of hope anyway, I think....) AND LEAVE IT THERE?!?!? at the same time, I do like the ambiguity of his character, you could think of him as a cruel bastard after seeing what he's done in the House Of Hope to his debtors and Hope herself or perhaps just a Pathetic lil guy who's shit in bed lol, or maybe even soft, if you go off Korillas words and what he does for us in game he can come across as quite nice, especially after we've interacted with Mizora who's is the only other Cambion example we can go off of.

I also just think it's interesting that he sees anything in Tav/Durge at all. Ofc he says he sees the best of him (Always gotta relate back to himself lol) but that especially a mortal is what he could see himself, the best of himself, but then again he does see potential and ambition as admirable (?) or just something he appreciates, you can see that with Mol and Gortash to some extent anyway, But what ambitions does Tav have outside of just trying to survive? Like, the obvious answer is he wants us to give him the crown and we're the underdog in the story but then why does he refer to Tav so differently then? I fear this has turned into another rant again, lol.

Just a final thought here, but, if he did ever get a story arc, similar to the companions, would they give you multiple directions to take his character? i mean with Shadowheart for example, you could help her break from shar or have her fully convert into shars chosen, but even then, if you free her from shar theres the point of saving her family or freeing her from Shars (curse?) there's multiple ways for her story to end. Though, Raphael isnt a companion, so would he have something similar to idk a minor companion like Halsin or Minthara, who don't really have that much of a diversion (I think) in their endings, they don't really have the option, only really if the player decides to be evil or not, they kinda just follow them either way, it doesn't really impact their own stories. Obviously, I would prefer something with nuance but also, HE ISN'T A COMPANION 😭 and pressingly some of the companions need more work done than he does atm lol. Maybe that's me just projecting lol, once again, me wanting to have my cake and eat it too, anyway, that's me done... for now lol

#baldurs gate raphael #bg3 raphael #raphael bg3 #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 raphael #baldur's gate raphael #raphael the cambion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 korilla

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nalyra-dreaming · 2 months

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Heey, I've finished Memnoch, and I'm evidently among those crazy people who enjoy it a lot. Although it would land differently if I didn't read ahead. The further I go, the more this wet cat of a man entices me. PL Lestat did something to my brain, I will probably love all the mad shenanigans now. + The ending made a lot of sense after TVA and Blood and Gold. I kiiind of regret I've skipped this part at first, though, because now I'm curious what the ending would do to me without spoilers 🤣

So, a question. How did Armand's religious frenzy look for you when other novels haven't come out yet? I'm not sure I would have understood it the same way only with his TVL chapter. And what did you think in general with the context of what Anne was saying at the time? It kinda did feel like she didn't want to write about them anymore and wanted to explore something else. So I get why people would be confused.

By now I enjoy it a lot as well!! It grew on me on second reread, which is not that far back actually, and was followed by a pause and then a third. There is a lot in there and a lot that makes one think, and a lot... crazy stuff *laughs*

So this was, by statement, supposed to be the last book. Then. She did not want to write them anymore, indeed.

Which, you might imagine, was devastating, with that ending.

Armand gone up in flames, others, too. Lestat mad, jaded and slinking into obscurity.

I didn't touch the books for the longest time.

I'm not sure I can answer your question wrt to Armand and his religious frenzy. It's... been a while (maybe others want to add on with their experiences here?!) - I just remember that reading it all... was devastating.

Louis, crying and begging at the locked doors. The absolute despair in it all, in the grief of losing Armand.

Lestat saying: "Adieu, mon amour." the last thing in the book.

The whole book screams for some answers. Answers that are still denied in the end. Was it the Devil? Was it God? Was it purgatory? Did Armand sacrifice himself there for anything that is true? Or was it just a futile gesture, which brought only pain, no relief... I can understand the utter shock to the system actual proof had to produce in Armand - him, a child of the Children of Satan, being confronted with the actual proof within this universe.

It must have been devastating as well, emotionally, and for his soul.

So much of what he believed he had left behind and overcome... crushing him now.

Now, TVA followed. Merrick. Blood and Gold. Pandora. Blackwood Farm. Blood Canticle. I picked them up at some point, somewhat disbelievingly.

I did not really enjoy them the first time, after Memnoch the wound was still open, the yearning to get back to Lestat for some kind of resolution for him and Louis quite strong. The blow had been intense, and Merrick promised... and then the other books did not deliver. And Blood Canticle felt absolutely OOC, though I find it has its place now in his arc. Now.

Because back then I could not have dreamed that Anne would finish the arcs. Or some at least. Would pick up the threads for Louis, Lestat and even Claudia once more, reshape them. I had not dreamed that the last trilogy would give them resolution.

Would close so many wounds.

I'm older now. I understand a lot more about trauma, and pain, and loss, and how these things shape us.

I read these books now quite differently. Their voices sound differently in my mind. I know why Anne had to let Louis go, and why she struggled so hard. I can feel the pain of loss and the wish to find a higher purpose in the tale.

So yeah^^. Reading it back then without the other books... was indeed something^^. But I do enjoy rereading it now too. :)

#bark-han #asks #ask nalyra #memnoch the devil #vc #the vampire chronicles #armand #lestat de lioncourt #louis de pointe du lac

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wasyago · 1 year

Text

okay don't mind me just gonna ramble for a second haha-

(this was originally going to be under the drawing, but it got too long, and i can't add it in a reblog because both things are on queue, so separate post it is)

i just love how every time i start a drawing im like "well alright, just a quick sketch yea? no color, maybe some gray to white gradient and that's it, okay?". and then i start drawing (and obviously it takes longer than i thought because duh) and i go "okay but- i gotta at least do the flat colors, right? just the flats- maybe even some random colors to not spend too much time on it--". and then. of course. i do the flats, and im pretty happy with the result yeah? looks simple but not too simple, like it has some color some personality to it, but its not over the top so. so, i leave the drawing i go to get some water and start on an actual piece, and when i come back and take a look at what i drew its like, "well. listen. listen-- yeah im still pretty happy with how it looks but, but. it could be a little better, yea?" and then i sit down, put my water down, put my other drawing to the side, and i sit there making this quick sketch look better. "oh i don't like the colors anymore! but its all on one layer now so i can't exactly change them, plus i still like the idea, so maybe some filters? yeaj some filters on top will do!" (and of course its a yellow shade filter, because im original like that and 90% of my drawings don't also have it on). and then i add them filters and i think" well maybe some bounce light now? surely it already looks better with the filter but its kinda flat, and i want to bring *a little bit* of the original color in" so i add the bounce light, but now it looks out of place! shocker! so i decide that surely i can maybe add some grass at the bottom to hide the edge of the drawing a little. and well, alright, grass looks good, but its too dark, brings a lot of attention to it! and i can't exactly make it lighter, so, the logical choice would be to make the characters darker too, bring some contrast into the thing! and lets just do all the values while we're at it, why not! patterns to the horse, make the pants and skin darker, yes yes. and, oh- but now the eyes are lost because there's more dark hues! gotta make a new layer on top and make them eyes a little bit darker, maybe also color the bandana red and not brown so it looks special, hm? oh and! while we're on this top layer, lets also fix up the hair a little, maybe add some blush... oh and the straps of the saddle look weird, gotta fix those too! oh man and not that i look at it-- the head is too big! lets merge all the layers together and start that same thing over again! yes yes make the head a little smaller, yeah looks much better now! oh, better add some fading as well, to make it fit in the background a little, oh and some glow, suuure sure, and some lights in the eyes, and-

(and now that im looking at it, i realize that i somehow didn't save the final version????? like, i did a lot more to the thing, fixed up the saddle and that awkward shade oh his knee, and the grass-- i wont fix it now because NOW im too lazy to do it for some reason, but yeah, a bit unfortunate u_u)

anyways, point being, love art, art is pog, wish i cared a little less about it sometimes, but it also turnes this into this (imagine me pointing at the drawings as i say that, overly dramatic and sounding a little annoyed with myself)

#yagotalk #my art #sketch #wooo yeah woo yeah art

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shuacore · 2 years

Text

[ 12:58 ] apple pie

he makes you feel all the things you often joke about missing in college. he makes you stay up late up on the phone, twirling your hair around your finger like a chick in a typical teen romance movie, so much so you sometimes wish you still had a landline. he makes you giggle in a way that only comes out around him and smile so hard your cheeks hurt.

before seungcheol you didn’t know what it was like to be foolishly in love. to be consumed by the kind of love that you see in the movies, filled with photo booth film strips and surprise coffee dates and grand romantic gestures. he calls you baby, and sweetheart, and even angel in the right moments.

he makes it impossible not to miss him.

how do you make a home?

truth be told, you had been resistant to moving in with seungcheol. you liked the idea of having your independence and you liked having your own space.

but somehow, over time, you found traces of yourself appearing in his home.

a green toothbrush next to his red one. your favorite blanket of his draped over the sofa because you always fell asleep during movies. your favorite brand of microwave popcorn in the pantry and a spot for your socks in his drawer.

you remember asking him, “hey, is it okay if i keep some of my stuff in your dresser? it’s not that much, i promise. you don’t have to, if you don’t want…”

and he had just smiled, watching you with those big gorgeous eyes of his.

“i would eat hot coals for you,” he had replied, and the response caught you so off guard that you let out the ugliest snort of laughter.

they were just some socks, but seungcheol was always dramatic like that. it didn’t matter that you didn’t live with him. he was your true home, anyway.

i’ve been running round trying to find a place where i can breathe.

your favorite dates were the ones where you’d walk around fancy neighborhoods, pointing out your favorite houses.

“ooh, cheol, look at that one!” you say, pointing to an A-frame with dark shutters. “oh, it’s so beautiful.”

“we could fill it with that style you like so much—farmhouse?” he adds on, grinning as you gasp enthusiastically. "with a big kitchen and lots of windowboxes."

“and—and we could have a pool in the backyard!”

“we could get a big dog. like one of those burmese mountain dogs.”

“mingyu could live next door.”

cheol snorts, shaking his head. “sure, and wonwoo and seokmin and jeonghan and vernon.”

“would you want kids?” you ask, looping your arm through his as you lean your head on his shoulder. the two of you pause to stand outside the house, admiring its romantic frame and cozy exterior.

“with you?” cheol murmurs, and you’re surprised to hear a crack in his voice. concerned, you look up, only to see him gazing at you with heart-wrenching affection. you giggle as he leans in to press a gentle kiss to your temple.

“so many.”

i found you under an april sky.

you met seungcheol in new york, in your second year of grad school. you had been studying at the cherry fountain in central park, working on one of your final papers, when a man in a smart wool coat had come up to you.

he had brown windswept hair, round wire-framed glasses, and a grin that could melt the coldest heart. he looked frazzled, asking if you had seen his friend around (“he’s tall and kind of stupid—oh, i’m gonna fucking kill him—dark hair, Korean?”).

you shook your head no...do you know how big central park is?

somehow, you ran into him again, just as you were leaving for the evening. the sun has started to set and the lights in the high-rise buildings have started to come on. you bundle yourself in your scarf when he notices you.

he’s holding a rose, probably one from a street vendor, and he hands it to you sheepishly, like he can’t believe he actually found you again.

later, when you put the flower in a vase, you notice he wrote his phone number on the tag.

i found mingyu. i hope i can find you again, too.

seungcheol x

home is wherever you are tonight.

tonight you’re alone, writing something in your diary when your phone dings! the little heart next to his name makes you swoon.

cheol <3: hey, can i tell u something?

despite knowing it’s probably not a big deal, your mind races through all the worst-possible scenarios it could be. what if his mom died? what if he’s moving back to korea and he doesn’t want you to come with him? what if he's sick? what if he's breaking up with you—

you: yeah ofc

three little dots pop up on the screen, hardly seconds after your response. you watch them with a strange mixture of excitement and despair, despite how much you reassure yourself it’s nothing bad. seungcheol would never tell you something serious over text message.

you hear the ding! again, and you can't fight the silly grin that inches across your face.

cheol <3: i just cant wait to marry u xx

—

ot13 | masterlist

#shuacore thoughts #kpop #kpop imagines #kpop fanfic #seventeen #seventeen imagines #seventeen fanfic #seventeen fluff #svt fanfic #svt imagines #svt fluff #scoups #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol imagines #scoups fluff #scoups imagines #scoups x reader

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athanasius-symposium-of-writings · 5 months

Note

Hello I'm back again 😭😭 I cannot get enough of your writing, its always gorgeous. Can I be 🪶 anon btw?

Can I request ❛ your body was made for mine. ❜ with Joseph necromancer please? (Or d.m., I've never seen anyone write for necromancer before)

Thank you and have a nice day/night!!

OMG, HI ＼(≧▽≦)／ ! For starters -- your writing is AMAZING, and I wanted to ask if I could request Necromancer Joseph with ❛ you're mine, and i take care of what belongs to me. ❜ Thank you sm, hope u have a great night/day !!

Joseph has no idea how many ppl want to rail/be railed by him lol

Rated Mature | Warnings: putting the romance in necromancer lol

heres a song i thought of him to

“You are mine,” Are the first words you hear, your heart beating slowly as it remembers what it is supposed to do, “And I take care of what belongs to me.” The promise he kept from the moment he saw you at the funeral. It was a for someone cannot or could not put a face to but they were important enough you were there standing beside grieving family members and friends. Someone important enough for him to be there off in the distance standing beside a tree that lost its leaves. You turned around ready to be the first one to leave when you saw him, his eyes not on you as they likely were on the coffin being lowered to the ground by the grave keeper. Then they shifted to you, you had only looked away thinking you were rude for staring. The gathering was when you spoke to him. It was a small conversation that led to many more, then led to him courting you.

Then you died.

You remember something happened, there was pain, then nothing. It was like someone cut out that piece from you, was it save you the pain?

“The embalmer did well to preserve your beauty.” His hand caresses your slowly warming up skin, “My heart.” Joseph, you remember his name because it means ‘He shall add’, and being a romantic you told him you wanted to add to his life. It is silly but his smile meant so much along with the small laugh, he hoped the same for you. “You have been asleep for too long.” You stare at him as your body is far too stiff to move, but you are able to look around. From what you can see around your beloved, you are in his castle? It is the part where all of his family members are buried. The candles are blue, a special candle he burns in this area.

“Can you speak for me?”

You try to open your mouth but it hurts, you close your eyes for a second then open them.

“Do not worry, it will take time.” His hand moves to your neck where he presses two fingers to check your pulse, “Good, I told him not to remove anything from you.” He must be that man you met the Embalmer. It must seem strange to others for a Lord like Joseph to be friends with someone like Aesop Carl, but you only saw it as he likes his friends to be from all walks of life! Well, the ones who assist in sending those off to the path of death in a respectful manner.

When his head goes back to lovingly touching your face, you tilt your hand as much as you can toward his hand. The small gasp and the way he drives in the coffin to grab you in a desperate hug make you wish you could move to hug him back. You smile at him.

“For years we have been trying to bring you back,” His confession against your chest, “I fear the worse… I feared you crossed over but I had to remain faithful.” He lays you back down before climbing into the coffin full of roses of white. Most would freak out, fearful of the love he gives, but you are not most. “Your body was made for mine.” Hovering over you with the kindest gentlest of smiles, “Your soul mine to claim.” He leans slowly down, “And the proof is you are here.”

#anon ask #reader insert #idv #idv photographer #photographer x reader #identity v x reader #identity v #identity v x you #identity v photographer #identity v joseph #idv joseph #idv joseph x reader #idv x reader #joseph desaulnier #joseph desaulnier x reader

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bossymarmalade · 1 year

Text

I generally don’t write much in the way of serious topics on tumblr because I don’t find it a useful platform for that, but I’ve seen a number of posts/talked with mutuals lately about what we’ve been noticing in the erosion of feminist theory and how it’s discussed.

To me the culprit is the nature of tumblr itself. There’s no one stationary place for a conversation; people reblog a conversation that has branched off in a bunch of directions. They argue a point that could’ve been addressed by the OP except the conversation continued without the OP. They end up in places that were never intended.

Add to that: a) the way a pithy phrase captures attention faster than a thoughtful analysis and b) the number of ppl reblogging to point out that their particular group was not specifically taken into account, and you have an attempt at discussion that’s hobbled from the start.

I wish we could have discussions here like we used to on lj/dw but we can’t. So instead any discussion of feminism has its teeth cracked out one at a time with “but men can be abused too” and “what about transmen” and “eyeliner so sharp it could kill a man” and “WOMEN!! She!! Her!!” and look. All of these things have their place in the discussion.

But when people generally don’t even know what the core tenets of feminism are, don’t understand the kyriarchy, or multiple axes of oppression, don’t understand second- and third-wave feminism, and just choose to make everything binary all over again? Right now in tumblr discourse, either critique of Men is wrong bc it doesn’t take into account these particular men, or All Women are Right All the Time Actually. And neither of these is useful in dismantling what feminism is intended to dismantle.

Feminism is for everyone, yes. But feminism is also an ideology intended to make people uncomfortable with and outraged at the status quo, the kyriarchical messages we grow up with and live under. It’s all right if your feminism isn’t mine, but if yours doesn’t actually stand for anything and is more concerned with empty virtue signaling or pat catchphrases, then does it actually benefit the cause? Or is it just lip service in between nitpicking? Is it just window dressing for oppressive systems? Is it doing those institutional systems’ work for them?

I don’t have any concrete suggestions about this; like I said, I don’t think tumblr as a platform can provide any repair. But who knows. Maybe a bunch of like-minded feminists talking about it more (and by like-minded, I just mean “invested”; the faces of feminism are legion) will help rejuvenate something that’s been pretty good to a lot of us (or at least offered a helpful framework to build our senses of self on). Maybe I’ll go back to talking about feminist topics myself. Maybe that’s not quite a bridge called our backs but it’s more than being the second sex. Maybe maybe may be.

#feminism #intersectional feminism #kyriarchy #construction of gender #feminisms #says miss maggie #killing us softly

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frostycatblr-fandom-files · 10 months

Text

Fireside Friendship [Mando x GN!Reader]

Warnings and Information: No real age rating for this one. This is just good, wholesome fluff where you and Mando go camping between one of his bounties under the guise of "survival training" for Grogu. No real indication on what season of the show. One brief moment of panic on Mando's part when Grogu goes temporarily "missing". Helmet stays on. Campfire games/stories. No description of Reader's gender or looks [If I've slipped up, kindly let me know]. Second person POV. Some swearing.

I haven't watched The Last of Us, but can you spot the nod to it?

Word-count: 3,700

This little one had an amusing proclivity for trouble. For the fifth time in as many minutes, with delighted babbling, the little green child started chasing after another three-eyed amphibian he'd spotted. You found the boy adorable; those big, sweet eyes, and ears that moved with his emotions, the six curious little fingers that demanded to touch every little thing this galaxy had to offer.

Even things that would make him sick, like this frog with a powerful hallucinogenic compound that it was capable of secreting through its skin as a defensive measure.

That was not something his guardian wanted to deal with or find out of it most effective topically, or worse yet, orally. The gleaming beskar and dark t-visor of the man's helmet whipped around in a blink. He dropped an item back into the supply crate, calling out sharply over the vocoder. "No, Grogu-!"

While the little one's legs were short, he could be surprisingly fast. You were faster. Swooping him up yet again before he reached the gurgling banks of the little river, you turned a deaf ear to the protestful whines and fussing. "Gotcha, ya little womprat. Stop wandering off, kiddo. And I'm not putting you down. Gonna give him a heart attack." You weren't falling for his pity-me coos anymore.

The exasperated huff of an exhale was probably meant for you this time more so than the other half of Clan Mudhorn. Up until recent days, you were unaware that Clans could be so small.

"What," you tease, guessing that underneath the helmet, you're being given a very pointed glare, "you think I don't hear how worried you get?" Another huff. Softer, this time. His shoulders go slack.

"You're welcome, by the way." you add, playfully bouncing the little guy in your arms. The action makes him erupt in a peal of giggles and squeals. Gloved fingers now go limp along with the rest of him as he watches the child, "Thank you," his arms reach out now, "I can take him."

You shake your head softly, holding Grogu gently to your chest, and the little one leans into the gesture. Large eyes peer over in the direction of the beskar-clad figure, a silent plea, or perhaps an effort of persuasion, that Grogu wishes to remain with you a moment longer. "It's okay. I've got him. You can go ahead and take care of what you need. I'll keep Grogu entertained." You promise, carefully dropping onto your butt and tucking your legs under you in a comfortable manner to hold the endlessly curious little lifeform in your arms as long as his guardian needed.

A third huff, but this time, full of gratitude and relief. "Thank you… I guess that would make getting everything ready a lot easier." You nod silently to say of course. You'd been happy to help when he stopped at the local cantina and asked if there was anyone he could hire to take him to a safe but secluded part of the forest on this planet. You'd been happy to give him your name, which he rarely used, strangely, and learn his “nickname” in kind when you asked who was looking to hire you. You'd been happy to meet the "little one" he'd spoken of when he led you back to his ship after the "contract" (just for formality's sake) was completed. You'd been happy to spend these last few days guiding this man and his… son, perhaps, through what was practically your backyard.

You knew this forest well. All the best spots for trapping and hunting and fishing. The gentlest rivers for soaking your feet to cool off. The gusty clearings that were rife with docile native fauna. So when the drink-slinger who worked the joint day in and day out told him "Your best bet is taking them along. They've lived out here all their life." and this Mandalorian, clad in stoic beskar and a helmet he's never once removed in your presence, didn't need more convincing than that.

Continuing to gently bounce Grogu in your arms, you look over to the hired gun who hired you for a guide. "May I ask you a question?" He's stacking and unstacking items in the cached supply crate. You wonder what he's looking for, but it's not what you have in mind to ask. "About you." you add.

There's no pause in his work when he answers you. "I suppose."

"Your helmet? Do-"

"I took a Creed." he fires off, all too quickly. In a low breath, Mando as you've been calling him offers an uttered apology. He's a little tired after the day's hike in his armor. He shouldn't have lost his temper with you, it wasn't exactly fair of him. He's sorry.

"Easy…" you laugh, attempting to placate the surge of his temper, "I figured there's gotta be a reason by now, Mando. It's really none of my business why. I just wanted to know if you ever found it uncomfortable to sleep with your helmet on, or if you've accounted for that with specialized padding."

You believe the question surprises him. That perhaps for once in many a blue moon someone isn't asking him to remove his helmet, or why he wears it. That you acknowledge why he wears it is none of your business. "'Specialized'-?" Mando shakes his head, chuckling softly. It's perhaps the first time he's done so without it being directed at Grogu. "No. Not really. It's something you learn to get used to, in my way of life, after you've sworn the Creed."

You nod. "Fair enough. May I ask another?" He simply nods this time, turning back to the crate. "Just what are you doing in the cache? You've been sorting it out since we got here."

His search halts when he finds three ration packs to bring back to the future fireside. "Trying to find what's freshest for us to eat."

"Oh, that's kind of you, but you don't have to worry about freshness too much," you chuckle, "it'll all be less than a standard month old. I stock these caches myself. They're for anyone to use. Hunters, fishers… people who just want to go camping. Even mercenaries. I've been doing this for a long time." you say with a little gesture of your hand, indicating the pines and the cache and the fire pit you've dug.

His head and the helmet with it tilts softly to the left. "Is there anything you don't do? You agree to help strangers, hike three days out into a remote forest, and have helped me show Grogu how to survive. Or, try to." Grogu breaks into a gurgle-y laugh at the mention of his name, little hands straining hard to reach over to Mando. "He… might have been too young for this after all. Grogu probably sees this as some sort of fun camping trip."

It's the most Mando's spoken in a while. He's more a man of action than words, you suppose. You're okay with that. "Well… Leave the planet, I guess. I've been here my whole life. The Empire doesn't care to come here, either." Mando just nods to show he understands as he joins you on the forest floor, Grogu now settled in his lap.

You're okay with the fact he mostly communicates through nods, shakes, expressive hand gestures or single-shouldered shrugs. Perhaps he doesn't interact with others regularly, not like this. It's your understanding that Mando is a bounty hunter; you've just never heard of one that traveled with a child. That's not exactly a profession one takes with the intention to make friends in mind. But he was polite, courteous, and civil; at least, if Mando didn't see you as a threat to himself or Grogu.

You'd seen how fast he whipped the IB-94 blaster from the holster at the first whiff of perceived trouble. Someone had been snooping around his ship, eyeing the landing struts. Mando transformed into a whole new person before your eyes.

Cold. Calculated. Dangerous. The soft voice under the vocoder was now a sharpened knife, the chilling threat of an experienced mercenary.

"Back off. That's my ship." Mando had frozen up when you planted your palm on top of the '94 and directed the business end to the dusty landing strip.

"Hey-hey, that's just Maj. Maj knows his way around a fair number of ships since he spent a lot of time on Tatooine in one of the trade ports; he's only seeing if you need repairs."

The weapon was holstered just as smoothly as it had been unholstered, but the act of returning it was slower than the retrieval. "... Apologies. Does Maj speak Huttese? There is one repair I would allow him to make."

"He does, yes."

By the time you, Mando and Grogu would make it back to the place you called home, the cantina and shipyards, Maj would have the starship fit for flying. Fit for the next bounty, wherever it would be for this gun for hire. That'd be another two days, if you really took your time to hike out of these woods. Or, if you had to constantly mind Grogu, making sure he didn't wander off in search of tasty goodies every three minutes.

The little lifeform's appetite seemed bottomless. You'd never seen such a species before, so you couldn't tell if this tiny thing was always this voracious, or if he was entering some kind of growth spurt soon. Curiously, Mando didn't know either.

"I don't know what his species is. He was… originally a bounty. A job. But I got attached. So I took him back." was all Mando had to say on that particular matter. It left you to speculate as you got the fire started, and Mando cautiously let Grogu clamber from his lap and gingerly toddle about.

Back, hm? Wonder what exactly that entailed.

But really, it wasn't any of your business. He clearly cared for Grogu, glancing at the little one every few seconds with a minute movement as he shuffled through the sparse grass of the clearing this river cuts through.

"Do you need more tinder?" Mando offered between glances at the child, watching you feed the growing flame with measured breaths after you had announced you wanted to get the fire going before nightfall.

"This is plenty." you assured him. Through the dark, impassable visor, you could tell Mando was watching the movement of your hands, the clues of confidence in your craft as you fanned the flames higher. "There. Should be able to get some water from the river and boil it for the rations, now."

"Boil water?"

"Yes," you replied, "you grabbed stew rations on purpose, right?"

The sharp twitch of his head read as surprise. His voice was full of pauses. "I wasn't aware that's what these were. Are they… any good?"

You offered a smile and a shrug. "It's food. It'll fill your belly. It'll keep you warm. That's the only thing I could hope for out here, if my situation was dire." you answered truthfully. "Thankfully, it's not. The stew has a nice, savory flavor to it. The little one might like it." Glancing around, you note that Grogu has wandered off, away from the radius of light that breaks up the deepening shadows while the sun slinks below the horizon. He's now by the river again where the grass is much taller, fuller.

Mando, however, does not immediately see the child. "Grogu? … Dank farrik, I should have kept an eye on him. Grogu? Grogu!"

Pausing in his play, Grogu answers with a soft Wah? while his hands are in water up to the wrist, previously splashing around. The sleeves of his tan clothing are sopping wet.

You're beginning to wonder how much visibility that visor affords Mando. Or if he's just so panicked he's not thinking clearly. "Where is he?" You lay a steady hand on a beskar-plated knee as you get up and dust down the seat of your pants and your own knees. With an assuring smile, you call over to Grogu that he needs to stay put. Turning back to Mando, you say, "I kept an eye on Grogu, he's by the river. I'll get him and some water to boil."

For a brief moment, you wish you could see the relief, the realization that Grogu is safe, across every feature of his face. But the helmet stays on. And the helmet will stay on even when it comes time to eat.

"How's your stew?" Your head is turned like you would call over your shoulder, but you look out straight ahead into a living sea of bark and twig and leaf. There are soft spots of dancing, pulsating light off in the distance.

Fireflies.

Such a fascinating spectacle. What a shame their numbers are in decline… Rumors about some kind of great sickness wiping them out, slowly, surrounds them. All very strange and confusing.

Much like the man you currently have your back to so he could eat in relative comfort. The most you'd seen of the man beneath the beskar was the lower jaw, which had afforded you a few clues. Facial hair. A tanned complexion. From there, you could probably deduce a few more physical characteristics. Likely dark, curled hair, if he had it. Brown eyes, maybe hazel.

"Decent." Mando offers after speaking in a soft voice to Grogu. He speaks little with the helmet on. Even less when he has it inched high enough to eat and sip from the ration pouch by tipping the end just high enough to let gravity assist him. "Grogu likes it."

"Oh good." you return to staring straight ahead, out into trees at the edge of the clearing. You'd seen something creeping slowly in the distance while the water had boiled, something large and stocky and hooved.

"What is that?"

"Not a threat. It's docile. The most dangerous thing in this forest is you, me, and the youngest member of Clan Mudhorn." You'd teased.

That's when you learned that Grogu was fifty. It was Mando who was the youngest, technically speaking.

Mando calls your name softly. "What's so funny?"

"Oh, just… Grogu being fifty. Again."

Mando sighs sharply and repeats your name with a disapproving tone. You get the sense he's not truly upset or annoyed with you for giggling to yourself for the sixth time, but more surprised. In his own way. Much like he'd been about the helmet. Surprised by how… refreshing it felt to simply have his answer taken as it was. No follow-up questions. No insistent reassurance that he could simply just break his Creed and shed his helmet, his anonymity, the face that was perhaps safest to show the galaxy.

Nothing other than acknowledging that you have no entitlement to picking apart the minutiae of him. His helmet. His identity. It spoke of your character. He appreciated that about you.

He speaks your name again. But this time, it's part of a renewed introduction. "My name is Din Djarin."

"Din Djarin…" you repeat, testing the name on your tongue, and you find it makes you smile as you release that last syllable, "it has been a very nice, but long three days getting to know you, even if I couldn't help you with Grogu's survival training." There's a hand on your shoulder, the cue that you're welcome to turn around now; he's reset the helmet on his head, and now he's ready to repeat the process of the last few nights by the fire.

Silly little stories. Childish little games. Simple things to pass the time until the siren song of sleep was too much for the little one's eyelids to bear, and he would fall asleep in someone's lap. The first night Grogu had drifted off in Mando's arm, little nose touching the cool metal of the breastplate. The second, Grogu had come to you, mumbling and drooling over your shoulder as you held him while listening to the story behind their clan signet. Who he would choose tonight remained to be seen.

"What would you like to do?" you ask, tucking your feet comfortably under you. Realistically, only so many campfire games worked with just two people who were old enough and capable of talking, and only one of them with a visible face. And the sort of tall tales and oral retellings typically told over flame tended to take on a moodier, unsettling tone. Scary stories would only serve to make Grogu sleepless and antsy.

"We could play a question game." Mando suggests, hands swinging out to his left and his right as he shrugs. Like he's showing you he's unarmed. "Easy enough to abandon. Simply just… talk."

"Good idea, uh… Could I call you Din? Would you be alright with that? Feels a little strange to keep calling you "Mando" now that you shared your name with me."

"I suppose." Din answers with your name, and you can hear the change in his voice that happens when you believe he's smiling. "You first."

You ponder on what you'll ask him first. Nothing intrusive. Nothing too prying. Your goal is to ask questions that are just innocuous, innocent, and general. "Do you have a favorite color, Din?" It's such an easy, throw-away sort of question, that it surprises you when he takes a minute to mull it over.

"I'm not sure. Just one color?"

"Okay," you concede, "you're welcome to go with more than one if you'd like."

Din's fingers fold over one another, hands tucking under the chin. "Does chrome count as a color? I'm kidding-!" he says before you would have the chance to say anything, "Maybe it's easy to guess why I'd say green. And red; but not the Empire's red. What're yours?" You don't have to spend quite as long nibbling your bottom lip in thought. You tell him it's the color that makes up most of your wardrobe, and the color you painted your bedroom walls in, or wished that you could. Something about the color made you feel good inside. Made you smile.

A memory from a long time ago with a very important, special person in your life was connected to it, too.

It was Din's turn to ask the question before you were to answer, and then turn it back to him so he could answer it himself; that's how this game worked. "If you knew you had all the credits, fuel and supplies to get you there, no matter how far away it is from here, what planet would you go visit?"

Wow. You weren't sure. "Just enough to get me there? Or would I have enough to get there, and also then come back to this planet?"

"You'd also have enough to come back here, if that's what you wanted, yes." Din assured you. "Your home planet clearly means a lot to you."

Boy, did it ever. The prospect of never returning, the mere idea, wasn't something you'd ever thought of much. Yes, you want to go explore some part of the galaxy, maybe some distant day, but it's just not on the table for you, currently.

"Well… maybe some place with something new to experience. Like, um… what's a planet without forests?" Din listed off a few planets and their respective sectors from memory, some you'd heard, others you hadn't. "Maybe I'd visit one of those first. What about you; where would you go?"

Din hesitated to answer, hands dropping from his helmeted face. "Maybe Aq Vetina. Or Concordia, if I knew for certain either were safe. Definitely somewhere we," he gestures to Grogu (who's been tossing little sticks into the fire under your supervision) and himself, "would be safe from the Empire."

"Fair enough. I don't like them either. Nosy Imps…" Taking a breath to collect and steady yourself, you shake off the thought of Imperials and their stifling regulations and their banthashit before you return to the game that doesn't really feel like a game. It feels more like you're building a better friendship with this Mandalorian decked out in beskar and packing heat.

The weapons were a factor of his religion, evidently. That one had been harder to wrap your head around, admittedly, since you had been paid to take him out to a very safe forest with little need for protection against the animals that made their home within it. You really weren't concerned about the other people you might encounter, either. It was spawning season for many of the fish, and fishermen didn't really arm themselves with a slug-thrower or blaster. Just knives, if anything.

It was now your turn to ask the question both of you would answer. You were struggling to think of anything else but the following: "Do you… have many friends, Din? Or, any?"

Din answers this one quickly. "It's a short list."

"Oh yeah? How short?" Both of you don't know it yet, but this is the point your game ends. It's just chatting from here on out until Grogu has decided that he wants to sleep, growing bored enough of you and Din talking about things that don't interest him and not being allowed to wander away from the fire anymore to continue splashing in the river.

Din puts down a number of fingers, holding up both hands deliberately to make certain the number sinks in.

"That short. Well, I'm not that surprised. Bounty hunters don't exactly make more friends than rivals." you say with a chuckle. "Kinda… sad, in my opinion. You seem like too nice a person for the profession; I think you deserve more friends, Din Djarin."

Another gloved finger curls into his palm.

And with that lilt in his voice as he talks through the vocoder that suggests he's smiling, Din says your name before he speaks seven simple words that warm you to your core more than the fire that sits in the middle-space between each of you.

Words that make you feel just as honored as being the one Grogu decides to fall asleep with.

"Then let's add you to the list."

[Masterlist] [Requests: OPEN]

#frostfics #Fireside Friendship #star wars #gender neutral reader #x reader #mando #mando x reader #mando x you #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #grogu #baby yoda #a clan of two #the mandalorian #mando fanfiction #star wars fanfiction

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